Chapter 2:
Hermione

Hermione wrapped herself in her trench coat and left through the front door. She didn't know where she was going, she just knew she had to get away from there. She couldn't bear to stand there and listen to Ron shout at her any more. So, in the security of the darkest hour, she walked to the corner of their street and turned around the bend. She had been walking in the same direction for 25 minutes before she finally looked up: tears clouding her vision.

Hermione, who was a very level headed woman, had never been a crier. But lately, it seemed she had been doing a lot of just that. She cried for Ron, and for herself. We just aren't the same people, anymore. She tried to justify to herself. But that only made it worse. So she would continue to cry – she cried for a thousand different people and 37 might-have-beens, but what good would that do? She couldn't remember where they had went wrong anyways; except that she remembered exactly where she had went wrong. Though admitting that would be like saying that she should have never married Ron in the first place. But should she have?

She knew she loved Ron- but had it ever been the kind of love that caused people to get married? She shook her head and wiped the tears from her eyes; she couldn't afford to think like that, so she kept walking.

"Harry's not here." She said to no one, but that didn't seem to help her any. "HE'S NOT HERE!" She said again, this time shouting, as she fell to her knees.

She dreamt of green sparks and a lightning bolt that looked more like cut-flesh than electricity. She saw a flash of his subtly gut-wrenching, emerald-green eyes and it jerked her awake again. Hermione couldn't remember how or when she got home, but there she was, lying on her couch, still in her trench coat.

Her apartment was filled with silence: the kind of silence you can feel, the kind that only exists when one is alone. She didn't have to look for him or yell his name to know that he wasn't there, but she did.

"Ron!?"

Silence.

"Ron, are you here?" she asked, knowing the answer.

Nothing.

Ron hadn't been the kind of person that left the house in a long time. In fact, it had been a long time since Ron had even been sober enough to leave. Hermione didn't know where Ron would have gone. She knew she ought to have been worried, but rather, she felt an odd sense of serenity knowing that she was alone.

Since the demise of Voldemort, and the end of the war, Hermione had been the strong one; she had been the one to 'pick herself up by her bootstraps' and 'move on'. She had, almost immediately, returned home and gotten a job. Professor McGonagall had, of course, asked her to complete her Hogwarts schooling, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to go without Harry. God, where was Harry? So, without thinking twice, she took a job at the Ministry. With Shacklebolt being Minister, there was no reason to avoid it.

She was happy there, as happy as she could be. At least, that's what she told herself. However, no matter how hard she tried, Ron always made her feel guilty: saying things like "How can you go on knowing he is missing?" She couldn't go on; that's why she was working – to distract herself.

One day she had sworn to herself, and to Ron, that she had had enough of his 'ass whole tendencies' (as she had referred to the them. She packed all of her clothes and moved home to her parents. Ron had given her three days to 'cool down' before he came to get her. He swore he'd change. He hadn't. The only thing different is now he doesn't verbally question how she feels about just leaving Harry the way they did, but she knows he still doubts her. She can see it in his eyes when he talks about it. What does he know anyways? He's a goddamn drunk.

But here she was, still. Making excuses for herself, reasoning with no one about why she was still here. He needs me. She would say to her reflection. I need him. She had picked up the bad habit of lying to herself. They didn't need each other and she knew it, but she couldn't bear to think that she was making herself miserable for no reason. So, she gave herself a reason. Of all the accomplishments she had achieved in her lifetime, her marriage was no longer one of them.

One day, we will find Harry. One day we will be happy again.

At least, that's what she told herself.