Ron walked stooping low. His shoulders hung heavy and the dittany still stung. Just this once he'd wished he was lying comfortably in the hospital wing of Hogwarts, letting Madam Pomfrey take care of everything. Oh how he missed it. If he could re-do everything all over he'd re-do Hogwarts. He'd really think about what he wanted to do with his life…at this particular moment he wanted to be a Healer at St. Mungo's. "Stupid bloody Aurors" he muttered. Why had he become an Auror? To be with Harry most likely. He thought. He roamed the small house and the floor boards creaked. He promised himself that he would have better than this. To not be stuck in a little house, so cramped, much like the one he was so accustomed to. He was 26 now, and he still hadn't become anything to raise the status of the Weasley name…just a bloody Auror that followed the Great Harry Potter around. He wasn't just Ron anymore, in fact, he hadn't been since he was eleven. Since then he was Harry Potter's best friend and now he realized he had to succumb to the fact that he always will be. Ron sunk into the low couch, his knees following him, closely making their way to his chin as he plopped on the moth eaten maroon sofa. Frustrated, he extended his legs, and brought his hands up to his face, sighing. While rubbing his blue eyes, footsteps moved closer to him. This he knew of course by the booming floor boards.

"Ron? Is that you?" His hands fell to his lap as he heard her voice.

"Yeah, 'm in here"

"Ron," She said almost pleading.

He could see her shadow moving towards him now, and noticed how big that shadow had grown recently. She stood to the left of him now, in front of the couch. He glanced at her, down and up through the lashes of his almost closed eyes. Her swollen feet, with nails painted a berry red. Something he didn't know she did until he was almost 19. How could he not have known that the bushy haired girl he had known for eight years painted her toenails? It was a very feminine thing to do, and in his defense, very un-Hermione like.

He remembered the day he saw her feet so well…

A summer day at the Burrow. Although the heat was sweltering, they took shelter in Ron's tiny attic room. They seemed so close in there, no space for them to be apart. Although they'd been "together" since the battle, a little over a month in fact, things were still awkward for them…well for Ron at least. Everyone could tell how nervous he was around her. Especially Hermione. When he wanted to kiss her so badly, he never could, especially in front of his family. Although when he wanted to kiss her, everyone knew…his ears would turn red, and his freckles practically jumped off his skin from the heat his face would give off. He would temporarily leave the physical place they were and remember their first kiss. Their only kiss. The fire behind it, the passion, sheer desire and joy. And then he would remember the day that it happened. The day his best friend died. The day the Dark Lord fell. The day his brother died, and the day that he didn't come back. When he would return from these memories, and into reality, grief still lay on the surface of his mind, and then he would no longer want to kiss her. He no longer wanted her, because if he had her, she would be taken away and never come back. For the longest time, Hermione was okay with this. Today she wasn't.

Hermione sat at the edge of Ron's bed, her feet dangling in circles as if swaying to a song. Ron sat on the other end, mirroring her though his feet sat planted on the ground. Hermione was staring at him that he knew, even though his fringe plastered with sweat practically shielded his eyes from all his surroundings.

"I'm glad your Mum told Ginny and Harry to de-gnome the garden, it's just too hot today"

"Mhm"

"I wonder if your mum started making lunch yet…she's quite excited to have my parents over" she giggled to herself, "Although not as excited as your Dad" she giggled again.

"Mhm"

"You know I'm thinking of spending the rest of my summer on holiday with my parents…"

"Mhm" Ron responded once again not listening. "—Wait, you're leaving? But you just got here!" Ron practically shouted.

"Seems I've got your attention now eh, Ronald?" she almost hissed the worlds to him.

She got up and ascended to the window, moving the dingy orange curtain slightly in order to look through the pane. "My parents are here they're talking with your dad, better go and help them" she said in a harsh tone.

"Help them? What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well save them from your father's questioning of course"

"There's nothing wrong with my father! What are you insinuating?" he howled as his ears turned scarlet.

"Insinuating? Wow, that's a big word for you Ronald"

Hermione set her shoulders against the wall near the window, her arms were crossed over her chest, and her eyes ablaze in his direction.

Ron leapt to his feet and walked toward her, "You have no right to bad mouth my father like that after all he's done for you…all I've done for you!" he bellowed.

Ron was so close to Hermione she didn't know what to do. She had never seen this side of him before so angry and defensive. Almost as if he was shielding himself from something. His eyes looked like he didn't even know her anymore, and she didn't know this Ron in return. New voices rang throughout the house. Hermione pushed him away, placing both hands on his chest, which was much harder than she remembered. He looked at her, and took her in; the way her hair fell out of its tie, the way her breathing intensified when she was angry, the way the sweat fell so beautifully on her face. And especially her lips, the way they moved when she yelled at him.

She took a deep breath and stepped in closer to him again, and asked:

"Why won't you kiss me Ron?"

For the first time in the month that had passed he had a good laugh. He slid down the wood barren wall and chuckled, thinking of what sat in the drawer of his night stand… the book that George and Fred had given him for his birthday, the book that helped him gain the confidence to go for Hermione any way.

His laugh grew heartier and louder, and she faced him and joined in. As she laughed she kicked him playfully in his side with the tips of her toes and slid down, adjacent to him, laying her feet into his lap. Together they laughed, until his laughter turned to tears shed for his lost brother. At that moment Hermione new why he wouldn't kiss her, why he defended his father so valiantly, and why he was so "Un-Ronnly" quiet lately. She didn't talk, she didn't cry, she just waited until he laughed again. Slight giggles started to form from his mouth, and she pushed her toes into chest. When he noticed he grabbed them, touching them, holding them, just looking. His fingers made it to her toes painted a slight maroon color.

"You paint your toenails maroon?"

"It reminds me of you" she glanced at him to see his reaction

"Let's go save your parents from my dad" he breathed.

The floors creaked as they made their way down to the center of the burrow, hand and hand.

Now, his eyes made her way to her face, more plump than that day…Her eyes read a look of full concern and she whispered

"Ron"

He looked at her again and realized something was wrong.

"Hermione?" he asked

"She's coming"

With all the haste and hurriedness after those two words Ron was moving in so many different directions. He had to tell Hermione's parents, His mum and dad, George, Percy, Bill, Charlie, Ginny, HARRY! The next thing he remembered is sitting next to his wife, loving the way her hair fell out of its tie, the way her breathing intensified as she worked so diligently, the way the sweat of labor coated her face so sweetly, the way her lips touched his as their miracle whined and screamed, the laughter of relief they shared together that day and always. The way she wiggled her swollen toes for the sake of memories…giving off the color of a Rose. Oh, how he loved Rose. And as he looked down at his little baby girl he knew he would give her the world he couldn't have, and that he wasn't just Harry Potter's best friend to her, he was Dad.