Author's Note: Chapter Four!

I'll level with you.

I tried being with Ron, once the war was won, but it didn't work. Shocker. I s'pose we should have seen it coming, but even the largest, most unmistakable warning couldn't have prepared me for the manner in which he broke up with me.

No, your eyes aren't failing you. It's true.

He broke up with me.

It happened around one year after the Battle of Hogwarts. I, along with Ron and Harry, had opted to join the Auror Department. Normally, there was more training involved and an age restriction for new recruits, but the Ministry was in dire shape after the war.

In other words, they needed us.

Needless to say, we walked into the office that first day with some heavy chips on our shoulders. Before then, we had always been written off as nothing more than a troublesome trio with a thing for breaking rules — only half true. For once, it was nice to have the respect we so rightfully deserved.

Harry embraced his new role as Kingsley's right hand man, and Ron didn't seem at all jealous. Things were really starting to shape up. Changes were being made. Our little trio was growing, and for a moment there, it seemed as though the world was finally in order.

Then it happened.

Right on cue.

I returned to mine and Ginny's flat; empty, as usual, given that she still had to complete her seventh year at Hogwarts. I didn't mind being alone after those long work hours, doing paperwork or chasing down Death Eaters that were in hiding, but that night . . . something strange went down.

"Ron?" I asked, startled to see him at the kitchen table. It looked as though he had been waiting for quite some time. I set down my things and slid into the chair next to his. "I didn't know you were back in town. I thought you were still in Belfast with Harry and the others."

After the war, he decided it would be a cool idea to grow out a beard and be a man — or whatever. It made for an awkward kiss every now and then, but I didn't mind all that much.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, searching through his eyes for some indication as to what was going on.

Ron darted a look at me, rather quickly. I naively thought eye contact was a step in the right direction, but his seriousness only seemed to deepen. "We need to talk."

Those four words.

Never in my life, had anything good come after we need to talk. I'm not sure what I felt, right then; perhaps a mixture of confusion and worry, and the intense urge to leave him there with no chance to finish his thoughts.

"What's going on?" I asked, despite myself.

There was a hollow look in his eyes, which told me he had done something very, very wrong. Suddenly, thousands of possibilities were racing through my mind at top speed. Perhaps he cheated on me. Perhaps he was interested in men. Perhaps he wasn't interested in anyone or anything at all, and desired an asexual life. Perhaps he wanted to move out of England and pursue a career as a juggler in the the east. Perhaps he wasn't actually Ron at all. Perhaps he was one of those pesky boggarts, there to reveal my deepest, darkest fears.

Yes, that had to be it.

"Riddikulus!" I shouted, jumping from my chair.

Without the slightest warning, Ron was propelled backwards, into the dish rack, as a single current of magic left the end of my wand. I held my position for several moments, waiting pathetically for the boggart to return to its true form, but nothing happened. Ron scrambled to his feet, clothes askew and hair an even bigger mess than before. There was also some residue from the collision stuck in his beard, but I made the executive decision to keep that information to myself.

If he had the nerve to bombard me with bad news after such a seemingly endless day at the office, he deserved to look like a fool doing it.

"What the bloody hell was that about?" he demanded, visibly shaken.

I shrugged and lowered my wand, but didn't pocket it. "I thought you might have been a — never mind. Just tell me what's going on."

For a moment, he eyed me, as though waiting for me to fire another spell at him, which I very well could have, but the moment soon passed. Ron gestured for me to have a seat with him in the lounge, and I reluctantly followed. There was silence between us, for the first time in a long time. Our conversations were usually on the heated side, filled with loads of disagreements and the occasional moaning sesh, but never, not even once, had there been no words to speak.

"I — I've been thinking about the future," he said, sounding rather unlike himself. "It's been six months and — and I think maybe we should consider living together."

"Living together?" I repeated, eyes wide. "You were in here all mopey and that's what you wanted to say?"

Ron nodded. "I was nervous to ask, because, well, you seem to be doing well here, by yourself, but maybe…maybe it would be nice to take things to the next level."

Something about his demeanour didn't reflect the words coming from his mouth, but I ignored that hunch and chose instead to embrace him. I had waited for this moment for a long, long time. After all, we had been through so much together. It made sense for us to eventually live together.

Suddenly, the onslaught of excitement that flooded both our bodies made the swift transition into — yes, that's right — hormones.

Ron pressed his lips onto mine and kissed me, taking control for the first time in a long time, whilst lowering me flat onto the sofa. It was a love seat, which meant there wasn't much room, but we managed. Like I said, it had been a year, so we were pretty well-acquainted with each other on a physical level, but every time he undressed me felt like the first time. I lifted my arms with anticipation and felt a brush of cool air along the bare skin of my torso. Ron tossed my blouse and bra to the floor and palmed my breasts with both hands.

I moaned into our kiss, now sweating from the heat building between us, my own hands working the buttons on his shirt. It was tough work with him on top of me, making me pause every other second as he sucked on my neck and rubbed his fingertips over my nipples.

(Nipples are funny, aren't they? No? Just me? Fine.)

Despite his foolishness and penchant for fucking up, Ron was quite good at things of a sexual nature. It surprised me; then again, it didn't. The man had an appetite, and not just for food.

I wrapped my legs around him and felt him against me. It made me blush, even after all the times I had been with him.

"Hurry," I urged, waiting as he fumbled with his wand, in an effort to cast the proper contraceptive spells on both of us. "Actually, take your time. Let's not relive the scare of our three month anniversary."

Ron shot me a quick glare, as the scare of our three month anniversary had been his fault for not casting the spells properly. Since then, I had taken that role but it was important for him to learn the proper way to do it. I watched intently, waiting for the proper signs to indicate the spell had been casted correctly.

He passed.

"Brill —" I nearly remarked, swept into another kiss as Ron lifted me from the sofa and carried me to the bedroom, all the while tugging and tossing our remaining clothes.

Finally, we made it to the bedroom and crashed into my freshly washed duvet. It was all quick movements and hasty kisses from there. I rolled on top and straddled him, relishing the manner in which his facial muscles contorted to suit the pleasure surging from his body into mine.

"Merlin," he groaned, grabbing my hips and meeting my movements.

I collapsed forward, breathing heavily. "You — know — how — to — get — me — go — ing — " I teased, taking a jab at the fact that his go-to was shouting the name of an old, bearded, Slytherin wizard from the Middle Ages.

Ron didn't find this very amusing, but his lack of amusement resulted in quicker, deeper movements that really did get me going. I repositioned myself so that I was on my side, with him behind me, cupping me and rubbing me in places. It was my favourite position, one that resulted in an earth shattering orgasm every single time.

I climaxed rather quickly, mouth hanging open as several spasms traveled the length of my body. Pleasure from head to toe. The best part was Ron didn't stop. Instead, he switched his rhythm and rode the orgasm with me. It was like nothing he had ever done So sensual, so experienced, so very different from his usual. Rather similar to someone else.

Remember the part about Ron breaking up with me? Well, don't say I didn't warn you.

In the final stretch of my orgasm, an incredibly horrible thing happened.

"Nott," I breathed out, in a haze of smokey pleasure, reminded of that one time in the broom closet.

Ron paused. "Not what?"

"Er —"

You see, until then, my boyfriend was not completely aware of the fact that I had lost my virginity to someone else. It wasn't something I did on purpose. I hated keeping secrets from him, but Ron just went and assumed I was a virgin the first time we had sex. Granted, I should have told him the truth right then and there, but I didn't.

Instead, this happened.

"Hermione?"

My body stiffened, to the point that Ron pulled out and turned me onto my back so we could see each other face to face. I didn't want him to see the horror in my eyes. I didn't want him to know I broke the one cardinal rule and shouted someone else's name in the midst of orgasmic bliss.

I fucked up.

I fucked up bad.

Ron brushed the hair from my forehead. "What's wrong?" he asked, showing genuine, mature concern. "Are you hurt? Was I too rough?"

I swallowed hard. "No, you were perfect."

"Then what's got you so down?"

There were several directions I could have taken this conversation, to ease the truth and perhaps prepare him for it, but I chose the blunt route — because that's the smart thing to do in a situation like this. Pfft.

"I'm not a virgin."

Ron cracked a smile. "Ain't that the truth," he spoke, brushing my lips with the bud of his thumb before giving me a soft peck.

"No —" I interjected, pushing him away and sitting up. "I mean, I haven't been a virgin for a long time."

"One year isn't that long," he reasoned, looking at me curiously.

"It hasn't been a year for me," I confessed, avoiding his eyes. "It's been about three."

There was a moment, wherein Ron stared at me completely confused — like classic-Ron-confused — but the moment soon passed. I could see realization tug at his face muscles. First, there was a twitch along his bottom lip. Then, there was a swift descent along his neck as his Adam's apple sunk. Finally, the worst, most heart wrenching thing happened.

I could see actual tears in his eyes.

"Harry?" he choked out.

I pressed my back against the headboard, startled. "What? No, never! I would never. I mean, I had a bit of a crush on him in our second year but — never mind that. It wasn't Harry."

Ron exhaled, as though a world of pressure had been lifted from his shoulders. "It doesn't matter then. I'm with you now. That's all that counts." He moved closer to me and made motion to put an arm around my shoulders.

"Wait —" I cut in, eyes squeezed shut, either from fear that this would be it or from annoyance that I was so fucking Gryffindor. Suffice to say, I'd never wanted to be so Slytherin in my life. Slytherins would have known to accept Ron's reaction and move on, but Gryffindors just had to be honest.

"Hermione, it's all right," he assured me. "I'd be a complete dick to hold anything against you, after all that I've put you through."

If only he had been so mature and understanding back in school. Perhaps then, I would never have lost my v-card to another boy. Still, I didn't regret it. I simply regretted being so secretive about it.

"There's something you need to know," I told him, knowing the only way to go was honesty. "I lost my virginity to —"

"Please don't say Malfoy," he interjected.

In response to this, I lifted my brow at him and gagged at the notion. "Don't be ridiculous. It wasn't him. It was actually . . . it was Theodore."

"Theodore . . ." Ron repeated, drawing a blank. "Theodore what?"

This was the moment. This was the moment that would go down in history as the time Hermione Granger broke Ron Weasley's heart. Has a nice ring to it, no? Don't judge. I never claimed to be a saint.

"Nott," I finished, hearing the single syllable name reverberate between us, until a light bulb went off in Ron's head.

lmao