Chapter 20.

Ron didn't even know where he was going. He just kept putting one foot in front of the other as he blindly stormed through streets. It was raining, but he hardly seemed to notice. The fat raindrops were slicking his messy red hair to his head, giving him an almost feral look.

Ron was grinding his jaw as he came across a pub, throwing open the door and tossing a couple of coins on the bar.

"Firewhiskey," he grunted, "And keep it coming."

The bartender nodded, bringing him a small tumbler, filling it and then leaving Ron to himself.

The bartender recognised the redhead as one of the Golden Trio, but understood from the stormy expression on his face that he was in no mood to be hassled.

Ron clenched his hand into a fist, gritting his teeth.

He couldn't believe that things had worked out like this. Back at Hogwarts it had seemed like anything was possible in life. I mean, near-death experiences aside, life was full of promise. He had his best mate Harry by his side, Hermione at his other side… Ron knocked back his whiskey in one go, tapping the bar for a refill.

Ron had always assumed that there was something between him and Hermione. They had bickered harder than he and Harry ever had. They always seemed to be getting on each other's nerves. Ron had pegged it as sexual tension from the get-go. He'd just never had the balls to act on it back then.

Then the war broke out… And he'd finally had the right moment to make his move. But then there was the fact he had walked out on Harry and Hermione while they had been on the run… Was it that moment of abandonment that had pushed a final wedge between him and Hermione? Was that the reason she had slowly cooled towards him? Their relationship had felt like one drawn out experience of Hermione slipping away from him.

He clenched his fist harder and felt his nails begin to break the skin of his palm. He hardly cared.

That time with Hermione… It had almost soothed the pain of the war. Waking up next to Hermione would give him at least a couple of moments each day where he could forget about the death of his brother… Forget about the Death Eaters killed by his hand in the war. When Ron shut his eyes he could still see some of their faces… Surprisingly young. Some his own age.

Ron's mind turned to Crabbe and Goyle. Burned alive in the Room of Requirement. He shuddered. It wasn't even the most horrific death that one of his classmates had met.

He felt bile rising in his throat but chased it down with another tumbler of firewhiskey.

He grimaced, heftily knocking his glass on the bar for another refill.

"Mate," Harry's voice rang out behind Ron and the redhead turned.

"What're you doing here, Har'?" Ron asked, his voice starting to slur as the alcohol began to slip through his veins.

"You look terrible," Harry commented, taking a stool beside Ron. Ron barked a humourless laugh.

"Yeah, cheers mate," Ron shot back, "You really know how to cheer a guy up."

"What happened?" Harry asked, waving down the bartender for a butterbeer.

"They've only gone and got fuckin' married," Ron spat, knocking back another whiskey.

"What?!" Harry looked surprised at that. At least Ron wasn't the only one who was out of the loop on that development.

"Harry… I can't win Hermione back…" Ron slurred, dropping his head.

"She loves Fleur," Harry replied solemnly, "You're just gonna have to accept that."

"Seems like I'm expected to do a lot of accepting these days," Ron said darkly. He ran a thick hand through his wet hair, slicking it back on his head.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We… We had to kill people in the war, Harry," Ron choked out. Harry looked down and took a small sip of his beer.

"We all had to do things we didn't want to for the greater good," Harry replied grimly.

"For the greater good?" Ron spat back, his voice raising, "Do you even remember their faces? The people you killed? The way the life just drained out of their eyes?"

"Ron…" Harry started, but Ron cut him off.

"Do you think Fred looked like that?" Ron asked, his voice hoarse, "Do you think his eyes looked like that as he died?"

"Ron… You should get therapy," Harry tried to say gently. Ron leapt to his feet, angry.

"What use is that?" Ron bellowed, "Its not like its gonna fucking bring people back to life!"

Ron snatched his tumbler from the bar and threw it as hard as he could at the wall behind the bar. The sound of glass shattering rang out as the tumbler collided with liquor bottles.

"Ron—"

"That's it!" The bartender said gruffly, appearing in front of Harry and Ron, "You two are barred. Get out before I call in the authorities."

Ron nodded carelessly before storming out of the pub. Harry followed him, grabbing a shoulder. Ron wrenched his shoulder out of his grasp.

"Harry, just leave me the fuck alone," Ron hissed. He whirled around and shoved Harry, hard. Harry's back collided with the outside wall of the pub and he felt the air rush out of his lungs.

"Ron—" Harry started again. But it was too late, Ron apparated away.

Hermione buried her face into Fleur's neck, hugging her tightly in their apartment. She was so full of relief. It finally felt like she was free from all the drama, all the problems… everything that was standing in the way of her starting anew with Fleur.

"I am so happy, mon amour," Fleur murmured. Hermione squeezed her tighter.

"I don't want to let you go," Hermione giggled, "I don't know if I want to snuggle you on the sofa with takeaways all night or tie you down to the bed and have my way with you."

"Who says you can't do both?" Fleur replied teasingly. Hermione kissed Fleur.

"If this is marriage, I think I can get used to this," Fleur smiled as Hermione finally pulled away.

"You aren't worried about your family?" Hermione asked gently. Fleur smiled serenely, taking Hermione's hand.

"Sometimes the people you love will hurt you," Fleur said softly, "Its whether or not they are willing to fix it that matters. My father may not ever try to make things right… Merde, he may never even stop doing things that hurt me. But he is not my only family. I still have Gabrielle… and now you."

Hermione pulled Fleur into a tight embrace again.

"Okay, forget takeaways," Hermione said with a smile, "I'm going to make you dinner."

Fleur raised an eyebrow as Hermione pulled away.

"Not that pasta!" Hermione laughed, "Something I know how to make!"

Fleur laughed. She watched Hermione walk to the kitchen, admiring the decisive way she walked and the sway of her hips. Her brunette curls were cascading down her back. She looked beautiful. Fleur sighed. She didn't think anything could get better than this.

Ron was soaking up his sorrows in another pub. This one was seedier and more run down. He was sure that if he lost his temper again and threw a glass he wouldn't get kicked out of this place.

Fucking Harry.

Of course the bloody Boy Who Lived wouldn't understand his pain. Everything had a way of working out for Harry.

Ron scowled and drank deeply from his pint of beer.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Ron glanced over at the black cloaked figure next to him.

"An' who're you?" Ron asked stoutly.

"Someone who recognises the true star of the Golden Trio," the figure next to him replied. Ron couldn't discern much of the figures features. He could tell it was a thin man, but that was about it.

"Well… I spose I did do most of the graft," Ron replied, smoothing his hair back and cheering up a bit.

"So can I buy you a drink?" The figure pressed. Ron squinted at him, trying to work out his angle.

"Sorry mate… But I'm not into guys," Ron said, turning back to his pint.

"And neither am I," the figure responded, "Can I not buy a drink for a true hero?"

Ron scoffed.

"Hero," Ron repeated sarcastically.

"Let me guess… The others can forget the lives lost for the cause so easily," the figure said, waving a bartender over. This got Ron's attention.

"Y-yeah… Its like they can just… Move on and forget everything we did," Ron replied.

"That's horrible," the figure nodded, "Do they not have a conscience?"

"Who bloody knows," Ron slurred, shaking his head.

"So can I offer you a drink?" the figure asked, pushing a small shot glass towards Ron.

"Sure, mate… Thanks," Ron replied. He raised the shot glass to the friendly stranger in thanks before downing it.

"No… Thank you, Ron Weasley," the figure replied, reaching over to take the shot glass from his hand. As he reached, his dark cloak rode up and Ron saw the familiar tattoo of the Dark Mark on the figure's forearm.

"Wha…?"

Everything went dark for Ron.

Hermione awoke, stretching sore muscles. She smiled as she noticed azure eyes watching her intently.

"Good morning," Hermione grinned, pulling Fleur close to her in bed.

"Morning mon amour," Fleur smiled back.

Fleur leaned in slowly, kissing Hermione softly. Hermione growled, pulling Fleur in for a more passionate kiss.

They were interrupted by frantic knocking at the door. Hermione groaned, reluctantly disentangling herself from Fleur and pulling a robe on.

Fleur sighed and lay back on the bed, frustrated by the interruption.

"Send them away, dear God, please," Fleur grumbled. Hermione nodded at her before ducking out of the bedroom and padding to the front door. The knocking was growing even more insistent.

Hermione threw open the door, irritated. Harry was standing at the door, looking frazzled.

"This better be good, Harry," Hermione snapped. She had a naked Veela in the next room and had no time for Harry to be taking up her time with complaints about his relationship with Ginny.

"Hermione, Ron's gone," Harry said breathlessly.

"What else is new?" Hermione growled, "Have I even told you about his latest crap? I'm sure he'll wash up in a day or two."

"Hermione, no," Harry interrupted, "Ron has been taken by Death Eaters."

Hermione froze.