The Trouble with Love Is

AN: This was probably the most fun chapter to write, especially this second part- Ron and Hermione meeting again for the first time after. Yes, the Ron/Hermione kiss got backlash, like I expected, but do not fear. Harmony is the word. Please read, rate, and review!

Oh, and the idea of a 'club' and three rules does not belong to me, but Shonda, because she is so much smarter than me. Grey's fans will understand.

The sounds of light music and glasses clinking was heard around the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione made her way to the bar anxiously, wondering when Ron was to show. Instead of going back to Grimmauld Place after work, she sent an owl to her former boyfriend in attempts to work things out. He agreed to meet her that night, so here she was.

"Hermione." She looked around, looking for a body to match that sickeningly familiar voice, one that made her stomach grow knots. And not the pleasant ones, mind you. Ron ambled over and sat next to her. "Nothing for tonight, Tom," he added tiredly, as the barman came up to them. "Not yet, anyway."

"Ron," she pleaded, "please. We can't keep avoiding the topic at hand. We were friend for years, we fought, and found a way to still be friends after it all. And lovers, at that!" She smacked her hand down on the table demandingly. "Are you willing to throw away nine years of friendship because of yet another fight? That would be doing a disgrace to ourselves, not to mention your sister and Harry."

The redheaded man looked down at the grimy wooden bar which his elbows sat upon, refusing to glance up at her. "It wasn't just a fight, Hermione," he said finally. "It was the fight. It's all figured out, and I really don't think there's really anything to say to you." Rons tone started to become angry. "You think that after nine years I wouldn't notice? Really, Hermione? Huh. The smartest witch of the age thinks that she can stand by while her boyfriend knows nothing about her feelings. What world do we live in?"

"The same one we've been living in for almost a decade!" Hermione wanted to shout, but refrained from doing so. She didn't want another all out brawl like last time. "One that you apparently think you know everything about me," she said quietly. Ron looked stung.

"I don't know everything about you?"

"No, you don't, Ron," Hermione said, her face melancholy. "Like you said, we can't keep pretending anymore, so why not address every single problem our relationship has? First of all, I don't see you half the time during Quidditch season, we don't ever discuss anything important, and I almost feel like a stranger to you. And that's not because of my year abroad," she snapped, noticing that Ron was about to interject his own thoughts. "We were drifting apart before then. Why do you think the last time she slept together was the night you told me you loved me? That was eighteen months ago.

"We're not the same people we were at seventeen and eighteen years old," she concluded. "Okay, so it's now your turn to speak." Ron looked surprised. Hermione insisted, exasperated, "Well, if you expect to repair what was broken, we have to take turns. I'm done, now it's your turn."

"I've said all I need to say. In the flat, remember?" he said coldly. "You chose me over Harry because my sister already had him within her clutches, and I was the only thing left for you. How's that for fixing what was broken? Hey, Tom, I'd really like a firewhisky right about now," he called, but Hermione shook the bartender off with a shake of her head.

"Honestly Ron, you are so dim," she hissed under the noise of the twilight music. People around had begun to stare. "How could you have so many insecurities that makes you believe that Harry was my first choice?" Upon coming into the pub, Hermione came to terms that what she discovered about herself and everyone else would have to stay hidden for the time being, however much it hurt to stifle. "Harry's fanciable, he's got the appeal, he's a wonderful, caring, and sensitive human being that I love to death, but I've never thought about him in that way."

Ron gulped loudly before grabbing her hand impulsively. "I don't know," he admitted. "But, I do have something to tell you that might give you a clue. You remember the night I came back two years ago, when we found Gryffindors sword?" Hermione nodded, but was growing angry. What did this have to do with anything? "Harry had to open it with parseltongue, and he wanted me to stab it. I was all for it, until...." he trailed off. "Until Riddle's soul managed to eat at my fears," he mumbled. "Do you know what that was?"

"No," Hermione said honestly. He took a deep breath.

"It was you and Harry together," he told her, his eyes averting her face. "You two were oddly distorted, like blow up dolls, almost and evil. The worst things you never think to tell me came from them. He had you guys hug and kiss right there. Harry was telling me to get rid of it the whole time, but I couldn't listen. My biggest fear was losing something else to him," he admitted, "even though we were still the best of friends. So when you kissed me right after we came out of the Chamber of Secrets, it was almost like a victory over him. It sounds horrible, I know, but I thought it." Her heart went out to him. Hermione grabbed his other hand sadly.

"Really, Ron," she whispered, "I am so sorry you had to go through with that. Having so many siblings is a horrid disadvantage for your ego, isn't it?" She embraced him friendly-like, knowing that it would take so much more than a few confessions to gain what they'd lost. Ron pulled away after a moment.

"Your turn," he said. "Anything, say anything that I don't know about you."

Hermione hesitated. "My boggart is you and Harry," she blurted out, "or last time I checked." Ron almost looked amused.

"Me? What's so scary about poor little ol' me and the wizard who defeated You Know Who?" Ron batted his eyelashes at her, making her laugh. "I mean, we aren't that bad."

"Not you guys exactly, but you guys leaving me. Either that, or you two are dead," she said dryly. "What's yours?" Ron turned bright red. He hid his face inside his arms.

"Spiders," he mumbled, "just like you should know from Defense years ago. Now, what are the names of your parents?"

"Rebecca and Robert Granger," Hermione recited instantly. "I have a strained relationship with them, but I love them very much. They also know just about everything about Harry and you, it's so sad. They've asked me to bring both of you guys over before the war started up again, but then, they just figured it was better to stay away. They wish I would have stayed away, too." She shrugged. The subject of her parents was touchy, too, considering they didn't approve of magic.

They went on for this for about an hour, slinging questions back and forth at eachother, when the lights dimmed and the music abruptly changed genres. A though that generated in her mind for the past few days was almost complete. "I have an idea," she said suddenly. Ron looked at her oddly. "One that will fix our relationship," she clarified. "This was nice, I will admit, and little fighting was involved, too, but there's issues with trust and commitment that we need to work out.

"Okay, the is my proposition," she murmured continually. "A proposition that starts from the bottom- the very bottom. We start building up our relationship block by block, as if we were building a house out of bricks. I introduce myself, you do the same, we talk, and do things you normally do to get to know someone. We should most definitely be civil to eachother, no irrelevant bickering. I hate that, I'm telling you that now, how you can turn anything into an argument. Stop that, that's rule number one. Rule number two, nothing romantic." Rons looked at her, gaping. Hermione felt a sense of pride within herself.

"Not until we reach the top of the pyramid," she said loftily.

"Wait, I thought we were building a house," Ron interjected. Hermione sighed.

"It's an expression, Ron, seriously. We will become better friends because of it. Rule number two: no romantic innuendo, no hand holding, certain kinds of hugs, kisses except ones on the cheek, and definitely no sex." Ron pouted. "Stop acting like a dog." she said. "Go find another partner to practice on. We will go out to the clubs sometimes, as an outing, not a date, most likely with Harry and Ginny. Oh, and no flowers, no chocolates, no gifts except on holidays like Christmas and birthdays ." Hermione was most definitely enjoying herself here, in her element of making up rules.

"When does rules number two lift?" Ron asked, grinning, still holding her hands.

"When I see fit," Hermione replied, letting go and smacking them both. "When I deem fit, rule number two will be abolished, and we will be able to pursue romantic things. But until then..... we're just friends. And the final rule: I will live with you as always, but at no point will you be crawling inside my bed, watching me dress or undress, or think about doing anything inside of my bedroom." She tapped the bar with her fingertips impatiently, waiting for Ron to reply to this final one. She only feared what his comment would be.

"But what if I'm cold at night?" he asked cockily. Hermione glared at him.

"Breaking rules one, two and three. Anyhow, onto the introduction part." She stuck out her hand. "I'm Hermione Granger." Looking suspicious at the gesture, he eyed her hand before complying.

"I'm Ron Weasley, keeping for Puddlemere United. Would you like me to buy you a drink, Hermione?" Hermione stifled a laugh.

"Why yes, Mr. Weasley," she said jokingly, "I would like a drink. But why don't I buy the first round." She then called, "Hey Tom, send some of that special wine down our way!" She was not much of a drinker, but she figured this was a special occasion.

"I really do need that drink," Ron said, massaging his temple. "... hey, Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry about not writing to you the past year."

"I know." Tom set the bottle and two cups before them. Hermione poured it into the glasses, then lifted hers halfway in the air. "To our newfound friendship," she announced. Ron said hoarsely, "To our newfound friendship." They clinked glasses before drowning the entire thing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was thoroughly surprising to see Ginny coming for dinner. She came home with her hair flying everywhere, clothes wrinkled, and a letter in her hand. When Harry asked her about it, Ginny only said, "I'll tell you later," then stalked away to their bedroom. She joined him for delicious stew, courtesy of Kreacher, down in the drafty kitchen.

She was silent until Harry finally got sick of it all halfway through desert. He was not going to jeopardize his relationship just because Ginny was being petty. After a deep breath, he said quietly, "Ginny, listen to me." The redheaded woman looked up at him. "I don't get why your mad at me, considering I saved you from looking like a fool, but it's obvious I overstepped the line with you. But why are you acting like this?" Ginny did not respond. He was about to give up hope when the melodic sound of her voice filled the air nearest him, not seeming to puncture inside.

"You had no right to pull me away from the situation at all, Harry," she began, "but I can also understand that you were just looking out for your best friends. You three have such a powerful relationship, especially with Hermione, and I just have to accept it. You're just... Harry and Hermione. Incredibly cliche, I know, but it is what it is. I was too dim to realize." Ginny toyed with the edges of her napkin. "So I'm sorry." Harry gave her a slight smile.

But somehow, it was not such a great a feeling as he thought. He then remembered something key. "Hermione moved in here," he blurted out, "after her huge fight with Ron. Which she still won't tell me about." Ginny frowned. "But I think she'll be moving back in with Ron," he concluded. "They went out hours ago."

"You had no thought to tell me this before?" she asked, slipping back into her previous demeanor.

"You weren't home!"

"With good reason," Ginny shot back.

Harry sighed. "Listen, Ginny, Hermione was only a temporary tenant of this building. She had nowhere else to go."

"What about her parents?" Clearly, the redheaded girl was trying to find a hole.

"You know how strained her relationship with her parents is," he said wearily, rubbing his temple. Robert and Rebecca Granger were not the most friendly people he'd met down in Australia. When Hermione removed their fake memories and alias, they were very quick to judge her choices in the matter. When they caught sight of him, well, let's just say that Harry and Hermione slept in a hotel for three months before coaxing them back to London.

Ginny finally cracked. "I don't like that you don't tell me everything," she said with a pout, "but I suppose you're right. I should imagine that by tomorrow morning, Ron and Hermione will be as right as rain. With that all straightened out, I am retiring to bed." She came over and gave him a kiss before stumbling up the staircase. He sat there for a moment in attempt to collect his thoughts when the door bell rang.

Harry headed for it in confusion. Who would be coming over this late? But when he looked through the peephole, he groaned. A drunken figure wobbled in front of him as the door opened.

"Hermione, why did you get so drunk?"

Hermione whistled. "Ronnie dropped me off here, we were so happy, wine......" She fell into his arms with a moan. "Pyramids, houses, rules," Hermione mumbled as she became semi asleep. Harry laid her on the couch beside him. It was going to be a long, long night.