Due to the immediate response to the last chapter, here's this one! I couldn't help it! I have no more books on my shelves to read! But WARNING! I know this is rated T but I thought I'd forwarn this chapter briefly talks about sex. Not in detail, just in the overview of sex life way... Well... Enjoy? (:

We owned a car, a normal, blue car. It wasn't small, but not huge either. Perfect for a family of four. Perfect, mostly because this was the present my parents gave me for my seventeenth birthday, right before I left them stranded in Australia with new names, childless. But in time they forgave me, and also gave me my car back. It still smelled brand new, even though I insisted on driving it everywhere. Ron hated driving; he normally sulked in the passenger seat, looking out the window, probably picturing himself riding his broomstick alongside the car instead of riding in it.

But this time he sat upright, and watched excitedly in front of us the whole time, always asking, "Isn't it on that road we turn to get home?"

"No, Ron," I stated agitatedly, "it isn't for another 30 minutes that we'll be home."

"Oh," he simply said, sliding back into his seat to sulk at my agitated tone. I don't know where it came from, honestly I don't.

Maybe it was that go awful run in with Draco, which has happened a lot lately. Everywhere I am, he pops up, if not just in the distance, or for a glance, he's there. I don't know if it's coincidental, or just creepy. He somehow became a healer at Saint Mungo's, and has been making it every day, how that's possible I'm not sure, to the Ministry of Magic to do the checkups for those who simply couldn't get down to Saint Mungo's easily due to their jobs. Everyone, in turn, has been signed up for a checkup in their office at some point over the month, meaning I was either to be checked on by Draco Malfoy, why he's a healer I am unsure, or Luna Lovegood, who loves helping people and is a dear friend of mine. But I was dreading it either way. I hate checkups... even the magical kind.

I huffed in frustration, making Ron look at me and ask, "What's wrong 'Mione? Did I make you mad?" His puppy dog eyes, damn those puppy dog eyes; they made me forget 99% of the time that I hate being called 'Mione, not that I would ever tell my husband that.

I simply put my hand on his, quickly squeezed it, and then placed it back on the wheel. He took that as a good sign, and went back to his window, back to his imagination, back to something fun.

We got home, unsure of what to do, seeing as how we had always had a child in the house since Rose was born. I felt awkward having sex with a child in the house, so our sex life was dead, despite Ron's efforts to coerce me into every so often. But I never gave in, never even being utterly turned on enough to do it. He wasn't boring in bed, just ordinary, normal, and predictable… which was boring after all… I never felt the romance in it anymore; it was just rough, and fast. He got off more than I ever have. But the one time Rose's grandparents took her for a spend the night trip at their house, we conceived Hugo. And it was also the last time I felt the romance, felt into it, and felt honestly pleasured.

So this, being alone in the house, felt weird. I didn't know what he wanted to do, or I knew what he wanted to do, but he didn't know what I wanted to do. I wasn't sure if I even knew what I wanted to do. So I stood in the kitchen doorway awkwardly, watching him stare at me. He licked his lips at me, seeing Merlin knows what in my appearance attractive. I thought about this for a second, guessing how I should respond, what body language to use, what I was even going to do. I wanted to make love for hours, but how would I convey that to him?

I felt like a freaking virgin again! I didn't know what to do! I was going mad… We've had sex plenty of times, this should be second nature for a married couple, but it wasn't, not for us. Ron told me about Harry and Ginny's sex life, to my displeasure. I remember the conversation vividly:

"'Mione, they do it like every day. Why can't we do it once a month at least?"

"Ronald! That's your sister! Why are you comparing our sex life to hers?"

"Because at least Harry get's it every day, and I get it once a decade," he mumbled, looking away displeased with my reaction.

"Ron, we have kids in the house all the time, and we're always really tired after work," 'probably why you can't last long at all,' I finished in my head…

"Ship them off to your parents for the weekend, we never work weekends." He looked at me, hopeful.

"Ron, I can't do that to my parents." He got off and stalked away mumbling.

"Even my own sister gets it every day, I don't understand…"

I chuckled, and then looked at my husband, winking. I figured I would tell him what I wanted; Ginny told me (completely disgusted) that guys sometimes liked it when you told them what to do in bed. So I raised a hand, beckoning him with my index finger. He immediately got out of his chair, and walked over to me taking my face in both hands, almost able to wrap his bear paws around my entire head. He pulled me into a kiss, rough, attempting to be passionate. I broke us away before whispering, despite the house being devoid of any but ourselves, "I want to make love to you all day." It sounded so stupid, why did I tell him that?

"Sounds amazing to me 'Mione," moment ruiner, "I love you, so much." It would've been sweet if I didn't know he was only saying it because I was having sex with him for the first time since… Merlin, I don't even know. But I decided to go along with it, not ruin the moment any more than it already has been.

"I love you, too." Then he swept me off my feet and took me into our bedroom.

Four hours was all I got, four hours and he was spent, and I felt hardly satisfied despite the length of our excursion. But I stilled rolled out of bed, let him sleep, and went to make us dinner. It was weird not hearing my children running around the house, not having Ron playing with them, and not having so many mouths to feed. I suddenly realized how many pasta noodles ended up in pot, Ron and I would never eat that much. But I continued to cook them, making meat sauce, and grating the cheese. By the time it was done, Ron had been drug into the kitchen by his senses, and sat at the table, shirtless, and waiting. Ron wasn't fat, never put on weight after quidditch ended, never grew that belly guys seem to acquire with age, but Ron was simply toned. He worked out frequently, being an Auror you had to be agile and strong, and Ron kept to that memo very well. I supposed to any other woman he'd be simply delectable for a man of his age. For starters, he was a part of "The Golden Trio," second he was built, and thirdly he was cute in the face, as well as everywhere else. While Harry was cute, in the sense that he was your next door neighbor or something, Ron was, as other women put it, "sexy." He loved the attention, so I think that's why he's stayed beefed up for so long. I suppose he should strike me the way that he strikes other women, but he doesn't. I see him for the simple, clumsy man he is. He's appealing, yes, but I guess I'm so used to him that his body doesn't make my jaw drop. I suddenly felt guilty for this, and walked over to him, rubbing my hands down his whole torso, feeling him moan as he leaned in to suck my neck. I kissed his cheek then stood up straight, turned, and then went back to put the plates together. I turned and walked back to a sulking Ron, and we ate dinner peacefully.

Dinner was short, filled mostly by the deafening noise silence casted upon us. I often looked to my left and right, expecting to see Rose and Hugo, but never did they appear, or crawl out from under the table.

After dinner was over, Ron stammered into the living room to watch football, a new past time he'd picked up when there was news everywhere about some "FIFA World Cup," whatever that was. I didn't like sports, never have, never will. I can't even ride a broom, so if I can't do something in the magical world, I certainly couldn't do it in the muggle world. Suddenly I heard a terrifying bellow from the other room, "Get it Beckham, kick it in, kick it in, GOOOAAAALLLLLLL."

"Ron, I thought Beckham wasn't even playing?" I peered around the doorway to see the TV screen. I instantly saw the jerseys for Team Spain and Team Netherlands, having recognized them from being forced to watch it every single day it went on. "Ron, are you even paying attention? That's Spain and the Netherlands."

"Oh, I knew that. I was just testing you," he peered around to give me a smile and a wink before turning back around to watch the football game.

I shook my head at him, finishing cleaning the dishes, when suddenly I realized an owl had been perched on our window seal. Quickly wiping off my hands, I scurried over to him. Having two people working for the Ministry in the house meant that these owls could be important. But when I untied the parchment from the bird's leg, I saw the informal scroll on the page stating, "To: Hermione Granger."

I fed the bird a small treat, and it immediately took off to disappear into the night. I stared at the parchment, wondering who would be writing to Hermione Granger… She was gone the moment she said yes to Ronald Weasley. Everybody in the magical world knew this, so who would address something to Hermione Granger… Granger… "Granger," spat the familiar voice in my head, registering it from when he had spat it at me nearly 12 hours earlier... I looked at the parchment incredulously, wondering what secrets it held. I wondered, suddenly, if it was cursed, or was a portkey to some terrifying place. I immediately dropped the parchment, recalling Harry's unfortunate incident with a hidden portkey during his fourth year. Then, I laughed at myself. "I am going mad," I said aloud to myself, giggling like a little first year.

"What did you say 'Mione?" I flushed, suddenly embarrassed. Had I really said it that loud?

"Nothing, just laughing to myself." I didn't get a response back, not that I was expecting one. So I carefully picked up the parchment, and carefully unrolled it. If it didn't have a curse, then it had something worse, for it knocked my breath right out as I read it to myself, not once, but at least five times. My eyes widened at the thirteen words on the page. Or was that really counted as twelve? I thought maybe I was dreaming; I was really tired before opening the parchment. Maybe I fell asleep on my way to open it and this was all a nightmare. Draco would never send me this! So I folded it up, put it in my pocket, and walked into the living room. Still convinced I was in dreamland, I put my hand on Ron's leg, and rubbed my thumb across it. Merlin, I was tired… I laid my head on his knee, still rubbing it with my hand. He started rubbing my back, and I felt myself getting swept away with sleep.

I ran a lot, and I didn't even know what I was running for, or where I was going. I just simply found myself running. Then it all seemed like it should make sense when I came up to a house. It was a stony house, in the middle of the woods. Vines grew up its side and on the top of it. It didn't make it look run down, though. It made it look appropriate, homey… just perfect. I walked up to the house and raised my hand to the door, when it occurred to me, out of nowhere, that I didn't have to knock. So I twisted the knob and walked in. I knew exactly where to go, to get to wherever my body was instinctively taking me. I pushed open a door and walked into the quaintest room I've ever seen. The furniture was beautiful, rustic, and it all fit in with the whole theme of the house. The pictures on the wall didn't move, so this was a muggle home, but they were beautiful, simple photographs of barns, fruit, and streets. You would've thought these things weren't beautiful, but they were in these pictures. I gaped at the room, totally in awe, and then I looked to the bed. He was beautiful there, looking like an archangel on the bed with his pale skin and white-blond hair. He smiled at me and I almost fainted.

"I see you got my owl. I knew you would come, Hermione." He looked like he was glowing, and my heart beckoned me to go further into the room, into his arms. I slid onto the bed, falling easily into his arms, fitting perfectly. Then I twisted around to press my lips to his…

I woke up with a start, breathing hard, and looking wildly around the room. Ron snored next to me, and I realized he'd put me to bed. I was wearing PJ's, suddenly feeling violated, until I saw my underwear was the same. He was so thoughtful. But that dream had me in a tizzy. This couldn't be happening. But then again I could've dreamed it all up. So I got up, and searched in the dark for my pants. They were easy to find, seeing as he had thrown them to the floor in front of the bed. I searched the pockets, and my stomach dropped as I felt the edge of parchment. I pulled it out from the pocket, and stared at it. Even though I couldn't see anything in the dark, I stared at it, waiting for the questions in my head to be answered without ever having to look at it. But as the paper sat there silently, I huffed, got up, and padded out of the room to the kitchen. I turned on the lights, threw the parchment onto the table, and went to get something to drink. I grabbed milk and a treacle tart, then sat at the table, eyeballing the paper like it was about to attack me. As I finished my tart, I picked up the parchment, and opened it. I read it once, and then I dropped it. This wasn't a dream… Those twelve or thirteen words were real. They existed in the real world. And they sat there on the table, staring back up at me…

"I was serious. Meet me at Madam Pedifoot's in Hogsmeade. Tomorrow at 7."