Hermione awoke and luxuriated in the softness of the blankets. As always of late, it took her a few moments to realise that there was nothing to worry about. Voldemort had been defeated, and her parents were safely returned from Australia, their memory restored. Ron slept on soundly besides her, thankfully not snoring. All was well.

And yet…..

She looked at Ron's sleeping form, still blushing slightly at the thought of "living in sin". She smiled at the though of finally being a "scarlet woman" after all these years.

They had finally taken the plunge during their trip to get her parents back, and were now living happily together – well, they still argued of course, that was part of the fun - back in Hogsmeade. She, technically, was at Hogwarts in her 7th year, but due to all the hiatus of last year there were more students than ever and, as she was of age, it had been agreed she could room in the village. Ron was working with George at "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes" and had offered to get the Hogsmeade branch started.

Originally, they had rented rooms – separate, single – at the "Hog's Head", but after a week, Aberforth had asked why they were payingfor two rooms and only using one, so moved them in to a "suite". This turned out to be a double room with two chairs (one broken). Shortly afterwards, they had found a cottage to rent, so had moved in to their first home. Hermione still groaned at the memory of how the information had got out in to the school. It had been at the end of a Transfiguration lesson. McGonagall was still teaching the senior students whilst the new Transfiguration teacher found his feet.

'So, Miss Granger, are you still finding the "Hog's Head" suitable accommodation? The journey isn't too difficult?'

Hermione was not really concentrating 'It's fine, Professor. Anyway, we're moving in to our own place soon.' Noooooo, why did I have to say it like that?

'I'm assuming the other part of "we" is Mr. Weasley?' McGonagall's eyes slipped unconsciously to Hermione's very obviously unringed hand. 'How very….modern'

Hermione looked down at her shoes.

'Well…we thought…it's just that…erm'

Suddenly, and to Hermione's complete surprise, McGonagall was hugging her, tears in her eyes.

'Congratulations, my dear. I hope you will both be very happy together. You deserve happiness.'

McGonagall obviously enjoyed a juicy bit of gossip as much as the next woman, and by the end of the day, most of the other teachers had added their congratulations as well. The charmed tea set the staff had brought her as a house warming present became one of her most treasured possessions.

Everything was perfect. And yet……

You know the feeling, I'm sure. Somewhere in the back of your mind is a thought, always just out of reach. Something you should have done, or ought to do, or should remember, or need to remember. And yet….

As it was a Sunday, there was no need to rush. Ron could wake up in his own time, and she snuggled back down. Out of habit, she reached for the book on the bedside table. It was "Hogwarts: a History". She opened the front cover, and saw the familiar crest, with its motto "Draco dormiens nunquam titilandus". Never tickle a sleeping dragon.

'Dragon!!' she squeaked, bouncing up on to her knees and pulling the covers off Ron. 'Ron, that's what it is!! Ron, wake up, WAKE UP!!' She was shaking him awake. 'Ron, that's what's been bothering me'

'Wha? 'Miney. Wha'? Go back to sleep.' He rolled over, pulling the blankets up.

'No, Ron, come on, wake up! I've been thinking about the dragon, that's what's been at the back of my mind.' She was now bouncing up and down, whilst continuing to shake him.

Ron brought his self up from the very deep sleep he'd been in, and looked up. The mane of frizzy brown hair framed a face that was now covered with excitement. She looked like a small child who had suddenly remembered it was Christmas morning, and his heart melted.

'I want to find it.

'Find what?'

'The dragon.'

'What dragon?'

'Oh, Ron! How many dragons do you know? The one we escaped from Gringotts on. I want to make sure it's alright.'

'It's a dragon, Hermione. Of course, it's alright.'

'But, Ron, how do you know? It had been chained up for years in that horrible passageway and mistreated and it's eyes weren't very good and it might have forgotten how to find food and it didn't know where it was and..and..'

'I'm not going to get any rest, am I?' He said resignedly 'It's spew all over again'

'I just want to know its OK, that's all. I'm worried about it. It saved our lives, and I think we owe it.' Ron sighed. 'Oh, pleeeeeeease, Ron, just for me. I'd be ever so grateful.'

Ron had watched a Marx Brothers film on the plane out to Australia, and thought Groucho was the funniest thing ever. He flashed his eyebrows up and down, and pretended to hold a cigar.

'Just how grateful, my dear?'

Hermione rolled her eyes, but was smiling. She pulled her night dress over her head and cast it away.

'Let me show you'.

An hour later, Ron was lying back, looking up at the ceiling, Hermione curled beside him with her head on his shoulder.

'If we're going dragon hunting, we might need some advice 'Miney. Charlie should be home for Christmas, we'll ask him then.'

Hermione raised herself up to kiss him.

'I don't think I've finished being grateful yet' she said with a grin.