The sun was bright as it swept across the floor of Hermione Granger's bedroom. It was the middle of summer, a time when she'd normally be at her happiest, she was truly miserable. She hated, more than anything, the complete return to being at her most alone. No friends, no dorm-mates, no classmates. She didn't even have a pet to share in her loneliness.

Hermione shifted in her bed, letting the daily misery wash over her. She hadn't slept the night before, at least, not slept well. She drifted in and out of dreams, remembering the last words he'd said to her "I can't trust you, Hermione! We're through!" She couldn't believe her own stupidity. She thoroughly loathed herself for the person she had become after the war. It wasn't just who she'd become, but rather what. The problem was, there was no going back now, she thought savagely, I already drove him away and I can't get him back.

Seeing no other way than to get up and take a shower, she threw the dark blue comforter off her with a sweeping motion and rose from the bed. Hermione's body felt heavy, like the whole world was pressing down on her. She dropped her pajamas to the floor and turned on the hot water. Turning to the mirror, she peered at the reflection staring back at her. This girl was not the Hermione Granger she used to be. Dark circles had formed under her eyes, and she looked, like she hadn't slept in weeks. The biggest difference was the way the girl in the mirror just looked sad. Six months prior, she would have looked in the mirror and seen the happiest woman in the world.

She groaned inwardly and noticed steam pouring from the top of the shower. Stepping in, she felt the hot water relax the tight muscles in her shoulders and neck, and bring her at least a little pleasure in what she felt was the misery of her own life. Hermione let the hot water run over her as she pondered over the events that had happened six months ago. She could still remember Ron's face as he turned away from her, telling her he never wanted to see or speak to her ever again.

She could still remember Ron telling her he didn't trust her, no matter what she did. He was right of course, she thought, what I did was truly inexcusable. He shouldn't have to deal with the likes of me. Ever. Her misery got the better of her, and she slumped down to the floor of the tub, pulling her knees into her chest and just letting herself cry. Thankfully, she lived alone and no one could hear her.

Hermione blamed herself. She wished she wasn't who she was. She sought solace in talking to him in her thoughts. It wasn't healthy, but it was the only way that she could get through the day anymore.

"Ron, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to say the things I did to you. I didn't mean to do the things I did to you. I wish I could take it all back. I wish you could see me now. See how much I need you, how much I would do just to get you back." She pleaded silently from the floor of the bathtub.

She took several deep breaths, and let herself calm down. Hermione slowly stood up, washed her hair in the icy cold water, and shut it off. Shivering in the cold bathroom, she dried herself with a nearby towel, still thinking of the things that had happened six months ago. She wrapped the towel around herself, and walked back to the bedroom where she slowly got dressed. Putting on sweatpants and a t-shirt and putting her wet hair into a pony tail.

Hermione sighed and sank back down onto the bed. She'd never felt more alone in her life. Even when she'd been a child and tormented by every single girl in her class, she'd always had her parents to come home too. They loved her and cared about her. After the war, there were still pockets of snatchers hunting down muggleborns and their families. In her mind, she was better to leave them in Australia until the government settled down.

But the war had ended five years ago. She was now twenty-two, and living on her own in a small flat in the West of London, about four blocks from Piccadilly circus. She loved the rumble of the city at night, it gave her overactive mind something to think about besides her misery. The magical government had long since settled, with Kingsley Shacklebolt elected as minister. Hermione had wound up head of Muggle Liaisons, making more money than she'd ever dreamt of, but not even that gave her pleasure now.

It was partially the work that had strained her relationship with Ron. Somehow, he overcame his performance anxiety of keeping and went on to play for England in the cup. He was an incredible player, now. His being on the road, and her being swamped with work, they barely had time for each other. Then came the fighting, the trying to resolve it, and the fighting again. Hermione knew she loved him, and was nothing without him and that alone saved their relationship.

That is, until Matthew came along. He was one of the men working working in the obliviator squad. Matthew was funny, charismatic, incredibly good-looking, and phenomenally intelligent. Hermione found herself very much so attracted to him, but she didn't feel the same way about him as she did Ron. In a world where she didn't have a relationship with him, he would have been absolutely perfect. Not to mention, he was very obviously attracted to her.

Regardless of her feelings for Ron, she found herself going to dinner with him four or five times a week, spending all her spare time (when Ron was on the road or at practice) with him and all her time thinking about him. Hermione found herself loving him like the best friend she desperately missed, the one that she had fallen for over the last ten years over their lives. One night, after spending the night reading half of Lockhart's "Travels with Trolls" and laughing at how idiotic this man had been (not to mention how pompous his writing style) they'd fallen asleep, Hermione's head wresting on Matt's lap and his arm lying across her stomach.

Ron had walked in, saw them asleep like that, and flew into a rage. Hermione knew he was overreacting, but she felt guilty nonetheless. Ron's rages were becoming more and more frequent as he worried more and more that she was cheating on him with Matt. Mainly because he was all she talked about whenever Ron was at home.

"I can't trust you when I'm gone, Hermione! What else have the two of you done behind my back?" He roared, red-faced.

Hermione shrank back from him, afraid he might do something rash and hit her.

"We haven't done ANYTHING, Ron, we fell asleep!" Hermione, said in a small scared voice. She knew, deep down, that she shouldn't have done anything with him. She quietly told Matt he should go, when Ron flew into a second rage.

"No. I'm leaving. I'm done, Hermione. I can't trust you. All you ever talk about is 'Matt this' and 'Matt that'. How can I believe anything but that you're in love with him? How can I believe that you didn't do anything?" And walked out the door.

"Ron, no, please. Come back! I'm sorry, I don't love him. Please believe me! Please come back!" she shouted out the door, but it was too late, he had already disapparated. She slumped down into the doorframe and just cried. Matt walked over quietly and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Is there anything I can do, Hermione? I feel awful…" He said sadly. Matt must know it was partially his fault; there was no denying it that they were both completely in the wrong in this situation. Hermione thought for a moment.

"Please, Matt, I think you should just leave now. I'll be in touch." Hermione heard how pitiful her voice sounded. She sounded dead and hollow, just like she felt. Matt gave her one last, pleading look before making a loud crack, and disapparating into thin air. She knew in her heart, that she was never going to speak to him again.

She cried all night, wave after wave of misery washing over her, when her alarm rang at six o clock, she dragged herself out of bed and went to work. She hadn't been at the office five minutes when Arthur walked in, he didn't look to happy with her, and she shrank back into her chair. He had much more power now, taking the role of vice minister under Kingsley. Truthfully, he scared her a little on a good day, not to mention the fact that Ron had stormed out in a rage, probably straight to his mother.

"Ron's told us what's happened. From what he's said, I think he's overreacting a lot, however, he does have a right to be angry." Arthur's expression softened as he looked at Hermione. She knew she was white faced, with greasy hair and puffy eyes. "Hermione, I know you don't want to be here, and I know you're hurting. I can put a temp in charge if you want some time to clear your head. Truthfully, I don't blame you at all, but you can't deny that he's been hurt here, too."

Hermione mutely nodded, grabbed her briefcase and thanked him.

"Give him a few days. He'll come around." Hermione then nodded again and apparated into her bedroom. Throwing her briefcase into a corner, she dropped onto the bed, and cried.