"And, I never didleave you again, now, did I?"

"Never once." Hermione snuggled closer and nuzzled against his neck. "Unless, of course, you count The Exchange."

"The Exchange?" Ron pulled back in mock offense. "Now, wait a minute. You can't call that me leaving you!"

"And, why not?" Hermione laughed, and did a very poor job of feigning offense. "You were all the way over in New Zealand!"

"All the way over in New Zealand? That's rich, Little Miss Off-to-America-for-Six-Months-with-Sexy-Activists!"

Hermione snorted. "Oh, Lord, I still get a kick out of Witch Weekly calling him that. Stephan has many wonderful qualities, but a sense of irony is definitely not among them!"

"Oh, don't mock your boyfriend to appease my damaged ego, Hermione!" Ron said through his own laughter.

"Why would I need to appease you, sir? The attentions of a three-time Broomstick Babe winner should be enough to confirm your appeal!"

"Har, Har. My point stands: I never left you. First of all, the whole horrible six-months-with-no-contact was your idea, and second, I seem to recall that someone kept promising me that it wasn't even a break, just a little pause, and nothing to worry my pretty little head about!"

"Well, I certainly didn't expect you to have a full-blown panic attack the first time I mentioned it!"

"I thought you were ditching me, Hermione! It was my worst nightmare come true!" He was silenced most pleasantly by an intense kiss.

"You know," she panted when she finally came up for air, "it was all because I thought you would ditch me someday."

"That settles it then, we were both completely mad"

"Barking." She agreed, and settled back in to her husband's embrace.

The Millennial Wizarding Exchange was announced to much fanfare that summer. Specially chosen interdisciplinary groups from throughout the English-speaking world would spend six months intensively collaborating and sharing training on a variety of topics. Harry was on the faculty of a Defense Against the Dark Arts group that would be held in London, Much to Harry's surprise and dismay, Ron was going to attend a Strategic Team Leadership program in New Zealand, and Hermione would be in the United States studying Social Change through Muggle and Wizarding Law.

"But..." Harry stammered in shock, "I was hoping you would both come up for guest visits for my program!"

"Harry." Hermione tried not to sound as frustrated as she felt. "I'm sorry you are disappointed. But, this a great opportunity for both of us. Straight out Defense work was always your focus. The Exchange is going to give Ron and I a chance to really work on areas that are important to us. You know, as individuals."

"I know. It's just that, well, I'm so used to having you both there..."

"Harry, you need a chance to stand on your own as well. It's only six months, and I think the independence will really be good for all of us."

"I know, Hermione, you are right as always." He rolled is eyes in a somewhat tepid effort at lightening the mood. "Besides, you'll be in touch, right? Letters, Floo calls, it will just be like when you were off at Hogwarts, like nothing changed!"

Hermione and Ron's eyes met across the table. This had seemed like a good idea when they had planned it out last week, but telling Harry was proving to be harder than anticipated.

Ron broke the awkward silence. "Uh, mate, see...here is the thing. We've, er, well that is to say, Hermione and I talked and..."

"We aren't going to be in contact with anyone from home except for quick notes to our parents," Hermione cut in, blurting the news out as quickly as she could, as though is was a Muggle plaster that needed to be removed.

"It's not personal, or anything, Harry." Ron tried to soften it a bit in the face of Harry's shocked expression. "It's just...this is a chance for us to, you know, succeed on our own., see how we do without all the history that follows us around the Ministry."

Harry sighed and looked down. "Well, I can definitely understand the attraction of that. Hell, now I'm a little jealous, even. You know I'll miss you both, right?"

"Of course, Harry," Hermione laid a hand on his arm. "We'll miss you and everyone else terribly, too."

"Oh, stop looking at me like that, Hermione," Harry laughed. "I'll survive without you, I'm sure. You're right, it will do me good to work on my program on my own as well. And, you'll be sure to dominate your course, I'm sure. As for Mr. Free Agent over there," Ron pulled a face at him for that, "well, he'll be so strategic by the time he gets back that everyone will want him on Auror missions but nobody will be willing to play chess with him ever again!"

Later that evening, Ron and Hermione curled up on the sofa in his flat, watching the firelight in darkness.

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"Er, I've been thinking."

"That's new."

"Oh, stop. I mean, about The Exchange. About being on our own."

"What about it?"

"I'm wondering if maybe we should, er, maybe consider not writing each other as well."

There was a loud pop and hiss from the fire, and then, silence.

"Ron?"

"Are you breaking up with me?" As calm as he tried to remain, his voice shattered with hurt. He suddenly felt out of breath, as if he had run up a long staircase.

"No! No, Ron, I don't want to end this...just, you know, maybe a pause, like we could be on hold until we get back." She reached for him, but he pulled away, shaking and wide-eyed.

"You want to be with someone else, someone better?"

"No, oh, calm down! This is coming out all wrong, Ron. God, I love you, it's just, I worry sometimes, you know? I see these beautiful girls, all trying to catch your eye when we are out. And, you know, I am so afraid that someday you'll look back and resent me for keeping you away from that while we are young."

"What, you think I want to be like bloody Corner, out chatting up any girl who'll speak to him? Is this about that stupid 'free agent' thing? Harry and his stupid jokes. Look, Hermione, that was years ago, and you knowI was only saying that to convince myself that I hadn't actually buggered up the chance to actually be with you!"

"No, it isn't that, so much." She paused and gave a small smile. "Well, maybe a little.I mean, honestly, Ron, it doesn't escape me that the last time you considered yourself 'free' you chose to be with a girl very different to me."

"I didn't 'choose' anything, Hermione! I mean, she was pretty and wanted me, and at the time I thought that was all that mattered. She grabbed me and kissed me, and then, she was just there all the time and it was kind of like I had a girlfriend by default."

"You could say the same thing about me, Ron." Hermione held up her hand to silence his protest. "I mean, I grabbed you and kissed you and then we were just there, together all the time."

"It's not the same at all! I loved you for years, Hermione! I wanted you so much it hurt! It was not some accidental thing!"

"I know, Ron, I just...I want to give you the chance to really stand on your own, and to come back and actually get to choose me. Or, not. If you are going to decide that I'm not what you want, then I just think it will be easier on me if it comes after we've already had time apart."

"You're going to chuck me, aren't you?"

"Don't be silly, I've loved you since I was a little girl."

"Just seems to me more likely that you'll be the one who's going to move on."

"I don't want either one of us to move on,Ron. I love you. I can't imagine my future without you. I just want us to be able to go forward together absolutely confident that it's what we choose, eyes wide open."

Ron sighed. "I know you're right, and this is probably a good thing, but-"

"But it feels lousy now?"

He nodded and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Oh, Ron." Her tears had been flowing for a while, but now Hermione was actually sobbing. "For me, too."

During the first few months, the days passed faster than either imagined. The program was so intensive that the nights seemed barely long enough for sleep. But, eventually, both Ron and Hermione settled in to the routine of hard work and new friends, most of whom had only a passing knowledge of the recent war in Britain.

Ron's group was one of the most diverse in The Exchange, with representatives from business, sport, and government. Days full of scenario playing and the study of theory were usually followed by long evenings of beer and competitive bar games. They usually traveled in a pack, leaving their local hangout in the wee hours. Kelly Walker, the youngest coach in the history of Canadian professional Quidditch, was staying in the same building as Ron, and they often headed home together. She was a tiny little thing with a seemingly limitless supply of energy and chatter, and their walks home were filled with a non-stop stream of teasing and general merriment. But, tonight she had mentioned the war. Her casual comment had set Ron's mind spinning to that time, and he was lost in thoughts of his friends and family.

"I heard they suspended Quidditch for a whole year!"

Ron nodded awkwardly at the outburst.

"Er, yeah. Well. That was the least of it. I don't know if I told you, but, er, my brother was killed, and I had lots of friends..."

"Shit. I'm sorry, Ron. I should have realized that you'd probably have been in it and all. Your brother? Wow. You were in it more than most, then, I guess."

"You have noidea."

They walked on a bit further, Kelly's sleek and dark pixie bobbing along as she trotted to keep up with her much taller companion.

"So! Tomorrow is our first whole day off! What are we doing?"

"Well, youcould always take the opportunity to go shopping, you know, maybe pick up some TimTams?"

"Why would I bother doing that, when I can just zip downstairs and eat yours?"

"I knew you were only using me for the biscuits. Anyway, I don't know, I was thinking of going to Wellington and checking out the old Maori war relics at that museum we heard about, but, in all honesty, I'll probably just loaf around and see if I can find someone for a game of chess."

"A museum? Chess?Weasley. You must be joking. It's a day off! We should go for a fly, have a mad party, something actually fun!"

Ron laughed and opened the door to his flat. Not surprisingly, Kelly pushed by him and headed straight for the biscuit barrel.

"You know, one of these days, I'll start hiding my snacks, and there where will you be?"

"I'll find them, you know, I have my ways."

"I'm sure you do." They munched on the biscuits in an easy silence, until Kelly spoke again.

"Hey, Ron?"

"Hey, what, did you finish them off already?"

"No, seriously. I was, er...well, I was wondering what the hell the hold up is."

"Hold up? I don't follow."

"Look, Ron, we've been dating for weeks now, and you still haven't kissed me. Why not?"

"Because I didn't know we were dating?" He blurted without thinking and then shrunk back in anticipation of what surely would be a well-earned hex. Instead, she surprised him with a shriek of laughter.

"Oh, that's rich, you clueless boy! We're together all the time, we go to all our meals together, I'm constantly down here stealing your cookies..."

"That isa bit of a liberty, now that you mention it."

Kelly sighed and shook her head. "Okay, look, I'm sorry if I assumed too much. I suppose I should just formally make it clear to you that an offer stands."

"An offer?"

"Oh, for heaven's sakes, Weasley! I'm here! I'm interested! Do you or do you not find me attractive?"

"Well, sure, Kelly, you're very pretty, you know that. And, I always have a great time hanging out with you."

"So, what's the problem? You think I'm pretty, I'm certainly interested in you, despite your obvious deficiencies." At this he rolled his eyes, and she pushed on. "Are we going to give this a go, or not?"

Ron took a deep breath and took one of her small hands between his. He looked thoughtfully into her dancing hazel eyes. She was a pretty girl, she was fun, and openly wanted him.

He opened his mouth and answered with a confidence he hardly knew he had.

"Yes, yes, YEEEEEEES!"

"Sweet Merlin, Stephan. What are you so excited about?" Hermione laughed as she reached across the table for the salt shaker.

"The border dispute up in Inishowen turned up my way. Bloody excellent! This means the Liberation Act could well get enough votes for passage at the next Procedural!"

"That's wonderful, congratulations." Hermione smiled as she watched her friend devour the rest of his newspaper, completely unconscious of the admiring stares coming from the young women at the next table.

Stephan Hamill always didcommand attention. He was tall and broad, with wavy bronze hair and startling ice-blue eyes. But, far more alluring than his obvious physical beauty was an undeniable social charisma that pulled everyone he met into his orbit. While Stephan's main focus was on the boundary matters being settled throughout Northern Ireland - where the local Muggle and Wizarding populations had very different notions about their national allegiances - he was passionate about just about any issue that came his way. He frequently spoke at length about all interactions as being part of "The Struggle," and he always seemed to find an eager audience. The other members of the Law and Social Change program were entirely enthralled by his intelligence, fire and commitment. For her part, Hermione was less fawning than most of the other students, but she found herself admittedly fascinated by his company. They spent many an evening after class debating the finer points of Wizarding and Muggle law around the world and discussing the many ways that justice could be achieved in their home countries.

"Say, Hermione, let's head up to the flats, shall we? Big day tomorrow and all."

"Er, sure. What do you have planned? It's our day off, isn't it?" They left the group kitchen and headed up the long flight of stairs to the floor that housed the small student flats that the University had provided visiting scholars.

"The American Muggles are having a big march tomorrow. They're set to commemorate the Equal Protection rulings we studied last week. It's going to be amazing! It's going to be right there on the Mall! Do say you'll accompany me!" He stepped uncomfortably close to her as they reached her door.

"Huh." Hermione took a step back, and felt her cheeks take on an unaccountable flush. "I had, er, actually thought of relaxing a bit. You know, doing a little pleasure reading, or perhaps just taking in some of the sights around Washington. You know, a day off."

"Relax? The Struggle doesn't take a day off! You should come, Hermione!" His voice became very soft and deep as he stroked a single finger down her cheek. "It's going to be electric." Stephan's finger ran under her chin and he tilted her face up to his and moved closer...closer.

Hermione's lips parted and she reacted to his move with an assuredness that startled even her.

Ron Weasley had been back in London for less than twenty-four hours, and already he crawling out of his skin with madness. He and Hermione were set to have brunch the next day. A nice, civilized meeting at a proper hour to 'reconnect and catch up' after their long separation. Certainly nothing to be anxious about. He should just relax, enjoy the evening. It wasn't like he could make the time move any faster, anyway, right? Nonetheless, nine o'clock found Ron twice-showered, and sitting in his pajamas staring at the clock, willing the hands to move faster. He had to see her, had to know where they were now, how she felt, get all the cards on the table.

Oh, God. Maybe he should be hoping for time to stop instead of speed up.

Ron went back to pacing, until he was startled by a pounding at the door. He ran to answer, almost as if he knew who was there.

"Hermione?"

Her suitcase lay open on her bed, but she couldn't bring herself to unpack. How on earth was she supposed to hold it all in? Tomorrow at noon, she and Ron would be having this momentous talk, with everything hanging in the balance. She paced over to the window and stared out into the rainy evening. It wasn't even good rain. Not a drenching, sexy rain, but instead a horrible, bone-chilling drizzly affair that made her hair behave like a pot scrubber gone bad. It was all too much.

She didn't stop to think until she was already standing outside his door, her fist drumming against wood and glass. Why was she even here? What the hell was she going to say? She was at a loss until the door opened, and she was left staring into wide blue eyes. He barely had time to say her name before she blurted it out, the only two words that came to mind. The same two words she had said to Stephan Hamill, and, coincidentally, the same two words that Ron had said to Kelly Walker.

"I can't."

He looked confused. "You can't...come tomorrow?"

Damn it. Now she was crying. "No, I can't do this anymore!"

He stepped backwards involuntarily, clutching at his bare chest. "You can't be with me anymore?"

"NO!" She was hysterical now, almost screaming at him through her tears. "I can't be withoutyou anymore!"

"Oh, thank God!" And, he pulled her to him, kissing whatever skin or hair or any part of her he could reach because she was there and she was Hermione and for some insane reason she was there, really there.They stumbled back in a flurry of arms and hands and tears and kisses. Kicking the door shut, they shed their clothes as they staggered towards the bedroom, sobbing to each other along the way.

"I love you."

"I need you."

"I missed you."

"Lord, I was so desperate for you that night!" Hermione laughed as they remembered.

"As if I wasn't as bad. I can't even tell you how it felt to see you there when I opened that door."

"Well, seeing as we didn't emerge from your flat for three days, I think it's safe to say we missed each other quite a bit!"

"It would have been longer than three days if we hadn't had to go to that blasted Welcome Back party at the Leaky."

"Mmmm. Actually, if it hadn't been for that party, we might be there still! Besides, it was so much fun to show up and announce that we were getting married! I thought Harry was going to pass out!"

"That was good. I don't think he thought I'd have it in me to ask you."

"Fat lot he knew. He's the one who had to call you for moral support the night he asked Ginny!"

"From the loo! On his mobile!" They laughed in near unison and burrowed into the warm cave of their bed.

They settled into a quiet sort of half-sleep, cushioned by the familiar soft comfort of the years.