They sat quietly in the car, staring out of the windshield in front of them at the house full of people. The loud music from inside was definitely fainter, but Ron could still hear the thumping bass line. He tapped his fingers against the leather-wrapped steering wheel and let out a breath. Hermione looked around the car's opulent interior and fingered the wood dashboard. "So. Ministry car?" she asked, not looking at him in the seat next to her.

Ron let out a short breath through his nose in a snort. "No. Harry's."

"Harry's? Why? What does he need a car for?"

"I dunno exactly. He'd probably tell you that he can't Apparate everywhere all the time and he hates traveling by Floo and Portkey. He got his key from Sirius and showed up with this a few days later." Ron's fingers trailed against the edge of the wheel and fiddled with the automatic window controls and power lock buttons.

"Now you've done it. We'll never get out of here," Hermione said at the sound of the door locks engaging.

"Shit! Are you serious? But I've got the key!"

"No silly. Here." She pushed the lock button on her door and all of the locks disengaged.. "Well, I didn't think it would be that bad to be locked up with me," she said quietly, looking out of her window.

Ron looked over at her, still hardly believing that they were in the same place together after such a long separation. She still had the miraculous ability to make him feel like a complete ass. "That's not what I meant. I just don't like being places I can't get out of." Shifting his gaze away from her, Ron looked back to the house. "I guess it's just the Auror part of me."

She glanced back over at him and Ron reveled in her smile. "I still can't quite believe that, you know."

"What? That I'm an Auror?" Ron didn't know if he should feel offended or not. He chose not, preferring to see her smile widen.

"All those times I did your homework-you and Harry both! And here you are, chasing down the bad guys." Her voice trailed off and her smile diminished. Ron felt his heart fall at her expression as she turned away back to the window.

He didn't know quite what to say to fill the silence that might have been a comfortable one a few years ago but was now quite awkward. As usual, Hermione saved him. "So, Harry's car. How does he drive?"

Relieved to have something to talk about, Ron turned his eyes up to the heavens. "Like a bleeding maniac. I swear I've got gray hairs from riding with him." He glanced quickly at her and was glad to see the return of the small smile. "You don't believe me? You've seen him fly. He treats this car like it's his old Firebolt." Hermione shook her head in amusement. "Okay then. Look, open up the glove box."

Hermione did as he asked and a cascade of paper fell out. "What is all of this?" She picked up a handful and pressed the button for the map light. "Oh my goodness! These are speeding citations!"

"Yeah, and those are just the ones that have managed to catch him. I can't tell you how many have just given up."

"But how does he get around the cameras on the motorways?" Hermione continued to look through the citations, calling out the speeds he had been cited for.

"Oh, he's got a charm on the bloody thing. Can't get a photograph of the plate. The cameras take the pictures but only rude things spelled with seven letters come out."

"But that's illegal!" Hermione protested, her brow furrowed in consternation. "How does he still have a license to drive?"

Ron pointed a finger at her, miming a Muggle gun. "Obliviate," he said with a grin, eliciting a shocked gasp from Hermione.

"He can't! That's a flagrant abuse of his responsibilities!" She held up the sheaf of citations in her hand. "What are these, trophies?"

"Yeah. He lets the bloke on his motorbike or whatever write it up and then he Obliviates him. Or her. He did get caught by a woman once. Talked his way out of that one. He's even got a spell to erase their copies of the citation." He looked at Hermione again and smiled at her outraged expression. "What? Come on, he's just having a bit of fun."

"Bit of fun?" she asked icily. "One of these days his 'bit of fun' is going to get someone killed!" Ron frowned at her and turned away.

"You know him better than that," he said, his voice full of reproach. "He'd never hurt anyone. Well, unless they were a Death Eater."

"But there are other people on the road besides him. Innocent people."

"Harry is very careful. He never pushes it when there are loads of other people on the road and his reflexes are excellent. He just does it to blow off steam. Trust me, it helps."

"And I suppose you're always with him?"

Ron was quiet for a moment before answering. "No, not always. I go along sometimes, but I told you I have some gray hairs from it and I wasn't kidding. It's a thrill, but I'll take mine in the sky with nothing to hit."

Hermione snorted quietly. "Yeah, up in the sky. Nothing to hit, but 50 feet to fall." She gathered up the citations from the floor of the car and stacked them neatly back in the glove box, closing it securely. Ron watched her as her eyes roamed around the interior of the car, seeming to look everywhere but at him. He pushed himself deeper into the plush car seat, stretching him arms out in front of him as he gripped the wheel. The sleeve of his black tee shirt was pulled back a little and Hermione's eyes settled on the intricate Celtic knotwork tattoo circling his left biceps. "What's that?" she asked pointing at the tattoo.

"What's it look like?" Ron returned, glancing down at it.

"It looks like a tattoo." She looked closer at it and Ron followed suit. The colors, mostly green and purple, began to move, swirling around the knotted pattern. "It's a Wizarding tattoo."

"Very good. Can't put anything past you, can I?" Ron grumbled, letting go of the wheel and pulling the shirtsleeve down to cover it again. He didn't quite know why, but Hermione's careful examination of the tattoo made him feel uncomfortable. Yes, it was a tattoo and loads of people had them, but his Auror tattoo was a bit more than that and sometimes he wished his was hidden like Harry's.

Hermione made a sour face at his attitude. "Well, I hope you took precautions when you got it and went to a reputable, sanitary artist."

"I got it done in Knockturn Alley." Ron shifted in his seat and leaned against the door, angling his body to face her better. He was getting tired of staring at the house and was interested to see her reaction to this bit of news.

"What? Knockturn Alley? Ron, have you taken leave of your senses?" She lowered her voice to a fierce whisper, as if she were afraid to be overhead discussing such a place all alone in a car in the middle of the night deep in the countryside. "Do you know what goes on there? What kind of people do business there? Honestly! You're an Auror!"

"Yes, I'm an Auror and that's why I have this tattoo. There's a guy does everyone and his shop happens to be in Knockturn Alley. Seems he wasn't quite respectable enough for Diagon Alley." Ron rolled his eyes and shook his head, folding his arms across his chest. The motion made the sleeve ride up again and Hermione seemed unable to take her eyes off of the swirling colors. "You want to look at it up close?" he asked, turning on his map light and pulling the sleeve up to his shoulder. He leaned closer to her and extended his arm, resisting the urge to flex the muscle. Hermione recoiled slightly, but continued to stare at it for a few lingering seconds before glancing quickly up at him. He saw her narrow her eyes at him and gather her resolve before leaning in closer.

She regarded it silently for a while, tracing the pattern with her eyes. "It goes all the way around?" Ron lifted his arm to show her the unbroken circle against his pale, freckled skin. "What does it look like to a Muggle?"

"Dunno," Ron said, shrugging. "Never asked one." He watched her face as she continued to study it, forcefully reminded of the intense schoolgirl she had once been so many years ago. Still holding the sleeve out of the way, Ron gave an involuntary jump when he felt the tip of her finger slide down his arm and through the tattoo.

"Sorry," she muttered, snatching her hand away from his arm.

Ron put the sleeve back down took a deep breath. "No, it's okay. Feel any different?"

Hermione shook her head and now it was her turn to gaze out at the house. "No. I didn't really expect it to, I was just…curious, I guess." They were quiet for another moment and she spoke again. "What does it mean? The pattern."

"Oh, nothing in particular. Just thought it was cool." He chuckled and shook his head. "Picked it out off the wall in the shop, actually." He shifted again, sitting squarely in the leather seat and opening the moon roof, letting in the cool night air. Using the power seat controls, he reclined the seat as far back as it would go and stretched out his arms above his head, almost able to touch the very back of the back seat. Hermione shifted sideways in her seat and turned off the map lights. They were quiet again, but the silence was not quite as awkward as the one before it, though it was still not completely comfortable. "It hurts like blazes sometimes."

Hermione looked confused for a moment. "What hurts?" she asked and Ron gestured to the exposed tattoo. "That? Why would it still hurt? I mean, I'm sure it hurt when you got it, but that should have gone away a long time ago. Maybe you should see someone about it?"

Ron chuckled again, the sound low and soft. He covered his face with his hands and let out a loud sigh. "Oh, Hermione. You haven't changed a bit!" He smiled up at her and imagined he could see a redness spreading across her cheeks in the moonlight. "There's a spell on it. All Aurors have one."

"A spell? What sort?"

"It's kind of like that Muggle device? You know, the one that makes sound if you're needed? It beeps, yeah?"

"A pager?"

He nodded. "Yeah, a pager. Well, instead of beeping, this thing burns. And when you feel that burn, you had damn well drop what you're doing and go." He was quiet again and looked at stars through the hole in the roof, putting his hands behind his head. "It's a lot like the Dark Mark," he said quietly.

"What? The Dark Mark? What are you talking about? Ron, your tattoo does not look like the Dark Mark at all!" Hermione said indignantly, fixing him with a stern look.

"I know it doesn't look the same, but it works the same, yeah? The story is that in the bad old days an Auror showed You Know Who the trick of it. If I feel this thing burn, I have to go as soon as I can or it'll get worse. I don't have any choice in the matter. I can Apparate directly to where I'm needed without any foreknowledge of the location. I always have to be ready for action."

"So you're saying that if you feel that thing burn," she said, pointing to his arm, "you'll just disappear and leave me right here?"

"Pretty much."

Hermione folded her arms across her chest and frowned. "I don't like the sound of that much. What happens if you ignore it?"

"It starts to hurt worse and worse until it feels like your skin is on fire. When that thing goes off, believe me ignoring it is the last thing you ever want to do." Ron had a vivid memory of the first time he'd tried to ignore a summons. The bright, flaring pain and the complete arse chewing he'd received afterwards.

Hermione looked contemplative. "So that thing goes off and you just hare off into God knows what? Prepared for action?" she said, making finger quotes in the air. "Prepared how?"

"My wits, my wand and the knife in my boot. Never leave home without it," he said, mocking a Muggle advertisement he remembered seeing a long time ago.

"Oh," Hermione said faintly, sitting back from him.

"Harry's got one too."

"Got what? A knife in his boot?" Hermione said with a touch of sarcasm, earning a short bark of laughter from Ron.

"Well, that too, but I meant a tattoo."

"I figured that out since you said all Aurors had one. What is it?"

"Ah ah, can't tell you. Or where it is. You'll have to ask him that one."

Raising her eyebrows, Hermione smiled. "Hm. Maybe I will." She glanced up out of the moon roof. . Ron could see the wheels turning in her head, processing this new information about her old friends. "There are so many stars out here," she murmured, finding the control to lay the seat back down. Once it was all the way down, Hermione mimicked Ron's earlier stretch and contemplated the stars.

"Yeah. Nice thing about being out in the country. Kinda miss 'em in London. Too many lights," Ron said quietly next to her.

"Mm," Hermione agreed. "Why do you stay in London? You can Apparate. You can live anywhere in England and still be on time for work."

He shrugged in response. "Dunno. I guess it's a change from being stuck out in Devon all those years. Mum and Dad loved it—still do in fact, but it's not what I want right now." They lapsed back into silence again and watched the stars move overhead in their timeless dance. "Hey, enough about me, yeah? What have you been up to all these years?" Ron took his eyes off the sky and turned his head to face Hermione. He was too afraid to ask what was really on his mind. Have I been replaced?

"Me?" she asked in surprise. "Well, I don't know. Working and studying mostly I guess. How are your family? Your mum and dad still at the Burrow?"

"Oh no you don't. No changing the subject," he admonished with a smile. "I know you hate talking about yourself, but that's too bad." Hermione sighed in frustration and when she didn't volunteer any information, Ron smiled again. "Come on. Don't force me to use my Auror interrogation techniques on you."

"Oh, what? I suppose you're going to whip out a vial of Veritaserum out of one of those pockets?" she said with an exasperated huff.

"Veritaserum?" Ron wrinkled his nose. "That shit's too expensive to use on the regular. No, I have other ways of making people part with closely held information," he said, scooting closer to Hermione and grinning as she shrank back against the door, slapping at his waggling fingers.

"Ron, stop it!" she exclaimed, shrieking when he made a play for her hair and finally landing a solid whack on his shoulder. Ron grunted more in surprise than pain and retreated to his side of the car, laughing when she sat up and flipped down the sun visor to check her hair in the mirror. "Don't laugh! This is a lot of work!" she said, gesturing to her hair that wasn't nearly as frizzy as he remembered. Hair back in order, she turned back to him. "You don't really tickle people to get them to talk."

"No. It's the usual good cop-bad cop routine most times. Sometimes a minor truth spell, but the Ministry looks down on that sort of thing."

"I suppose you're the bad cop?"

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Now, what makes you say that?" He moved the seat back into a sitting position and looked at Hermione, arms crossed. She looked nervous and licked her lips.

"Well, I don't mean you're bad. You're ... you know. Tall."

"So being tall makes me the bad cop?"

"Tall and broad. Imposing."

"And Harry can't be the bad cop because he's not as tall?" Ron was enjoying the look of discomfort on her face.

"I didn't say that! Stop putting words in my-" she had a look of astonishment. "You're doing it right now! You're bad-copping me!"

Ron gave her a tah-dah! gesture with his hands and burst out laughing. Wiping the tears from his eyes he looked back at Hermione and shook his head. She was frowning and looked a bit uncertain. "Listen, you're not the first person to think that. A lot of people would never in their wildest dreams think that our Harry could ever be the bad cop, even when he's in the middle of interrogating you."

Hermione sniffed and pushed a bit of hair out of her face. "I suppose you take turns?"

"Actually yeah, we do." Quiet descended again and they both looked back toward the house where the party still raged. They watched as someone stumbled out of the front door and decided to baptize the hydrangea bush by the front steps. "Someone you know?" Hermione asked acidly.

Ron squinted at the dark figure and snorted. "Yeah. It's Mason. Well, it's his bushes, so I guess he can piss where he wants. Shaking his head, he looked back at Hermione. "You've been in America, yeah?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. Phoenix."

Ron gave her a small smile. "Coincidence?"

"Not really," she admitted. "I wanted to be someplace as different as possible.

"What's it like there? Phoenix?"

"Oh it's beautiful. It's in a state called Arizona. It's in a valley in the Sonoran desert. The Valley of the Sun. It's very hot, even at Christmas. The sun shines almost every day. In summer, the monsoon comes and it rains in the afternoon. If it doesn't rain, there can be huge thunderstorms with lots of lightning. I like to curl up on my back porch and watch." As she reminisced about her home of the last several years, Hermione got a faraway look in her eyes and Ron imagined she was not seeing him anymore, but rather the harsh desert landscape she was describing.

"Tell me about your home," he said softly, closing his eyes to visualize what she described for him.

"It's a small house, more of a bungalow really. It's made of adobe and has a tile roof. It's painted the color of the sunset. Inside is all tile except for hand woven rugs that Crookshanks loves. I have my bedroom and bath, kitchen, lounge and study." In his mind's eye, Ron conjured up a tidy home with a fat orange cat lounging around. "The walls are all cream except for the bedroom where the walls are sky blue."

"The study is my favorite place. There are bookshelves from the floor to the ceiling on three walls. The other wall is a sliding glass door with a deck I watch the lightning from." As she spoke, Ron could see her moving through the house, her bare feet on the cool tile. She was wearing a tank top of a silky material and white linen trousers. She walked through the study and opened the door, the wind from the summer storm blowing her hair back from her face. He opened his eyes, purposely destroying the tempting vision and sighed. Hermione had stopped talking and slowly opened her eyes to look at him and Ron returned the look. She shifted a little and looked down at her hands in her lap.

The silence stretched out until Ron said, "Tell me about your work."

"My work. Well, it's very…interesting. Like I said, a lot of study and research. New spells don't just invent themselves you know," she said with a small laugh.

"Oh, I'm sure they don't. You work for an American company, right? Nothing connected to the ministry over here?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes. The Sonoran Development Institute. They already knew about our ... adventure and, they practically threw the money at me," she said, sounding a bit uncomfortable talking about money with Ron.

"Hey, it's okay. Aurors don't get paid exactly peanuts you know," he said with a grin at her discomfort.

Hermione ruefully shook her head. "Sorry. I should know better by now." She was quiet for a moment and then continued, "I love my work, but lately, I feel like something's missing. Like I should be doing more with myself. Trying to give back in some way."

"I know exactly what you mean," Ron said quietly, shifting restlessly in the car seat. "That's why I do what I do." Hermione nodded in agreement and brought her knees up to her chest, resting her chin between them. He looked at her for a moment and tried to stretch his legs without getting his feet tangled up in the pedals. "Hey, let's get out of here and go for a walk."

"Yes, let's," Hermione agreed and reached for the door handle to open the door. Standing outside, Ron watched as she stretched and had to hold on to the car for a moment while the blood rushed to her head. Once she was steady again, she put the seat back in the proper position and turned to him. "Where to?"

"Let's just go down the road a bit, I need to stretch my legs out." Ron started off down the driveway and down to the road, Hermione walking beside him. Glancing over at her, he allowed himself a private smile. He always felt like a giant next to her, she was so small and Ron estimated that at 6'2", he topped her by almost a full foot. Mindful of the difference, he deliberately slowed his pace until he felt like he was barely moving at all. The summer evening was not as warm as it had been earlier and he was glad Hermione was wearing a zip up jumper with her light tee shirt and jeans, remembering how easily she got cold. He, on the other hand, was usually too hot.

The light from the waxing moon lit the grassy verge as they ambled alongside the road in silence for a short while until Hermione broke the silence. "Are you sure this is safe? I mean, there are no lights out here and you are dressed all in black."

"It's deserted out here this late. I could walk in the middle of the road for half an hour and not be in any danger at all." To demonstrate his point, Ron walked out into the middle of the blacktop and strode up and down very quickly. He stopped in the middle and spread out his long arms. "See, no problem."

"Ron, you're making me nervous. Come on, get back over here," Hermione motioned anxiously from the grassy verge.

"No. I'm telling you, it's totally deserted out here. I'm fine." Intent on having a bit of fun with her, he planted himself right in the middle of the road and sat with crossed legs.

"Ron…" Hermione pleaded, eyes darting to the bend in the road just ahead. "If something comes down that road, you won't be able to see it in time. Stop playing and get back over here! You don't know who could be driving out here or what condition they're in!"

Arching an eyebrow at her, he grinned. "Make me."

"I most certainly will do nothing of the kind!" Hermione retorted hotly, almost stamping her foot in anger when he continued to grin at her from the middle of the empty road. "Ronald Bilius Weasley, get your arse off of that road and back over here this instant!'

"Language, Hermione Jean Granger, language," Ron mocked back at her, still grinning widely. His grin disappeared when he realized that she was in genuine distress over his sitting in the middle of the deserted road, quickly standing up when she marched over to him and grabbed his arm, pulling on him with all of her strength. Suddenly, the sound of a roaring engine split the night and Ron grabbed Hermione tightly to him and Apparated them both back to the side of the road, both of them stumbling and falling to the grass.

His breath coming hard and fast, he checked Hermione for any injuries, apologizing over and over, sitting down hard when she pushed him away. "Jesus Christ Ron! What were you playing at? You could have gotten us both killed! You have gone stark raving mad! All of those blows to the head you've had must have seriously addled your brains. You are a complete lunatic! I don't even know you anymore!"

Ron was horrified to see tears running down her face and he put his arms around her shoulders and held her close, rubbing her back as she sobbed into his shoulder. "Shh, shh," he soothed quietly, leaning his head on top of hers and rocking gently back and forth. Inwardly he cursed himself for being such a stupid prat and trying to goad her into an argument. They weren't sixteen anymore and he of all people should know better, especially given what had happened to her parents. Christ, I'm an idiot. I don't see her for seven years and I try to argue with her. What a sick bastard.

Gradually her sobbing slowed and finally stopped. She lifted her head from his shoulder and rubbed at her eyes. "Sorry," she mumbled softly, refusing to look at him.

"No, I'm sorry. I should have known better." He loosened his arms around her shoulders but didn't let go and she didn't seem inclined to move away. "You going to be okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be okay. It's just, you know. I have trouble sometimes with roads and cars. Safety stuff. Ever since Mum and Dad…" she started to sniffle again and Ron tightened his grip on her shoulders again and murmured soothingly and she began to calm down again.

"Have you been? To see them? I mean, since you got back?"

"Yes. Earlier this week. I left some primroses and cleared some weeds. Told them about my life in America." Hermione shook her head sadly. "I haven't been out there since the funeral." Ron simply sat quietly and let her gather herself, feeling his heart break for his friend who had lost her parents so young.

"I mean, it's so bloody stupid and unfair." Anger in her voice now. "They go through hell with the war and Death Eaters and always worrying about me only to be done in by a flipping drunk on his way home from the pub!" She drew a long, shuddering breath and Ron was certain she would break down again and he gathered her in again only to be pushed away. "No, I'm okay. I'm okay," she repeated, standing up quickly. Ron stood next to her and brushed the damp bits of grass from the seat of his trousers and looked to her for what she wanted to do next. "Come on, let's walk," she said, moving back down the side of the road.

"You all right?" Ron asked, falling into step beside her and was rewarded with a small smile and nod.

"I'll be okay."

In the moonlight, he could see tendrils of hair escaping the loose bun she had her hair tied up in and smiled inwardly. She could try all she wanted, but that hair of hers would never be completely tamed. The pale light glinted from the glasses she now wore. "I told you all that reading your ruin your eyes," he joked, only to be rewarded with a sour look from Hermione. "So, you were saying earlier that you were feeling unfulfilled at work, yeah?"

"Yes," she answered after a moment, eyes down on the grass. "I've been offered a teaching position at one of the American academies. In California."

Ron raised his eyebrows and smiled. "California? Are you going to teach young movie stars, then?"

Hermione looked up at him and smiled, shaking her head. "No, Ron. Not everyone in California is a movie star. It's up in a place called Berkeley, up by San Francisco. Not a whole lot of movie action going on up there, but there is a fair Wizarding population and the school is one of the most highly regarded on the west coast. I'm very flattered they are even considering me."

Ron snorted and said, "Hermione, they should be lucky you are considering them. You've always been brilliant at whatever you wanted to do."

"Except flying," she said shyly.

"Well, I'll allow that. You are rubbish at flying. Do you know what subject they want you for?"

"Charms."

"Are you going to take it?" Ron held his breath, waiting for her answer.

"I don't know yet. I've gone to see the school. It's very beautiful, high up in hills around the city. Muggles think it's an exclusive private secondary school, so it doesn't have nearly the anti-Muggle charms Hogwarts does. The school is just a day school, so students Floo in every day. If I wanted to, I could stay in Phoenix."

Ron let out the breath he was holding. "It sounds very nice."

"It is. And modern. The Americans tend to integrate more Muggle technology there than we do here. All of the students and teachers have portable computers and they don't use parchment or quills and inkbottles. The atmosphere isn't as magically charged, so things don't go as haywire all the time."

While she talked about the school, Ron mused on what kind of havoc the highly charged magic of Hogwarts would have wreaked on something as sensitive as a Muggle portable computer. He'd had occasion to use the devices in his career, but he found that he much preferred the feel of a quill scratching on parchment to the cold, impersonal clicking of a keyboard and mouse. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" he asked once he'd realized that he hadn't heard the last thing Hermione said at all.

"I said, there's no reason for me really to stay in Phoenix. I could move to Berkeley very easily," she repeated, giving him an odd look.

"Yeah? Nothing keeping you in Phoenix? Not anybody … special?" he ventured, looking up at the sky.

"No. That's been … over for a while now." There was a lingering sadness in her voice and Ron felt himself bristle at the unknown bloke that could bring that sadness to her. She stopped walking and looked back the way they had come. Ron was surprised to see they had actually covered a fair distance and were now well past the bend in the road. Hermione looked up at him questioningly. "Should we head back? You've still got Harry's car keys."

"Yeah, reckon so." They started walking back the way they had come, slower now as neither was exactly anxious to go back to the house full of people nor the cramped confines of the car. "So, this bloke. You used to date, yeah?" he asked tentatively, not sure if he was invading her privacy or not.

"Jason. Jason Miller. We dated for a couple of years, I guess. He was nice. American. We got along well and worked in different departments at the Development Center. He was hired away by a firm in New York. He asked me to come with him, to marry him actually, but it didn't feel right with him, so I turned him down." Hermione spoke quietly and surprised Ron with her straightforward answer to his admittedly nosy question. "That was about a year ago now. Since then, nobody."

"Nobody? Come on Hermione, you expect me to believe that?" Ron asked skeptically, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. He felt that words could not describe the amount of relief he felt when she told him she'd turned down a marriage proposal.

"Well, I have been on a few dates, but nothing that's lasted." She looked sidelong at him and smiled. "What about you? There was that girl you were dancing with earlier, when I first saw you."

Ron felt his face flush, well aware of the show he'd been putting on to the whole room. "To be honest I don't even know her name. Never seen her before tonight. Just someone to dance with, yeah?" Hermione stayed silent, waiting for the answer to her question. "Oh, well. I go out, but I haven't had anyone serious," Ron said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "No one serious? And you expect me to believe that?" she teased him.

"I won't lie to you and say I've been a monk, but I haven't been able to make anything last for more than a few months. George calls me a revolving door, like he should talk," he snorted. "It's hard to balance a woman and the demands of the department."

Hermione nodded sympathetically and asked, "Ever date any Muggles?"

Ron let out a laugh at the memory. "Once. Told her I was a regular copper. That worked for a little while until she wanted to start coming round to my place and started asking too many questions. I don't know how anyone can casually date a Muggle—it's just too much work!" Hermione laughed softly next to him. "And then, this bloody thing goes off," he gestured to his tattoo, "at a very inconvenient time, I might add, and I've got to come up with some damn excuse to get out of there." He shook his head miserably. "Bloody nightmare." He laughed again, remembering scrambling around in the dark, looking for his clothes while his arm was on fire. He'd taken a lot of ribbing from Harry on that one and had sworn off Muggle females forever. At least with a witch he could Disapparate in front of her and not have to run half a block from her flat first. "What about you? Any Muggle men in your life?"

"Not anyone I dated seriously," she said and Ron's instincts told him there was a story there.

"Go on. I told you mine."

A blush spread across her cheeks and she glared up at him., "Fine. There was one Muggle, once. I was out of town on business in Boston and I met him at the hotel bar. It was a one night stand, really, and I felt so awful afterwards I made him leave straight away."

Ron stopped in his tracks and looked at her in shock. "Hermione! A one night stand? You?" he said, utterly scandalized by her admission. "And you didn't even let him wait until morning to sneak out himself? Just threw him back out on the street?"

She turned back to look at him. "Yes Ron. I am a woman with normal needs and desires. He was quite attractive and sweet and I was lonely. I haven't been a nun, you know," she said, her tone of voice defiant and challenging. She winced and continued, "I was in Boston for three more days and I changed hotels so I wouldn't run into him!"

Quickly getting over his shock and not wanting to start another argument after his last disastrous attempt, Ron smiled widely at her. "Hermione Jean Granger, a scarlet woman! Wait'll I tell Mum what you've been up to out there in the States!"

"Oh you'll do no such thing, Ronald Bilius Weasley! I could tell your Mum some stories about you that would make her hair curl," she said, looking at him with narrowed eyes. Ron's own eyes went wide and he raised his hands up in front of his chest.

"Okay, okay, you win. I don't want any part of that. Even, yeah?" he asked, sticking out his right hand for her to shake.

She took it and shook it firmly and he was surprised by the strength he felt in her much smaller hand. Not letting go right away, he turned her hand over and looked at the smooth, brown skin, running his thumb over the plain gold ring she wore on her middle finger. "Is that…?" he trailed off, remembering the times he'd seen that same ring on her mother's left hand. Hermione nodded silently and gently took her hand out of his warm grasp. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there. I hated being stuck out in Bulgaria. Worst two weeks of my life, that training was."

"Mine too," she said softly and began walking again, unconsciously turning the ring around on her finger in what Ron suspected was a bit of a nervous habit. They reached the end of the driveway in silence and paused for a moment. "I don't want to go back in there," she said and looked back to Ron. "Do you?"

"Nah, just a bunch of pissed Aurors in there. Too bloody noisy if you ask me." He glanced at Harry's sleek dark blue car and shook his head. "Come on," he said, grabbing her hand and leading her over to sit on a disintegrating stone wall at the edge of the drive. The moon was high in the sky now and to Ron's eyes it was almost as bright as day. Loud music continued to pour from the open windows in the house, augmented by loud conversation.

"What else is new with you, Ron? I've told you all about my life. How's your family?" Hermione asked when she had settled on a spot on the wall.

"Oh, Mum and Dad are great. He's still in the Muggle Artifacts office and Mum's still getting after him about his experiments. Bill is working with Gringotts somewhere in the Mexican jungle now. Charlie is still daft over those bloody dragons and Percy is still a brown nosing git. George is a bloody millionaire and Ginny is getting ready for Muggle medical school." Ron had to close his eyes for a moment and mentally run through the faces in his head to make sure he had gotten everyone. Sometimes it seemed to him like his family was bigger than it actually was.

"Any grandchildren yet?"

"Oh of course! Weasleys, you know. Bill and Fleur have Victoire and Percy and Penny have Martin. Both of them are probably pregnant right now. Charlie says he's too busy with dragons to settle down and George is being a playboy millionaire. Wouldn't be surprised if a woman shows up at the Burrow with a kid claiming that it's his one of these days though."

"And Ginny's starting Muggle medical school?" Hermione asked, intrigued. She knew that Ginny had been working as a magical Healer at St. Mungo's for the last few years. "What prompted that?"

"Dad. He still can't stop talking about that ruddy snakebite and the Muggle stitch things. Shows anyone who'll look the scar. He planted the idea in her head when she was still at school, but Mum insisted she go through regular Healer training so 'she'd always have a real job to fall back on in case this Muggle nonsense didn't work out.'"

"What school is she going to?"

"Dunno yet. She's just finished the applications." Ron's face brightened and he smiled at Hermione. "I do remember one of the schools is in the States. That San Francisco place you mentioned. Mum's all in an uproar of course."

"Oh yes, I remember reading that's one of the top medical schools in the nation," she said eagerly and then paused. "It is awful expensive though. How is she going to…"

"Sirius," Ron said quietly, absentmindedly scanning the sky for the star before remembering it was the wrong season. "They got quite close that summer and she knew what she wanted to do even then, so he made sure there was plenty set aside for her education." They sat quiet, remembering Harry's late godfather until Ron asked, "Can I ask what you did with yours?"

Smiling at the memory, Hermione replied. "Well, I didn't really need it, so I donated it to the RSPCA in London. They built a kennel and put a plaque in memory of Snuffles."

"Excellent!" Ron exclaimed with a loud laugh and almost fell backwards off of the wall. Righting himself he wiped the tears from his eyes and continued to chuckle. "Absolutely brilliant."

Warmed by his laughter, Hermione giggled a little herself. "What did you do with yours?" she asked when he had calmed down.

"Still got it."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Ron nodded, kicking his heels against the stone. "Thought I might use it for some schooling myself."

"What sort of schooling?" Hermione asked, sounding intrigued.

"Well, you know, being an Auror can be pretty rough and I'm not going to be young forever. Don't want to end up like Mad-Eye, half-crazy and twice as ugly." He paused for a moment and took a deep breath. "I was rather thinking of sitting law."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. "Law? Ron, that's awful serious. You've been out of school for a while now," she hesitated a moment, not wanting to insult him, "are you certain you would be able to stay with it?"

He looked at her, his face full of determination. "Yeah, I think I can. Sometimes it really makes me sick to see posh bastards like that Malfoy getting off on technicalities or some poor bloke get crushed under the wheels of our justice system."

"Justice for the little guy, right? Oh, Ron, I think Harry's nobility complex has rubbed off on you."

"Come on, don't make fun," he mumbled, looking down at the grass below his swinging feet.

"I'm not making fun," she reassured, putting a hand on his shoulder for a moment. "Are you going to sit just magical law?"

"I want to do both magical and Muggle law."

"That's a lot of school."

"Yeah, well. Look at Dumbledore, I've got a lot of time," he smiled at her, reaching out to take her hand again. She didn't pull away and he gave it a light squeeze, running his thumb on top of hers and feeling his heart thump in his chest. "Christ," he whispered softly.

"What?" Hermione asked, a slight tremor in her voice.

"I…" Ron croaked, clearing his voice before attempting to speak again. "I feel like I'm seventeen again. Felt like it all night."

"Oh," she said faintly, "so it's not just me." He looked at her and saw her looking back at him, eyes wide behind the rimless glasses she wore. Her lips were slightly parted and he could hear her breathing quicken. Shifting on the wall, he leaned over and placed a soft kiss on those lips. "Oh," he heard her breathe softly when he pulled away.

"I've wanted to do that all bloody night," he whispered, looking back up at the stars. He felt her squeeze his hand tightly. "What happened to us, Hermione?"

Gently withdrawing her hand from his, Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and sighed. "Well, after summer, you had your training and I had my studies … and then … my parents." Ron didn't have to look at her to know she was fighting back tears. "Oh, Ron. After that, I had to leave. I couldn't stay here. Everything just … and then you were still …" She took a deep breath before continuing. "I moved to America and I suppose we just … lost touch," she finished, sounding miserable.

Ron hopped off of the wall and stood in front of her, her spot on the wall making her eye level with him and wrapped his arms around her small frame. "I've been a horrible friend," he whispered into her ear. "I'm so damn sorry."

"No, don't blame yourself. I'm the one that left. I could have kept on writing, but I told myself that you were tired of me after seven years of my constant nagging." Still holding her, Ron heard the smile in her voice. "I needed the distance and the time. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For giving me that. For not dragging me back to England. For letting me become my own person. For being the best friend a girl like me could ever have." Finally, the silence was not awkward or full of unsaid things. For the first time that night, the silence between them was just right.

From the corner of his eye, Ron saw people start to trickle out of the house and one of them called to him. "Oi, Weasley! You've got to move that car out of the way. I've got to get home!"

Not wanting to shout in Hermione's ear, Ron let go of her and took a step back. He glanced at his watch and raised his eyebrows at the time. "Christ, it's past one in the morning!" He fished the car keys out of his pocket. "Mason! Give these to Potter, will ya?" He moved to throw the keys but was brought up short by his fellow Auror shaking his head.

"Harry's been gone for hours, mate. Said you'd take care of it."

"Bloody hell," Ron grumbled, helping Hermione off of the wall. "Typical Potter. Leave me to clean up after him. Come on, I'll get you home. Are you staying in London?"

"Yes," she said around a jaw cracking yawn. "The Howard on Temple Place. Ron, you don't have to drive. I can Apparate."

"Don't worry about it. Harry doesn't let me drive very often."

"Do you know how to get there?"

"Yeah." Walking around to the driver's side, Ron flipped a wave to Mason and got a "Cheers, mate," in return. The Howard. Bloody hell. They must have been throwing barrels of money at Hermione. He settled into the driver's seat and started the car, pleased at the humming thrum that came from the big engine. He secured his own belt and expertly maneuvered the car out into the road and began the hour long drive into central London.

"You don't drive like Harry, do you?" Hermione murmured from the passenger seat. Stealing a quick glance he saw she had her eyes closed and looked quite relaxed.

"No. Our friend Harry likens my driving to that of an old lady out on holiday."

"Good." She didn't say anymore and Ron enjoyed the drive and the company. He didn't get the opportunity to drive very often and driving Harry's Audi was an even rarer occurrence.

Several miles passed in quiet companionship and at one point, Hermione rested her small hand on his thigh and Ron silently hoped that she would leave it there for the whole ride. He was feeling content and felt like he could have driven all night to anywhere in the world as long as he had Hermione beside him. They were entering the outskirts of London before Hermione spoke again. "Ron," she began, "I've told you a lot tonight, but I haven't told you everything."

Ron felt his stomach clench at her words, but was reassured by the presence of her hand on his leg. "Oh?"

"I haven't told you exactly why I'm here. In England."

"Why are you here? In England?" Ron kept his eyes on the road and his voice steady.

"I've been offered a position at Hogwarts. Transfiguration. You know McGonagall is headmistress now and can't spare the time to teach the class anymore. She wants me to teach it."

All of the breath left Ron's body for a moment and his vision blurred. Shaking his head briefly, he took a deep breath. "That's … good, isn't it?" he asked, uncertainty in his voice. She had sounded hesitant to tell him of the job offer and he desperately wondered if she meant to go back to America, to California, to teach there. To keep herself away from him and all of her memories of this country.

Unaware of his distress, Hermione continued to speak, her voice growing more confident. "Yes, it is good. I love the subject and even though I'm not an Animagus, I would make an excellent Transfiguration professor. I've even developed a couple of transfigurations myself, at work. You … wouldn't mind?"

"Mind what?" Ron's heart had resumed its normal pace now that she had all but told him that she had accepted the position and she would be staying and not moving back to America. He stole a quick look at her and met her eyes for a brief second before turning back to the road.

"Mind if I came back, to stay. If we … picked up where we left off?"

His heart banging against this ribcage again, Ron fought to maintain his composure. They were coming into more city traffic now and he downshifted, putting his hand on top of Hermione's and curling his fingers around it. He maneuvered through another roundabout without even bothering to signal and let out a breath. "There is nothing I would like more than to pick up exactly where we left off. I lost you once, I'm never doing anything that stupid ever again."

The remainder of the trip was silent save for the sound of the purring engine. Ron held on to Hermione's hand, letting go only when he had to shift gears and soon neared the Howard. His thoughts were in a whirl and he wasn't sure how he should proceed. This was the first time he'd seen her since beginning Auror training and he wanted nothing more in the world than to hold on to her all night. To sleep with her, to make up for his first fumbling attempt at making love to her. At the same time, he didn't want to just invite himself to her room and overstep whatever boundaries she had set for them. Sensing his need for direction, Hermione quietly instructed him to drive up to the front and let the valet park the car.

Before turning the car over to the valet, Ron stealthily pulled out his wand and cast locking charms on the glove box, boot and folding back seat, knowing there would be hell to pay if any Muggle got into the stuff Harry kept in the boot or glove box. He walked with Hermione through the very posh lobby, feeling quite scruffy in his Auror ensemble of black tee shirt and black cargo trousers tucked into his black boots. He knew he had let his hair go too long and he self-consciously brushed it out of his eyes as they passed the concierge desk. They must think I'm some kind of hoodlum. Standing in front of the mirrored bank of lifts, he saw he had a smudge of black on his cheek from his tumble in the grass earlier and he tried to surreptitiously lick his finger and wipe it off, but only made it worse. He caught Hermione's amused smile in the mirror and smiled sheepishly back at her. "Why is it I always have dirt on my face when we get together?"

They held hands on the way up and once they reached Hermione's floor, he let her lead the way, keeping a sharp eye out for anything suspicious. She unlocked the door and moved to open it, but Ron put a restraining hand on the door handle, shaking his head slightly. Motioning her to move behind him, he stood close to the hinges and opened the door with all of his considerable strength, causing the door to fly open and the handle to bang loudly against the rubber stopper.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, dismayed at the noise. "What in the world was that for?"

"Constant vigilance!" Ron did a passable imitation of Moody and already had his wand out. He did a quick sweep of the room, muttering the occasional spell and finally let her into the room. "All clear," he announced, putting his wand back into the long pocket along the side seam of his trousers.

"Goodness, I hope so. I'm sorry you had to wake up half the hotel and not find any bad guys." She entered the room, swinging the door shut behind her and turned on a lamp, walking past Ron to the large window to open the drapes. The room faced the Thames and looking to the southwest, Ron could see the London Eye all lit up. Unsure if she wanted him to stay or go, he moved quietly over to the window and stood behind her. Wrapping his arms around her, he rested his chin on top of her head and looked at their reflection in the window.

"Do you want me to go? Or should I stay?" he asked in a low voice. She moved her hands up his arms and slid them up under the short sleeves of his shirt, trailing her finger along his tattoo.

"What about this?" She met his eyes in the window and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm off shift for two days, so barring any emergencies, I'm all yours…" He moved down and placed a soft kiss on her temple and moved down to her cheek.

Turning to face him, Hermione took off her glasses and set them on the windowsill and gave him a brilliant smile. "All mine. I think I like the sound of that…" she said softly, and then didn't say much of anything for a long time