The Burrow was supposed to be home. Hermione no longer felt as though she had a home. Guilt ached in her belly every time Mrs Weasley gave her one of those warm smiles; how could she still smile, when she had lost so much?
Because Mrs Weasley still had purpose. Of course she felt her loss immensely, but she had so many other children, biological and otherwise, for whom she needed to keep going. Despite the hole in her heart, she was always there for everyone else, to talk to, to hug, and most importantly, she could throw her energy into keeping them fed.
Frankly, this made Hermione feel like shit.
She wished she had the ability to work through the pain and the loss, but she had nothing to strive for anymore. Mrs Weasley refused all offers of help, because she like taking care of people. She told Hermione that she just needed to rest up.
"I've been resting up for fucking weeks," she grumbled, as she headed up the stairs to Ron's room. Ginny walked past looking shocked.
No one understood, not even Harry.
"You should be happy that Voldemort is no longer a threat to the wizarding world!" exclaimed Harry, looking at Hermione as though she was a traitor.
She supposed she kind of was. Of course she did not grieve for Voldemort's presence, but what was she supposed to dedicate her life to now? She'd talked to Harry because she thought he would be the one person who would get it, but now she regretted her decision.
So she continued to bottle up her thoughts and feelings.
"But it's been ages, baby."
Since the war, Harry and Ginny had thrown all of their emotion into each other. Sex was such a comfort to them, and while Hermione was glad that they had some outlet for their feelings, it was not cool when everyone else had to listen to them.
And it was not cool when Ron thought that it should be the same for them.
No, Hermione was not a prude. Throughout the hunt for horcruxes, sneaking into the bushes surrounding the tent had been a great way for her and Ron to escape their reality. But now, it was just too much for her to handle.
And so, just as she had every other night for the past few weeks, Hermione rolled over, and while she "slept," listened to Ron "comforting" himself.
She knew she was hurting Ron's feelings. She knew she should feel terrible. But she just did not "feel it" anymore. She did not know whether the war had wrecked her, or if Ron's overprotectiveness had just become insufferable in the aftermath. All Hermione knew was that she could not stand his closeness anymore. It was at the point where everything he said or did was just irritating.
But what could she do? There was nowhere for her to go. She could not bear the thought of disappointing Mr and Mrs Weasley, or of being judged by Ginny and Harry.
"You should do something for yourself" Ginny said to her one day, when she noticed how down Hermione was.
And so, in the middle of the night, Hermione packed the meagre belongings she had left, and apparated into Diagon Alley to find somewhere to stay.
Ron didn't wake up until the next morning, finding a note that brought tears to his eyes and ripped yet another hole in his heart.
She had left. He had lost someone else. Everything had changed.