I stare at the spot where Ron vanished, unable to form proper thoughts, let alone words. My mouth hangs open, my eyes nearly bugging out of my head. He left. He actually Disapparated. My throat goes raw and my eyes feel itchy. Before I can stop myself a waterfall begins streaming down my face. A sob escapes my throat; it sounds like a wounded animal and is something I have never heard come out of my body before. Not even after the war.

I reach out for the bedpost to steady myself, but still find myself kneeling on the floor unable to control my emotions. I lurch forward as another sob shutters through my body. I glance around the room, hoping Ron will suddenly reappear. Instead, I find a discarded shirt of his laying forgotten on the floor. I crawl to it and pull it on. His smell wraps around me and I cry harder, curling myself into a ball.

My arms tighten around myself as I slowly rock myself back and forth in a desperate attempt to calm myself. Ron would come back. Maybe not right away. But he would. He had to.

My eyes crack open at the high-pitched beeping of my alarm clock. My arm flings out to shut it off, but it connects only with carpet. I sit up, startled, to find myself sleeping on the floor in Ron's shirt. Memories of our fight flood back to me and I force myself to focus on my alarm to stop the tears from leaking out of my eyes. I stand on shaking legs and shut off the alarm, instantly regretting it when I have nothing to distract myself with.

I pull off Ron's shirt and toss it aside as I hurry to the bathroom and turn on the shower. I strip down and jump in before the water is warm enough and quickly wash away Ron's scent. I scrub my face to erase the evidence of my tears and slowly count to one hundred before climbing out. Toweling off, I move to the closet and pull on a black sweater dress and tights. I work some moose into my hair to keep it from frizzing up as it dries and run through the flat to gather my things for work. I find no evidence of Ron having returned, and swiftly distract myself with thoughts of my current workload to stop from crying. I can't afford this right now.

My heels are by the door and I slip them on and fasten my cloak. With one last longing look at the flat, I hurry out the door, locking it behind me.

I focus on the clicking of my heels against the pavement as I move through the busy streets of London toward the Ministry of Magic. I make my way underground to the entrance of the building, grateful my position no longer requires me to "flush" myself in. I flash my security card at the wizards guarding the entrance and hurry inside.

"Hold the doors, please!" I call as I make my way to the elevators.

Someone holds the elevator doors open and I jump inside quickly, murmuring my thanks. A cool, female voice calls out the destination of Level Two after descending for a moment and making a few sharp turns. The metal doors pull back and I find April waiting for me, her clipboard at the ready.

"Good morning, Miss Granger. You have two meetings today-"

"Has Ron owled?"

April blinks when I interrupt her and glances down at her clipboard. "No, he hasn't. Would you like to send him an owl?"

I bite my lip and shake my head. "No, it's fine. What are my meetings today?"

I let my mind wander as April fills me in on my schedule for the day and thank her for her work before locking myself in my office. I dump my bag onto my desk and slump down into my chair. After a moment of deliberation, I grab some parchment set aside for Inter-Department Memos.

Harry,

Could you stop by my office during your next available? Thanks.

Hermione

I address the memo to the Auror Office and tap it with my wand. I watch it fold itself into an airplane and fly underneath my office door in search of Harry. I sit for a moment before giving myself a good shake and organizing my files. The Davis's case wasn't going to solve itself.

I search through the depositions, frowning and circling remarks as I go.

"April," I say into the intercom, my eyes still locked on the file. "Is Reed the head prosecutor for the Davis's case?"

"No, Miss Granger; it's Thompson. Would you like me to fetch her for you?"

"Oh no; I just wanted to make sure I sent my case notes to the right prosecutor. Thank you."

I finish reviewing the file and make a few comments on the bottom before tapping the folder with my wand and vanishing it to Thompson's office. I glance up at the sound of a fire and watch as green flames appear in the fireplace. A moment later, Harry steps through, dusting the ashes and soot off of him.

"Hey, Hermione. What do you have for me?" His cheerful smile falls after one look on my face.

"Ron… Ron walked out last night."

Harry's brows pull to together. He moves to my desk and sits in one of the chairs. "Like what he did a few weeks ago?"

"Not exactly. We had a huge fight, he packed a bag and said he wasn't coming back."

His mouth drops and his eyes narrow. "What the bloody hell was he thinking? Gin told me what you told her at lunch yesterday. He is completely off his rocker if he thinks blaming you for having a job you love is the sole reason you guys have been fighting."

"Well, I wasn't exactly pleasant last night-"

"I think you had a right to hand his arse to him, Hermione," Harry interjects.

I blink back tears and rub my eyes. "I don't know if he's coming back, Harry." My words are barely louder than a whisper, but Harry's face softens immensely upon hearing them. He leans forward and takes my hands, giving them a soft squeeze.

"It'll all work out, Hermione," he says gently. "Ron will come around and he'll apologize. He did last time. If he comes to my place, I'll be sure to give him a piece of my mind-"

"No, don't, please. I don't want him to think we're gaining up on him. He's mad enough as it is. He even told me not to owl him." I pull my hands from Harry's and fold them in my lap. "Harry… what if he doesn't come back? We've never had a fight like this before. I mean, yeah we've fought and all, but never anything this big, you know?"

Harry stands and walks around to my side of the desk, pulling me to a standing position so he can hug me. I bury my face in his chest, my arms around his waist.

"It'll work out, Hermione," he says into my hair. "Just have a little faith, yeah?"

"Miss Granger? Your fin- sorry, Ronald Weasley is here to see you," April says into the intercom.

Harry pulls away and gives me a smile. "See? I told you. How's about I pop round for lunch, yeah? You can fill me in on everything then, okay?"

I nod and give him a small smile. "Thanks, Harry."

He nods and moves to the fireplace. Once he disappears in a rush of green flames, I fix my hair and tell April she can send Ron in.

He's wearing a fresh change of clothes and his hair is wet from a shower. His face is hard and passive, his jaw locked.

"Ron, I am so sorry-"

"I'm breaking up with you."

His words don't register at first and I stare at him blankly.

"What?" I finally manage to breathe out.

"We're over, Hermione. I've just come from the flat. My things are packed; I'm moving in with Kelley. I should have been clearer with you last night when I said I was leaving. I'd like my ring back now." He holds out his hand.

Instinctively, I cover my left hand with my right. I haven't removed my engagement ring since he proposed a little under a year ago. "Ron, I-I don't…"

He narrows his eyes at me. "I'm done with this relationship, Hermione. You don't have time for me anymore and you clearly care more about your job than me. You wouldn't have come in today if you didn't."

"Is that why you're doing this? Because I came into work instead of sobbing on our bed?" I snap, still refusing to return the ring.

"Well it's true, isn't? Hand it over; I haven't got all day."

"Ron, please, we can work this out; this isn't our first fight-"

"You're right. But it is going to be our last."

I can feel my tears threatening to spill. I will not cry in front of him. I slip the ring off my finger, immediately missing the weight of it. I slowly hold it out and drop it in his hand. His fist closes around it and he nods grimly.

"Bye."

His last word is crisp and sharp. I can't bring myself to reply. I watch him go, focusing on nothing else but my desire to not to let him see me cry. The moment he shuts the door behind me, I turn to my intercom.

"April, cancel my meetings for today. I… I need some time to work on my final reports. Reschedule them for Thursday."

"Sure thing, Miss Granger."

I shut off the intercom and quickly cover my mouth with my hand as a sob bubbles up my throat. I lower myself to my chair, my free arm wrapping around my waist, as if that could keep me from falling apart. My eyes glance toward the fireplace. With a flick of my wand, I shut off the Floo Network so I won't get any surprise visits. Another swipe locks my door. I am completely alone.

I cross my arms on my desk and cry into the little nest they make, my shoulders shaking with every sob.

I'm not sure how long I cry, but eventually I hear a knock at my door.

"Hermione? It's Harry. You must have turned your Floo off. We're still on for lunch, yeah?"

I don't have the energy to physically unlock my door. I wave my wand and turn my head away as Harry waltzes in. I hear the door click shut almost immediately and the sound of his footsteps as he hurries to kneel beside me.

"Hermione? What happened?"

I turn to him and wrap my arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder. Harry's strong arms come up and wrap around me, pulling me onto his lap. His hands run up and down my back as he whispers soothing sounds in my ear, but I don't really hear the words.

"He br-broke it o-off," I cry. "H-he to-took the r-ring."

Harry's arms tighten around me, partly in anger and partly in sympathy.

"You can't stay here. I'm taking you home. Come on."

Harry pulls me to my feet, but doesn't let go of me. He turns us on the spot and we Disapparate.

Wedding of the Century: Cancelled

Ronald Weasley has confirmed that his marriage to Hermione Granger is officially cancelled with no reports of a reschedule. He told the Daily Prophet that he and Miss Granger have realized some "irreconcilable differences" in their personalities and have decided it would be best to end their five year relationship. Mr. Weasley claims the relationship came to an amicable end and both parties have agreed to begin "seeing other people". Although this announcement has been brought to media attention nearly two weeks after its occurrence, Mr. Weasley has already been frequently seen out in both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds with Sarah Fisherman, the new Chaser on the Chudley Cannons. No word yet on how Miss Granger is taking the news of her ex-fiancé finding new love so quickly or if she too has a new romantic interest.

I crumble the newspaper into a ball and hurl it across the room.

"Miss Granger could not, and does not, give two shits about her ex-fiancé's new girlfriend," I mutter. "She, herself, is enjoying a relationship with two men simultaneously: the first named Ben and the other Jerry."

"You better watch where you say things like that," Ginny scolds. "Someone might actually believe you."

I look away from her and back at my ice cream. "Then the Daily Prophet is more stupid that I originally thought." I pause and then glance up at her. "Is it true? Is Ron dating that Chaser?" I put too much emphasize on the last word. A more fitting position for that woman could not exist. I should look into a position as a bloody Beater.

Ginny shakes her head. "I asked Sarah about it the other night. Ron has apparently been trying to ask Sarah out on a proper date for a while; the Prophet didn't mention that every time they've gone out together, the majority of the team has been with him. Sarah's girlfriend is starting to get very annoyed with the publicity."

I choke on my ice cream and cough. "Sarah's girlfriend?"

"Yep; they've been keeping their relationship a secret for a couple years now. I guess they were afraid of the news backfiring and ruining Sarah's career with the Wasps; their coach isn't exactly tolerate. But, now that the Cannons' coach has given her his full support, Sarah's actually gonna propose."

"Oh. That's great. Good for her."

Ginny reaches over and pats my arm. "I know you want someone to be mad at besides my piss-poor brother, but it looks like it's just him to blame. We can hate him together; it'll be fun!"

I give her a small smile and then look at the clock.

"It's getting late, Gin. You should probably head back to your place soon."

She sighs and eats the last of her own ice cream. "I know, but I hate leaving you alone."

I shrug. "I'm doing fine, honestly."

She arches an eyebrow and I blush. "Tell me the truth," she demands.

"I'm still upset and hurt and angry. But I'm getting better every day. It's been two weeks since he broke it off, but a whole eight days since I last cried. Baby steps, you know."

"Well, you know Harry and I are just an owl or Floo away, right? You aren't alone in this."

"And I can't thank you two enough for what you've done for me the past two weeks. I don't know what I'd do without the two of you."

She pulls me into a hug and holds me tightly. "We love you, Hermione. You don't need to thank us."

I hug her fiercely before pulling away. "I know. But honestly, thank you. Now, go on. I don't want to steal you from Harry any longer than necessary. Thank you for breaking the news of the article with me, and for the ice cream." I pause. "And for telling me about Sarah. I don't want to hate someone unnecessarily."

"Any time, Hermione. I'll see you tomorrow at lunch with Harry, yeah?"

I nod.