A/N: Sorry for the really late update. I've been suffering from severe writers block and a case of "Not Having Time." : )
Hope you like the chapter!!
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A Second Chance: Chapter 6:
A month later, Ron had almost given up. He'd been back to Flourish and Blotts almost every day for two whole weeks, but Hermione never came. Now, he was sitting on the back porch at the burrow, his chin resting on his open palm, and his mind blank with boredom.
He tried to run his free hand through his hair, but it was so knotted he pulled out a large chunk of the red mess. He sighed, remembering how long it'd been since he showered, and was about to get up and go inside when Ginny came bounding onto the porch as Harry walked slowly across the lawn.
"Hey, Ron," she said. Then she plopped down into the chair next to his. "Harry and I wanted to talk to you."
Harry strode onto the porch and grinned cheekily at him. Ron just grunted. He didn't feel like talking.
"Snap out of it, Ron," said Ginny. "I know you're depressed, but you've got to put your life back on track. Start living again. And-"
Harry cut her off and said, "And the first thing you need to do is divorce Lavender."
This caught Ron off guard. He blinked and sat up, before looking between the two of them. Ginny was grimacing, as if she wished Harry hadn't been so blunt, but Harry just looked at Ron with wide eyes, as if saying, You know I'm right.
Ron gazed off towards the garden horizon between them, and then he stood up. "I'm going to shower," he said. "And then I'm going back to my apartment and picking up my things."
"Are you going to d-"
"Not yet, Harry. I have to think about this."
Harry almost said something, but Ginny stood and up put her hand over his mouth. "It worked," she whispered.
Ron jumped into the shower, and then back out in less than 5 minutes. He stood in front of the mirror with a towel wrapped around his waist, and ran his hand over his cheek. He realized then that he hadn't shaved in a whole month, and he felt the red stubble that covered his chin.
Ron decided to leave it.
He ran a comb through his hair and then he went to his room and pulled on his clothes. He bounded down the steps minutes later, and grabbed his wand off the kitchen counter.
He walked outside, ran straight across the lawn, and apparated at the other side of the fence. Then he found himself standing outside of his door.
Suddenly, he was nervous.
Ron straightened his shirt, and ran a hand through his hair, as if it would change something. He raised his fist to knock on the door, but hesitated, his knuckles centimeters from the door. He decided to just waltz in, as if he owned the place, which he did and so he raised his wand and muttered "Alohamora."
When he pulled open the door, he expected something to be drastically different. But it looked the same. The same green pillows lay on Lavender's favorite brown couch (which Ron had always despised), the same frilly curtains were on the windows, and the dining room table had the same purple plates lining it.
Ron realized then with a shock that he had always hated this room, and everything in it, but he'd never said anything. He walked over to the fridge, and pulled it open, gazing at the same low-cal food that Lavender had always forced on him, and grimaced. His hand went to his stomach, which had grown slightly since he'd been lying around his mother's house eating her fattening food for more than a month. He decided he'd rather get fat than eat Lavender's food ever again.
He turned back around to the room, and rocked back and forth on his heels, wondering if he should check the bedroom. He realized he had to face it and so he strode purposefully over to the bedroom door. He pushed it open quickly, and closed his eyes, listening and afraid of what he'd see, but he heard nothing.
He opened his left eye first, and realized there was no one in the room, not even Lavender. He breathed a sigh of relief and opened his other eye, before stepping farther into the room.
The room was just as messy as it had been last time he'd seen it, but this didn't surprise him. He looked at it for a moment but didn't have the patience to do it much longer.
He strode across to the bathroom, stepping over a ripped pillow on the way, and then he kicked the bathroom door open. He looked at the sink, and saw a toothbrush there that didn't belong to him or Lavender, and a thin comb with short strands of blonde hair between the teeth.
He picked it up and ran the teeth over the pad of his thumb, quickly, before he picked it up and threw it at the mirror. It bounced away and landed with a quiet clatter on the tile floor.
Ron felt his breath catch in his throat, and he sat down with his back against the tub. He felt tears prick his eyes, and wiped at the angrily, though there was no one to see them. No one.
He took a few deep breaths and squinted until his eyes hurt, before he stood up and placed his hands on the counter.
He opened the drawer and found a razor that wasn't his either, but clearly wasn't Lavender's either. As he searched farther through the drawer, he wondered if these things had been here while he himself had still been here, and it made him angry again.
Without considering it at all, Ron reached across the counter quickly, and grabbed the perfume he gave Lavender on their 1st anniversary, before throwing it at the floor with as much power as he could muster. The glass bottle exploded, and shards flew across the floor as a smell quite like Vanilla spread throughout the room.
"That felt good," Ron muttered, and then he grabbed another bottle off the counter. This one must've been the one Ginny had given Lavender as a wedding gift, the one Lavender had never worn. He threw it down and closed his eyes as he heard the glass break.
He grinned at himself in the mirror, before he threw done another bottle, and then another.
Soon, the room was pungent with a mixed aroma of smells, and Ron took deep breaths, savoring the way it felt in his nose.
He wasn't sure why, but he felt as if something had been lifted off his shoulders and chest, and as he threw one last bottle at the floor, he knew he'd made his decision.
He'd never been happy living with Lavender: He'd always hated the apartment, and the food, but most of all, he knew he hated what his life had become: Dull.
He looked himself in the eye in the mirror, and practiced, saying, "Lavender, I'm asking for a divorce."
He shook his head. That didn't sound right.
"Lavender… I'm divorcing you." Then he grinned at himself.
He walked out of the bathroom, the bedroom, and strode straight through the kitchen, without picking anything up and without looking back.
As he closed the door, he grinned when he imagined the look on Lavender's face when she walked into her bathroom, and found all of her perfume destroyed.
He decided it was time to celebrate: He was going to the Leaky Cauldron.
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