a/n: This is another unedited update. I just needed to share this. Thanks to each one of you who reviewed this. you guys brighten my day with your words, they mean so much to me. I hope you all like this one, it's one of my most favourite chapters so far


Ch 22: Rip Me Apart

"Auror Weasley!" Astoria beamed, wiping her hand on a towel as she wordlessly offered him a seat, "What brings you here?" she asked as she took her chair, automatically scanning the man visually for injuries.

"Healer Greengrass," he smiled a little; it seemed like he had forgotten how to. "I was just in the neighbourhood, reckoned I'd -" he fumbled, licked his lips and averted his eyes.

"Please call me Astoria. Is everything alright?" she asked, concerned. She remembered Ron Weasley from school, although she was pretty sure he didn't. And it amazed her to no end that a man could be brave enough to give up his life to keep his word.

"Yeah," he tried one of his forced smiles again before his features became grim. "Look, I-" he turned around as if to ensure the door was closed, "- I need to know… erm… by any chance, were you forced by Malfoy to - you know-" he paused, embarrassed.

"- to testify against Goyle?" she finished for him, spellbound at the amount of selflessness the man possessed. "No!" she exclaimed, and he met her gaze. "I couldn't let you rot in Azkaban to keep me safe!" she added hurriedly, before faltering at the memory. "Moreover, I couldn't let them get away with this by making you the culprit. In fact, it was I who approached Draco Malfoy." She exhaled tiredly, forcing off the memories of that evening, steeling her nerves as her lawyer had asked her to. "I've lodged a case against Goyle for, you know... I can't thank you enough for everything you did for me."

He nodded a little. "I should get going," he said softly and gave her a sad smile that at least seemed genuine. Ron Weasley left his chair and fumbled with his hands before shoving them into his pockets. "Take care of yourself, Astoria."

He was almost at the door when she called him again.

"Auror, would you mind testifying on my behalf in my case?" she asked haltingly. He had done so much for her already.

"You don't even have to ask," he smiled.

"Thank you. Should I ask my lawyer to get in touch with you?"

"Please do."

He walked briskly back to the desk, pulled a parchment and scribbled down his address. "Ask your lawyer to owl me at this address."

…...

Harry sipped on his mug, looking over the city from Ron's balcony. He quite liked the view and this flat but he had a strange inkling that Ron had purchased it keeping Hermione's tastes in mind.

"This is just to keep me off the field, innit?"

Harry cleared his throat and turned to his best mate, noticing how, in broad daylight, Ron looked even more haggard. "In a way, yeah," he admitted. To his relief, Ron didn't look offended. "You know, the Wizengamot mandated that you ought to take some time off. They couldn't ignore the documents the Goyles submitted. You could have killed the bloke, mate."

Ron exhaled soundly, "I lost control."

Harry pondered quietly for a while before he spoke again. "You are no longer undercover, mate. These guys, I know they are breaking the law but -"

"- I gotta take it down a notch, yeah."

"Both Ainsworth and Kingsley feel that this is the best option. You'll be off the field as mandated by the Wizengamot, and the team will benefit a lot from this training."

Ron grunted his reply, sipped from his cup and continued to look at the distance.

"Did you meet your parents?" Harry asked.

"I will," he replied in an emotionless way.

Harry worried that Ron's refusal to ask for help was taking the bloke down a slippery slope. No matter how hard Harry tried, Ron made it a point to distance himself from everyone. Harry was running out of ideas to help and had no clue what more he could do. "Met Hermione yet?" he asked tentatively and saw Ron clench his jaw.

"No."

"You know-"

"Harry," Ron interrupted with finality, "That chapter is over."

"Is it?" Harry inquired, pushing Ron. "So are you over her?"

Ron glared hard at him before looking away. "Yes," he declared without meeting Harry's eyes. "And she is over me. So just stop. And we've got work to do."

Ron huffed off the balcony while Harry stood alone wondering where fate was leading them. No matter how much they said otherwise, neither was over the other. They were Ron and Hermione after all, and Harry knew, if there were ever two people who were meant to be, they were his idiotic best friends.

…..

Hermione adjusted herself nervously as she stood outside the dark mahogany door. She closed her eyes, blowing softly through her mouth before placing a tentative palm on the wood. Gathering all her courage, she knocked twice.

This was a bad idea, she told herself as her breathing quickened, and she contemplated leaving before the door opened. But then, if she missed this chance, she might not have another. Ron had proved as much. She had been trying her best to run into him at all places she could think of - the Auror Department, Burrow, even her mum's hospital but he had proved to be very evasive. It was clear that he didn't want to meet her - and in all honestly- Hermione wasn't even sure why she was ready to keep her pride aside and confront him.

Her inner monologue came to a shuddering halt when the door opened, at for a moment, she forgot to breathe. She had to pull all the self-control she possessed to avoid flying into his arms. Ron looked equally taken aback.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times before she found her voice. "Erm… Hi," she managed.

He took her in for a moment, still holding the door ajar with one hand. 'Hi," he replied softly and then, cleared his throat.

"May I-" she asked awkwardly, gesturing with her hand and hoping with all her might that Ron wouldn't turn her away from the door.

He looked flabbergasted as if he couldn't even imagine she'd visit him.

"Yeah-" he exhaled before looking away and then back at her. "Yeah," he repeated and moved to allow her in.

He halted for some time, looking between her and the open door before he closed it and scratched the back of his neck nervously with one hand while pocketing another.

Hermione couldn't help take him in. He was wearing a deep navy jumper over the same shirt he had offered her back at the Burrow weeks ago.

"So…" he asked awkwardly and Hermione looked away and began fumbling with her bag to hide her shaking fingers. Aeons later and he still had the same effect on her, she thought miserably to herself. She managed to dig out the scroll and handed it to him.

"I am Astoria's attorney. I wanted to have a word with you since… you know..." she stopped abruptly. He looked at the scroll in her hand but didn't touch it.

"Oh, okay. Yeah, sure," he fumbled around for a moment before he indicated the couch. "Please have a seat. Would you like some tea?" he asked formally, and Hermione could pick up from his voice that she might have caught him off guard, but he was quickly getting his mask back.

"If it isn't much of a bother," she replied.

"I'll get it," he replied and hurried down the narrow corridor on her left. Alone in Ron's flat, Hermione removed her coat and dropped the bag on the couch. The flat, she observed, was minimalist but cosy. It had a comfortable looking couch and a television with a neat little balcony attached to it. It radiated warmth but for reasons she couldn't exactly pinpoint- it didn't feel like Ron. But of course, he has changed since the time she knew him...

"Get a grip," Hermione told herself furiously, fumbling inside her bag before she pulled out her notepad and inkwell. Gathering all her wit, she strode purposefully down the corridor where Ron had disappeared.

"Ron?" she called and shocked both of them. For many heartbeats, she stood at the kitchen door watching him as he stood transfixed, holding the kettle under the tap, not noticing as it overflowed. Ron was the first to recover as looked away abruptly, turned off the tap and placed the kettle on the boil. Hermione padded into the room, dropped her notepad on the dining table that had a few empty bottles of liquor, a fair number of parchments with drawings that appeared to be notes and a plate with a half-eaten sandwich. She pulled a chair and sat down while Ron continued to be busy with the tea. Finally, he appeared carrying two mugs, and placed them on the table, before he pulled a chair for himself opposite her.

Hermione picked the mug and took a sip and couldn't hold back from gasping as she met his eyes. The tea was exactly how she liked it.

….

Ron fervently hoped his mask was in place. Hermione had caught him completely by surprise - shock more likely. A week later, and he was still trying to recover from what he had found out about her and Malfoy.

He had argued with Harry to allow him to go out on missions, the more dangerous, the better, but Kingsley had downright declined his request to join work back work unless he spent some time sorting out his head. The only thing keeping him sane was the Auror Training Programme he was conducting. He spent most of his time coaching the Aurors on techniques he had picked up from the Muggle General and drawing out intense coaching plans. He had completely forgotten about Astoria's case; he only wished he could say the same about Hermione. No matter how hard he tried, he hopelessly failed to be exhausted enough to ensure he had no strength left to even think. If only it were so easy to forget her…

He wondered how she had figured when he'd been home but then reckoned that Harry might have had a hand in it.

He sipped on his cup, avoiding her altogether, trying his best to keep himself in control. This was one place that didn't have her memories and now he'd have to fight to forget these moments too. Perhaps she had made up her mind to drive him insane as a punishment for what he had done.

"You had some questions," he asked at last, not daring to look at her, wishing quietly that he could stop being in love with her.

He looked up at the sound of a notebook being flipped open, unable to resist the urge to see her in that familiar setting.

"Yes," she replied, not meeting his eyes. Her quill remained suspended in the air for moments before she spoke. She licked and bit her lower lip in the way he remembered so well, Ron stook a sip to fight the hurt.

"How did you find them that evening?" she asked and looked up, their eyes meeting momentarily before both of them looked away.

"All the shops in that lane are sealed, might still have stuff from Voldemort's time. It's a regular part of the Auror patrols."

He heard her scribble and he drank some more tea while forcing himself not to give in the urge to watch her.

"How did you find them?"

He exhaled, the effort of keeping the hurt in was driving him insane. "If you want me to recount what I saw, I am afraid I am not going to be of much help. I don't see the point of discussing how a woman was getting raped no matter what legal purpose it serves," he said firmly.

Hermione looked away flustered. "That is not what I meant," she said in a quiet voice. "You are the only witness to her case. It's lucky you found her. I just wanted to know, did you see anyone else? Do you think he had an accomplice?"

He heaved, fighting the horrors of his past. "I don't think so."

Hermione paused, seemingly struggling to frame her next question. "Why didn't you tell anyone what actually happened?" she managed at last.

"She didn't want her name to be dragged into this," he replied honestly, scratching a stain on the table, trying his best to keep from running away. Having her in so close was scratching open a lot of wounds he fought to hide from the world- from her.

"Why did you injure him physically? I found out you didn't use magic at all."

Ron had no clue what she was getting at. "I don't regret my actions or my methods if that is what you are hinting at," he replied.

"You never spoke about her," she said softly, "even when it risked your entire life and future."

It wasn't a question; he guessed she wasn't really looking for a reply. However, he felt Hermione's gaze locked on him for a very long time during which he forced himself to look at his hands instead. Ron was sure she was searching for answers and he wondered whether she knew how her presence was suffocating him. He had done everything in his power to erase his name from her life, and she that's how she wanted it to be. Why did she have to return again, why was she so stubborn, he pondered quietly.

"I suppose you are done with your questions?" he asked politely as he got up from his seat, collected their empty cups and walked away to the sink. He turned the tap and began washing them the muggle way, hoping she'd leave, craving for her to stay.

He heard the scraping of wood as her chair was pushed back, but he refrained from turning around.

"Yes…" she replied softly. "Actually- no," she added after a pause.

"What else you wanna know?" he asked, facing away from her, vigorously drying the cups with a towel and placing them back on the shelf.

"What- what was it that you wanted to tell me when you came down to my place that day?" she asked in a rush.

He fisted the towel and grabbed the edge of the counter, shaking slightly- out of pain or anger he wasn't quite sure himself.

"What does this have to do with the case?" he managed, fighting the pain.

"Nothing," she replied, sounding more determined.

He turned slowly and noticed she was facing him, twisting the corner of the notebook with one hand in a clear show of nerves. He continued to watch her, hoping she'd take the hint and leave. "Then what is the point?" he asked when she continued to stare back. He fisted the towel tightly, fighting to keep the rage in control. Why was she so hell-bent on driving him insane? He was trying his best, wasn't he?

"You wanted to tell me, I wasn't ready to listen. Now I want to know." He knew that look, she wasn't going to back down from the challenge. It reminded him strongly of the times when they would bicker furiously to hide their feeling back at school.

"I don't want to explain it anymore," he declared, threw the towel on the counter, and walked out of the kitchen, not sure where he was going.

"Oh really?" she snapped, following him, her voice heaving with unchecked emotions "And may I ask why?"

He turned around abruptly, causing her to backtrack a few paces. The space in the corridor was much too small and Hermione was way too close, and he was at the verge of his control...

"Because I don't think we have any kind of relationship left that allows us to demand anything from each other," he spat, shaking helplessly.

"Is that so?" she screeched, wiping angry tears on the back of her hand. Curls were escaping the hair tie and framing her face, making the memories so strong that Ron took a couple of steps back, heaving. But Hermione wasn't done. She sniffed angrily. "Who was it that said that we were 'friends' long before we were anything else?" she asked, moving closer.

"And who wanted to be strangers?" he retorted, throwing his hands up in frustration. "What the fuck do you even want from me, Hermione?! You got your wish, we are strangers now, aren't we!" he yelled back.

"Tell me, Ron!" she cried angrily, no longer bothering to hide her tears. "Tell me, dammit! I have the right to know!"

Ron was next to her before he could stop himself, but he regained senses at the last minute, placing his palms on the wall and caging her within instead of pulling her in his arms as he craved. He was not allowed to touch her, kiss her, he reminded himself.

Shaking with fury and hurt, he glared at her, allowing her to see how she had broken him, "You don' t have the right to know. What I do with my life is none of your concern," he hissed. But he was unable to stop himself soaking in the sight. Her lips parted and as he looked up in shock he found her eyes taking him in, the orbs brown and bright just like he remembered from his dreams. He cursed aloud before pushing himself off the wall and away from her. Ron turned away from her and punched the opposite wall to release the pent up pain.

"I will never leave you," she breathed slowly, one word at a time, each one a dagger straight to his heart. "Remember?" she asked in a whisper, still heaving as if every breath was causing her physical pain.

Yes, he did.

He could never forget- could visualise it as clear as day, the promise he had made a lifetime ago at the Shell Cottage, the day he had almost lost her.

He turned to face her again, shaking so violently that he had to rest his back against the wall for support. He just wished she'd stop. Hermione had already torn him apart. Now she was just being cruel- ripping away the very last, tattered strands of his existence.

"Don't," he managed as he choked.

"Why?" she challenged instead, her eyes overflowing, lips quivering.

Fuck, she knew what she was doing-

Hermione was hurting him on purpose, trying her best to pull off his mask. "You-" she sniffed and choked down on a sob, wiping her eyes furiously on the back of her sleeve, "You shouldn't have- pulled me from under the chandelier that night," she managed, shaking her head, "should have left me to die there, Ron."

"HERMIONE, STOP!" he bellowed at her, finally losing his grip altogether.

"NO, I WON'T!" she yelled back. "YOU HAVE TO ANSWER ME! MY LIFE CLEARLY MEANT NOTHING TO YOU, BECAUSE IF IT DID-I DESERVED TO KNOW THE TRUTH!" her voice cracked, "Still do…" she choked out and looked away.

"NO, YOU DON'T! NOT ANYMORE!" he yelled and turned away as fast as he could, hating how she had succeeded in ripping him apart again and would only leave him behind, broken and withering. "Don't you fucking get it?!" he asked, turning a smidge, and saw her flaring up for another verbal retort but he couldn't stop. "You don't need to know anything anymore, Hermione! Now that you are with someone else- now that you are with him, those words mean nothing," he finished, stunning her into silence.

Hermione let out a gasp and collapsed against the wall. "Ron, I- "

"Leave," he told her, mustering the last bits of strength, feeling physically ill. "Now." Please, he begged silently.

…...