Author's Note: This will probably only last a few chapters. This first one is so short because it's a prologue of sorts. There are no lemons, but definitely some innuendo.

Rating: M for strong language (I am quite keen on the word 'fuck') and sexual references (Draco's quite keen on being an asshole).

Ron's hand remained firmly on the small of her lower back as he led her up the porch steps. She didn't mind it as much as she thought she would. After all, it had been a lovely evening. Ron had taken her out to a cozy Italian restaurant in Muggle London. It was small and quiet and expensive, and she couldn't quite believe that it had been Ronald Weasley of all people who had suggested that they go there. She couldn't quite believe that she had agreed either.

Only...Well, it had been a year since the divorce. It had been even longer since she had gone on a real date. When Ron had shyly asked her if they could go have dinner on Friday, she remembered why she had fallen for him back at Hogwarts. Ron, for all of his … lack of sophistication, was sweet. And sweet was endearing. The idea that someone would even bother being sweet to her – not demanding or expectant of – was so delicious that she couldn't pass up the opportunity. She was glad that she hadn't.

They reached her door and stopped. It was a beautiful night. The air was clear and fresh and the sound of crickets chirping contentedly hummed all around them.

She wondered idly if she should shag him.

Ron stood in front of her with a flustered look on his face. His clear blue eyes roamed over everything but her (or her face, at least). The hands that were dug miles into his pockets were sweating profusely, she knew. One of his feet tapped once and then stopped. He was nervous.

Draco was never nervous in situations like this.

Well, that decided it. She was totally going to shag him. Hell, she might even have him make her a sandwich when they were done.

And why shouldn't she, really? It had been way too long since she'd had a proper shag (seven months, two weeks, and three days to be exact), and that had been hate sex with Draco. She deserved this. She was a loving, considerate mother, a dedicated worker, and a thoughtful person. Besides all that, she was a healthy, fully grown woman with needs. And Ron had the proper equipment. Sure, she had only been with Draco, but what did that matter? The mechanics of the act were the same. If she was being honest, the only difference she really need mind was seeing fire red where she had once viewed platinum blond.

Well, maybe not the only difference.

She glanced down at Ron's hands. Still buried in his pockets.

She glanced down at his feet.

Hmmm...Hello there, Mr. Weasley.

"….And Hermione? Hermione? Are you listening to me?"

No, I'm trying to visualize. Be quiet and let me finish.

She tilted her head. "I'm sorry Ron, what was that?"

"I said I had a really good time tonight."

She felt herself smile widely at him. The gesture was surprisingly genuine. "So did I."

"It was just like old times, yeah?"

"Yes. It was just like old times."

He cleared his throat and remained silent for a moment.

Couldn't he take the hint and lean in already? She hadn't even reached for her house keys. Draco would have been singing about his golden ticket to Pussyville by now.

Stop comparing Ron to Draco. Draco is far, far away. Ron is here and he cares about you and he makes you feel special and it's been seven months!

"Would you possibly like to come in for a nightcap?" she blurted.

Ron nods eagerly and opens his mouth to say something. She doesn't wait to hear it, it isn't important. Instead she throws her arms around his neck and starts snogging him as if his life depends on it.

He reacts by sticking his tongue in her mouth and fisting his hands in her hair.

Victory!

And it is victory, but it doesn't last long.

She hears the opening of her front door and stops, horrified, in mid-snog to find her seven year-old son looking up at her.

Behind him stands her husband (Ex. Ex husband, ex, ex, ex!).

Both of them look furious and both of them shout, at exactly the same time:

"Get your hands off my Granger!"

She reminds herself that next time, next time she absolutely must get a hotel room.

Author's Note: Review, ladies and gents.