Harry!

I can't stop attaching exclamation points at the end of every sentence I write! Ron and Hermione live in the same place again! Ron will never use the phrase "irreconcilable differences" again! We had a morning shag to celebrate and it was brilliant! You are brilliant and wonderful and the best husband in the world!

Alright, this is getting tiresome. But I mean it. I love you. I love you so much, and I hope you need this when you find it, and it makes you smile that smile only I see.

Love,

Nev

Smiling, I tuck the note back into my shirt pocket, where Nev must've put it this morning. Since I'm in about as good a mood as he is, I don't need any kind of uplifting via love notes, but it's always a welcome surprise.

"Harry," I hear at the door of my office. It's Ginny, a rather harried-looking and disheveled Ginny at that. "I know it's almost lunchtime, but there were a couple things I needed to discuss with you."

I put away what I'm working on and move to the front of my desk, where I perch and face her. "What's going on?"

"It's Michael Corner," she says. "He works in Misuse of Muggle Artefacts and got hit with a horrible Stinging Spell off a Muggle alarm clock someone must've cursed. We're having trouble patching him up. It's a lot more drastic than what we normally see. I was wondering if we should turn it over to the Aurors."

"If I were you," I say, "I'd go to Hestia about it." Hestia Jones took over as department head a few years ago. "She'll evaluate your case notes and let you know who to go to, if not her. She's out today, but she'll be back tomorrow at 7."

Ginny nods and licks her lips, looking more nervous than I've ever seen her.

"Anything else?" I ask, eager to get back to my current case, a rash of lethifold attacks in Wales.

"There's something I've been wanting to say to you for a long time now, Harry," says Ginny, taking a step closer to me. "And I thought I could keep it quiet and buried, but I can't anymore."

I heave a deep sigh. "I think I know where you're going with this, and I—"

She puts a finger to my lips. "Just hear me out. I've been looking at my relationship with Dean, and it's not what it used to be. I feel detached and utterly alone, and the only time those feelings go away is when I'm with you. Surely you've noticed we still have a connection."

"Nope, I haven't," I say. "And if I have, it's purely one-sided, and certainly not on mine."

"I can't believe that, Harry. I really can't. The way you look me in the eye when we're talking, the way you laugh at my jokes, even when they're terrible, just the way you treat me like I'm the only girl in the world."

I rack my brain, trying to locate a time when I've done that last bit, and come up empty. "Ginny, if you think I'm still interested in you..."

"I think you are." She takes another step toward me and I lean back as far as I can.

I laugh shortly. "I've been in love with Nev from the first time we kissed six years ago. He's my husband and my best friend and the only one of those I'll ever need. If you think Neville can't fulfill my needs, then you clearly don't know me at all."

"But Harry—"

"Am I interrupting something here?" I look past Ginny at the open door, where Neville is standing, a paper bag from our favorite Indian restaurant in hand.

"No, nothing at all, Nev," I say, smiling at him. "Ginny was just leaving." I try to add an air of finality to the statement, but it doesn't deter Ginny from swooping toward me and hooking her arms around my neck.

"At least let me give you something to remember me by," she purrs, affixing her lips to mine. I freeze up and look over at Neville, who's holding back laughter. He'll hear about that later. Ginny pulls away with a dramatic smack of her lips, turns on her heel, and saunters out.

"Shut the door behind her," I say. He complies, and I can tell he's still biting back a laugh. I hop off my desk and walk across the office to him, pulling him toward me for a kiss just as searing as what Ginny had hoped to accomplish.

"Missed me, then?" Nev asks, sounding amused.

"That was not a good way to cap off a morning," I say. "She, well, I suppose you can guess."

"She revealed her incredibly obvious feelings for you and insisted you had some for her as well?"

"Got it in one."

"Precious."

"Were I not professional to a fault, I'd bend you over this desk you've effectively pinned me to and take you right here," I say. "You know, just to remind myself completely of what I have with you."

"It's a shame you're so good at your job," Nev says with a sigh. "Otherwise I'd let you before having a go at it myself."

"I know you would. That's why you're such a damned good husband."

"I thought we could take the food you forced me to drop on your desk when you ravaged me just now and eat it down in the lunchroom with Ron. Sound good?"

"Sounds great, so long as we can bypass the Spell Damage department," I say. "I'm not going to be able to look at Ginny for a week without slamming my head against the nearest wall."

We stop by Ron's office. The man is grinning like an idiot for obvious reasons; as of last night, he's back together with his wife and thrilled about it.

"I got you some samosas, Ron," says Neville. "More accurately, I bought a couple dozen and we're all going to fight for them."

"Brilliant," Ron says. "Want to take it outside? I haven't seen it this warm in April in years."

Once we're sitting down, Ron, who seems fit to burst, says, "I had sex this morning for the first time in over six months."

"Thanks for that, Ron," says Nev, smiling. "For the record, we had sex, too, but it was for the first time in about three days."

"Of course you'd brag about that," Ron says. "Can't we just celebrate me right now? Me and Hermione and the fact that I'm still married? And happy about it?"

"Sure," I say around a mouthful of samosa. They're these deep fried pockets of vegetables and all manner of delicious filling that Nev discovered three months ago, and we can't get enough of them. It's like the BLTs all over again. "Thanks for the owl, by the way."

"Of course. We thought that after the kids, you'd want to be the first to know."

"You were right," I say. "I suppose you don't have to go through the whole rigmarole of telling your family. That's nice."

"Rigmarole?"

"That's my husband, using words like 'rigmarole' in casual conversation," Neville says, patting me on the arm.

"Yeah, it is nice," says Ron. "Percy seemed really down about it, though, losing a roommate and not having someone to talk to about separation anymore."

"Do he and Audrey ever talk about getting back together?" asks Nev.

"No. I don't think Audrey wants to see him more than twice a year at King's Cross."

"Well, hey, at least Percy's keeping to himself rather than going after those already spoken for." Neville grins and I roll my eyes at him.

"Your dear sister confronted me about how I'm still in love with her in my office before lunch," I explain to Ron.

"Oh, bloody hell," he says, putting a hand to his forehead as though he's genuinely distressed. "That ended more than ten years ago. Unless, of course, you're still carrying a torch, Harry."

I laugh. "Nope. I can safely say I've found someone else to occupy my time, and did quite a while ago. I just feel horrible for Dean."

"Maybe I'll mention Dr. Jeffries to him sometime," says Ron, sounding thoughtful. "It'd have to be casual, of course. Guess I could leave that to Hermione."

"It's really good to hear you say things like that again, Ron," Neville says, patting him on the arm.

"It is," says Ron. "It really is."