May 3, 2003

On the fifth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry, Hermione, and Ron found themselves at Flourish and Blotts for a book signing. Only the second book endorsed by the trio, titled Life Goes On, An Epilogue had been written about their lives after the battle and their current take on the wizarding world. The queue of people seeking to buy a book and have the three autograph their book extended out of the shop, along the pavement.

It was also on this day that Harry first noticed a problem between Hermione and Ron. While he and Hermione were signing books and chatting with the shop's patrons, Ron was across the shop, chatting with a group of witches, and Ron looked as if were enjoying the attention a little too much. How could he flirt with witches with his fiancée sitting right there? He glanced to his right and saw Hermione's annoyed with Ron look, a look she had perfected over the years. He also couldn't help but notice the sadness that flashed in her eyes, but she banished it with a warm smile when the next customer stepped to the table.

That night, Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined a group of their friends at The Golden Goblet pub in Diagon Alley.

Harry raised his pint glass. "To five years of peace."

Hermione raised hers. "To absent friends."

More than one of them glanced to Ron across the pub, perched on a barstool, chatting with a couple of witches at the bar. Hermione took a long drink from her glass which prompted Harry to quietly ask if she was alright. She nodded and started on a pretzel.

"So, how many books do you reckon you signed today?" Seamus asked.

Hermione smiled at him. Bless him for breaking that moment of tension! "The shop manager said 223."

#

The next day she and Ron went to the Burrow for lunch like they always did on Sundays. Hermione hoped that the tension between she and Ron wasn't obvious, but if anyone picked up about the tension, they didn't say anything. After lunch, Ron said that he had something to do and left. Hermione stayed to visit, talking about the transition she was thinking of making at the Ministry.

"I know someone in the magical resources office. She said that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement will be interviewing for investigator positions next month."

"You don't like where you're at?" George asked.

"I like it just fine; my biggest goals were accomplished. After five years, the proposed bills for house elf welfare and werewolf rights are finally on the Wizengamot docket. My boss said that because the DMLE has so many thumbs in the ministry pie, it'll be the best way to advance within the ministry."

"The Aurors are always taking applicants too," Harry added.

June 13, 2003

Hermione departed for home after a third and final day of her orientation for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, where she had transitioned from the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She stopped at the market in Diagon Alley to pick up a loaf of fresh bread to go with the beef stew that had been in the slow cooker all day. She also chose a rhubarb pie, Ron's favorite, and left for she and Ron's flat.

"Love, I'm home!" she called out and hung her robe on the hanger by the front door.

She took a few steps into the living room and saw boxes scattered here and there. When she noted that an arm chair was missing, Ron emerged from the bedroom, suitcase in hand.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Can we talk?" he replied.

She nodded and took a seat on the couch.

"The stew smells good," he said and took a deep breath. "I'm moving out."

"Come again?"

"I'm moving out."

She took a deep breath to calm her growing anger. "Can you tell me why?"

"I've been thinking about it a while, and it's time that we moved on… from each other," he said and reached for her hand.

She drew her hand back and stood. "You want to break up? Now?"

He held his hands up in what he hoped was a calming gesture. "I know this is sudden for you, but-"

"Sudden?! Ron, we've been engaged and living together for two years! I've been waiting for you, as you wanted, to get married when the time is right!"

"Um, well, I was talking to mum and she said—"

Hermione rolled her eyes and mumbled, "Here we go…"

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

"You talked to your mum and now you're moving out."

"It's not like that!"

"Then why are you breaking up with me? What did I do?" she demanded.

"Nothing! It's just that-"

She took another breath to try to calm down and caught a faint scent of perfume from his shirt. She didn't wear perfume. She paled and sat down.

"There's someone else, isn't there? Was she here?"

He said nothing, and his cheeks blushed, so she knew she was right. She quickly wiped a tear that fell.

"Let me guess… hmm, someone more suitable, am I right? A house witch?"

"It's not like that," he stated. "What's wrong with a house witch?"

"There's nothing wrong with being a house witch, but that's not me. I thought you loved me for who I am."

"I do love you!"

"You're breaking up with me! You're interested in someone else! Please explain how that's loving me!"

"I'll always love you as a friend. That will never change, please understand," he pleaded.

"Just pack your things and get the fuck out of my life," she stated and left the living room.

Ron tried to talk to her as he finished packing his things, but she ignored him as she ate a bowl of stew and flipped through a magazine. When he was finally gone, she threw her bowl against the wall and cried as she had never cried before.

After Ron left, she unplugged her flat telephone, turned off her mobile, and closed her floo. A Saturday spent staring at the walls, crying, and banishing Ron's things turned into a Saturday night that included a copious amount of wine, chocolate, ice cream, and crisps.

When she woke on the couch from an award-winning hang-over, she didn't go to the Weasley home as she usually did on a Sunday. She tossed back a hang-over elixir, showered, and left for Diagon Alley in search of breakfast.

#

She flipped through the past week's Witch Weekly over tea and scones. It was a quiet Sunday morning and there were only three other people in the café. At her elbow, she heard someone softly clear their throat. She put down her tea cup and looked up. There stood Draco Malfoy with a copy of Life Goes On, An Epilogue.

She nodded at the book. "It makes a nice paperweight," she quipped.

"I'm sure it's not that bad," he replied. "May I join you?"

She nodded and waved to the empty chair seat across the table.

"Are you here alone?" he asked.

She nodded and tapped on the carafe. "It's full, would you like some?"

"Sure," he said and she got the server's attention to get a cup for Draco.

He patted the book. "It's a happy coincidence to see you here. Mum couldn't get to the bookstore yesterday, so here I am. Without sounding too cliched, may I have an autograph?"

She nodded and removed a pen from her handbag.

"What makes you say this is a nice paperweight?" he asked when she signed Enjoy the book, best wishes, Hermione Granger.

"I'm joking. The author did a bang-up job. He was pickier about it than we were."

"Have you read it?"

She nodded. "The advanced reader copy a couple of months ago. There's some necessary literary embellishment, according to the author, but it's an honest work. Nothing like that rubbish Harmel tried to sell last year."

"I heard that it didn't sell at all."

Hermione shook her head. "The publisher actually lost money on it. We disavowed any acknowledgement of its value, refused to make a statement about it, or even speak with the author."

"Are you going to the St. Mungo's charity ball?" he inquired.

She fidgeted with the corner of her napkin. "I don't know."

"Well, you have all week to decide."

She nodded and took a sip of her tea.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm very tired this morning and I've got a lot on my mind."

"That's right, you transferred to the DMLE. You got there just in time. There's rumors of smuggling. My squad got wind of it first."

She raised an eyebrow. "Well, you are in Imports. Smuggling what?"

"It's a mix of goods. They're trying to dodge the import taxes and inspections. The one we caught is grassing out the others."

"I'm sure I'll hear about it if the DMLE gets involved."

#

The next morning in her cubicle, she stared blankly at a case file involving smuggled potions ingredients. She heard some knocks on her cubicle partition and looked up. There stood Harry with a sad smile on his face.

"So I guess there's another Weasley I'm not talking to?" he asked. "I heard what happened from George."

"Harry, he's persona non-grata to me, but that doesn't mean it's the same for you," she said, massaged her temples, and gestured to the chair in the cubicle. She looked as if she hadn't gotten a wink of sleep, but he wasn't about to point it out. Her bottom lip quivered when she spoke.

"Harry, he said the stew smells good and that he was moving out in the same sentence."

Harry frowned. Would Ron ever move beyond the emotional range of a teaspoon? One of the department clerks stopped at her cubicle with a file folder, smiled at Harry, and gave the file to Hermione.

"The Rollingwood case?" Hermione asked and opened the file.

The clerk nodded.

"Thanks," Hermione replied.

The clerk nodded and left. He glanced at his watch. "I do want to talk, but I have a prisoner interview at Azkaban this morning."

She tapped a piece of paper tacked to the wall titled Azkaban. "I know."

"Really, how are you?"

"Angry? Confused? Heartbroken? All three," she answered.

"Carver's for lunch?" he asked.

She paused from the page she was perusing. "Sounds good. If you get there before me, order for me?"

"Sure thing," he said and stood. "Don't work too hard."

She chuckled. "Me? Perish the thought."

Carver's Bistro, Diagon Alley

Well into lunchtime, Harry watched the lunch crowd from inside Carver's Bistro, one of the many new businesses started in Diagon Alley after the war. He placed his order and Hermione's lunchtime favorite and flipped through the current Quidditch Monthly when the bistro's doors opened, and Hermione strolled in. Many eyes aside from his followed her progress to their table.

"Sorry, my boss fell into lecture mode with the department," she said and sat down.

"About what?" he asked.

"14, order up!" was heard from behind the counter. Harry held up a card with 14 on it. He went to the counter and returned with two sandwich plates.

"Chicken and ham with an extra pickle," he said and placed hers on the table with a flourish.

"Thanks," she said and took a humungous bite of her sandwich.

"So, your boss?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded and finished chewing. "He lectured about report writing."

"And you said that with a straight face," he grinned.

"Imagine me hearing it," she chortled. "How was Azkaban?"

He took a sip of his cola and shrugged. "Cold, spooky, depressing. What are your weekend plans?" he asked.

"Definitely going away somewhere," she replied.

The rest of lunchtime passed with their usual amusing chat and observations. He could tell Hermione was putting on a brave face, but he knew she was hurting badly. For her part, she was grateful for diverting conversation and the comforting, steady company of her best friend. When lunch was finished, he took away of a piece of cheesecake and they returned to the Ministry.

#

That night, Hermione sat in her flat with take-away shrimp pad thai and watched a replay of a rugby match on the telly. She looked around the flat and decided that she wanted to move. Two years ago, she and Ron let the spacious flat with the intention of marrying and starting a family, but there was no point in wasting the cost for the space now. The landlord would probably charge her out of the nose to let her out of the flat lease early, but since Ron decided to just move out without notice, he could bear some monetary responsibility for it, couldn't he? His name was on the lease agreement too.

Also that night, Harry was hosting Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, Neville Longbottom, and Wayne Hopkins for supper and cards. They were in the library when the floo from the parlor sounded and Ron's voice was heard. Harry sighed and set his cards aside.

"Uh oh, trouble," Seamus commented.

"Not from me. Excuse me, gents, this won't take long," Harry said and left the library.

In the parlor, Ron was pacing with his hands in his pockets. Harry crossed his arms and leaned on the door jamb.

"You heard?" Ron asked, recognizing Harry's stance.

"About you being a lying tosser? Yes, I heard."

"It's not like that!"

"It's not? So, you couldn't break Hermione's heart honestly?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"How long were you dating this other witch behind her back?"

"I wasn't really dating her."

"You were engaged and living with Hermione, but not really dating another witch… so what were you doing with this other witch?" Harry asked.

Ron shrugged. "Stuff."

"What you should have done, the very day you realized you were interested in someone else, was to tell Hermione. Yes, it would have hurt her, but it would have been the decent way of going about it. Now everyone thinks you're just a lying tosser."

"No, they don't!" Ron declared.

"Yes, they do!" echoed the four from the library.

Harry smirked at him. "And what does it say about this other witch? She knew you were engaged and living with someone, and she was fine with being the witch on the side?"

Ron was speechless. His brothers had asked the same thing.

"Come on, don't you know how it is?" Ron asked weakly.

If there was a worst question in the universe to ask someone, Ron had just asked it.

"No, you git, I don't know how it is. This kind of thing just runs in the family, I guess," Harry stated.

Ron flushed redder than a tomato when the insult hit home. Harry was referring to Ginny, who had shagged her Quidditch team's athletic trainer the year before at an after-match victory party. She thought she had gotten away with it, but morning sickness was hard to hide. At first Harry was thrilled about finally having a family, but he wasn't stupid. After being with her for two years, he was aware of her monthly cycles and contraception. She must have thought he couldn't look at a calendar, do the math, and deduce that she did indeed conceive- but it was when he was away on a case. He broke their engagement and Ginny was released from her team. She was now a single mother working the Quidditch section of The Daily Prophet and an occasional column for Quidditch Monthly.

Ron's shoulders sagged, and he left the way he came. Harry sighed and added yet another ward to block someone's entry by floo.

"Game on," he called out and rejoined the four in the library.

Late that night, he received a text on his mobile from Hermione. Paris for the weekend. See you Monday.