Is it weird to post an outtake of a story that hasn't been published yet? I hope it's not too strange, because that's what I'm doing right now. Last night I sat down to do an eight page paper on the memberships of Bulgaria and Romania in the UN, and this came out instead. I'm trying to really nail down my characterizations of Ron and Hermione, so constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated! But do try not to be too harsh, if you don't mind.

A big thank you to everyone that read and reviewed my first story back to fanfiction, which was called Birthdays, Gifts, and Domestic Bliss. If you'd like to read it, that'd be lovely. If you don't, then feel free to ignore my shameless self-promotion.

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, I own a Harry Potter penguin pillow and a Ron Weasley pillow.

"You know you'll see her in the morning, right?"

Ron snapped into focus on Harry's smirking face. Harry raised an eyebrow, and Ron narrowed his eyes in response. He glanced at the chess board between them briefly before directing one of his pieces to move. "Checkmate," he said defiantly.

Harry scowled a bit. "How do you manage to beat me while you stare off into space?"

"Pure talent," Ron replied nonchalantly as he began to clear the board. "Don't take it too hard. You're better than Hermione."

"Well yeah, I know that much," Harry said, stretching his arms and yawning. "Is it normal to be this exhausted at nine o'clock?"

"Well, if they'd told me rebuilding the wizarding world would take so much time and energy I'd have left it for some other bloke," Ron quipped. "Are you at the ministry tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Harry replied as they began to make their way upstairs. "Then Hogwarts in the afternoon."

"I'm picking Hermione up from her parents' at eleven and then we'll be there with you after lunch," Ron said. Although Hermione had chosen to stay at the Burrow while her parents readjusted to life in England, she'd recently begun to spend more time at her childhood home. She had remained adamant, however, that she would not be moving back in with her parents indefinitely. While Ron was pleased that he'd be seeing her just about every day and didn't particularly want her to leave anytime soon, he couldn't help but wonder why she didn't just move back to her parents' home. However, he kept these thoughts to himself; the tone she'd taken when she'd announced her decision to stay at the Burrow was one that suggested absolute finality, and Ron thought it best not to question her about it yet.

"You're getting her at eleven? I didn't realize it'd take you more than an hour to apparate to Hogsmeade," Harry teased quietly while throwing what was, in Ron's opinion, a nauseating glance at Ginny's closed bedroom door.

"Well, you know, might get held up on the way," Ron said, the faraway look returning to his eyes as he began to think about the wonders the next day would bring.

"Mind the details," Harry muttered under his breath. "You do know that you just saw each other this afternoon, right?"

"Yeah. But I like knowing where she is, y'know?" Ron replied shortly.

Harry was silent for a moment before he said, quietly and sincerely, "Yeah, I know."

The two climbed the rest of the stairs in an amicable silence, the longevity of their friendship enabling them to understand one another without exchanging any more words. When Ron opened the door to his room, however, they were met with a surprise. Lying on Ron's bed was a hiccupping, red-eyed Hermione. Ron barely registered as Harry clapped him on the shoulder briefly before swiftly backing out of the room. For once, Ron didn't know or particularly care where his best friend was going. After casting quick locking and silencing charms so as not to wake any of his family, he hurried across the room, the entirety of his attention immediately focused on his crying girlfriend.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" he asked as he sat down gently, grabbing one of her hands in his own. "When did you get back? Is everything alright?"

Hermione's eyes came to focus on his face as if she had just noticed his presence. "Oh, Ron!" she cried, sitting up suddenly and launching herself into his arms as she began a fresh round of sobs. Alarmed, Ron instinctually wrapped his arms around her. He didn't really know what else to do, so he simply held her and let her cry. He was certainly worried; he'd never seen Hermione this way before. Normally she'd try to compose herself quickly when he and Harry were there, almost as if she was afraid to show cracks in her strong exterior. But finally, it seemed, it had come time for her to break down, and there was really nothing Ron could do but let her.

After all, hadn't she done the same for him last week when he'd finally had enough of it all? It was strange, he thought, how nearly two months after the battle the pain could still feel so raw. But he hadn't wanted to talk about it, because he'd done enough talking. He just needed to finally and fully break down, and she'd been there to let him. So if she didn't want to talk, he thought, then so be it.

They sat that way for what must have been nearly half an hour, long after Hermione's heaving sobs had turned to hiccups and sniffs. In that time, they'd managed to lie back in bed, Hermione's head resting in the crook of Ron's arm, which was wrapped tightly around her. Her hand loosely gripped his t-shirt at his chest, and his thumb gently traced a path up along the side of her still entirely-too-thin mid-section. Ron felt a strange mix of peacefulness and anxiety; he wanted to know what had happened, but he didn't want to be the one to break the spell they were under and possibly set her off either crying or shouting at him for prying. Just when Ron was about to his breaking point, Hermione finally spoke.

"I told them I'm not coming back."

Ron frowned at the ceiling. Leave it to Hermione to be cryptic. "What do you mean?"

"My parents. I told them I'm not moving back in with them."

"They didn't know?"

He felt her shake her head against his arm, but she didn't elaborate. Tentatively, he began, "And they weren't happy about it?"

She was quiet for a moment. Ron was worried that he'd upset her again, but his anxiety didn't last long. "Well, given that I'm nearly nineteen and that I'll be out of school for good at this time next year, I think they guessed that I wouldn't be living with them much longer."

Ron furrowed his brow and shifted so that he was at last looking at Hermione rather than at the low ceiling of his bedroom. "Then you weren't happy about it? You know you can go back if you want. Nobody here'd be offended or anything."

"Do you want me to go back?" she asked in a small voice that, much to his own shame, reminded Ron of the twelve year old girl that had cried in the bathroom after a mean boy had reminded her she didn't have any friends.

"Not particularly," he answered truthfully, but was quick to add: "but if you want to then I'm not going to try to stop you or anything."

Hermione sighed and turned further onto her back to face the ceiling. She bit her lip in a way that really shouldn't have incited a reaction in Ron (but definitely did) as she spoke, clearly choosing her words very carefully: "The thing is…I don't want to. That's the problem." The end of her statement was accompanied by another loud sniff.

"Sorry, but I don't see why that's a problem," Ron said in what he considered to be the most sensitive tone he could muster.

"Well don't you see? I don't want to go back," she emphasized, turning back to face him.

Ron took a deep breath, knowing now was not the time to get frustrated. "I can't read your mind, love," he said as lightly as he could.

Hermione looked down, focusing her eyes on some spot on Ron's t-shirt. "What do you do when home doesn't feel like home anymore?" she asked in what was almost a whisper. "They're my parents, Ron, and I love them so, so much, and it's the house I grew up in so of course I'm attached to it but it's just not the same, not anymore." Her voice grew louder and more frantic as she continued to speak, and she looked as though she was about to start crying again at any moment. Ron pulled her in closer to him, hoping to provide some sort of comfort.

"Well yeah, nothing's really the same anymore," he replied awkwardly, unsure of what else to say.

"I know," she replied, her voice muffled by his chest. She pulled back a bit so as to be heard, but still did not meet his eyes. "I just feel so guilty. My parents gave me all I ever needed, they're wonderful people, but it's just not home without magic. It's just…" she stopped and took a deep breath before continuing. "It's just not home without you and Harry." Her cheeks flushed a deep red as she began to speak in a very fast voice. "It's just that the three of us have been together virtually every day for so long that it's like a reflex now. When I wake up, I immediately wonder where you two are and if you're safe. You're my best friends and I love you both so, so much (in different ways, mind you), and nobody else in the entire world understands what we've been through the past year, the past seven years really, and my own parents don't know me as well as the two of you do and I just don't know what I'm supposed to think about that."

"Hey," Ron said firmly, causing her to finally, finally meet his eyes again. "You know you don't have to explain any of that to me, 'cos you know it's exactly the same for me and for Harry."

Hermione smiled in spite of herself, and Ron silently congratulated himself on saying something right. "I know. That's just it, isn't it? It's like we've been in a weird sort of bubble since we were eleven and now nothing feels right unless the both of you are there."

"Yeah," Ron agreed, "but I can't say I'd particularly want Harry here right now."

Hermione rolled her eyes at his lame joke, but clearly appreciated his attempt to lighten the mood. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do. I mean blimey, you were gone for all of six hours and I already missed you," Ron admitted, feeling some of his masculinity slide away but not really minding one bit. Hermione smiled at his admission and slid one of her hands into one of his. She looked down again, this time fixating her gaze on their joined hands.

"I know that I can live without you two, and I know I'm going to have to when I go back to Hogwarts. But for now, I get to choose, and I feel more at home at the Burrow. You know I couldn't be happier to be here, don't misunderstand me, but I just feel so incredibly guilty."

"I get it," Ron replied. "I've hardly got the guts to tell Mum and Dad that I'm moving in with Harry, and we all know I'll end up here for dinner almost every night anyways."

"Only because neither you nor Harry has the motivation to cook for yourselves," Hermione replied, smirking a little.

"You caught me," Ron replied sarcastically, causing Hermione to chuckle. The pair fell into a comfortable silence.

"I'm sorry to fall apart on you tonight," Hermione said a few moments later. "It's just hard sometimes, to have these two worlds that don't particularly mesh."

"If anyone can make them go together, it's you," Ron replied confidently, "and as for the other bit, you're allowed to fall apart sometimes. I'm sure it gets tiring being perfect all time, after all."

"Oh, shut it. I'm not perfect and you know that perfectly well."

"You're about as close as a person can get. Completely mental, though. It's a good thing I'm so bloody in love with you or else I might not be able to stand you." Despite Ron's attempt to be nonchalant, he was unable to keep the emotion out of his voice and the blush off his cheeks. It didn't matter how many times he told Hermione he loved her, it still made him feel honest and vulnerable and incredible all at once.

"Well considering you're a bit of a prat, I suppose it's lucky I'm in love with you as well," Hermione replied cheekily. Ron was about to retort, but quickly found his mouth otherwise occupied as Hermione planted her lips firmly on his, nearly catching him off guard by the amount of passion she was pouring into the kiss. Ron reciprocated without hesitation, drawing her as close to him as possible with one hand while resuming his stroking of her side with the other, his thumb brushing dangerously close to the underside of her breast. Her hands slid under his cotton t-shirt, and Ron had to stop himself from moaning as she traced patterns on his bare back.

After a few blissful moments, Hermione pulled back slowly. Ron protested with a noise that resembled something like a whine or a groan. When he opened his eyes, she was biting her lip again, which certainly didn't help matters.

"Something the matter?" Ron asked gruffly, reminding himself that boyfriends were meant to be sensitive and caring, not horny and inconsiderate.

"Do you…" Hermione trailed off uncertainly before visibly strengthening her resolve and beginning again, this time in a characteristically strong voice. "Ron, do you want to have sex?"

If it's possible to choke on air, that's what Ron did. "Wha-how-wha?" he responded, unable to muster anything resembling eloquence.

"Do you want to have sex?" Hermione repeated. Her voice was clear, and her rosy cheeks were the only indication that this was anything other than an ordinary conversation.

"I, um, I—"

"It's a straightforward question, Ron," Hermione snapped in a shrill and impatient tone. "Would you like to have sex with me or not?"

"Well yeah, course I do," Ron managed to sputter.

"Alright then," Hermione responded briskly. "In that case I suppose it'd make the most sense if we take our clothes off."

"Wait—you want—right now?!" Ron still couldn't quite wrap his mind around what was happening. Sure, he and Hermione had shared a bed before, but they'd never come anywhere remotely close to having sex. He hadn't even seen her tits, for Merlin's sake!

"Well, don't you?" Hermione asked almost accusingly. "If you don't want me, Ron, all you have to do is say so!"

"Hermione, I'm a randy eighteen year old bloke that's in love with a girl that's been in my wet dreams since I was thirteen!" Ron said heatedly, too frustrated by the conversation to be embarrassed by his revelation. "So yeah, of course I want to, but only if you do!"

"Well Ron, I'm lying in your bed suggesting that we take our clothes off, so I think that if you really wanted to you'd have done something about it by now!" Hermione shrieked, pulling away from him so that they were no longer touching.

"Well if you intend on seducing me with that voice you should probably rethink what it is you actually want to do, because last time I checked most people don't have shouting matches while they shag!" Ron replied loudly.

"Oh, I'm sorry I don't have as much experience as you do on these matters! Next time I want to do something nice for my boyfriend maybe I'll just let him shag a girl that'll stay nice and quiet!" Hermione shouted, looking as though she was on the brink of tears.

"What the bloody hell are you on about?" Ron yelled back, running his hands through his hair exasperatedly.

"Maybe I should just go," Hermione replied, making to stand up from the bed.

"No!" Ron shouted, grabbing her hand instinctively. She stopped, and he softened his voice. "I don't want you to go."

"I don't think you know what you want," Hermione replied scathingly, but she was no longer moving toward the door.

"I want you," Ron said earnestly, "and if you don't realize that by now then you're not as clever as I thought you were."

"So if you want me, then why don't you take me?" she asked simply. He groaned in response, burying his face in his hands. It took all the willpower in his body not to do just as she had suggested, but he knew that on some level, something wasn't quite right.

"I want what you want," he said slowly after he'd regained some composure. "And if you aren't ready to have sex, then I'll wait as long as you want me to."

Hermione's face softened a bit, but she still retained the hardness in her voice as she questioned him: "But don't you have…needs?"

Ron laughed humorlessly. "Any guy that tells you that just wants to get off. But Hermione, I don't plan on fucking up this relationship. 'Sides, it's kind of a big deal, our first time and all."

"But haven't you…already, with—?" Hermione broke off, looking more uncertain than Ron had ever seen her.

"Wait—you thought—with Lavender? No! No, we didn't. We didn't do much else than what you saw in the common room, really," Ron said, feeling his ears burn.

"Oh," Hermione said primly. "I just thought—you were together for awhile, and she made it sound like—"

"Well she was lying, then," Ron said firmly. "We weren't ever really alone, and when we were, I just couldn't—I felt too guilty, y'know. She's a nice girl, but she just wasn't what—who—I wanted."

Hermione nodded, pulling on a string that hung loose from the corner of a blanket. For once it seemed as if she had nothing to say. Suddenly, a thought occurred to Ron.

"Wait, you and Krum didn't…?"

"What? No, of course not!" she cried indignantly. "I was only fifteen, Ron!"

"Well I didn't think you had," Ron said defensively," but you were together awhile too!"

"I only kissed him a few times," she said softly. "He wasn't who I wanted, either."

Ron's eyes snapped up. "Back then?" Upon seeing Hermione's nod, Ron's face split into a grin. "I wanted to take you to the Yule Ball, you know. I was just too much of an immature tit to realize it at the time."

Hermione smiled for the first time since they'd begun what Ron would from then on refer to in his head as the Terribly Awkward Conversation. "I know it doesn't matter now, but I am glad that you didn't—with her."

"So am I," Ron replied honestly. "Look, I know that as a teenage bloke I'm not a lot more than a cock with legs, but this is a big deal to me, too. It's not gonna be good for either of us if you're just doing it as some sort of favor." He wanted to tell her that in his mind, their first time would be his last first time, but he didn't quite have the courage to be so bold.

Hermione reached across the bed and took his hand. "I—I don't think I'm really ready yet...to have sex, I mean. I'm sorry."

"That's not something to be sorry for," Ron said sincerely, congratulating himself internally on suppressing his urge to ask when she thought she would be ready.

"I know, but I still am. I've been a bit spastic tonight, after all," Hermione replied apologetically.

"S'like I said earlier—you're allowed some of that. Not every night though, if you don't mind, I don't think I've got that kind of capacity for feelings quite yet," Ron retorted, lying back down in bed and pulling Hermione into a loose hug. Before lying down entirely, she kissed him softly once on the mouth.

"I love you very much, you know," she said matter-of-factly as she settled into his embrace.

"I love you, too," he sighed contentedly. "Even more than I love biscuits, I reckon."

"That's quite the high compliment," Hermione replied amusedly. "I reckon I love you more than I love books."

"Now that's a significant claim to make," Ron teased. "Are you sure we're ready for that kind of commitment?"

"I don't know, biscuits and books are pretty serious business. Saying that means we're in it for the long haul," Hermione said. While there was a flirty edge to her voice, she paused a bit uncertainly and looked at him meaningfully.

"I already was, you know," Ron said in the most serious tone he thought he'd ever used in his life. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me, 'cos like I said, I intend to get this right this time."

"So do I," Hermione replied simply, cuddling into Ron as much as she could. Ron smiled and allowed her to get as close as they could comfortably be. Things weren't perfect, he knew, but as long as he had Hermione, he couldn't see them getting anything but better.

Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you thought! On another note, if you'd like to read a better version of an awkward ex-girlfriend conversation, check out Australia by the lovely MsBinns. Enjoy your hopefully a little more Romione-esque day. :)