Talking

~o0o~

Ronald Bilius Weasley was confused. Granted, he was used to the feeling, but it had never been this bad.

For the past few days he'd been occupied with moving into his brother's flat and arranging the shop. It hadn't been re-opened for long, but it was clear their business would again be thriving under the care of the Weasley brothers. This time, of course, it was a different set of brothers.

While Ron and Fred experienced a difficult relationship even during the best of times, what with Ron's insecure nature and Fred and George's constant teasing, there were no doubts that he'd loved his older brother. It pained him to move his things into cardboard boxes. It pained him to remove the pictures and posters on Fred's walls-now his walls- and it pained him most to catch George avoid his own reflection like it was You-Know-Who himself.

Now, though, all of that was momentarily overshadowed by his girlfriend's strange behaviour. Ron had had his fair share of exposure to Hermione's mood-swings and erratic behaviour, but most of the time he'd have a slightest inkling as to why she was acting the way she was. Or he'd have Harry help him figure it out.

This time, even Harry had no idea what was going on. He'd consulted his best friend earlier today, hoping to understand, but came up short.

It all began the day before, the day after the Sunday dinner, when Ron had asked Hermione out on a romantic stroll around Hogsmeade. They held hands and enjoyed some warm butterbeer while walking along the snow covered paths near Hogwarts grounds, reminiscing about their school years together. Unavoidably, they entered upon the subject of the war and, in hindsight, Ron supposed that might not have been a great thing to discuss on a date.

It got worse after that.

Cold and tired, Hermione had felt it best to retire somewhere. Ron had hoped she would; it had been part of his plan. He'd told his girlfriend he wouldn't move into the flat until after New Year's, but the move had gone faster than predicted. Harry had helped and was surprisingly good at cleaning without magic. 'Loads of practice at the Dursley's,' he'd said.

So, Ron had prepared for them to have a nice dinner at the flat. George would be at Lee Jordan's anyway. Taking his hand and letting him Apparate, Hermione found herself surrounded by candles and roses. He'd smiled at her, waiting for her to do the same, or gush or giggle or be amazed. But no. If possible, it made her look even sadder than when they'd talked about the war.

They'd had their dinner in silence, tension growing by the minute. Trying to lift the mood, he asked her to join him for a tour to the bedroom. He'd redecorated it quite nicely, he thought. He'd imagined Hermione would spend a lot of time with him there, so he'd kept it classy. With the exception of The Chuddley Canons colouring his wall… (He'd limited himself to only three posters, though).

She cheered up a little when she took in the bookshelf and armchair, in the corner, he'd prepared for her.

Then he kissed her.

And that's when everything turned to shite.

She'd returned it, and he thought everything was fine. He deepened their kiss and felt her get surprised. But she had thrown her arms around his neck so he proceeded. Somehow they found themselves on his bed. While he began trailing pecks down her neck, however, she suddenly threw him off her.

He asked if she was okay and she just started screaming at him. She cried and looked around the room as if just realizing where she was.

"'Mione, what is it? Calm down."

"Calm down? I can't, Ron!"

"Wh-Why?"

"Why? Because everything is wrong!"

He panicked then. She felt that everything was wrong? Did she not want to be with him anymore?

"Whadd'ya mean everything's wrong? Did I do something?"

"It's not all about you, Ron! I need to go."

"'Mione-"

But it was too late, she'd Disapparated.

Harry checkmated him.

"Ron, if you're not going to give it your all, I can't really relish in beating you."

Ron shook out of his daze. They were sitting in front of the fire in Grimmauld Place, playing Wizard Chess.

"What do you think she meant?"

Harry sighed. "For the millionth time, I don't know. And I really don't appreciate you asking me to help you snog your girlfriend. She's like my sister."

Ron made a face. "Right. And you're snogging my actual sister, so I think we're even."

Harry looked away, slightly red. "Fine." He ruffled his hair, causing it to look messier than usual. "I think that you might have overwhelmed her. Maybe she thought you were telling her to move in with you and she freaked? You put a bookshelf and a chair there, and everything."

This only made Ron's face contort more. "No. The bookshelf and the chair were the only things she actually seemed pleased about. But-"he broke off realizing that maybe what his best friend had said was true. Maybe Hermione had been overwhelmed, just not by furniture. "I think you might be onto somethin'. She might have felt it was too much yesterday."

Harry gestured for him to continue.

"Er- we were on the bed and things…heated up."

Harry's eyes were wide now. "You're kidding?"

Ron, flustered and confused, shoot him a dark look. "What, think we only sit around and hold hands all day?"

"Quite the opposite. I thought-"he ruffled his hair again, embarrassed. "I thought you were already, you know. But by the sound of it, the two of you haven't."

Ron's silence spoke volumes.

"You're kidd-sorry! I just figured you had waited long enough. For years I had to put up with you hating each other, then loving each other, hate, love, hate, love-"

"I geddit," Ron barked. He tried relaxing, but a new thought occurred to him. "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you told, Ginny, you, er- love her?"

Harry blinked. "Yes, 'course. Why are you asking? Being overprotective again?"

"No, I know you treat her all right, mate. It's just that- I haven't told Hermione yet. Is that weird?"

"Well, you've been going out for months and fancied each other even longer."

"That's not an answer."

Harry pondered this for a minute. "I suppose, it really doesn't matter how long you've been going out. What does matter is if you do love her; then tell her."

Ron bit his lip. "Maybe that's why she's freaking out…she doesn't want to take the next step until I've told her?"

"Could be. Now can we please stop talking about this? I feel extremely uncomfortable."

Ron chuckled. "The boy who defeated You-Know-Who feels uncomfortable talking about romance." But the red on his own ears betrayed him. How did girls do it?

~o0o~

What was going on with her?

Hermione hugged her pillow tighter as she let the tears cascade down her cheeks. The pillow beneath her head was drenched already, sticking to her face, but she hardly cared. She was embarrassed about crying this much, though.

He always makes me cry, whether intentionally or unintentionally…

She tried blaming it on Ron, but it was hard when she knew it wasn't his fault this time. Yesterday had been a perfect date by any other person's standards. And it should be even more so because it was Ron who'd gone through the trouble of making her all of those nice surprises.

But no, she just had to go sod it all up. The whole time they were at Hogsmeade she tried to pluck up the courage and talk to him about their relationship. To have a real discussion. However, the village, and his hand in hers, only contributed to this strange sense of comfort she didn't want to let go of yet. It was familiar, predictable and safe. It was her previous years at Hogwarts; a life where she'd known what the next step was, where she knew there was a goal. A finish line.

But what do you do after that finish line?

And then came the apartment. Dinner. Roses. Candles. Romance. With someone she considered one of her best friends…

And the kissing…She'd wanted him for so long. He was what she thought was it. So uncomplicated really, that she would end up with someone she'd known forever and already established a solid foundation for a relationship with. But she was scared now. That foundation was crumbling. Fast.

Would the Weasley's hate her? If she broke up with Ron, would Hermione end up being one of those people they referred to at gatherings with some quirky anecdote? And would Ron forgive her? Would they be able to be friends again? There was just so much to lose…

And so, she'd given in. She kissed him back and tried to love this boy the same way he loved her.

But when his lips left hers and she opened her eyes, it felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice over her head. They were in Fred's room. It was all wrong.

She pushed Ron off and all of the emotions poured out of her and she took it out on the only living soul in close proximity. It was unfair of her, but she was human.

He looked so confused before I left… He always was a bit slow, though…

Stop it! How could he have known what went through her head? How could anyone?

She herself hardly knew.

Something she did know, though, was that Fred's memories were one of the few things making her joyful lately. Bizarre, since his sixteen year old self seemed to have had a thing for her.

Not confirmed yet, she told herself. You have more vials to look through.

And that, oddly enough, she looked forward to.

Perhaps she could ask her mum for advice? Although, she doubted her mum would understand if her daughter told her that she needed a dead man's preserved memories to cheer up.

Dead…

Fred was dead.

During her escapades into his memories, Hermione had briefly allowed herself to forget, but reality hit her like a cold shower once more. What did it matter whether or not Fred Weasley had fancied her? It wouldn't change anything, except making Hermione feel guilty about not having noticed anything. He was gone and she was alive.

The tears continued falling.

Why didn't the notion of having Fred Weasley fancy her frighten her more? She'd been baffled beyond words when memory George had brought it up, but after plunging out of the Pensieve she'd had time to consider this.

Was she actually so surprised? Hadn't she always, on some level, noted how much gentler than George he was towards her? Meanwhile, others would describe Fred as being the harsher twin when Hermione alone would disagree.

She sobbed.

Oh, you're rubbish, Granger. Stop crying! she scolded herself. He's gone and the least you can do is not mope around. Everyone died so that the rest of us could live; not lie in bed all day.

Hermione was tired of crying. She thought that this would be a joyous and peaceful time. Boy, had she been wrong. She felt so naïve for having believed that everything would somehow be well once Voldemort died. The aftermath of the battles were not just blown up towers and ruined bridges.

It was Hermione absentmindedly clutching her branded arm, remembering Bellatrix Lestrange pinning her down after countless torture curses.

It was holding Teddy Lupin while his grandmother and godfather paid their respects to the caskets holding the little boy's parents.

It was watching Parvati Patil break down in front of her best friend's mangled corpse while Hermione reached for her boyfriend's hand to comfort him but he just stood there, unresponsive.

It was listening to Harry reveal Severus Snape's real motives behind his actions and urging people, anyone really, to place a flower by his grave.

It was Lee Jordan always catching himself staring at the air behind George, expecting another twin to show up.

It was funeral after funeral after funeral.

There was a knock on Hermione's door.

She hurried to wipe her tears away. It probably would do no good, her puffy eyes no doubt betrayal enough to her current state. She cleared her throat, "Come in."

Joan Granger peeked her head in, the brown curls she shared with her daughter gracefully spilling into view. Hermione always envied her mother's graceful curls, so different from her own. Her normally gentle face turned stern when she observed the mess her daughter was in.

"Darling, supper's ready."

Hermione was embarrassed and looked away. "I-I'll be right down."

But her mother was having none of it. She shut the door behind her and sat down next to her daughter on the bed. "What happened?"

Where to start?

"Nothing, really- just had a stupid fight with Ron." This was true, so Hermione didn't feel too bad about not telling her mum the other things. Her parents still weren't over her shipping them off to Australia while their daughter risked her life. Hermione didn't want to add her trauma on top of their worries.

Her mother's shoulders relaxed. "I see. Would you like to tell me what it was about?"

The brightest witch of her age blushed.

Er, yeah…Your only child almost lost her virginity to a boy she is contemplating breaking up with…

"It was just another silly argument."

"I doubt it's silly if you've been crying all day about it."

Hermione considered her options for a moment. It would feel so good to tell someone about her troubles. Her whole Fred dilemma could wait, but talking about boy troubles was part of a mother's job, wasn't it?

Joan waited.

Hermione gathered some of her Gryffindor courage. "I don't think I'm in love with Ron."

She nervously looked up to meet her mother's gaze. It was sad.

"I'm so sorry, dear."

And then it came spilling out. How in a span of less than seventy-two hours, Hermione's world had been turned upside-down. The boy she'd fancied since she was sixteen was nothing more than that; a boy she fancied at sixteen. He was, of course, one of her best friends and she shared her fears with her mum, who patiently listened to her daughter's woes. How she was afraid the Weasley's would exclude her, how Ron might resent her, and how Hermione overall feared she'd lose more than she would gain from breaking it off with him.

When Hermione finally finished, Mrs. Granger frowned. "Darling, if you're not happy him, then to hell with the Weasley's."

"Mum!"

"I'm serious. You know I adore them, but to exclude someone who they've treated as a daughter for the past seven years simply because you and their son ended your relationship after a couple of months…well, let's just say they wouldn't be worth crying over the way you are right now."

"Yes, but…"

"And that Ronald Weasley should prove himself to be a good friend for once. I'm not saying he should be all right after you dump him, but at least be understanding. He should care about your happiness as well as his own. I hope he learned that after the fight you had in your fourth year."

Hermione regretted telling her mother about the Yule Ball incident. She and her father had barely been able to stop a bloodthirsty and raging Joan Granger from seeking out the boy who ruined her daughter's special night.

Mrs. Granger embraced her and stroked the bushy hair. "All your father and I want is for you to be happy, dear." She paused and kissed the top of her head. "And to join us for dinner before it turns cold."

And with that, she left her daughter to think a while longer.

After a few silent moments, Hermione climbed out of her bed and grabbed a quill and paper.

~o0o~

Ron,

I'm sorry for the way I stormed off yesterday. Want to talk tomorrow?

Hermione

Ron clutched the tiny piece of parchment.

Hermione wanted to talk and fix things.

He felt hopeful and after discussing with Harry earlier, he was sure he knew what she wanted him to say. For once, he knew what to do.

Smiling, he started scribbling down a reply.

~o0o~

The next morning Ron awoke to his owl tapping on the window. He groggily let him in, handed him a treat and began opening his letter. Hermione had agreed to meet him in the flat at lunch.

Grinning, he rose and hastily put his pants on. He stalked out of his room, and knocked on his brother's door.

"Oy, George! George!"

Something thumped against the wall.

"Quit throwing pillows and open!"

George rubbed his eyes and emerged clad in nothing but boxers. "Whaddisit, yougid?"

"Hermione's coming over in a few hours and I'm gonna need the apartment empty."

This seemed to wake his brother up. "That's the single most revolting sentence I've ever heard you utter."

Ron's ears turned red. "Not for that. We're going to talk."

George's ginger eyebrows shot up. "Is that what she said? That she wanted to talk?"

"Yeah, that's why I need you to leave before she arrives."

George couldn't believe how oblivious his little brother was. A woman wanting to talk could only mean trouble. And judging by Granger's behavior recently…George would be willing to bet all his gold in Gringotts that she wanted to break his brother's heart.

Wouldn't be the first brother she does that to, he thought and mentally scoffed.

He knew it was unfair, because the little bookworm never knew about his deceased twin's feelings, but it still didn't stop him from cringing every so often.

Whenever Ron and Hermione held hands or kissed, it simply made him want to smack them both.

But a few days ago, when he'd caught her lingering in his old bedroom, George couldn't help but wonder if she wasn't as clueless he'd believed her to be. She looked like she had been reminiscing in there. Like she'd been as reminded of Fred by the smell of their old bedroom as George himself always was.

Oh, wouldn't that be tragic, he'd thought. For her to realize she harbored feelings for Fred after he died.

George looked at his little brother.

Tragic indeed.

"Don't worry, Ronniekins. I'll make myself scarce," he said. "Just don't shag on the dining table, I like eating there," he finished and closed the door.

There was a growl on the other side of it, followed by mumbles.

"I told you that's not what…Git…"

George sighed. He did not look forward to coming home tonight. Maybe he should just spend the night at Lee's…

~o0o~

A/N: Hello, everyone!

Thank you as always for the lovely reviews, they make my heart soar, knowing you like this story. And to everyone who favorited and followed, thank you so much. You have no idea how happy all of this makes me.

This might have been a bummer of a chapter and I'm sorry, but it had to be done. And after you're down, it could only go up, right? And I think I made up for it a bit with a half-naked George haha ;) Call it an early Christmas gift!

Short announcement!

I will be taking a tiny break over the holidays. Don't worry, I'll be back by January.

It's just that with school, and Christmas and writing, I just need some time. I want to give you good chapters, and not half-assed ones, so I'll need to take a tiny break from updating.

I wish you the very best of holidays, no matter what you celebrate (or if you don't celebrate at all, then have fun doing that too of course).
And a happy New Year in advance!

Until next time!
/Primrue