A/N - My Muse decided to take a vacation after I finished 'A Year of Drabbles' and for a while there I wasn't sure she was going to return. She has finally once again graced me with her presence (she's a bit temperamental) and this is the result. I am hoping to periodically update this collection when I need a break from working on the new multi-chap I've got in the works and my original fiction, so if anyone has any requests for something you'd like to see here, let me know.

This was also written for the School of Prompts challenge for the prompts, champagne, kiss, photographs, mislead and "I don't know what more you want from me" and the Acrostic-y challenge for nostalgia.

Flashbacks are in italics.

Nimbly shifting the glass of wine in her hand, Hermione flicked her wand to turn on the wireless and then pulled the album from the bookshelf. She sat down on the couch with the album on her lap, setting her wine glass on the side table before running her hand over the cover. She pulled in a breath and then let it out. She hadn't looked at these photographs since, well, just since. She wasn't entirely sure it was a good idea now, either, but she was feeling nostalgic tonight. Hermione bit her bottom lip and opened the cover.

Three first years grinned up at her and Hermione couldn't help but laugh. They were so tiny and her hair was a complete disaster. She had her arms flung over the boys' shoulders and Harry had his arm around her waist, while Ron stood a bit stiffly next to her. Hermione shook her head fondly. If she'd had any clue, she would have known that he fancied her a bit, even then. At twelve though, she was just ecstatic to finally have friends.

She flipped the pages and smiled as the three of them grew older and were joined by others, Ginny, Luna and Neville mostly, but Dean and Seamus, Lavender and Parvati were there as well. She ran a finger over the last picture Colin had taken at the end of sixth year. It was before Dumbledore died and Ginny sat on Harry's lap on the couch in front of the Gryffindor fireplace, Hermione sitting next to them and laughing at something Ginny said. Ron was in the armchair next to the couch, scowling slightly at Harry and Ginny before giving Hermione a brilliant smile when she turned toward him. Hermione saw her cheeks color slightly in the photograph. Shaking her head, Hermione grabbed her wine glass and took a sip of her wine. She remembered that night. Everything had gone to hell the next night when Professor Snape had killed Dumbledore, but that night they had simply been teenagers, laughing and joking.

The next page of the album held just two photographs, one of Hermione, Ron and Harry, disguised as a Weasley, talking at a table at Bill and Fleur's wedding and another of she and Ron dancing. Ron kept glancing around, looking for Viktor to make sure he wasn't about to try and cut in, no doubt, while Hermione tried to keep his attention on her. She sighed and leaned her head against the back of the couch. She wondered if Ron would have even asked her to dance that night if Viktor hadn't been at the wedding.

Shaking her head, Hermione continued through the album, thinking that maybe this wasn't the best idea, but unable to stop herself. There was a formal photograph from their Order of Merlin ceremony, which she and Ron had to force Harry to attend, and the accompanying Prophet article. Hermione knew that all of their smiles were forced, Harry barely even trying at all. She wondered why on earth she had even kept this one. They were still mired in their grief, all three still waking from nightmares nearly every night.

"Hermione?" Ron said quietly as he walked into the living room of the Burrow. Hermione hastily swiped at her eyes, turning her head away from him. She drew her legs up under her and curled up into as small a ball as possible in the corner of the couch. Ron sat down gingerly beside her and she flinched when he put a hand on her shoulder. "Nightmare?"

"I'm fine," she insisted.

"Hermione," he said again, a bit of admonishment in his voice this time. Hermione's lip trembled and she began to sob. Ron wordlessly pulled her into his arms and held her as tightly as she would allow until she quieted.

"I have them too, you know," he whispered. She turned her face up towards his, but he was staring into the empty fireplace. He swallowed thickly. "I keep seeing Fred's face and Harry hanging in Hagrid's arms, but mostly, mostly I hear you screaming." Hermione gripped the front of his t-shirt and buried her face in his chest as he continued.

"You're screaming and I'm stuck in that damn dungeon and I can't get to you and I," he broke off on a choked sob and Hermione looked up at him, tears in her eyes again.

"It's all right, Ron," she said, putting a hand to his cheek. "I'm all right."

"Merlin, Hermione, if anything happened to you," he shook his head, unable to continue. Instead, he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her as if he might never see her again.

Since Hermione had kissed him just before the Final Battle, they had been a bit tentative around each other. It was as if neither of them were sure what that kiss had actually been about, given they were about to be in a fight for their very lives, and they were both looking to the other for clarification. Truthfully, they had been so busy with all of the funerals and ceremonies and the reconstruction of Hogwarts that they rarely had any time to themselves to even think about discussing it. But that night, on the couch at the Burrow, tears mingling on their cheeks, Hermione was convinced that none of the rest of it mattered, so long as they were together.

And it hadn't, for a while anyway. She had found her parents and reversed the memory charm. It had taken a few weeks, but they had forgiven her and made plans to return to England. Hermione busied herself getting ready for school in the fall while Ron and Harry started Auror training. Kingsley and Arthur had the Ministry well in hand and things seemed to be getting back to some kind of normalcy. Even not being able to see one another all the time that year with Hermione in school and Ron working hadn't seemed to cause much issue in their new relationship. And soon she had sat her N.E.W.T.S. and finished school.

"What do you think?" she asked as she stood in the empty front room of her new flat, arms out to her sides. Ron grinned.

"I think it's brilliant."

"I hope your mum wasn't too upset that I turned down her offer to let me stay at the Burrow." Hermione bit her lip. "You're not upset are you? I mean, we would have seen much more of one another if I'd stayed there." Her brow furrowed. "Oh, maybe I should have waited, I just thought that-" but before she could continue, Ron had silenced her with a kiss. She looked at him quizzically when he pulled back from her.

"Honestly, Hermione, I thought you were the brightest witch of our age," he said teasingly. When she continued to look confused he shook his head. "You do know how many people currently live at the Burrow?" Ginny was back of course and Harry was staying there as well. Percy still hadn't gotten a new flat after he'd moved back after the Final Battle and George popped in more days than not.

"Of course I do, Ron," she said with a huff, putting her hands on her hips. "I don't know what that has to do with anything." Ron stared at her a bit incredulously.

"And you do know my mother?"

"Well, yes, but," Hermione trailed off as understanding dawned. "Oh."

"Yes, oh. Do you honestly think we'd get a whit of privacy if you were at my house?"

"I suppose not," she agreed, twining her hands around his neck.

"She watches Harry and Ginny like a hawk," Ron said nuzzling the side of Hermione's neck. "Drives Ginny mad."

"Yes, I suppose that would, oh," Hermione said as his lips found that spot on her neck. There was no need for further talking as Ron proceeded to show Hermione just how much he appreciated her new flat.

Hermione shook herself from the memory and flipped through a few pages more quickly. It had been a slow and subtle shift from happy to…something else. Hermione couldn't have even said exactly when it began, only that one day, it had. She supposed it was after Ron had quit the Aurors and gone to work with George and Hermione had moved to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. They had both been busier, although Hermione more so than Ron. Her turning of pages slowed and she focused in on one particular picture. It was the last time she remembered being truly happy.

"Hermione?" Ron called as he stepped through the Floo.

"In the kitchen," Hermione called back, putting the final touches on the table. She turned toward the door just as Ron came through. He stopped abruptly as he took in the lit candles and the bottle of champagne in a bucket on the table.

"What's all this?" he asked. Hermione smiled nervously and handed him one of the glasses of champagne she'd poured. She picked up her own glass and clinked it against his.

"Happy Birthday," she said handing him a small wrapped box. He set down his glass of champagne and took the box and opened it. He looked at the key inside and then at her, quizzical expression on his face.

"It's a key to the flat." Ron's expression didn't change. Hermione rushed to fill the silence. "It's mostly symbolic of course, since you nearly always use the Floo, but I couldn't really wrap that up, so," she trailed off wringing her hands in front of her.

"Hermione, are," Ron looked back down at the key and then at her. "Are you asking me to move into your flat?" Hermione took a few steps forward.

"Our flat," she emphasized. "And yes, I am." He stared at her for a few more seconds before he grabbed her arms and hauled her into a toe-curling kiss.

"That's a yes then?" she asked somewhat breathlessly when they finally broke apart. Ron simply laughed and kissed her again.

Things had started to go downhill sometime after that. As Hermione looked through the following pages, she could see the change in their expressions. She wondered, yet again, just how they had managed to mislead everyone, as surprised as they had all been when it had finally ended for good. Looking at these photographs now, Hermione couldn't imagine how anyone with half a brain could have missed it.

"Ron, we're supposed to have dinner with my parents tonight," Hermione reminded him angrily.

"Hermione, it's the Canons," Ron said, rifling through his wardrobe for his bright orange jersey. He pulled it over his head and Hermione grimaced at how horribly it clashed with his hair. "George got the tickets last minute. He just told me about it today."

"This is the third time you've cancelled on them," Hermione snapped.

"So, go without me," Ron said with a shrug.

"I did that the last time," she retorted. "My parents are starting to think you don't like them." Ron rolled his eyes.

"That's ridiculous, Hermione."

"What are they supposed to think, Ron?" she bit back, throwing her hands up. "The last three dinners they've invited us too, we've cancelled once and I've gone on my own twice. I don't know, I'm starting to think that they might be right."

"Now you're just being mental," he said, shaking his head in exasperation.

"I always go to dinner with you at the Burrow," she countered. Ron's eyes narrowed.

"Is that what this is about? I owe you or something?"

"For Merlin's sake, Ron, I'm not bloody keeping score!" she shouted.

"Then what is your problem?" he yelled back.

"My problem is that if I kept cancelling dinner with your mother, I would never hear the end of it. From you or her!"

"So you are keeping score!"

"No, I'm not!"

"Fine, I'll go to the damn dinner!"

"Don't bother, I don't want you there!" Hermione nearly screeched. She turned away from Ron, hating the way she sounded. Ron sighed.

"Hermione, I don't know what more you want from me," he said tiredly. She shook her head, forcing herself not to cry.

"I don't want anything, Ron," she said quietly. "Just go to your game." She turned and hurried down the hall toward their bedroom, closing the door behind her. After a few minutes, there was a tentative knock on the door.

"Hermione?" Ron said quietly. Hermione ignored him. "I'm sorry, Hermione." When Hermione didn't answer, she heard him sigh and then the Floo activated a few moments later. Hermione threw herself on the bed and wept.

Hermione sighed and wiped a tear off her cheek. That hadn't been their only row and she was just as guilty as Ron. She couldn't remember the number of times Ron had asked her, begged her, to go to a Quidditch match with him and she always refused even though he had gone to every museum and play she'd asked him to, at least once. She had even gotten him to the opera, although he had flatly refused to return. Although she loved the Weasleys, Molly's subtle hints about their living situation made Hermione reluctant to go to the Burrow more than was absolutely necessary. Soon they were arguing about nearly everything and Ron was avoiding the flat as much as possible.

It wasn't until Harry and Ginny's wedding that they both finally accepted what they had really known for weeks, maybe months. They had both been on the end of good-natured ribbing about when Ron was going to make an honest woman of Hermione and had simply smiled and said nothing. The last photograph in the album was the most bittersweet.

"Dance with me?" Ron asked. Hermione looked at the melancholy expression on his face and her breath caught in her throat.

"Of course," she said, taking his hand and letting him lead her to the dance floor. Ron held her close as they moved around the floor. After a few minutes, he pulled back from her slightly.

"It's not working, is it?"

"No, Ron, it's not," she agreed. He gave her a sad smile.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be what you wanted." Hermione shook her head.

"It's not that," she said. "You shouldn't have to be anyone but who you are. I'm sorry neither of us are what the other needed."

"Gods, I love you, Hermione." She could see that his eyes were glistening.

"I love you too, Ron. I always will." He hugged her tightly and she willed the both of them not to make a scene at their best friend's wedding.

"I'll move my stuff out tomorrow."

"There's no rush," she insisted, suddenly very scared to be all alone.

"It's better this way, Hermione. I can stay in the flat above the shop." She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. "We won't say anything tonight though, yeah?"

"No, of course not," she said. "Just dance with me." She moved her arms to encircle his neck and he pulled her close to him and they danced that way for quite some time.

To say everyone had been shocked had been an understatement, although there was a look of understanding in Molly's eyes as she hugged Hermione and told her she was always welcome at the Burrow, regardless. Hermione had broken down in sobs at that point and Molly had simply kept hugging her. Harry had been the most devastated, feeling understandably torn between his two best friends, but Hermione and Ron had surprised even themselves at how they were able to put their own past aside and be there for their friends. It had taken some time, of course, but they had begun to slip back into those old friendship roles. She wondered if it would ever be like it was. That was what she missed the most, the three of them simply laughing with one another and not feeling weird about it. She missed her other best friend.

Hermione looked at that first picture one more time before she closed the album and smiled. She and Ron would never again be a couple, not that she wanted that anyway. But, maybe, someday, they could once again be friends.