"Would you look at this?" Ronald Weasley straightened the folded sepia newspaper, dotted in moving images of witches and wizards. In bold, the front page read:

TWO MUGGLES DEAD,

CULPRIT STILL AT LARGE

He smiled to himself. His first front-page news article was on the front of the Daily Prophet, with a picture of both bodies of William Trevor and David Kertrich, covered in post-mortem sheets while an investigator gave an interview. 300,000 or so copies were being printed, all bearing Ronald Weasley's name on the cover. He grabbed a couple of more copies from the pile on his desk and stuffed them into his briefcase.

Ron had spent nearly two hours in Hackney, talking to magical eyewitnesses. He had been able to get an interview from Mr. Hunter, owner of a local convenience store and wizard. Mr. Hunter had been putting away the last shipment of the night when there came a bright green flash from the street. He told Ron that he ducked under his counter, feeling the overwhelming sensation that a killing spell had just been used. He used his hands animatedly to describe how he ran outside after he felt the coast was clear, and found the two bodies. Muggle coroners were to inspect the bodies, but aurors had already concluded on the scene that the two men were killed by magic.

"Have a good day, Meryl," said Ron as he locked his office and saw Meryl Cromwell doing the same next door.

"See you tomorrow, Weasley," she responded. Meryl was a twenty-four year old reporter who had impossibly long legs. Ron always looked at them when she walked away at the end of the day. He sighed. Heading to the common area, he turned on the spot in a single swirl before apparating home.

Grainy Place was a crooked and cobblestoned street lined with pretty single-family homes near the English countryside. It was charming, often advertised in the papers as the best place to raise a family while still being relatively close to London. All of the houses there were relatively simple. Most homes had taupe adobe siding, white trimmings, and red front doors. A hanging flowerpot here, a grumpy looking potato of a garden gnome there, but nothing out of the ordinary as far as décor goes. No, nothing about this neighborhood was weird although there was an incident or two of large owls flying in and out of the Weasley's kitchen window. Mrs. Weasley dismissed the intruders as curious admirers of her sugar cookies, which she often left on the kitchen table. The Weasley's kitchen window, painted a striking indigo blue, had lovely shutters that stayed open during the summer, so it made sense that critters eventually made their way indoors. But alas, the Weasley's were quiet residents of the neighborhood and never caused any sort of ruckus.

With a loud CLANK, pots and pans came crashing onto the floor from the cupboard above the sink. A pot dinged Hermione on the forehead.

"Ow!" she muttered, thoroughly annoyed. Hermione Weasley loved her darling husband, however she could not stand his stubbornness. Don't forget to put the dishes away. Oh, and the pots and pans, but stack them neatly—Please. Still frowning at the sore spot on her head, Hermione kneeled down on one knee to pick up the shiny kitchen set the two had received as a wedding gift. Hermione's part of the registry was filled with practical things that they would need to start a life together in their first home. Ron's choices of assorted gifts that he desired included a muggle television, a new Viper 7000 broom, and a clock reminiscent of the one in the Burrow. That last one, Hermione agreed with. Near the backyard door chimed a tall wooden clock, with the image of Ronald Weasley's grinning face moving to stand next to her small image. With a 'pop', a 6'2" ginger in jade green robes arrived next to the kitchen table.

"Hermione," he greeted, putting his briefcase on the table and opening it. He immediately noticed that Hermione was stacking the last pot back into the upper cupboard, which she could barely reach. "Uh oh."

"Look," Hermione abruptly pointed to the purple little bruise forming on her upper right hairline. Ron wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her head.

"Sorry. I'll do it properly next time," he promised, still holding her. "But did you see the Daily Prophet today?"

"No, why?"

Ron leaned over to the briefcase one more and pulled out a copy. He held it with both hands, pointing to the author.

"Ron! Congratulations!" she smiled while grabbing the paper and reading it.

"Are you proud, Mrs. Weasley," he playfully kissed both sides of her face gently. He grabbed her waist and easily picked her up, supporting her on his arm. Ron strolled into their sunken living room, walking down a step before gently placing her on the tan couch that faced the crackling fireplace. The flat screen television Ron so desperately wanted, hung above the mantle on a white brick wall. The living room was decorated in soft, earthy hues of tan and green. It was a comfortable and cozy room, surrounded by bookshelves that extended from floor to ceiling opposite one another.

"I was going to make pasta. You okay with that?" she put the paper on the small coffee table in the middle of the room, which doubled as a trunk.

"I can make it," he volunteered. He undid the top buttons of his robe, which suit him very well, and draped it over his arm. He walked away into their bedroom. "Just let me get changed first."

"Okay," Hermione agreed. She closed her eyes for a brief second, enjoying the warmth of the fireplace on the soles of her slippers. Without opening her eyes, she felt around the couch for the remote. To no avail, she dismissed her own little game of 'find the remote without looking' and turned on the local weather.

"A couple of bad freezes, but heavy snowfall is expect around Hampshire. As you can see here, upwards of an astounding 15 inches or more is to come," the blonde newscaster woman went on while pointing to several more cities in England. Ron came out of the bedroom door, which was to the right of the fireplace, messing with his hair. He wore red flannel pajama pants and a white cotton shirt. Hermione's cheeks burned. She smiled at him as he sat down next to her on the couch.

"What?"

"We'll be getting some snow tonight. It's supposed to be bad."

"Oh, I better put a protection spell over the roof," Ron recalled. The bad part about moving into an older cottage was that it was cold and drafty in the winter, and that the roof had caved in before under heavy snow. Ron was quite handy and usually fixed all sorts of problems around the house. Quentum Casarum kept the house cozy by insulating the house.

"Tetom Forticulum," whispered Ron, waving his wand towards the roof of the living room. A wave of orange light rose from the floor up the walls and pinched at the beams across the ceiling and walls. "Should be good to go now."

"What would I do without you?" Hermione said lovingly, kissing Ron's cheek.

"Probably freeze," he snickered. Hermione playfully hit his arm.