Here is part two of this angst-filled love story. Don't fret! Ron and Hermione are my OTP...

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, as they belong to J.K. Rowling. Thank you!

Pi is a constant. It never ends or settles into a permanent repeating pattern. I had learned about pi the same year I fell in love with Ron Weasley. And so I had equated the two as equal. Ron was my pi, my never-ending constant. And just as pi is everywhere, I had thought of Ron as being everywhere, at all times. The silence of the house becomes deafeningly loud, and I am brought out of my head. And I realize, with a start, that Ron is gone.

Suddenly, I am standing. "Oh, shit, Hermione, what have you done?" I mutter, my hands on my head in shock.

And I am running out the door. I run through our yard, but he is not there. Without thinking, I disapparate to George and Angelina's flat.

"Ron!" I cry out, banging my fists on their door. No one is answering. "Ron!" I sob. I do not care if I am screaming in the middle of a busy street. "Ron!" I scream, my breath becoming shallow. I feel dizzy.

"Oh, shut up!" a woman yells from her second-story window. I find myself spinning on the spot, as I disapparate to Harry and Ginny's home. My finger is bleeding, and I realize that I splinched my thumb's fingernail in half. I run to their door as I continue to scream Ron's name. I am banging on their door. "Ron! Please!" I am begging. I barely notice blood from my thumb smearing on their door. Suddenly, the door opens.

"Hermione!" It is Harry. He grabs my hand. "What happened?"

"Ron," I repeat, my voice hoarse.

"Ron's not here. Has something happened?" He is trying to fix my nail with his wand, but I am moving too much. I hear our children playing in their backyard, and I begin to feel light-headed.

"I need Ron," I weep. I feel Harry's arms wrap around me.

"Okay. Okay, we'll find him," he says, gently. We sit down in his living room.

"He's not at George's. He's not here," I say, as the edges of my vision go black. I am having a panic attack, I think. I try to take deeper breaths and I put my head in my hands. I hear Ginny's voice soon after.

"Hermione?" she says gently, and I feel her rubbing my back. I turn my head to glance at her, and she looks so much like Ron at that moment.

"He left. He's gone. I don't know where. It's my fault. It's my fault!" I weep. I sink into her arms and continue to cry. I hear myself as if it is someone else speaking. "I lost him! I lost him! He's gone."

"Shh," Ginny hushes soothingly. I hear the sound of children running into the house. "Harry… the kids," she says quietly to her husband. A few moments later, I hear Harry asking the kids if they want to play quidditch with him. His tone is overly jolly.

"He's not gone, Hermione. He'll turn up," Ginny says firmly. She grips me at my shoulders and raises my chin with her hand. "C'mon. Let's go."

She floos her mother, who informs her that Ron is not there. She floos Bill and then George.

"Our neighbor said some madwoman was banging on our door. Was that you, Hermione?" George asks lightheartedly, his face in the fireplace.

I nod weakly. Seeing my face, George adds, in a more somber tone, "We'll keep an eye out for him, yeah?"

"I owled him. He knows you're looking for him." Harry sits next to me, smelling of sweat and dirt. It reminds me of summers at the Burrow with Ron. I look at Harry, and he shrugs apologetically as he puts an arm around me. "He'll come back. He always does," he says quietly. He looks sad as he says this. I realize that Harry probably saw this coming. He is still, after all, Ron's best mate.

I continue to sit at their table through the afternoon. I want to smoke a cigarette. They remind me of losing Ron, however, and I become acutely aware of their foul aftertaste in my mouth. My mouth feels charred. I occupy my time with reading a book but the words are jumbled. I re-read the same page for hours, circling back to the top once I reach the bottom. My head is spinning. I know I cannot apparate safely.

The children run in as the sun is setting, and I can see a flash of red hair running towards me. "Mum!" Rose yells. "Mum!" Hugo repeats, as he runs up to me. I am covered in their hugs, and I take a deep breath in, willing myself not to cry. "Oh, my babies!" I sigh, kissing the top of Rose's head. "Tell me all about your fun day at Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny's!" I let their excited talking drown out my thoughts. Dinner passes by, and I tuck my children into bed. Ginny had insisted they stay with them until I find Ron. I wonder if I should go to George and Angelina's, or return home. Harry, as if reading my thoughts, approaches me as I gather the plates from the table.

"Let me get those," he offers. "Go home."

"What if he comes here?" I whisper. I catch myself looking around, as if speaking about him will make him appear. It happened once. It might happen again, I think.

"Well then I'll just keep him occupied with quidditch talk, and I won't tell him at all about how you nearly kicked my door in looking for him," Harry says dryly. His gentle smile emerging a beat later almost makes me laugh. Count on Harry to be sassy at a time like this. I give him a weak smile.

"Have I lost him completely, Harry?" I ask, feeling that familiar ache in my chest. Harry sets the plates down.

"You know, he talks to me about you. Says that he doesn't know where it went wrong. He cries about you all the time, says that he misses you, that he's lost you," he says, smiling sadly.

"He still loves you. And you love him?" he asks me, more decisively. I nod. "Of course."

"Then go home. Find each other," Harry urges. He is sincere, and I notice his eyes look a tinge watery.

I pull him into a hug. My brother. My best friend. I feel a wave of affection and gratitude sweep over me. "I love you, Harry," I mumble into his shoulder. I hear him spit my hair out of his mouth. It must've gotten caught when we hugged.

"Don't get gross on me, Hermione," he warns, his green eyes rolling in response. This time, I laugh. I grab some floo powder and walk towards his fireplace. Right before I throw it in, I hear him mutter, "I love you too, Hermione."

I emerge from our fireplace. The house is dark, but I hear footsteps approaching. I flick the lights on with my wand and find myself face to face with Ron.

His eyes are puffy and red, and his face is splotchy, but I don't think he has ever been more handsome than at this moment. We stand frozen for what seems like hours. But then, I rush forward, throwing my arms around him. I feel myself go weak as his arms wrap around me.

"I'm sorry," I whisper over and over again. My eyes are closed, and I feel too ashamed to look into his. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." His shirt is wet with my tears, and I am faintly aware that my whispers have become louder with my sobs.

I feel his hand under my chin, guiding my face to look up at his. I feel his hand on my face, and it reminds me of how he caressed my face on our wedding night, and my eyes flutter open. He is looking at me as if he is trying to memorize my features.

"I don't want you to have to memorize me," I blurt out, grabbing his hand with a sense of urgency.

"I want you. I want you every day. I want you when I wake up, and when I come home, and when I go to sleep, and I want you in my dreams. I want you when you're old and your hair goes white, and I want you. Every day." I am blubbering, and Ron goes blurry in front of me as tears fill my eyes again.

"And I've been so stupid these past few years. I took you for granted. I've wasted these years. They're gone, and you're gone, and—"

But then, Ron's lips are on mine, and he is kissing me with the same sense of urgency as he did during the Battle of Hogwarts, and I let out a sob as I kiss him back, because I have missed this man. I have missed us.

"I'm not gone, you silly girl," Ron whispers, holding my face as he nudges my nose with his. "There's nothing else for me. I walked around the city today, thinking I'd feel better without you, but that's a lie, isn't it? I'm never better without you," he tells me, and I cry a little harder thinking about Ron wandering around London alone with his Cannons bag.

"I left you once. I never wanna leave you again. I haven't done much to deserve you lately," he mumbles. "Will you have me back again?" he asks. I look into his eyes, so blue and earnest. I find myself weeping now as the ache in my chest is replaced with joy. "Ron Weasley. I can't have it any other way," I confess. I run my hand over his face, as if to make sure he is real.

"But you gotta promise me, Hermione," he cries, covering my hand with his,"You gotta promise that you'll stay. Don't drift away, love." I nod my head, my hand coming up to touch his face. "I won't, Ron, I promise," I reply, and I know I mean it with every fiber of my being.

"We might break apart again, but we gotta find our way back to each other," he whispers, wiping my tears with his thumbs.

"We'll always find a way," I murmur. He meets my lips once more, and we stumble out the kitchen.

That night, I find myself awake in bed, Ron's arm draped over my stomach, his face buried in my neck. I kiss the top of his head gently, and I trace the freckles on his arm with my finger. I start counting the freckles, realizing that I'd need more time to count them all. With a jump in my heart, I realize that I have the time. I had almost lost it, but it has been given back to me once more, this perfect circle, ceaselessly spinning, our numbers reaching towards infinity.

Thank you for reading! This was my first time participating in a challenge, and I had a great time writing this. Math really is beautiful, if you think about it.

Reviews are always more than welcome. :)