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On the day they break up, Ron admits that he wasn’t always there for Hermione, that he wasn’t really ready for a long-term relationship. She tells him she didn’t realize until it was too late that she’d been emotionally cheating on him. Her confession throws him for a loop, and all he can do is stare at her, confusion and anger at war in his mind.
That night, he gathers her possessions in his flat. Methodically, he boxes them up, shrinks them for delivery the following day, then sits at the square table in his kitchen with the boxes in front of him. He fingers them, wondering how their relationship fits into two cardboard boxes. There are no tears, no more anger, just a numbing sensation that sits in his chest as he thinks over the past year and a half, wondering where they went wrong.
It’s no surprise that they didn’t stay together. Ron knows they aren’t suited to each other, has known it for some time, but didn’t want to admit it. A beep echoes from the living room, alerting him to someone trying to reach him through the Floo. He shuts his eyes, not wanting to see or talk to anyone, not now, not yet. So he walks to the bedroom, pauses as he stares at the bed he and Hermione shared for so long, and promptly walks to the guest room, where he falls asleep on a bare mattress and ignores the world.
Four months later, an article in The Prophet tells him that Hermione Granger was seen at dinner with Theodore Nott, Anthony Goldstein, and Luna Lovegood, “a double-date of wit and intelligence.” Ron stares at the accompanying photography, one where Nott’s arm is around Hermione’s waist as she tilts her cheek into a kiss. Over and over, it plays, until Ron pushes away from the table and readies for another day at work. He ignores the clenching in his chest, the stone growing in the pit of his stomach, and goes to the Ministry.
Harry is waiting at Ron’s desk, an inquisitive gaze following Ron as he sits and gathers papers. “Ron -”
“Harry.” Ron doesn’t look up but instead reaches for a quill and starts filling out paperwork. “You’re my best mate, my future brother-in-law. I know she’s your best friend. Don’t put yourself in the middle of this.”
Silence surrounds them before Ron hears Harry move to his own desk.
After work that day, Ron doesn’t go home. Instead, he apparates to the edge of Tinworth, wanting the solitude and calming effect of the sea. The sand is soft between his toes, the breeze warm on his face. He watches the sun move across the sky, and just as it’s about to begin its descent at the horizon, a shadow falls over him. When he looks, it’s to see a tall woman with dark hair tumbling over her shoulders.
“Ron Weasley.”
He squints up at her, familiarity nudging his brain. It takes him only a moment. “Greengrass.”
“Astoria.” She sits without invitation, not too close but it still jars Ron. “I thought it was you.”
Ron glances at her before staring back out at the ocean, where the sky above turns into a painting of reds and orange. Next to him, Astoria does the same, one hand picking up sand and letting it fall through her fingers. He doesn’t know why, but Ron finds comfort in the shared quietness.
Over the next six months, Ron finds a kinship with the younger Greengrass, a relationship he never thought possible with a Slytherin , but the war changed his thought process, his opinions. Their conversations change from stilted to thoughtful, from awkward silences to bouts of laughter. They learn about each other, about themselves, and it’s an exhilarating feeling.
She takes him to a local cafe run by a brother-sister duo and he learns to like coffee.
He finds out she loves shepherd’s pie and watches his mum dab at her eyes when he asks her for help on how to make it.
While watching another sunset, she tells him about Malfoy. His parents protested their courtship and she didn’t want to stand in the way of a healing relationship. She cries a bit and Ron wipes tears from her cheeks with soft fingers.
Over coffee and scones, he talks of the hurt he felt after his break-up with Hermione, not because they were done, but her reasoning. He confesses that part of him wanted Nott to be a fling so she could maybe feel the hurt he did, then his voice hitches when he admits he felt sick for two days after his terrible thoughts.
They tell each other that while it felt helpless for a while, the deteriorations of their past relationships were learning experiences, that it made them understand life - and love - better. The kiss that follows starts sweet, a melding of tentative lips, and ends with a gasping of breath. Ron’s hands frame Astoria’s face, in awe of the emotions that race through him.
“So we’re doing this?”
She laughs, used to the simplicity of his words that cover more than he actually says. Her fingers curl around his wrists. “I’ve been waiting for this to happen, for us to happen.”
The smile that blooms on Ron’s mouth is wide, happy , and his heart thunders in his chest. When he leans down to kiss her again, he tastes the nutty smokiness of her coffee, a hint of sweetness from their shared cinnamon bun, and the promise of a future he’s been searching for.