A/N: Hello, friends! Thank you to rxnald.w, chemrunner57, notsing, ObsessedRHShipper, and JC RH for your kind reviews! Here's a quick chapter because I made you all wait way too long for an update last time.

Also, it would be so appreciated if you could go follow my newest story, Anapneo, and tell me what you think. I'm about to post a new chapter tomorrow!

Enjoy this one xx

"Ron! What are you doing here? Someone might see you!" she hissed as she pushed him back, causing him to teeter on unsteady legs. For a moment she regretted her words, knowing from experience how he might twist them to interpret some kind of message she never intended.

He squinted at the bright light as she pulled him into her tiny office and slammed the door shut behind her back. She couldn't risk another employee coming across her fighting with her inebriated boyfriend. "Missed you," he said quietly. "Come home. Please." As he spoke he reached out for her. She grew increasingly anxious about his presence. This was her sacred space. This was where she didn't have to think about anything other than other people's messes. She ducked back, avoiding contact.

"You're drunk! What if my boss were to walk in? You can't be here like this!" She could smell his breath wafting towards her, filling the room with the nauseating aroma. "Did you not think this through?"

"I'm not pissed! Just had a few drinks after work," he said defensively. "It's already past eight. I was worried about-"

"If I hear that one more person is worried about me, I might hex them into next year," the witch spat, enunciating every word. He made another move towards her and she covered her face with her hands, unsure of what to do or say.

When Ron was like this, she moved from feeling a sense of refuge in the wizard to a place that was harsh and unrelenting. The shattering of his new habit brought her a keen awareness that she could be alone and in danger at any time. She was on her own.

Warm hands gently peeled hers from her face. His gaze was soft but persistent.

"'Mione, we need to go home," he slurred.

Home. What even qualified as home anymore? The concept felt so foreign to her now. Mum was dead, Dad had sold everything and moved. Hogwarts had been stained by all the violence and terror – even the relative safety of Gryffindor Tower still perpetuated a baseline anxiety for the witch after she returned for her seventh year. The Burrow was wrought with grief for Fred. Their flat was now a battleground. Who was Ron fooling? She didn't have a proper home. This little office was the closest thing she had. Having him in there left her vulnerable - exposing to him the one part of her that wasn't failing at everything. She couldn't lose this. She'd never forgive him if he took this way from her.

She felt him shake her shoulders and she glowered in return. His eyes looked dead, unfocused. Suddenly, she was filled with fury.

"Hermione-"

""Just leave, Ron!" she shrieked, her voice rising several octaves. "Might as well storm off for good this time." Then came the punch. The part that she knew deep down was wholly untrue, yet flew so easily from her lips. "I'm better off without you."

Those stranger's eyes disappeared and her Ron was back. The look on his face reminded her of the boy she knew from years past – shockingly insecure. Shattered. With a pang of guilt, she realized that he believed every word.

Gently he reached behind her, opening the door to her office. The realization that he was actually leaving sent a wave of desperation through her. Acting on instinct, the witch slammed her back against the door to keep him from opening it and grabbed his arm.

"No, wait, I didn't mean that," she stammered, a steady stream of tears beginning to fall down her face. Her strength was no match for his as the wizard pried the door open behind her, pulling his arm from her grip effortlessly. She thought about casting a spell to keep him there, but knew that would be crossing an ethical line.

"Ron, please!" she choked, unable to pull him back as he retreated. "Don't go! I didn't mean what I said, Ron…please! RON!" Her heels clattered along the floor after him, unable to keep up with his pace. Despite being a bit tipsy, he managed to move much too quickly. Even if she caught up with him, what could she do? The damage was done. She felt like the most loathsome person on the planet.

And then she was completely, utterly alone. Panic spread as she considered where she could go, who she could talk to. Everyone was connected to him. She'd made a life alongside someone who she had shamed. Strangely enough, Hermione knew the words she said in anger revealed more of her character than his.

"What the bloody fuck happened to us?" he muttered with a shake of his head.

"Ronald!" she cried, obviously horrified at his choice of language. They had backed into their separate corners of the couch, Hermione hugging a cushion to her chest as Ron nursed his second cup of chocolate. The witch had been shocked when Ron abruptly changed the subject. Nearly spitting out her drink, she had to ask him to repeat himself - minus the vulgarity.

He inhaled deeply, as if plunging into deep water. "Like, I get that you were upset about your mum and still processing all of that. And I know I was drinking too much," he began, pausing to take a gulp.

Hermione quickly interjected. "It was just…a lot. What we had all gone through-"

"But I went through that shite too, Hermione! And Harry! It was like…like you wouldn't let us in," he said defiantly.

Hermione sighed deeply. She hated this almost as much as she relished in his company. It felt so odd to be sitting up late at night with him. Their famous midnight chats were some of her fondest memories. It felt surreal to be doing this now, but was the most alive she had felt in so long. Her stomach knotted whenever their eyes met. Goodness.

"I didn't know how to help you," he said sadly. "Merlin knows I wanted to, more than anything. It just seemed like the more I tried, the worse it got."

Hermione allowed his words to sink in before replying, her heart twisting in shame. "I know."

Ron just stared at her in disbelief, mouth agape. "So…so that's it? There wasn't anything more I could have done?" He couldn't believe his ears. A part of him felt filled with hope, like he hadn't ruined the best thing in his life. Sure, it was still ruined, but maybe not completely on him. The chance that he possibly wasn't a complete fuck-up felt oddly sublime.

"Well, there was one thing…" Hermione said hesitantly, knowing she was treading dangerous territory.

"Spit it out, woman," he joked, but his voice was laced with apprehension. She paused, as if trying to choose her words carefully enough to soften the blow.

"I – I just wish," she started, pausing to pick at a thread on the cushion. Her curls bounced with nervous energy as she fidgeted.

"….you wish?" Ron prodded.

"Gods, this is so humiliating." Her face burned red. "I wish that you hadn't left my office that night. I didn't think you'd actually listen to me."

He hadn't seen her in two bloody days. Two of the worst days of his fucking life. Of course, it wouldn't be fair if he wasn't also making Harry's life miserable, too, as he camped out at his flat and sulked whenever his friend tried to ask about what had happened. Harry was no idiot - he knew the subject, but wasn't getting much detail.

"That's a nasty cut, mate," Harry remarked. Ron ignored him, but rubbed the tender skin around his knuckles, bloodied and bruised from the bar fight he'd had the night before. For the life of him, he didn't even recall what had made him so furious. Some words were exchanged with some diplomats from America, something taken out of context, someone telling him to calm down. Bright red fury, mingled with a potent desire to channel his heartbreak somewhere outside his body. Harry had to cover his arse with the ministry or he might have been sacked. Angrily, Ron rose to pour himself a second glass of vodka since leaving work an hour ago.

"Just go see her, Ron. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Oh, let's see," the wizard began venomously. "First off, she could have changed the wards so that I can't even apparate into my own bloody flat. She could have me arrested for trespassing on her floor, and we both bloody well know who would win that case. Or thirdly, she could-"

"Ron. Do you realize you're talking about the brightest, most sensible person we both know? She hasn't been herself. It really hasn't been that long since the funeral. She's clearly going through something, she didn't mean-"

"You weren't fucking there, Harry."

With a sigh, the raven haired wizard announced that he was leaving to go catch Ginny's scrimmage. Ron grunted in reply, pondering if he should just fall asleep or wander down for a nightcap. The latter won without much debate. As he was preparing to leave, a small grey owl appeared at Harry's kitchen window, contrasting against the brilliant orange and pink tinted evening sky. He noticed right away that it was a ministry owl.

Unlatching the window, he opened it up to let the letter drop into his hands. His heart skipped a beat as he recognized the seal on the envelope – her department. Concern for her led him to abandon his plans without a second thought and head straight back to the Ministry of Magic. Scrawled in her neat handwriting was simply:

"Ron, Please come see me. I'm in my office. We need to talk. –H"

Fifteen minutes later, he found himself so aggravated he wanted to tear his hear out of his scalp. She wanted to talk, but she didn't know what she wanted. She was sorry for what she had said, but wasn't sure if they should still be together right now. She was upset by his drinking, but failed to recognize that her obsession with work was just as much an addiction. It was the most frustrating conversation he had ever had in his entire fucking life.

"Why did you ask me here just to make me feel like shite? Gods, Hermione, why can't you ever make up your mind?" He hadn't spoken to her like this in quite some time. It reminded him of the shallow, insecure way he had rowed with her in school. Jealousy over Viktor Krum. Jealousy over McLaggen. Over Harry.

"Ron, I-I'm just trying to sort out what I need. I don't want to string you along-"

"String me along?! Hermione, I'm here! I'm choosing you!" he bellowed.

Tears streaked down her face. Her hair had been nicely pinned up but was now hanging around her face from where she had messed with it. Her hands were shaking. He wanted to hold her, to make love to her, to make everything better. But she was turning him down, refusing to come back with him. Telling him she planned to leave the flat, to give things a fresh start, whatever the hell that meant. The message, he read quite clearly, was that she felt she needed a life without him. "I don't know what I choose, Ron. I need time, I need space. It's too much! You just don't understand-"

"You know what, Hermione? Take your fucking time and space," he spat, disgusted at how he sounded but couldn't seem to stopper his mouth. He took in her frazzled, distraught expression, the wild look in her eyes. When had they become so nasty to one another?

"Ronald, grow up. This isn't about you, I promise. If you could just listen to me for one moment, I just need-"

"You know what? I hate this about as much as you do. We're done. Best of luck to you, Hermione. Have a lovely life." The look of shock on her face was an image he'd never forget. As if he had slapped her. While initially he envisioned that she had asked him there to make up, to apologise. That they would return to their cramped little flat and make dinner and fall into bed together and pretend like the past year hadn't happened. Not to turn this into another fighting match, to assure him that she didn't need him in her life. That she was actually better off without him.

He punched a large box of files on a desk as he headed towards the lift, causing papers to scatter all over the marbled floor.

"Ron, you haven't even heard me out! I don't want to be rid of you, I just-"

"WHAT, Hermione?" he yelled as he turned around to face her. "What is it that you fucking want?!" He roared, causing the petite witch to back up until she was flat against the wall. Her eyes were positively wide in shock. It took her a moment to form words as she took in the sight of Ron's heaving chest, balled fists, and the office in disarray.

"You won't even listen to me! I've been trying to tell you that there's something wrong with me, something broken. But you keep making things about you. You're so selfish!" Before Ron could reply, she pointed her wand straight at his chest. "Get. Out. Now. Leave!" she cried shrilly, before crumbling to the ground. Her navy dress bunched at her knees as she wrapped her skinny arms around them.

Ron stepped forward to bend down but the look on her face stunned him in his tracks.

"Enough. Go away, Ron."

"But what could I have done? Just…just stood there? Gone along with the plan? It was so confusing, 'Mione."

"It wasn't fair to you. I acknowledge that. My expectations of you were completely unrealistic," she explained slowly. "Expecting you to be practically omniscient." They met eyes across the couch, both a bit surprised by what Hermione was admitting. "I'm sorry, Ron."

He let that sink in. There wasn't anything he could have done. Sure, he could have quit hitting the pubs, or ignored what she asked and glued himself to the spot when asked to leave, but even she admitted she wasn't sure what she wanted. If he had stayed, he could have pushed her away. When he left, that had apparently sealed the deal.

"I should have done better," he whispered, realization dawning on him that he lost the best thing in his life over jealousy and pride. "When you said to go, Hermione, I didn't bloody know what to do. I didn't know how to help. It felt like you loved your work more than any of us. But I should have tried harder."

They sat in silence. The various clocks in the house chimed again twelve times, all at various stages and noise levels.

"It wasn't fair to you. What I put you through," she began, tugging again at the loose thread. "But Ron, I couldn't lose that job. I would have gone loopy otherwise. I felt like I was drowning, unless I was working."

Ron exhaled sharply, feeling as though they were beginning to fly in circles again. "We clearly see our jobs differently. I felt like I was drowning…that's why I went to the pubs. When I was pissed that feeling stopped, if even for a moment. I quit thinking about what a shite boyfriend I was," he paused, holding his hand up to keep Hermione from interrupting. "This is an appointment, Hermione – a role for a season. It doesn't define us. At the end of the day, the sort of people we are matters more than our accomplishments, right?"

She pursed her lips together, meeting his gaze.

"Well, yes…I suppose you're right."

"Wait…did that really just happen?!" he exclaimed lightheartedly.

"Whatever are you talking about?" she huffed, sitting up an inch higher and pulling the blanket more tightly across her body.

"Hermione Granger just admitted that Ronald Weasley was right about something. Call the bloody Prophet! Ring The Quibbler!"

"Oh, stop!" she laughed, smacking the side of his head with the cushion. It fell to the floor and he picked it up, holding it to his chest as she had. The warmth on one side from being pressed against her body made his stomach knot in delight.

"I forgive you," he said quietly, taking in her rosy cheeks and incomprehensible expression. Maybe it was the hot chocolate that had made him drowsy, in addition to a complete deprivation of sleep. Perhaps it was the after-effects of the adrenaline from fighting off the lethifold. Or, maybe her intoxicating presence had a kind of power over it was, he suddenly found himself wanting absolutely nothing more than to have her back. "Didn't realize you were so lost. Hurts to think of how alone you felt, but I never stopped loving you." Shite, you git. Took it too far.

She cocked her head at him, looking as if she were about to speak before swallowing thickly.

"You… you don't hate me?" Hermione asked timidly. The trepidation in her voice was enough to raise Ron from the couch to kneel before her, determined to make her understand. The sofa absorbed his elbow as he propped it up next to her waist, leaning in. She stared at him, brown eyes widened.

"My best day without you by my side was a trillion times worse than the most miserable day we were together. Like I said," he continued, eyes searching hers, "I never stopped loving you. Never stopped protecting you, caring about you, wondering about you."

She sniffed, looking confused. "But…but we didn't speak for ages. We hadn't even spoken until a few days ago-"

"Every damn night, Hermione, I made sure you got home alright. I nearly drove Ginny and Harry insane to make sure there was always someone to look after you. Scarcely an hour goes by without thoughts of you taking over, no matter how hard I try. I love you, maddening as you are. I always have, I always will."

Her hands flew forward, taking hold of his face forcefully. "Ronald Bilius Weasley, you had better not be lying to me," she whispered, watery eyes brimming over.

"It's the truth, love, every word. And please never use my full name again."

Molly walked gingerly down the steps in her dressing gown, careful not to rouse the presumably sleeping witch from her daughter's room as she passed. She wondered if any of her children would stop by for breakfast. George typically made an appearance, and though Ginny and Harry would usually pop in at supper. Percy and Audrey didn't come around last weekend, but she suspected they might decide to stop by unannounced. The pregnancy had been a tough one for Audrey, so it was easier for her to apparate over there. Just in case, she decided would make a full spread. The hens had been producing some lovely eggs, though a strange purple-spotted one had made her a bit nervous the other day. She couldn't wait to show Victoire.

How she longed to see the grandchildren – it had been several days since their last visit. Perhaps she could pop over to Tinworth and see if Fleur needed a break. Dominque was just beginning to crawl. It was a delight to see how gorgeous and brilliant they were becoming.

Still in a daze, the witch nearly gasped as she rounded the corner ad took in the most unexpected sight, one she had longed for in the fiercest, most motherly depths of her heart. A mess of brown curls rested atop the slouching shoulder of her youngest son, both fast asleep and nestled in the overstuffed couch.

Turning around, she ascended as quietly as she could back up the staircase, deciding that a little lie-in with Arthur wouldn't hurt.

A/N: Ok, one last chappy to tie up loose ends and some NEEDED m-rated interactions. Please let me know what you think. Hearing from you all helps the writing flow!