I'm uploading both chapter 15 & 16 today, as 15 is a short one!

15.

"Hullo, Ron," Hermione said wearily into her phone, putting it on speaker and laying it down on the breakfast bar in front of her. She pushed her half-eaten early dinner of scrambled eggs on toast to one side – she'd suddenly lost her appetite.

"Happy birthday, Hermione," he answered awkwardly, and was followed by a chorus of happy birthdays from everyone else at the Burrow – he obviously had her on speaker as well. Hermione pressed her lips together hard for a moment, and took a deep breath through her nose. She wasn't exactly pleased about being put on public display without him getting her permission first, and it was impossible to ask him to take her off now without seeming rude to the Weasleys. Ron's tone was strained and stilted.

"I – I remembered your birthday was today, and I know things are...not great, but – I thought I should call. I hope you've had a good day."

It sounded rather as though Ron expected a chocolate frog and a pat on the head for such a basic achievement. It also sounded more like Ron's mother or Harry had pressed him into calling Hermione, rather than him doing so of his own accord. Hermione indulged herself in an eye roll. She would have preferred he'd not called her at all, than only called because he'd been forced into it by their well-meaning family and friends, who couldn't seem to leave well enough alone when Hermione wished they would, and were nowhere to be found when she needed them.

She wanted to say something biting and nasty, something that forced him to admit calling her hadn't been his idea, and was in fact the last thing he wanted to do.

"Thank you, Ron. That's very thoughtful of you," she said instead, numbly, the words coming from her lips as though on automatic. "I appreciate the sentiment. My day's been...fine. Just fine."

"Yeah...well, um... Mum was wondering if you wanted to come 'round for dinner tonight?" In the background, Molly Weasley called – "Yes, please do, dear!" Hermione winced. Ron obviously didn't want her to come over, and it was the last thing Hermione wanted right now. She didn't want to have to sit around the dinner table with Ron and everyone else, feeling like the outsider despite their attempts to make her family, because she wasn't sure if she wanted to be family anymore. What if reconciliation wasn't what she wanted?

"Harry and Ginny are here, and Teddy, and Bill and Fleur. We could make a real celebration of it. You – you don't have to be alone on your birthday, 'Mione..." And he was saying this in front of everyone, Hermione thought with a wince. Merlin, how humiliating.

"Actually, I had lunch out to celebrate my birthday, today. And I've eaten my dinner already, sorry," she added hastily, with a guilty glance at her half-eaten plate of scrambled eggs. "Perhaps another time? But please, thank Molly for thinking of me," she said, and then carried on fast as she heard Molly begin to say something in a hurt tone in the background: "Ron, look, can you please take me off speaker? I – just... Can you, please?"

"Right. Yeah. Of course, hang on," Ron answered shortly, and then there was a moments fumbling – muffled static coming through the speaker, before Ron came back on again, his voice sounding clearer and closer now.

"Done. Hang on a minute, I'm just going up to my room." His room. His room, Hermione thought dizzily, and remembered long summers at the Burrow, and waking up Harry and Ron, both snoring the mornings away in Ron's childhood bedroom. The thought of Ron just slotting back into his old room at the Burrow was...discombobulating to say the least. There was the sound of footsteps, and Ron's breath coming heavier and rougher as he thundered up the stairs – not quite so fit anymore – and Hermione waited patient and silent, getting up and pouring herself a glass of wine from the open bottle of white in the fridge. A door banged through the phone as Hermione sipped at her wine, and then Ron was speaking, a little breathless.

"You can't just refuse Mum's invitation like that, Hermione," he started, sounding frustrated and helpless. "You have no idea how hurt it's made her, to hear you turn it down like –"

"You shouldn't have had me on bloody speakerphone, Ron!" Hermione snapped, exasperated. "You can't just...stick someone on speaker without even asking them first – things like that happen!" Heat suffused Hermione – anger and embarrassment at once. Molly didn't deserve her feelings hurt when she had always been so warm and welcoming to Hermione, ever since they were children, but... But honestly, Hermione couldn't stand the idea of either having to play the dutiful, happy wife with Ron, or stand the tension of their awkward estrangement if she didn't pretend. Either was intolerable.

"Well why would you even refuse to come round? It's just dinner at the Burrow – we've done it a million bloody times. Because you already celebrated? With who – it wasn't Harry, I know that much. He says he hasn't even spoken to you lately." There was a dark, aggressive suspicion in Ron's tone, and the fact that it was perhaps deserved just made Hermione more defensive.

"Because we're on a break, Ron! Because our marriage is falling to pieces, and I'd rather not put that on display for your whole family to see and gawk at over dinner! Because I had to go and explain to our children what was going on by myself, and look into their eyes and turn their world upside down without you there. Without your support," Hermione rushed out, tears choking her and making the words come out strangled and tight. "Which come to think of it, pretty well sums up our whole bloody marriage. When have I ever had your support? When have you ever backed me on anything that wasn't essential? I –"

"I've always been there for you, Hermione! Every time you've fucking needed me, I've had your back, so don't say –"

"When I needed you, yeah," Hermione interrupted, a chill sinking into her, and leaching out everything. "But what about when I wanted you, Ron?" she asked him, wearily. "What about when I didn't need you really, but just wanted your support? Where were you then? God, I can't remember the last time you put one of my wants ahead of your own. I know you must have, back...in the beginning. But you haven't for a long, long time."

She waited him to lash back with his own side of things, to argue his side, to point out all the many times and ways in which Hermione had failed. But there was only silence coming through the line, broken only by Ron's slightly ragged breathing. She'd stumped him, she realised, and felt a touch of victory at that, along with a...sinking sensation. If he wouldn't even fight, then what was left? Did it mean that there was nothing left?

"You went to lunch with Malfoy, didn't you," Ron said suddenly – his voice filled with a dull burning of anger – a blunt force coming through the phone and Hermione flinched. And she hesitated for a second, considering a lie – but no.

"So what if it was?" she said instead, as though she didn't care a jot what he thought. There was another silence, that stretched on until Hermione itched with the need to break it.

"So nothing, I guess," Ron said, tone drained and weary. "Is – why don't we just call it, Hermione? Just...end it now?" There was a broken hitch in his voice that made Hermione's heart ache – despite what was happening, she loved Ron, and she likely always would – and the words themselves... She recoiled from the reality of them.

"No," she said hard and loud, an instinctive denial. "No. We – we said Christmas. I told the children we'd have Christmas together, at least. Have that, before we...decide. I don't..."

"Want to disappoint them," Ron finished. "I get it." He sighed. "Fair enough, Hermione. I – I better go now though, before mum comes up here, wanting to know what's going on." A little jab of guilt, and Hermione scowled to herself. He couldn't helping getting in the last word, could Ron, and it infuriated her. She kept her voice even when she answered him.

"Sure, of course. Look – tell your mum I do appreciate the invitation, truly, but I think it'd be best for me to...keep my distance, right now, with the way things are between me and you. And tell Harry and Ginny I said 'hi'. I haven't been avoiding them." It annoyed Hermione that Harry had tried to make things seem the other way around; Harry was the one who'd all but taken Ron's side in all this mess.

"Okay, 'Mione. Bye."

"Bye, Ron." She tapped the end call icon, and then sank her head into her hands as the tension of anger and defensiveness left her in a rush, reducing her to a shaky wreck, feeling every second of her forty years, and more besides. "Happy birthday to me," she muttered bitterly, indulging her self-pity for a moment, and then downed the rest of her wine in several large gulps, before going to get the bottle out of the fridge. She refilled her glass generously, and then left the bottle out; drowning herself in drink sounded rather appealing at the moment, unhelpful though it might be in the long term. At least it was a Friday night, and she could lie in tomorrow morning and sleep off the hangover she was sure to have.

And then it was dinner with her father, and all day Sunday to...do nothing, she supposed bleakly, lifting her wine glass to her lips again and deliberately not thinking of Malfoy, and the possibility of visiting him.