Hermione POV

It was a wonder that I was still at Hogwarts. Three days had passed since I punched Romilda and I wasn't back at Grimmauld Place. Thank Merlin. I had morning detention with Filch for the remainder of the semester, anger management therapy, and I was forced to write an apology letter, but I was still, miraculously, a student. I was pretty sure the only reason was because of who I was to the magical community. McGonagall had made it very clear that If I stepped out of line again, that I would find myself without a school and without a home. She'd also ended our mentorship program, which was probably the worst blow. At least she hadn't delved deeper into the reason I had lashed out. She assumed that I had just cracked from stress and anger.

My weekend morning detention with Filch consisted of removing piskies from the bathroom pipes and I was covered in what I hoped was clean water from the toilets. To make matters worse, Ron was going to be visiting today. He'd received a request for an interview from a 1st year and of course, he'd jumped at the opportunity. I didn't want to see him and I wished I had a good enough excuse to avoid him. I at least wasn't going to be in my room where he would have the chance to try and accost me. After showering, I took my wand and made my way to the library. Surprisingly, I found myself without my usual followers. Theo and Malfoy had been on my heels every day for weeks and they chose the day that Ron was showing up to stop. It shouldn't hurt me. It shouldn't yet it did and it was extremely frustrating. Did they not want me anymore or were they so distracted with each other that they couldn't bother with me?

Ron found me only an hour later, of course he did. Ron would have known right where to look. I had sat in that same spot with him and Harry thousands of times.

"Should have figured you would be here," he said, talking much too loud. The librarian on duty shushed him.

"I-, I-, have a-, a report due next Tuesday." The lie was easy even though the words were hard. Lying to my friends had become the simplest thing in my life. The knife in my gut twisted. I was such an arsehole, but then again, he was an arsehole too. Conceited and needy and rude. And even though I didn't hate him, I didn't like him. I'd given him too much leeway, blaming it on grief, but after a month of mourning he had gone back to his old self while everyone else changed in the aftermath. I remembered a conversation I'd overheard him have with George at the end of the summer after the battle, when we'd shown up for breakfast at the burrow and were greeted by George's freshly shaved head.

"Bloody hell! What did you do that for? You look like shite," he told him while shoveling a muffin into his mouth. Molly had been baking obsessively. Everyone was trying to find ways to cope. Ginny and Harry were clinging to each other, Arthur was working too many hours with Percy, Bill and Fleur were in the cottage and working with the new ministry, and Charlie had gone back to his dragons. Ron…well, when he wasn't trying to get his hands in my pants to repeat the mistake I had only made a handful of times, he was simply being Ron.

I elbowed him in the side. It was so obvious why he'd done it. If Ron had bothered to think for two seconds, he would have realized it. George probably hurt every time he looked in the mirror, seeing the reflection that was a spitting image of his twin.

"Fuck off, Ron." George hadn't said it in the loving way he used to. Molly didn't even bother to chastise him. She only hugged her bald son and went back to her baking with fresh tears in her eyes.

"She coddles him too much," he whispered to me and I felt my entire body flush with anger. Ron took it the wrong way, slipping a hand to touch the swell of my back under my shirt. "You look so pretty when you blush like that, Mione."

The conversation had been my last straw in my relationship with Ron. I'd asked Ron to move back to the burrow a week later and he finally agreed when it became clear that I had no intention of letting him touch me again. He didn't stayed long at the burrow. Molly kicked him out and he moved into his own flat in London two weeks after. He didn't even go back for holidays anymore. He was living what he believed to be his best life, and he used every chance to rub it in.

"You can stop working and hang out for a while," he said, closing the book I had open. I glared at him as the librarian shushed him again. He was so damn loud! "I can only stay for like another hour. I already gave my interview and I have a date tonight with Gabrielle LaRue to get ready for."

He rubbed the patchy beard he had started growing with a smile.

Gabrielle was a veela model and I assumed he was trying to show off or make me jealous, maybe both. Unfortunately for him, I could give a fuck less.

"Can't," I replied, grabbing the book back from him with sparks of pure gold on my fingers. He slammed his hand down on mine before I could open it again. He pulled it back and slid it across the table. It tumbled over the edge and slammed onto the floor. The sound drew the librarian's attention for the final time.

"You two, out!" She whisper shouted and Ron jumped up, pleased that he had won.

The moment we were in the hall, I shoved him. The happy expression on his face turned angry.

"What the hell? You only answer my letters with generic bullshit, you don't want to hang out with me while I'm here. You said you wanted to be friends. You said you were sorry for pushing me away. What is your problem, Mione? Are you jealous or something?"

I hated it so much when he called me that, and he thought I was jealous? More golden sparks sputtered on my skin and words tumbled out of me.

"You are such an arrogant jerk, Ronald! I do want to be friends! I want to be friends with the Ron that I kissed in the chamber, the Ron that actually cared about more than fame! You used to be funny and kind, brave and thoughtful, but after we had sex you went straight from grief to this…this awful, self-centered, egotistical, arsehole!"

He had the decency to look surprised, at the fact that I was speaking or the honesty of my words, before he switched back to anger.

"What was I supposed to do?" He yelled, gesturing wildly with his arms. "Go silent like you did? Bake like Mom? Should I have retreated from the world with George?"

"You were at least supposed to give a shite about the people who loved you! You used fame and sex as a cure all! You used me as a cure all when I was hurting too. At first it was nice to feel something, but even when you were using me, it was for you. Everything has been about you since the moment the battle ended!" I pulled up the sleeve of my jumper, showing him the scar that made him wince. I'd never let him see it when we slept together as I'd always demanded the lights stay off. "I have a permanent reminder of my uselessness to this world, of my torture and the agony I felt. I can't even speak unless I am full of this seething anger! My heart aches for everyone we lost and all you wanted was to fuck me. Not love me, or comfort me, or cherish me, or make me feel anything other than cheap and used! I'm not jealous that you stick your dick in anything that moves. I miss my friend. Maybe don't show up again until you can be that person."

Something changed in his expression. It looked like shame. He refused to look at me and I had nothing else to say so I stormed away from him, wishing I could snap myself away. Damn Hogwarts and my inability to apparate on its grounds. I wanted my book and my bed, but more so I wanted to feel desired and loved. The thought brought the image of Theo and Malfoy to my mind. That's where my jealousy lied, not with the man-child behind me.