The darkness that enveloped the living room slowly disappeared as the cherry oak front door opened, letting the late afternoon sunlight spill in. Harry walked inside, his tie hanging untied around his neck and the first two buttons on his white shirt already unbuttoned. He flicked on the light, shut the door behind him, and made his way past the staircase towards the kitchen. He had had a very long day at work, for it had been one of the few days at his job as an Auror where he simply filled out paperwork from his previous assignments while sitting at his desk; the small amount of dust that lay upon it when he entered the office was testament to its amount of use. This boring and monotonous workload left him fully intending, now, to make a nice cup of coffee, flop down onto the couch in front of the TV, and watch this week's football match. The fact that the weekend was finally here didn't hurt, either.

This luxury was unfortunately taken from him when the doorbell rang just as he was about to pour the beans into the coffee maker. He muttered to himself all the way to the door, something about always having to do something and having no time to himself, but as soon as he opened the door, the annoyed muttering stopped and his face lit up with a smile. Hermione stood there on his doorstep. The smile vanished, though, as soon as he saw the tear stains streaking her face and the single tear that was still sliding down her cheek.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" He took her hand and quickly led her into the living room, which started just past the bottom of the staircase, and sat her down on his plush red couch. He sat beside her and took both her hands in his, looking straight into her eyes.

"It's over, Harry. He's gone for good. There's no going back this time."

Harry immediately knew who she was referring to and a scowl appeared on his face. Ron and Hermione had been dating ever since they left Hogwarts, if you could call their on again, off again relationship "dating". It seemed like every few months they got into a relatively large argument that they could not work out from and would end it. However, they would undoubtedly be back together within a week and it seemed they were just as happy as when they first started their odd romance. This time, though, it seemed that Ron had some how gone too far in one of their arguments and Hermione had had enough.

"Would you like some tea?" Harry asked. Hermione seemed a bit taken aback by this unexpected question.

"Uh, um, sure, I guess," she replied.

Harry immediately got up and went in to brew some hot tea for her and was back within minutes, handing her a steaming mug wrapped in a napkin to keep her from burning her hands. She smiled slightly when she noticed this. Harry always had been such a caring person.

"So tell me, Hermione, what happened this time? Why do you say it's over for good?"

Hermione sat there for a moment, the mug cradled in her hands and her head lowered. Then she looked back up, the pain evident in her face, and softly said, "He hit me."

Harry was shocked beyond words. It had been common knowledge since their days at Hogwarts that Ronald Weasley had a very explosive temper, but Harry had never expected him to hit a woman in his life. Finally he managed to find his voice.

"He really hit you? I…I would never have thought he would sink that low. What happened?"

"We…We got in to another row, like always. It was such a trivial reason, I don't even remember why. All I remember is that we were standing in the dining room right before dinner, yelling and screaming at each other and all of a sudden he just snapped. He took a swing at me and it landed right on my temple. I'm still slightly dizzy from it. I was knocked to the ground and as soon as he realized what he had done, he fell to his knees next to me and tried to cradle me in his arms, stammering, trying to tell me he was sorry. I wouldn't let him. I pushed him away and told him to leave…just leave. He stood up slowly and walked out. As soon as I heard the door close, I apparated to your front yard."

Harry's mouth hung open as he listened to Hermione's retelling of the event. How could Ron have done this? What had gone on in his mind that he had thought hitting her was ok?

"Hermione, I…." He was at a complete loss for words.

"Harry, please, just hold me." She sat the mug down on the glass coffee table next to the couch and laid her head down on his chest. His arms instinctively wrapped around her and for the next two hours, they simply laid there, Hermione's tears dampening his chest and Harry listening to her sobs, his mind racing and trying to find an answer to what had gone wrong inside Ron's head.

After his argument with Hermione and storming out of their house, Ron apparated to the Burrow and tread slowly up to the front door, roughly kicking a pail that sat by the door in anger, both at Hermione and himself. This did nothing to lessen his anger, merely adding a small pain in his toe to the amassing emotions. He opened the door and stepped inside, noticing his mother standing at the kitchen counter. She looked up, her hands frozen in the process of peeling a potato, which she had taken up non-magically merely for something to do, and gasped slightly at the sight of him.

"What in the world was that racket?" She sat the potato and the knife on the cutting board and bustled over to him, undoing her flower-print apron as she went.

"Nothing, mum," he answered as she enveloped him in a hug that he only half-heartedly returned.

"You're my son. I don't need to see the look on your face and to receive that kind of an embrace to know that something is wrong. Sit." She pulled out a chair from the dining table for him and then pulled out a second one that she sat in herself. Ron slowly obliged.

"Mum, Hermione and I got in another row. This time, though, I went too far." Seeing the puzzled expression on his mother's face, he continued. "We got into a giant argument over me spending too much time at work or something and at one point, I couldn't take it anymore, and I…" It was incredibly difficult for him to voice what he had done; he was so ashamed of himself for it. "I hit her."

"Ronald!" Her exclamation was paired with a horrified expression on her face.

"It was an accident! I didn't want to! I…I just sort of lost control. I tried to apologize, but she wouldn't have it. She told me to leave so, well, I did and as soon as I was out the door, I apparated here." His head was hung in sadness and guilt when he finished telling his side of the story.

"Ronald Weasley, I thought I'd have taught you better than that? And Hermione of all people? She's a good girl, how could you treat her like that?" Mrs. Weasley's face still held the horrified expression, but a bit of concern for her son was showing as well.

"I honestly don't know what I was thinking," he explained. "Like I said, I just lost control. I feel like such an asshole. I do love her, but you know how I can get sometimes. Mum, what am I gonna do?" He rested his head in his hands as he let out an aggravated sigh.

Ron returned home that night, his talk with his mother still fresh in his mind as he crawled into bed. He could still smell Hermione's scent on the white satin sheets and pillow cases, driving him crazy with longing. He knew he had to try and get her back, no matter what it took. Once he drifted off to sleep, his dreams were filled with images of her face, both when she was happy with him and the moment after he had hit her.

Harry had decided to let Hermione stay with him over night, so as the sun rose higher into the sky and slowly woke her up, it was with a bit of confusion that she found herself laying in a quite unfamiliar bed. One quick whiff of the musky smell, however, and she realized that she was still at Harry's.

She slowly pushed herself up and gazed blearily around the room. She had never before spent the night over here, though she had, of course, been here many times. The walls were all a blue color, reminding her of a book she once read where the binding was gray on the spine and the cover this same color blue. The windows and door frame were all white and there were a few pictures here and there; some were of Harry's parents and those authority figures who had replaced them over the years; others were of her, Harry, and Ron at Hogwarts. Seeing one particular picture of her and Ron, where both were smiling and waving happily at the camera, reminded her of the previous days events and how she had ended up at Harry's in the first place. Wait, her mind asked, if I'm at Harry's and lying in his bed, then where is he?

As she got out of bed and slowly walked to the door, she realized she was still dressed in her clothes from the previous day and wondered silently if she would have to go back to her place and get a fresh set of clothes. The answers to both her questions were quickly answered. First, after a quick look around the room she noticed a set of her clothes were neatly folded and set on top of a large cedar chest at the foot of his bed. Reminding herself to thank him later for this, she opened the door and immediately heard the sizzling of a skillet and the smell of bacon wafting from the kitchen below, revealing Harry's whereabouts. Her mouth watered as she made her way down the stair case and into the living room.

She stopped in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, leaning against the frame. Harry was dressed in a plain black t-shirt and faded blue jeans, his back turned to her as he was setting two plates on the table. She cleared her throat loudly and he jumped slightly and turned around. His face broke into an amused smile.

"Good morning, sleepy head."

"Good morning…what're you laughing at?" He had, in fact, just chuckled.

"Did…heh…did you bother checking the…the mirror yet this morning?" She could tell he was having a hard time keeping from bursting out laughing.

"Oh God…" She rushed over to the nearest reflecting item (the toaster) and examined herself. On top of her clothes being damp with sweat, her hair was all over the place and strands were sticking up at odd angles. The little bit of make-up that she had been wearing the day before was still smeared on her face, more than likely from a combination of her tears the night before and from possibly rubbing it on the pillow while she slept. "God, I look like a disaster!" she exclaimed and ran back upstairs, leaving a highly amused Harry back in the kitchen, where he continued to prepare breakfast, chuckling to himself with a stupid smile playing on his lips. She quickly made her way to the bathroom, shutting the door.

She turned on the water for a shower, her face showing irritation both at Harry for having the nerve to laugh at her and at herself for not bothering to check how she looked after she got up. She stripped down and stepped in, closing her eyes as the hot water flowed over her body, relaxing and calming her. Half an hour later, she stepped out and grabbed a towel from the rack above the toilet, wrapping it tightly around herself. She made her way back into Harry's room, but when she opened the door, she found him sitting on his bed and staring out the window.

"Harry?"

"Huh?" He had been sitting on the bed with his head bent, apparently deep in thought. Once he came back down to earth, he looked over at her. "Oh! Sorry, I'll just step out while you get dressed. Actually, just meet me down in the kitchen. Breakfast is ready." He said all this rather fast.

She noticed his face turn slightly pink as he made his way past her and down the stairs. She stepped inside, shut the door and the curtains over the window so no one else could see her, and began to get dressed. She hadn't bothered to look at the clothes that were there, assuming Harry had gotten them for her after she had fallen asleep the night before. He had picked out a pair of white underwear and a matching bra (she wondered whether it had been a bit awkward for him, grabbing these particular articles of clothing), a pair of blue denim jeans, and a dark green v-neck t-shirt that, thankfully, did not show too much cleavage. She had always preferred modesty.

After she was dressed, she made her way down to the kitchen as Harry had asked and found a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and an orange slice, with a glass of orange juice on the side waiting for her. Harry was sat on the opposite side of the small square dining table and had yet to touch his plate. She sat down and slowly began to dig in to her food, finding she was actually quite hungry, having fallen asleep early the night before, thus not having had dinner.

"So," Harry began, digging into his own plate, "what do you want to do today?"

Hermione gazed up thoughtfully, slowly chewing on a piece of bacon, then swallowed it and replied, "I honestly do not care. You plan it." Her lips formed a small smirk, knowing Harry hated making these kinds of decisions, and once in a while she enjoyed torturing him with the responsibility. She was a bit surprised, however, when he obliged.

"I was thinking we could go take a stroll in the park, what do you say? We don't often get out much together and I figure since it's a Saturday, we could do something calm and enjoyable." He smiled happily and took a bite of his eggs.

"That sounds wonderful." A small smile appeared on Hermione's face, too, and the rest of their breakfast was spent in a joyfully expectant silence.

Later that same morning, Ron apparated with a small "pop!" into a dark alleyway near his desired destination: Harry's home. He made his way quickly to the doorstep and knocked on the door. Receiving no response, he tried once more. With no answer once again, he decided to simply use the key Harry had given him a while back (Ron had given Harry a key to his own place as well) and stepped inside. The house was not dark, as the sun shone through the thin crimson curtains over the windows, but there was that empty feeling to it that confirmed Harry's absence. Being his best friend, Harry had assured Ron that he could use the house whenever he needed to get away or for whatever reason and that he simply needed to knock a few times as a precaution before using the key. Because of this, Ron felt no qualms in simply flopping down on the couch, and perhaps watching a football game or two while waiting for Harry to return home.

An hour and a thrice refilled bottle of liquor later, Harry had still not returned. Momentarily abandoning the match between Chelsea and Manchester United, Ron made his way up the stairs to the bathroom. When he stepped inside, he noticed something rather odd on the white tile floor. He recognized that particular pair of women's underwear that were currently lying next to Harry's hamper. Of course she would come immediately here, that's why he had come here in the first place: to find out if Harry knew where she had gone.

Sighing with a renewed frustration at himself, he slowly made his way back down stairs. Deciding to wait it out until Harry arrived home, he walked into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich, vowing to take Harry to dinner later to make up for it and perhaps to find him a girl (Ron had always thought he needed one now-a-days), then traipsed back into the living room, setting the plate on the coffee table and plopping down onto the couch again, refilling the liquor bottle with a simple charm. His focused resettled on the television just as Michael Owen booted one past Petr Cech for Manchester's third goal of the game. "Looks almost like Quidditch, just a lot less fun," he commented to himself before taking another large swig of the alcohol.

The sun shone brightly over head and a slight breeze rustled the leaves of the surrounding trees as Harry and Hermione walked slowly down the cobblestone pathway, his arm draped over her shoulders. A Danish was grasped in each of their hands, which Harry, once her and Hermione had departed his home, had bought at a bakery located just across the street from the park that he went to every day before work.

They had been talking about life and love and reminiscing on their days back at Hogwarts while taking their midday stroll, but now there was a comfortable silence between them, both lost in their own thoughts. Harry took a bite out of his Danish, enjoying the raspberry filling as it touched his tongue, and immediately spotted a bench sitting next to one of the small ponds dotted around the park. He pointed it out to his best friend and they made their way over to it, sitting down and resting against each other. She laid her head on his shoulder, his arm still draped over her shoulders. A contented sigh left her and Harry smiled.

"It's a beautiful day today, isn't it?" His remark brought a pleasantly annoyed expression to her face.

"The weather, really Harry?" She sat up and looked at him, a bemused smile playing on her lips, trying to figure out if he was truly serious or if there was some ulterior motive behind his comment.

He looked at her, slightly confused, and asked "What, I can't make a comment about the weather?" Hermione shook her head, highly amused, and simply laid her head back down on his shoulder.

"You're hopeless when it comes to bringing up conversation, you know that, right?" She still wore that amused expression and he was still slightly confused.

A duck waddled up to them from out of the pond and Hermione tore off a piece of her Danish, tossing it to the duck. Once she did, several more waddled quickly over, expecting more food. The two of them slowly threw pieces of what was left of their pastries to the birds, watching them fight over each piece with smiles on their faces.

As the ducks slowly realized there was no more food being served and ambled their way back into the pond, the couple stood up and made their way back down the path, intent on headed back to Harry's place. It was on this walk that Harry decided to bring up something that had been on his mind throughout their walk.

"Hermione, do you miss him?"

It wasn't hard to figure out who he was referring to. She took a moment to think, noticing the weight of his arm that was once more draped around her, and replied "I suppose I do. I love him, Harry, I really do, but I can't forgive him for what he did." Her head twinged a bit, reminding her of the pain he had caused.

Harry nodded. "And I see no reason why you should. What he did to you is something that can't be just pushed under the rug. Besides the fact that it's a crime, it's unethical and just plain wrong." A scowl formed on his face and as Hermione looked up at him, she saw etched on his face the anger and determination that had propelled him through their time at war.

"I know this and I know I can't get back with him. This ruined any chance of him and I lasting, probably even as friends. He's lovable, yes, but he can be a total idiot sometimes and his anger is far too uncontrolled."

"I know what you mean. It always has been." The lines on his face deepened as his scowl became more of angry grimace.

"Harry, if you'd allow, I'd like to move in with you, at least for a little while. Ron can have the house; he pays the bills on it anyways."

The expression on his face softened as she asked this and he stopped and turned to her, his hands softly gripping her shoulders. "Of course you can, Hermione. You're always welcome to stay with me for as long as you like." A small smile appeared on her face as he said this. When his hands dropped to his side, she grabbed one and intertwined their fingers and he felt him tense up slightly, but immediately relax. They continued their pace. Once they reached the entrance/exit to the park, they slipped behind a pair of trees and apparated back to the house.

Ron was passed out on the couch, the bottle he had been drinking from laying on the floor next to it. The front door opened, flooding the room with sunlight once again. He groaned in pain as the light brought on his inevitable hangover. A shrill voice made him jump.

"Ronald!" Hermione was storming over to him, her eyes shooting daggers into him. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and forced him to sit up.

"Bloody hell, Hermione, just scare the living daylights out of me, why don't you?" He rubbed his eyes and groaned at the pounding in his head.

"What the hell are you doing here?!"

"I wanted to find and talk to you, hun. I wanted to…" He was abruptly cut off by her shrill voice and an angry glare.

"DON'T YOU DARE CALL ME 'HUN' OR 'HONEY' OR ANY OF THAT OTHER CRAP! YOU WANTED TO WHAT, HUH?! APOLOGIZE?! IT'S BEEN ONE NIGHT, YOU DOLT! I CAN'T EVER FORGIVE YOU FOR WHAT YOU DID, NEVER! AND YOU THINK AFTER ONE NIGHT I'LL ACCEPT YOUR STUPID APOLOGY? NO, RONALD!"

Harry walked up behind her and started to slowly but firmly rub her shoulders, trying to calm her down. He succeeded in lowering her voice, however her anger still flared within her. Ron sat there with his mouth slightly open, unable to voice any thoughts in his head. Harry finally broke the awkward silence that arose.

"Ron, you should leave. If you want to talk to me, I can meet you somewhere later, maybe a coffee shop or something, but right now you need to just go and leave Hermione in peace."

Ron slowly stood up, grabbing the bottles he had been drinking from as he did so, and headed for the door. As he passed the two of them, he didn't fail to notice that their hands had found each other at some point. Treading slowly over to the front door, he opened it. "There's nothing to talk about, Harry. I can see how the situation has changed. Please, Hermione, just remember I still love you." The anger Hermione had felt moments before grew inside her again and she grabbed the mug she had drunk from the night before off the table and threw it as hard as she could at him. He ducked away from it as it shattered on the wall above the door. With one last angry glare, he slammed the door shut.

Immediately Hermione burst into to tears, walking over and sitting on the couch. Harry followed her and sat down next to her, holding her. She leaned into him, crying into his shoulder for the next hour. The TV was still on and the cheers of the Manchester United fans blared from it as they celebrated their team's victory. Harry reached over for the remote, frowning, and turned it off. How anyone could be celebrating right now, while the angel in his arms was sobbing so profusely, was beyond him. Hermione sat up, tears still running down her cheeks and a hiccup escaping her every few moments, and looked straight into his eyes. When he looked back, it seemed as though the world around him froze. All that mattered was the look in her eyes at that moment, that look of pure love and admiration and care. She leaned in slowly and kissed him softly for just a moment before pulling away. She smiled as her sobs slowly subsided. Harry couldn't help but say what was on his mind at that exact moment.

"You know, Hermione, that kiss reminded me of fifth year, when I kissed Cho Chang. It was incredibly wet." Hermione choked out a small laugh. He smiled and continued, "But I must say, your kiss is so much more amazing. Can I have another?"

Hermione smiled and nodded, leaning in and placing another peck on his lips. Harry smiled and remarked, "Oh yeah, and Ron's an insufferable git. You're here to stay. I love you, Hermione." Her face lit up and smile that reached deep into her eyes appeared on her face. She pushed him down and laid on top of him. Their lips connected once again and they stayed that way until they fell asleep, her head resting on his chest and his arms wrapped protectively around her.

A/N - Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a review and let me know your thoughts on it, whether you loved it or hated it, how I can improve, whatever you feel like. Have a wonderful day = )