A Second Chance: Chapter 5:

Excerpt from last chapter:

They stared at each other for a moment, both growing red, Hermione in anger and Ron in embarrassment, until Hermione spoke.

"R- Ron?" she asked, though Ron thought she already knew the answer.

He nodded, and smiled cheekily at her. She opened her mouth again and again like a fish out of water, trying to think of something to say to him. Eventually she recovered from her shock and glared at him. Then she turned, and left him behind the bookshelf.

He watched as she sprinted down the stairs and back onto the main street.

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But Ron followed her.

He bounded down the steps from the balcony, and ignored the glares he received from the other customers as he sprinted out the doorway.

He scanned the crowd for Hermione, looking for curly hair, and saw her heading up the street, walking much faster than most of the others. He ran through the crowd, feeling the muscles in his legs flex, something he didn't remember feeling any time recently.

Soon he was right behind her, and he grabbed her wrist. They were near the top of the street now, above The Leaky Cauldron, and there were fewer people milling about.

Hermione tried to pull away from him, but he hung on even tighter, and forced her to turn around. She stared at his hair and down to his eyes, but went no further.

"What do you want, Ronald?" she spat at him, actually spraying him with saliva. He didn't wipe it away, but instead looked her straight in the eyes, without flinching.

"I want to talk to you," he said. Hermione stared at him, her brown eyes widening and her expression seeming to soften a bit, but then she caught herself and glared at him again.

"Why should I let you?" she asked him, her free arm dangling lamely at her side, as if without conviction. "You… We have nothing to say to each other."

Ron flinched and let go of her wrist. She stared down at where his hand had been for a moment, but then she turned and walked further up the street.

Ron called out to her, "I'm sorry."He couldn't recall right then exactly what he was apologizing for, but he decided it was the correct thing to say.

Hermione turned around and replied, "That just doesn't cut it." Then she apparated away and Ron stood in the street, feeling even more worthless: He couldn't keep his wife or his friends to stay with him. He was pathetic.

As the crowd reached Ron, and they jostled him around, he knew he just wanted to lie down, and maybe drink his sorrows away. So, he went back to the burrow, grabbed a firewhiskey from the pantry, and went straight up to his room, drinking until he couldn't remember why he needed to.

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Ron woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and tired legs: It seemed to prove to him even further that Lavender had been bad for his health, for she'd kept him from exercising and now he was out of shape.

He sat up on his bed and heard the bottle of firewhiskey roll off of the sheets: It shattered on the floor, and Ron jumped over the shards as he stood up.

He wobbled on his feet, light escaping him for a moment, before he heard a knock on the door. He stumbled to it, and leaned against the door frame, blinking.

It was Ginny and she had a small purple vile in her hand: Ron was too disoriented to read the label.

"What is it?" he asked her.

"I thought you might need this," she said.

Ron yawned, his head throbbing, and said again, "What is it?"

"It's a hangover potion," she said, and then she stepped inside the door, conjuring a glass of water out of thin air. She poured the potion into the glass and as the water turned a dark grey color, Ron sat down on his bed again.

Ginny handed him the drink, and he took it gladly, sighing when his head immediately ceased throbbing as the sweet tasting liquid went down his throat.

Feeling much more gracious, Ron muttered, "Thanks," and handed her the glass.

"Just don't tell mum." She giggled a little, pointing at the hair sticking up at the crown of his head. But she sobered soon, and sat down on the chair by his window. "Do you want to tell me why you were drinking all night?"

Ron sighed, thinking, Why not?, before he closed his eyes and spoke. "I'm pathetic," he said. "I lost my wife to Draco Bloody Malfoy, the stinking ferret, I'm all out of shape and I can't even gether to talk to me."

"Who is her?" Ginny asked him. Ron opened his eyes when he himself realized he hadn't been talking about Lavender, and then he shook his head in stupidity.

He reached behind him and grabbed the note from under his pillow, before tossing it to Ginny. She didn't even read it, but sighed in an appreciative, "Ah…"

"I saw her at Flourish and Blotts and tried to be friendly, but she wouldn't let me. I said I was sorry and she said something like, That doesn't cut it or something and then she left. My own best friend won't even talk to me."

Ginny shook her head. "It's way too soon for you to be thinking of another girl like that after…what happened, Ron."

"But I wasn't thinking like that," he said, wondering why in the world he was blushing. "I just want to be her friend again, like old times."

"Right," Ginny said, and Ron didn't see as she rolled her eyes. "Just give her time to warm up to you again, Ron. She was hurt… She's been hurting."

"But why is that my fault?" Ron asked her, not joking around.

Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. "You don't remember what you two fought about?"

When he shook his head no, she added, "That's the most pathetic thing about you."

"Can't you tell me what I did?" he said, but Ginny shook her head. "You have to remember," she said, sounding too much like his mother for his tastes. "Then she'll see that you really are sorry."

Ginny stood up, and was almost out his door when she turned around and said, "I'm pregnant."

Ron didn't get the chance to congratulate her. She was out the door in a flash, and Ron had to remind himself again that she was married: He wasn't really a stickler for sex after marriage like some people, but he did mind it for his sister.

He really was a hypocrite.