So, I asked the registered reviewers who left reviews to the last chapter of my last story to vote for which story I should post next, and this was the winner from those that replied. Btw, those other 2 synopsis' I gave will get posted as well eventually.

I hope you like this. It kind of developed in my head from those comments made a couple of years back by JK Rowling and Emma Watson about Ron and Hermione perhaps needing marriage counselling at some point and started the whole drama of the stories of her saying she regretted putting them together. And then I was listening to the Pink! song 'Just Give Me A Reason', and this wrote itself almost. So, this is my idea of, if they ever did have problems, how it might play out.

This story will pretty much ignore anything that happens in The Cursed Child as it works along the same time line to that...and because, even though I loved seeing it on stage (and will no doubt enjoy seeing it again in March) I don't care for that story much at all.

That being said...on with the show.

Rated M for later chapters.

My usual disclaimers apply (available on my profile)

Chapter 1

"'Morning," I greeted Ron as I joined him in the kitchen for breakfast. "Chicken," I cringed, as I did every time I had to utter our owl's ridiculous name, "just returned with some post." I deposited the said items onto the kitchen table.

"Anything from the kids?" he asked, lowering one corner of the day old newspaper he was reading.

"No," I turned to look at him. "Just today's paper, your Quidditch monthly and a reminder for me about a book I ordered," I replied whilst pouring myself a bowl of muesli.

"Oh," he muttered, returning to his newspaper, uninterested.

I rolled my eyes and suppressed a tired sigh as I sat opposite him at the table and gazed at the newspaper my husband hid behind. "Anything interesting in there?" I asked after a few minutes of silence between us, save the crunching of food or the slurping of tea.

"Not really," he grunted, giving up on it as he folded the paper up and picked up his new magazine to glance through instead.

I continued to eat my breakfast and poured myself some tea from the pot, all the time re-reading the headlines on the front of his magazine – the only thing I could see facing me. Finally, he slurped down the last of his tea, grimacing when he discovered it had gone cold and stood up, checking his watch.

"Damn! I'd best be off. Promised Verity I'd open up this morning. See you later love." He bent and pressed a chaste kiss against my cheek and headed for the floo to Disapparate to work at the shop.

I watched him go and finally gave in to a long, rather drawn out, wistful sigh, wondering where my loving, fun, affectionate husband had gone. For the past couple of weeks I had sensed him drifting away from me, retreating into himself almost and I didn't know why. Things seemed to have become rather stale between us, stuck in an unpleasant rut and I wasn't sure when it had begun or even how long it had been going on for.

The summer had been busy for us. We'd spent a lovely, fun filled holiday away with the children – first visiting their Uncle Charlie in Romania for a couple of days and then on to a concealed island in Greece where the entire community was Magical. It was un-plottable to Muggles and allowed us to enjoy some free time in the sun. Once we got home it had been a whirlwind of getting Hugo ready for his first year at Hogwarts and Rose set up to begin her third year.

So, it was only now that both children were away at school and it was just the two of us again for the first time in over 13 years, that I had time to really look at our relationship and realise something wasn't right. I couldn't put my finger on what the issue was, but I knew we weren't the same couple we used to be.

Don't get me wrong, my feelings for Ron hadn't changed at all. I was just as much in love with him today as I was the day I'd married him. But, it was a more grown up kind of love these days - not the giddy, all consuming, butterfly feelings from younger years when we couldn't get enough of one another. That's not to say that he didn't still give me those feelings from time to time – he only had to look at me a certain way sometimes and my heart would flip again.

But, I had begun to wonder recently whether he still felt the same about me? What if he was giving up or having doubts? What if I wasn't enough for him any more? I think my heart would break if he left me – I couldn't imagine my life without him in it. After more than 15 years of marriage and a lifetime together before that, how was I supposed to go on if he didn't want this anymore?

I inhaled deeply and was startled to realise I was crying. This was so typical of me – I had imagined the worst case scenario and let my imagination run away until something that was only a thought became very real to me. It was something that often caused stress in my life and then Ron would laugh at me for getting upset about something that hadn't even happened. After which, he'd comfort me, talk me out of it, make me see I was being ridiculous and somehow make it all okay.

Right now though, I didn't have Ron around to make me see sense. Instead, the only other living creature currently in the house flew over and sat before me, perched on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He hooted at me dolefully and blinked his eyes. "Hey Chicken," I murmured and stroked the back of my finger down the soft plumes of his chest.

The owls name was so ridiculous and embarrassing, though at the moment it was making me smile as I thought of my husband and his silliness. The name had started off as a joke. After we brought the new owl home and the kids were arguing over what to name him, Ron had told them about how Ginny had named his first owl Pigwigeon. They thought this was hilarious – even though they'd heard the story numerous times before. Jokingly, Ron had said they might as well name this one something like chicken, since he'd already had a pig and a six year old Hugo went with it, refusing to call the bird anything else. After a while, the owl wouldn't answer to anything else either, so we were stuck with a handsome bird who had a totally absurd name.

Chicken hooted at me again. "Sorry, I expect you want a treat," I realised, summoning the jar over and pouring out a handful of owl treats for him. He happily ate them as he allowed me to stroke him again, whilst contemplating on when I'd lost that fun loving, silly, loveable, affectionate husband. This current version seemed too miserable and distant to be the same one I'd married.

How long had things been like this before I'd stopped to take notice? When had we stopped really communicating with each other? That little exchange of words this morning had become the norm for us and it hurt to realise we barely spoke any more. We used to lie in bed together or cuddle up anywhere, spending hours chatting about everything – childhood memories, our most elaborate dreams, shared naughty fantasies and where we saw ourselves in the future. And even in those times when we were silent, I felt content to simply be with him, his head in my lap or mine in his as I read a book or we listened to the radio. We didn't always need words to communicate how we felt…but we didn't seem to even have that anymore. How had we drifted into this rather stale, apparently unhappy marriage? That wasn't the future I had envisioned during our chats.

I couldn't actually remember when we'd last spent any quality time together as a couple. When had we last gone out to dinner together or just enjoyed some time alone? I know things weren't the same once you became a parent, priorities had to change, but at the expense of neglecting one another? Even my birthday last month had been a bust. Oh, I hadn't expected anything grand, I knew it wasn't all about fantastic gifts or parties. But, it had been my 40th and dinner out might have been nice. I suppose at least he hadn't forgotten - I had been greeted that morning by a lovely card and a sweet kiss. The kids had even remembered, sending me hand made cards and a gift voucher for Flourish and Blotts that I knew Ron would have purchased for them to give me. And, later, when Ron came home that night he had presented me with a beautiful bouquet of flowers. But, we hadn't done anything different, no romantic dinner by candlelight, no date – nothing. Just another average, quiet night at home, each doing our own thing. Together and yet miles apart.

As for our sex life, or lack of it, I hadn't a clue when either of us had last attempted to instigate anything beyond the odd kiss and a cuddle. Of course, I knew that a busy lifestyle and parenthood tended to put a dampener on that part of your life - it wasn't always easy to find a peaceful moment alone to get into the mood without being interrupted by little hands knocking on the door. But we had once been such passionate people, making love daily all over the house, especially before the children had come along. Whilst I was under no illusion that sex was the all essential factor of a marriage – I'm sure many couples got along just fine without it - it had been important to me, something special and almost sacred between us. I had always thought of it as an extension and an expression of our love for one another, it let me know he found me attractive and desirable and it was something we'd both always enthusiastically enjoyed. How had we gone so long without it?

Was the fact that neither of us were making an effort with one another a bad sign for our relationship? Was he no longer attracted to me? Didn't he love me anymore? It was silly really, because there was still a part of me, buried deep down, that felt as though I wasn't good enough for Ron. That he should be with someone more glamorous or sexier and I was undeserving of his love. Ron displaying affection and being intimate with me always managed to reaffirm that, to him, I was more than enough – I was exactly who he wanted. Now, without that reassurance, I was starting to doubt myself again.

Maybe we'd just forgotten who we were as people. We'd spent the last 13 years or more being parents. Our lives had revolved around Rosie and Hugo and their needs so much that we didn't know how to be a couple anymore, how to simply be Ron and Hermione rather than Mum and Dad. Had we forgotten our promise to put one another first and started taking each other for granted? Perhaps this was something every parent went through when the children left home, the empty nest syndrome I had heard people talk about. And maybe, what we were experiencing was just a very normal little blip we'd get over.

At least, I hoped so. But then I couldn't be sure if things started going downhill when Hugo left or if the problems had been there before? I did know one thing, that I was determined to work out where we were going wrong so that I could fix it and get my husband back and our marriage back on track. Whatever was currently going on, I knew we could learn to be in love again, I had faith in us.

Chicken finished his treats and startled me as he took flight, heading for his cage for a well deserved nap no doubt. As he flew out the kitchen window, I caught sight of the time on the clock and realised I was going to be late for work. I jumped up, casting a few spells around the room to wash our pots and tidy the kitchen. And, as I went to grab my shoes and bag to head to work, I made a pledge to myself to let my husband know how much I still loved him – I figured that was a good place to start.

Ron wasn't just my husband or father to our children - he was also my best friend and I was not going to lose him!

"Hermione! Over here!" Ginny waved me over to where she was sitting at a table in the corner of the Muggle café. The same café we had been meeting in for lunch at least once a week after we had both completely finished with maternity leave.

Unfastening my coat, I dodged tables and baby buggies as I made my way over to her. "I am so sorry I'm late," I apologised, slipping my coat off and hanging it over the back of the chair. "Every time I tried to leave my office, someone else came in with a problem," I sighed as I finally sank into the chair gratefully, tossing my bag onto the floor beside me.

"That's what happens when you become Ms Successful-head-of-the-department!" She laughed, cradling a large mug of coffee against her lips. "Besides, I've only been here a few minutes myself," she shrugged and set her cup down in order to pick up the menu to peruse.

I laughed and picked up my own menu. "I don't know why we bother looking, we order the same thing every week!" I huffed, realising that was something else that had been stagnant in my life. Had I just become old and boring? Predictable?

"I know, but I fancy a treat," she grinned, scouring the menu intently. "I think I can afford some extra calories, since I've been burning so many." She giggled to herself. I furrowed my brow, wondering what she was getting at, but decided to let it go when the waitress came over.

"So, what can I get you ladies today?" The same waitress who had been serving us for years asked knowingly.

"Hello Rita," I smiled up at her. "I think I'll just have my usual, and a pot of tea, please," I added, closing the menu and setting it back down.

"One ham and mushroom omelette coming right up." She made a note of it on her pad. "And for you Ginny?"

"Hmm...you know, I think I fancy the classic all day breakfast today," she finally decided, closing her menu with finality. "Oh, and another coffee when you have a minute." She raised her almost empty cup for show.

"Okay ladies, I'll get those out to you shortly," she smiled and rushed off, the café was busy today.

"Really Ginny? The full breakfast?" I asked, rather surprised. "All that fat?" Ginny was always health conscious, after training professionally on the Quidditch team for so long she was always cutting out sugar or fat or something from her families diet, much to Harry's chagrin.

"Once in a while doesn't hurt. Besides, I deserve it!" She defended herself, flicking her long red hair over her shoulder.

"Fair enough," I held my hands up in defeat, not prepared to argue with her about food – what she ate was her choice, I just wondered what Harry would say about it since I knew he was currently being denied any fried food at home right now. Besides, I had enough battles over food with her brother and trying to get him to eat more healthy. And suddenly I was wondering if that was it. Was I chasing him away because I had become an annoying, nagging wife? I shook my head, wanting to have a break from thinking about it all, the matter had consumed my thoughts all morning already. "So, how is Lily doing at school now?" I asked, changing the subject completely. I knew my little niece, Lily, had had a bit of a rough time settling in at Hogwarts, hating it in her first week and writing sobbing letters, begging to come home.

"Oh, she seems perfectly fine now. I think she's settled down and got used to it, even madd a couple of friends judging from her last letter." Ginny looked relieved. "Her letters are certainly much brighter and full of funny stories anyway. Which is good, because I think Harry was about ready to storm up there and bring his little girl home!" she laughed. "Not that I'd have blamed him one bit of course, she's our baby," she sighed wistfully. I shared her feelings, missing my own just as much – how had our children grown so quickly? "It's strange now though, isn't it? Not having the kids at home."

"How do you mean?" I asked, hoping she was going to say something about experiencing the same kind of issues I was fearing in our marriage, if only so I'd have someone to talk to, someone who would understand.

"Oh, you know. Just...they're so far away and we're suddenly home alone again. I never realised how much I'd miss them."

"Oh, yes," I nodded, "I know what you mean. I write to the children nearly every day, but it's not the same, is it? No little feet running around, no laughter from their rooms. I miss the sound of chatter in the house." I mused, realising just how quiet our home had become. "I think I even miss the sound of the pair of them falling out." I rested my chin in my hand and leant on the table.

"Me too!" she laughed. "Of course, I write to them all frequently as well, Harry thinks it's too much and I might embarrass them, but...they're my babies!" she bemoaned and placed her hands over her heart, "what does he expect? Just the other day I found Lily's favourite purple sparkly shoe laces and I sent them straight up to school for her. Harry thought I was being ridiculous, asking me what I thought she'd need them at school for, but she loves them and she'll always be my little girl. I can't help being a mum, can I?"

"Not at all, we'll always be their mum and worry about them, no matter how old they get."

"Exactly," she rolled her eyes. "I think I finally understand where my Mum has been coming from all these years."

"Me too, I feel I should apologise for all the times I scoffed at Mum when she told me I'd always be her little girl. It's hard getting used to having an empty house though - I still set the table for four sometimes. And just the other day I called Hugo down for breakfast before I realised." I rolled my eyes at myself as our drinks arrived.

After pouring myself some tea and taking a much needed sip whilst Ginny stirred sugar into her coffee, I dared broach the subject. "So, erm...apart from a quieter house and missing them, how is everything else at home?"

She smiled that mysterious little smile again, her eyes lighting up at the same time and I wondered what she was was bursting to share with me. "Well, Harry misses them too, obviously. But..."

"Oh Ron is terrible," I interrupted her with a weary groan. "It was bad enough when Rosie left, but now that Hugo has gone as well, it's like someone stole his favourite playmates," I laughed once, rather soberly.

"Still," she grinned, "he must enjoy, the erm...well, the benefits?" she asked, waggling her eyebrows.

"Benefits?" I asked, not following her.

"Yeah, you know," she giggled. "The benefit of having the house to yourself again, not having to avoid kids prying eyes, and…well, having more time for each other," she winked.

"Erm, er…." I still didn't understand.

"Sex," she leant over and whispered the word to me. "Isn't it nice to enjoy some adult time alone, without any interruptions? No banging on the door at inappropriate times claiming they had a nightmare or tattling on their brother or whatever other poor excuse they can come up with for disturbing us. It's just me and Harry again, and lots of time for fun!" The way she flashed her eyebrows let me know what kind of fun she was referring to.

"Oh, yeah," I lied, busying myself with stirring my tea again. "Loads of fun," I muttered.

"Honestly," she shifted her seat so she was closer to me and didn't have to speak so loudly, "Harry and I have been like newly-weds the past couple of weeks. If you get the idea!" She laughed and then fanned herself as I noted the trait of the Weasley blush creeping over her cheeks. "It's been amazing. He's even suggested we go away for a few days, says we can have a second honeymoon," she added, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

I tried to be happy for her, I really did, simply because she was my friend and sister-in-law and I wanted her to be happy. And I tried not to be filled with jealousy that her marriage was perfect and mine was heading down the drain. After all, it was hardly her fault Ron and I were drifting apart or I was chasing him away of whatever the problem between us was. But, it was bloody hard to lie! I wanted that with my husband – I wanted to be enjoying our freedom by having loads of sex...or any sex for that matter. I wanted to be rekindling our bond and planning trips away. But, I wasn't and that was depressing.

"I'm sure you're just the same, right? I mean, not that I want any details," she held up a hand playfully. "You are still married to my brother, after all!" She chuckled and pushed her hair back again.

"Oh, right. Yeah...lots of fun. Newly-weds," I nodded in agreement, not being able to admit to her that we were having problems. That I couldn't remember the last time we'd had made love or had any kind of fun together.

"Isn't it great?" Ginny asked, obviously delighted with her life and as our lunch arrived and I enviously regarded her food, I suddenly realised why she claimed she was burning extra calories. All the bloody sex she was getting – lucky cow!

The only thing I was burning any more of was the lamps, since I was staying up longer to read! "Oh, yeah, great!" I muttered, stabbing a mushroom from my omelette much more forcefully than I meant to.

We ate in silence for awhile, the pair of us munching away, obviously hungry after a busy morning in the office. Ginny seemed to be glowing, her eyes smiling with joy. Whereas I probably looked about a 100 years old and miserable.

"So, how's work?" I asked quickly when I heard Ginny clear her throat as though she was about to say something. I was desperate to steer clear of the same topic, afraid if she said any more I'd be throwing my teacup at her in a fit of jealous rage!

"Oh," her shoulders slumped as she chased a forkful of beans around her plate. "The Skeeter bitch is on my damn case again," she sighed. "I can't stand that bloody insane woman!"

"What is she doing this time?" I asked, totally agreeing with her. The woman was like a curse we couldn't get shut of and hadn't given us a moments peace since the end of the war. I admired Ginny's patience in being able to work in the same building as her at The Daily Prophet.

"Well, you know that piece she wrote on Harry and I? When we had a few, erm...words at the station seeing the kids off last month?" she asked me.

I nodded, remembering clearly the little spat they'd had – all about nothing and had mostly occurred because they'd both been rather emotional at waving all of their children off on the train. "You mean that story about the two of you on the verge of a break up?" I asked.

"Yeah, that. I warned her to lay off us. Told her to attempt some professional journalism for once in her pathetic life and stop writing such rubbish. But she just…"

I let her rant away about her personal vendetta against Rita Skeeter, and instead found myself lost in my own thoughts, Ginny's voice fading to the background until I barely heard a thing she was saying. How ironic that Rita would write a story about Harry and Ginny's marriage being in trouble, when it was actually my marriage to Ron that was having problems. I hoped that we weren't going to make the papers next – that was the last thing we needed.

"Hermione! Hermione!"

I looked up, rather startled as Ginny called my name and then waved her hand in front of my face. "Are you all right? You've been very quiet and..."

"Oh, yes." I shifted in my seat as I shook my head, forcing a smile for her. "Don't worry about it, just a problem at work on my mind."

She laughed. "Anyway, I was just saying, since the four of us have more free time now and we don't have to worry about babysitters or anything, how about the four of us go out together? We haven't done that in so long. We could go to the Muggle cinema? Or out to dinner or, well...whatever we fancy really." She shrugged one shoulder as she watched me hopefully.

"Oh, erm...yeah sure. Just, let me speak to Ron and I'll see what he thinks."

"Great, well let me know," she added as we gathered our things together, ready to leave the café and head back to work. Ginny chattered on as we headed back to the Ministry about some article she'd read in Witch Weekly, not noticing that I only gave monosyllabic responses. Until we parted ways in the atrium to head to different offices. "I'll see you Sunday at The Burrow, if not before! Owl me about a night out!" she called over the crowd. "And say hey to my dumb brother!" she laughed.

"Give Harry my love!" I waved back and slowly returned to my office, feeling even worse than I had before lunch.

I didn't get much work done that afternoon. Okay, I didn't get any work done. I opened a few files and flipped through them. I wrote the odd word. I filed some work that had been sat finished on my desk for days and that was about it. I spent the rest of my time twirling my quill between my fingers, gazing at the family photo that sat on my desk – focusing solely on Ron. He had his arm around me in the photo, smiling proudly whilst our children giggled and playfully squabbled in front of us. Just as the flash went off, he leaned in and kissed my cheek, the pair of us giggling as I playfully swatted him away. Had that really only been taken at the start of the summer whilst we were away on holiday?

Did that mean things had been fine between us then? Had the cracks not started to show? Or was Ron just that good of an actor around our children? Of course, I had noticed that Ron had seemed a little solemn since the children had left for school, but I had simply put that down to him missing them. He had a very close bond with both of them and was an incredible father. Since his work hours at the shop were much more flexible than mine, he had volunteered to be the one who was home for them most often and take on more of the domestic duties - essentially raising our family whilst I worked on my career. That's not to say I was a frequently absent Mum. My family meant the world to me and I spent every moment with them that I could. But I knew Ron really enjoyed getting to spend so much time with them and that our children loved their father. Even if Rosie was now getting to the age where her parents could be a bit of an embarrassment. I suppose Ron and his silly jokes did seem rather lame to a 14 year old.

But, what if that wasn't the only reason Ron had been so quiet and withdrawn? What if he had noticed problems before I had and hated what was happening just as much? What if he was simply miserable with our marriage...with me? Was he tired of being the one left with all the responsibilities at home? It was true that I did spend long hours at the office sometimes and that he spent more time at home, sometimes alone. So now without either of the children for company, he couldn't be enjoying that much and maybe he was lonely and feeling neglected. What if I was the problem that was chasing him away?

I spent some time pacing my office, deep in thought about us. This was like some exam I didn't know the answers to or a quest I had no idea how to solve and it was probably the most important task I would ever take on.

And then I started comparing our relationship with Ginny and Harry's after everything she'd told me over lunch, wondering how they had time for so much fun when I knew they both had demanding jobs. Harry could be called out for a job at all hours and I knew he often worked later than me. So, if they could manage to find time for one another and conduct a happy, fulfilling marriage, then why couldn't Ron and I?

And then an old saying came back to me, something my Dad had often told me when I was a small child and wished I had been like everyone else in school. That comparison is the thief of joy. In other words, to compare yourself or your situation to someone else, it stole the joy from your own life. You forgot about what you had and how lucky you already were and focused on what you didn't have. I didn't want to finish up like that. I knew I was lucky to have Ron – he was considerate, loving and thoughtful. He rarely complained about being the one who mostly took care of the cooking or the shopping or putting a load of laundry on. He had proved himself to be an excellent husband and I needed to remember that more often.

And dammit, I was going to do my best to prove to him that I was a good wife, that I loved him dearly and that I was going to make things amazing between us again! I hated things the way they were right now.

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