Author's Note: As as per usual, I apologize for the delay. It has been a long week for me. Shout out to my amazing beta. Without you, I do not think I would have ever been able to finish this chapter 3

—Chapter 12—

Accompanying Song: Breathe Again - Sara Bareilles

The pitter-patter of little feet on tile echoed through the house, the tinkling of laughter accompanying it. There was a pause in the noise before loud footfalls began to race after the smaller ones. A squeal of laughter erupted and the little feet burst into a toddling sprint.

"Momma!"

A head full of dark black curls burst into the kitchen. Ginny barely had a moment's notice to step away from the stove before two tiny arms were thrown around her leg, causing her to stagger. The safety of his parent elicited a sigh of content from the little boy.

"I'm gonna get'cha!"

Another head of curls, these more unruly and chestnut in hue, followed suit and joined them in the kitchen. Hermione tiptoed behind James, her fingers wriggling as they reached out to tickle his sides. Once more he was squealing with delight, his hands playfully batting at the ones that assaulted him.

"Auntie 'Mione! Stop!" His attempt at a stern sentence was punctuated with laughter.

Hermione scooped her nephew into her arms, whisking him away from the protection provided by his mother. She settled down into a chair at the kitchen table before leaning over to blow raspberries into the crook of his neck. James thrashed around in her grasp, his hands pushing against her cheeks to get away. His laughter was reaching an ear-splitting level.

Her grip on him loosened and he fumbled out of her arms, making a mad dash out of the room before she could capture him again.

A smile played over Ginny's features. "Are you excited?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "For dinner? Ginny, you should know I love your cooking."

With a playful roll of her eyes, Ginny shook her head. "You know what I meant." Still she clarified with a gesture towards the living room. "For one of your own."

Smoothing her palm over her abdomen, she tried to hide a smile in the tangle of her curls. "I think I am."

"And Malfoy?" Ginny knew the topic of the blond aristocrat had been sensitive the past few days, but she also knew Hermione needed some tough love and a push to face her doubts and insecurities.

Without pause, Hermione straightened in her seat and steeled her emotions.

"I'm not sure how he feels, and frankly, I don't give a damn," she sniffed, turning to face away from Ginny.

Ginny moved to seat herself across from Hermione, her arms crossing on the table. "Hermione Jean. Enough. It has been almost three days already. I've done enough tiptoeing around the topic."

Hermione averted her gaze. "Maybe I'm not ready to talk about it."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Ginny slapped her palm against the table top. "You are as stubborn as a bloody Hippogriff! You need to either talk about it or get over it. You are not moping around the house anymore, and that's final."

Hermione balked at her friend's brash outburst, folding her own arms defensively in front of herself. "Well, I apologize for having feelings, Mrs. Weasley."

Ginny knew she struck a chord. It was never good when Hermione accused her of acting like her mother.

"Now look here, Harry James Potter," she said, pointing a wooden spoon at her friend in an excellent impression of Molly Weasley. She paused both to suppress her own laughter and bask in Hermione's shocked expression. "You can't just bottle up how you feel. You need to talk about it, not just to be heard but so that you can work on resolving your issues. Now spill."

With a grumble, Hermione let out a sigh of defeat. "You're right, Gin. I just don't know how to process it. We jumped in too fast and we are moving even faster. I don't know how to slow it down. How is this a strong foundation for a relationship? What if he feels trapped?"

Ginny's face contorted into a look of skepticism. "And you came up with this… because an ex-girlfriend kissed him? Not him making out with her, but her kissing him?"

Hermione bit her lower lip as she mulled over her response. Hearing it out loud from someone else put it into perspective. It did sound a bit ridiculous. But all the same… "Ginny, what if I'm not enough?"

She let out a barking laugh, rolling her eyes. "You are Hermione Jean Granger, one third of the Golden Trio. How are you not enough for anyone? I mean, if we're being honest, you might be a little too much at times…" she trailed off and shot Hermione a playful wink.

Hermione did not return the laughter. Instead, she stared solemnly down at the table. Her fingertips traced the patterns in the grain of the wood as she collected her thoughts.

"I never told you the truth of Ron and I, and maybe it stems from that."

There was a sorrow in her voice and in the glassy look that took over her eyes. The tremble in her fingers masked as she pressed her fingers to her palm.

Ginny reached to close the distance between them and cupped her hand over Hermione's. "Hermione, just because he's my brother doesn't mean that I would take his side. Blood does not determine family, you of all people should know that."

It was all the gentle coaxing Hermione needed and the story spilled from her lips.

"Ronald Weasley, are you kidding me?"

Hermione tossed the roll of parchment onto his lap. Her fingers scrubbed through her hair as she attempted to maintain her composure.

Ron thumbed it open and gave a nonchalant shrug before folding it closed. "I don't see the problem, 'Mione."

She was seething before the words could finish leaving his mouth. Snatching the paper from him once more, she began to skim through and read excerpts out loud to him. "I cannot wait to get a glimpse of your toned body after your game this week. Perhaps we can grab dinner together again? Perhaps tonight I could show you something new?"

Again, he shrugged. "I've told you before. She's just a friend."

And here she was, right where they always seemed to be lately. Like a memory, deja vu that never seemed to stop. She could hear their words and the arguments before it happened, because it was the same argument on loop. But she could not stop. They were damned to keep replaying this same song and dance.

This time would be different. This time, she was livid.

Something snapped, her vision became red and hazy. She had to make him understand just how much he was hurting her.

"Oh, because me telling Harry how appealing his toned body and assets are is just friendly banter?"

Ron was on his feet and advancing on her before she could react. His flaring anger caused his skin tone to blossom a deep crimson.

"So, what? You're the only one allowed to compliment me now?"

The pungent smell of alcohol rolled off him in waves, gagging her senses as he drew closer. His movements were predatory, deliberate and smooth and he reclaimed the space between them.

"I'm not doing this tonight."

Hermione turned on her heel to move away from him, but his fingers hook around her wrist to grab her.

"No, tell me. Am I not allowed to have female friends now? I guess it's just you and Ginny, huh?"

"I have never said that and you know it! You just seem to fail to see the line between being friendly and respecting our relationship."

He scoffed. "I haven't disrespected our relationship once."

Anger rose in her at an alarming rate, her wrist twisting in his grasp but gaining no ground. "Let me go. Now."

"No, you need to talk about this with me like an adult instead of running off to Harry like always! Or is it that maybe you picked the wrong person to be with?"

His grip on her was bruising, crushing the tendons caught below his fingertips. There was a tremble that coursed through her body. She ground her teeth, eyes closing as she took a steadying breath. Once more, she jerked her arm in a feeble attempt to free it from his grip.

"Let me go. I refuse to talk to you about this until you sober up." Her voice was hollow, emotionally defeated by a scenario that was so regularly repeated that it was like their were following a script.

Ron would be whisked away on a Quidditch trip soon, and all the emotional turmoil that he had fostered in their short time together would be forgotten. He was like the rain and catastrophic winds that came before a storm, unforgiving and unyielding, leaving havoc in his wake. He would sweep through her life and leave it upended and scattered across the ground without a backward glance. Her heart would always lie among the debris, and it was always her job to piece it back together. Alone. It was always the same.

Still he stood rooted to the spot, his grip never faltering. "No, it ends tonight."

"I said let me go!"

A wave of energy ripped through her body, her veins set ablaze before it radiated out from her core. Coursing outwards from the epicenter, the wave collided with the objects around them at an impact with force enough to toss books and picture frames from their places on the shelves. Glass splintered as the energy licked across the surface, and shards soared through the air like shrapnel in all directions.

Ron's hand retreated as if burned, splinters of glass having skimmed the surface of his arms and cheek. Each step away from her was fumbled, a cross between frightened and alarmed, as he gathered up his cloak.

"Ronald Weasley, if you leave this flat, we are through indefinitely!" There was a quiver in her voice.

"Then consider this goodbye." Without a second glance, he slammed the door behind him and disapparated into the night.

—

Morning came, and with it came a roll of parchment with an attached note written in flowing script.

"You owe me?" Hermione's brow furrowed as she turned the note over.

The scroll fell to the floor as if it was cursed to scorch her when opened. The world around her reeled and her mind raced to get her out of the room, to get out of the flat entirely and perhaps never look back. She let the paper lie where it fell as she stumbled down the hall to collect her belongings.

She needed to get out of there, to start over, to be done with this. Just as he had said the night before.

A photograph looped every 5 seconds in the center of the page. In its frame, Ron had a young witch caged between himself and a brick wall where he snogged her with reckless abandon. The woman's fingers curled into his backside to drag him into her where his whole body would shudder on impact. Above the photo a headline read "Golden Couple Split?" The caption below it described the scene that unfolded outside of the Three Broomsticks, signed with the same flowing script as the note: Rita Skeeter.

For once in her life, Rita had done something uncharacteristically noble.

"He never came home that night. It took him two days to realize I had even left."

"Oh, love, you should have told me."

A muted, wet laugh escaped Hermione. A tear dancing over her cheeks caught the light as her head shook. "It's not that he's a bad person," she insisted, "just that perhaps we were just not meant to be. He deserves happiness, I just suppose it was not with me."

Ginny offered Hermione a small smile. "Fate is a fickle bitch."

Once more she laughed, swiping at the moisture that had collected on her cheeks. "I have not heard you say anything so true, Gin."

An ethereal blue glow swept through the house, galloping through the living room before coming to a stop before the girls. The air around them chilled, a stifling and suffocating feeling as Hermione recognized Harry's Patronus. The words it spoke were rushed, flowed forth with a sense of urgency behind every word.

"Draco was injured…" there was a gap in the words that followed. The thundering of her heart reverberated in Hermione's ears, her mind reeling to process what she had just heard. Her vision swam as the breath caught in her throat and left her lungs burning.

"Hermione!" Ginny was dragging her to her feet and pushing her on uncertain footsteps towards the floo. "You need to go! St. Mungo's! Now!"

Her heart hammered in her throat, barely allowing her to choke out the words "St. Mungo's" before she was whisked away in a swirl of green flames.