Hermione couldn't believe she was going to have to do this and in the ladies' toilet at school no less. It was too embarrassing for words that she would seek such answers from the one person she'd rather conceal everything from all together. Well, maybe not the one person, but the next-to-one person she'd rather not have heard this. Still it was probably best to it over with, rather than later. Asking after the fact meant potentially even more fire and brimstone being rained down on both their heads about responsibility for their actions, words that had often escaped her own lips when chastising her two favourite boys.

Picking up the compact that was outfitted with a two-way mirror, she spoke clearly. "Hello?"

From the tiny bit of reflecting glass, she heard the soft shuffle of feet, saw Molly Weasley's face. "Oh hello, dear, I'm afraid Ron's outside with Arthur de-gnoming the garden. Would you like to speak with him?"

"Actually, I wanted to know if I could stop by for tea this afternoon, when I'm done in my classes. Just the two of us."

"Well of dear, my kitchen is always open to you."

"Thanks. I should be arriving around four."

Hermione smiled, as she closed the compact. She'd done it. Now she had to pray she didn't collapse of humiliation.

After her last class, Hermione chose to walk back to her quarters in Diagon Alley rather than Apparate; she wanted the time for reflection. It had been just over a year since Voldemort's defeat and things had gone back to normal as best as they could. Ron, Harry and Hermione had all returned to Hogwarts to sit their NEWT classes, and as expected, Hermione graduated at the top of their class, with Harry and Ron finishing fifteenth and nineteenth respectively, in a class of nearly forty. Hermione had been offered and accepted entrance into Kermartin's School for Wizarding Law, while Harry had rerouted his quest to become an Auror, and instead taken a position helping to rebuild the virtually shattered Ministry; he'd become a founding member along with Ginny, Cho Chang and other former members of the Defence Academy – the DA for short, a tip of the cap to its roots – the newly revised program for training those wishing to become Aurors.

Even Ron turned out alright, he'd opted to take a general two-year course at Ambrose, the liberal wizarding arts and sciences school for students who were not quite sure of a career path but wished to continue their studies beyond their OWLs and NEWTs. Her mouth turned up at the corners as she remembered how proud he'd been to be accepted, since his NEWTs had been a gruelling experience. Hermione had been constantly brewing him his favourite tea, a fusion she'd concocted as part of her Herbology independent studies that was designed to alleviate stress brought on by too much information trying to be crammed into the brain.

Ron's idea of relieving stress was something much more physical though, that was, snogging her senseless until she was certain her brain turned to Flobberworms. And who knew Ron Weasley, of all people, would have turned out to be such a good kisser? Certainly not Hermione, recalling how in their sixth year he'd looked like a squid trying to suck Lavender Brown's face clear off. But that was when they'd been virtually children, before the events of the summer before when everything finally came to a head, and Hermione had finally felt the snap, and in the middle of fending off Death Eaters, she'd surprised the hell out of both Ron and herself when she'd planted a whopping kiss on his lips.

At first Ron had pestered her as to whether or not he was a better kisser than Krum; Hermione had simply acted haughty and told him that it wasn't his business. Secretly, Hermione thought that Viktor was the equivalent of kissing a slobbering pit bull compared to Ron though she'd never give him the satisfaction of knowing it until she needed a weapon up her sleeve.

Hermione climbed the stairs to the apartment above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, murmured Alohamora and walked in. She was surprised to find George sitting at the counter reading The Daily Prophet and drinking Butterbeer from a short glass.

"Oh, hi George, I thought you'd still be working now. It's only four."

"Alicia's coming back from France tonight, so I took the afternoon to do some work around the house before.

"How did the tournament go?"

"Good, good, the Dervishes finished third overall, they weren't expected to even make it past the round-robin tourney, so they're thrilled. She'll definitely be in a mood to celebrate." George added a devilish wiggle of the eyebrows at this last bit. When Hermione didn't laugh, simply strode past him to change out of school robes, George set the paper aside and knocked on her door. "What's got your otter swimming, then?"

Hermione opened the door, changed into a powder blue jumper and jeans. "Hmm? Oh, nothing, just thinking if I should take your mother anything, I'm going to have tea with her."

"No need. Friday, that's Mum's baking day. She'll have the larder stocked to busting. Oh and no need to worry about Alicia staying here, we're staying with her team at Whitting's End." George checked his watch, swallowed the last of his drink. "Speaking of which, I need to pack. I'll make sure the doors are locked when I leave."

Hermione nodded, then went to the corner of the sitting room that was marked off for Apparating. She closed her eyes, pictured the front lane of the burrow, and turned in a graceful circle. When she opened her eyes, she found herself not five metres from the Weasleys' front door. Her feet appeared to have turned to lead as she went up to the front door and knocked. What on earth had she been thinking? She couldn't talk to Molly about this, it was way too embarrassing. Before she could decide whether to chicken out and Disapparate, the door was flung open and Molly was there, smothering the nineteen-year-old against her chest.

"So lovely to see you my dear. Come in, come in, I've got that wonderful fusion of yours in the kettle; the men will want some for after they've finished working. Ronald's Astronomy class finished earlier than he expected, so he agreed to come home and help Arthur in the yard today. I've just pulled some raspberry jam tarts out of the oven, they're Ron's favourites. How are you finding living with my boys? Are you sure you don't want a female roommate, like Harry and Ginny?"

Hermione had to smile. Harry, Ginny, along with Neville (training to be a Herbologist) and a cousin of Neville's, Athena San Pedro all lived within wand distance from the Ministry, while Ron and Hermione had taken up residence with George above the joke shop. Both Ron and George neglected to tell their mother that they kept Fred's room empty out of respect, and that Ron and Hermione shared a room…and bed for that matter.

Molly nudged Hermione into a seat, fixed their tea cups and brought a plate of the famous tarts to the table.

"Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

With a shaky hand Hermione stirred in honey as Molly smiled kindly. For once in her life, she found herself unable to use the proper terms, fell back on the old Muggle euphemism as she said in a rush, "I want to ask you about…the birds and bees in the wizard world."