A.N. Squeezing it in under the wire, but power outages, stomach flu, and currently bronchitis have slowed me down. For those in different time zones, this isn't an April Fools!

S.N. First, there's been mention that Ron has over reacted to some things, and Hermione has underreacted. Absolutely! Myself and others with similar conditions have often overreacted to very simple things, things that otherwise wouldn't even make us blink. I've seen people sob and throw fits over spilling a drink. I've gotten nasty because 'I know what you're thinking! Don't try to tell me you don't!' It's frustrating as hell because you never know when it'll pop up. On the flip side, dealing with someone who sometimes has erratic emotional shifts, you DO start to mask your reactions, partly because you're in shock yourself, and partly because you don't want to escalate the situation. Are they going to get upset that the coffee was poured in the wrong Mug? Or are they going to kiss your cheek and thank you for making it? You have no clue, so unconsciously you start to mute or put off your own reactions-something that will unfold more as the story progresses. Life isn't a straight line, so things that may seem to be tied up or forgotten will creep back in.

This chapter, however, is mostly happy; reconnecting with yourself and loved ones is super important, and I want to showcase those moments with Ron (as well as his relationships with Harry and his family, in future chapters.) Of course, there's always that whisper that it can't ALWAYS go well...to the point you're almost satisfied to be proven right...

I Believe I Can Fly (There's Always A Second Shoe)

It was early enough that only the sound of birds cut through the still morning air. Ron stepped from the line of trees, the top of the Burrow just visible in the distance. It wasn't going to be a very long flight, since he wanted to start work on the building today, but it would be enough to give him the freedom of motion so it wouldn't feel like he was doing drills. Clear of any overhanging branches, he mounted his broom and rose into the air; his broom pulled left into a current, but he easily brought it under control.

He hovered high above the ground, taking in the scenery, the familiar sights of his childhood that he hadn't paid much attention to of late. There was a small herd of cows nibbling at the new spring grass. A plot of land that had been a messy, weedy tangle had been cleared off, and small saplings had been planted. Up ahead and to the right, the old Waycroft cottage was falling in, which meant the old man that used to come by to take care of it had died, or else he was too old to do it himself anymore. Ron flew higher, putting on a small burst of speed. It was nice out here; quiet, where he could hear himself think.

Wanting to put his new gloves to the test, he did a quick barrel roll, pleased when his grip didn't slide at all. A flash of memory came to him of the twins teaching him how to do tricks, and he wondered if he could still do any. Holding his breath, he tightened his hands on the broom and pulled up, the muscles in his thighs clenching as he did a loopdeloop-something that always made his mum nervous whenever she caught any of them doing it. A rush of accomplishment rushed through him along with the blood, and he laughed. Looked like he hadn't lost his touch after all.

He continued to make his way to the Burrow in that fashion, zigzagging off at top speed in a random direction before getting back on course, or slowing down to try out an old Quidditch move. To his great relief, he realized he was actually enjoying himself-he was already looking forward to a game of Quidditch with Harry and Ginny, and seeing if he could get himself back into form. The pleasure wasn't as intense as it had been when he was younger, but he found that didn't disappoint him much. When he was younger, a large part had been the thrill of...it was hard to explain, but a sort of newness, the rush of not-quite-danger. It was only natural to lose that with age, wasn't it? Now, it was more of a familiar excitement, of seeing what he was capable of and testing his limits. There also wasn't that sickish teenage worry about whether or not he was going to make himself look like a tit. Most of all, he felt alive. Like he was in his own body, and connecting to the world around him. It wasn't like he had been afraid it would be, either feeling nothing, or just a boring method of getting from one place to another.

Swooping low over the Burrow, he swung his leg over the broom and hopped off as it skimmed several feet over the ground, running slightly so he didn't fall down. Only mildly out of breath, he gripped the broom as it slowed to a stop, and he leaned it against his dad's old shed. He took off the gloves Hermione had given him, and tucked them carefully into his pocket with a smile; her gift would definitely be seeing use in the future.

"Ron? That you?"

Ron turned around to find his dad stepping out of the kitchen to cross the yard, and he waved.

"Yeah, s'me! Thought I'd get started on your building-just tell me which way you want it to face, and then you can go back inside where it's warm."

"Son, your mum's on her spring cleaning tear. If I go back inside, she'll try to find a way for me to be useful. Are you sure there isn't anything else out here I could help with?" His dad asked with pleading, hopeful eyes.

Ron laughed, remembering all the times he used to sneak out to the shed to 'help' his dad. With a wave towards a nearby tree stump, he said, "Sure, I think a managerial position just opened up."


"You're going to have to get off my lap sometime, you know," Hermione said to the large orange ball of fluff draped over her thighs.

Crookshanks merely gave a feline snort and burrowed deeper, letting her know that although he was a cat, he would be the one doing any ignoring in this relationship.

"Oh, alright. I suppose I can just use Accio if I need anything. At least, until it's time to get ready," she relented.

She continued to stroke him with one hand, and picked up her book with the other, but couldn't seem to focus on the words before her. Not surprising, since she was too excited about her date later to pay much attention to anything else; something she would have rolled her eyes over when she was younger, before she had the experience to understand how significant such a simple event could be. Tonight wasn't going to be some huge formal occasion, but the fact that Ron was in a good enough place mentally to even want to do anything was amazing. Things were going so well...and that was a large part of what was making her nervous. There had been times, she reflected sadly, over the last couple of years where Ron had good periods, and seemed on the brink of pulling himself out of the darkness. And just as she thought that it was finally the right time to say something, he'd slide back down again where she couldn't reach him.

And that, or at least something very similar, was going to happen again. Ron might be having a good spell-even a longer, more stable one-but that wouldn't last. He was going, at some time or another, hit a low point. Hopefully the potion and therapy would help to ease that, but it wouldn't stop it completely. And as much as she cherished the time they could now spend together as a couple, she didn't want that to be part of what dragged him down.

To add to her worry, she had taken a risk. Knowing that Ron was feeling conflicted about his therapy, she had wanted to do something to both show support, and to commemorate his first step. Quidditch wasn't her strong suit, and she knew he would want to pick any major equipment out himself. But flying gloves were practical enough that he could get use out of them, while also being nice enough to let him know she cared.

Normally, most people wouldn't find this a problem; they could just buy the gift, have it set to be delivered, and be happy that they were bringing a loved one a bit of joy. Unfortunately, the last time she had gotten him a gift hadn't gone well-not well at all. She had only meant to be thoughtful! She had assumed that they had reached that point in their relationship that random gifts, small tokens of affection were alright. Noticing that his watch had taken quite a bit of wear and tear while they were on the run and the months afterwards, and thinking that he might like to save it, since it had been an important birthday gift, she had bought him a new one. Nothing very fancy; in fact, she had made sure to get an especially sturdy one to endure harsh training, and specially Charmed in a few helpful ways. She had been excited to give it to him, expecting him to be happy...

But he hadn't been. Far from it, in fact. Rather than the smile she had pictured lighting up his face, it had been curiously blank, before creasing in anger. He'd snapped at her about being able to buy his own things, at first, before going of into a rant about not wanting their relationship to be about one-upping each other with presents. When she'd tried to point out that she simply enjoyed getting him something, and wasn't expecting anything in return, he'd gotten even angrier and accused her of thinking he was too poor or cheap to buy her anything. Nothing she said seemed to help, and he had ended up storming out, leaving her horribly confused, since just the month before he'd gotten her a set of hair combs, since he knew she liked to use them to keep her hair out of her face when she wore it down.

Harry had tried to mediate, and had gotten his head taken off for his trouble, and since Ron just got mad every time it was brought up, she had to drop the subject without ever knowing what, exactly, she had done wrong. It had been just one of the many times that both of them were speaking similar yet different languages, without anyone to translate. She was certain that it had all made sense to Ron at the time, but try as she might, she hadn't been able to figure it out. Since then, she had stuck to very small impersonal items, strictly at Christmas and his birthday.

Things were different now, she tried to tell herself. She was just being silly; he wasn't going to react that way this time. Still, the memory made her stomach churn, wishing she had perhaps given them to him herself so she didn't have to wait so long to find out.

There was a flash from the fire, and Harry's large, green head popped up. "Oh good, you're in! "S'okay for me to come through?"

Hermione put aside her book, but Crookshanks firmly refused to budge. "Sure, it looks like I'm going to be here for awhile."

Harry disappeared, then stepped through a few moments later, coming in and plopping down beside her, with a scratch for Crookshanks. "I was afraid you might be out. It's been so busy the past few days, I wanted to catch up some."

Since Crookshanks was rumbling happily at the attention from two people, she took the opportunity to reposition herself to comfortably face Harry. "Me, too. I meant to Floo call last night, but I fell asleep. Is Ginny coming?"

He shook his head. "No, there's Harpy business she's dealing with. Some friction on the team, so she's away today."

"But she'll be back for dinner at the Burrow tomorrow, right?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"Yeah, should be; why, is something wrong?" Harry asked, picking up on her mood.

She shook her head. "No, not really. It was just that Ron was going to ask the two of you to play a bit of Quidditch, and I was hoping you'd both say yes."

"Really?" Harry asked, grinning in surprise. "That's-well, that's brilliant! Of course we'd love to. Merlin, It's been ages since he's joined in a game-is he really feeling that much better?"

"I'm not exactly sure," she said cautiously. "He is feeling better, but he's also trying to test his limits, so it's hard to tell yet just how much he can handle at the moment. Have you talked to him recently?"

"No. Like I said, the last few days have been busy. I barely get a chance to say good morning before one or the other of us is called away to do something else. Did something happen? I know he was supposed to see Hitchens again."

"I don't want to tell more than what Ron is ready for everyone to know, but I know he was going to talk about this part with you anyway. Part of his therapy is trying to get back into the habit of doing things he used to enjoy. But Ron seems to be afraid that other people won't think that's very important, and not something he should be focusing on. So if you could give Ginny a heads up about any teasing...I know she wouldn't mean anything by it, but he's sensitive about it right now."

Harry sat back, stretching an arm out along the back of the sofa. "Yeah, I can see why he'd think that. Some people probably wouldn't see why it's important. But...it's not the same, but when the whole Voldemort and Chosen One thing was going on, sometimes I needed something like Quidditch. Doing things like that helps you feel more...normal, you know? Like, there's still crap you have to deal with, but you're not that different from everyone else. Reckon Ron could use that. You know how he can isolate himself, even when we ask him to join something..."

She did; often just getting him to go to lunch or to the pub after work was like pulling teeth. But she had the feeling that spending all that time alone in an empty flat didn't make him happy, either.

"And I'll tell Ginny. You're right, she wouldn't mean anything by it, but like she says, there's that weird sibling thing where you do or say something that you wouldn't to other people, even though you don't set out to. And you know how both of them get when they're on edge. That's one of the reasons she hasn't been around much, since she's been irritated with the team issues."

"Good. I know I'm probably worrying too much, but I just want to make sure everything goes alright for him," Hermione explained, twisting a strand of hair between her fingers.

"Does that mean you'll be up on a broom with us tomorrow?" Harry asked, snickering.

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him, wrinkling her nose. "You're so clever! No, I'll be there to watch though. And...I did get him a present, to, you know, show support."

At that, Harry raised an eyebrow. "Really? What did he say?"

"Nothing, yet," she sighed. "I had them delivered, so I've no idea if his reaction was good, bad, or indifferent. I'm hoping for the first, bracing myself for the other two."

Harry twisted his wrist a bit to give her shoulder a small squeeze. "I'm sure he loved-what was it, by the way?"

"A pair of flying gloves. The dark, glossy red leather ones with the Gripping and Waterproof Charms."

"Setting aside my jealousy, I think Ron will love them, especially since you gave them. Don't tell him I told you, but I happen to know for a fact that he stashed away every wrapper from every Chocolate Frog you ever gave him."

"He did not!" She protested, even as she blushed.

"Did so," Harry nodded. "Swear it."

Hermione smiled, not bothering to mention the limited edition flavor Sugar Quill tins she had turned into memento boxes. "I just hope he likes these. Or at least doesn't think think that I'm expecting him to fly on some kind of regular schedule now. Or that I don't think he can pick things out for himself. Or-"

"Hermione?"

She gave herself a shake, forcing herself to stop rambling. "Yes?"

"You're worried, aren't you. That Ron will go back to the way he was before."

"It's not so much as going back to any certain way," she said, tilting her head back against the sofa. "It's knowing that he's going to have bad spells, and not being sure exactly how bad they'll be, or if I'll be able to know what he actually means when he's in one of them."

"You should probably talk about that with him, don't you think?"

Hermione snorted. "Oh, sure. I can picture it now; 'I'm having an amazing time on our first date, Ron! By the way, I'm afraid that you're going to become cold and unpredictable and emotionally distant, and that your sarcasm will become hurtful instead of humorous. Fancy an icecream?"

"Okay, so maybe it's not exactly a first date topic. You should still talk about it sometime, though. I've noticed you've been trying to be very careful in how you react, but you can't stay on high alert all the time. It's not healthy, and Ron wouldn't want that."

"I know. And I've already decided that I need to be honest with him. But this..." She gave her head a decisive shake. "No. I'll tell him when he actually does something that hurts my feelings, or that I don't understand, but telling him that I'm worried about things that might happen make it sound like I doubt him. He's more sensitive to that kind of thing than I realized when we were younger, and right now, he's struggling with his confidence."

Harry gave a resigned sigh. "Alright, I can see your point. Depending on the mood he's in at the time and how he interprets what you say, he might think that you're expecting him to fail, or something. Still, you will tell him when something actually isn't right?"

"When I can say, 'It hurts when you do or say Y,' or, 'I don't know how to help when you do or say Z.' It needs to be specific, otherwise he's going to be in a constant state of worry that he's doing the wrong thing-and that isn't fair."

"You're probably right. And like I said, as long as you talk about something when there's a problem...Anyway," he continued, his tone brightening, "Aside from all of that, how are you feeling? Don't you guys have a date tonight?"

"We're going to the cinema," Hermione said, knowing she was smiling like a teenager asked to her first dance. "And a bit of shopping. We didn't want to do anything too big; just fun."

"And in Muggle London, there's less chances of people recognizing you and trying to stop you to chat," Harry pointed out.

"That, too. I'm just...I'm so excited! It's been so long since the two of us have done something like that." She nibbled her lower lip. "Harry? Can I ask you something?"

Harry blinked, but nodded. "I wasn't expecting you to ask me for dating advice, but shoot. Want to know the best way to put the moves on him during the film?"

She smacked him with a small decorative pillow, laughing before becoming serious again. "No, I can take care of anything like that, thank you. I just, well, I plan on asking him about how his flying went, of course, and if he wants to bring anything up relating to his therapy, naturally I'd be happy to talk about it with him. But other than that...do you think it would be alright if I didn't? Talk about it, I mean. It's going to be a subject that comes up a lot, but I thought that Ron might like it if I-if I focused a bit more on the parts of him aside from that."

An obviously crude joke flashed through Harry's eyes, then settled on a more thoughtful expression. "What, you mean asking him things about work, his plans for a holiday if we can ever get him to take one...things like that?"

She nodded.

Harry was silent for several long minutes, staring off into the distance. When he spoke again, it was slowly, picking his words with care. "Do you remember in sixth year, when I dated Ginny?" He asked, waiting for her to nod again. "Ginny...Ginny knew when to tell me to pull my head out of my arse, that's true, but there was more than that. With everything going on...I felt so fucking alien, you know? I just wanted to be a normal teenager-not some hero, not the bloody Chosen One. And when we were together, Ginny didn't really talk about all that. She talked about Quidditch, and her family, and classes, and what she wanted to do after school...the things all of us should've been able to focus on. And it might sound weird, but her doing that made it easier for me to talk about the other things."

Hermione considered that. "So you're saying that's a good idea with Ron? To not always make his condition and treatment the main focus?"

Harry bobbed his head once. "Yeah. I mean, all of that's going to come up, isn't it? Just like things did with me. You can't get away from it. But I think Ron would like to feel like you were interested in all of him. So a date that's just a normal date sounds really...nice."

She breathed out slowly, her shoulders relaxing. "I was hoping so. I just wanted to run it past someone to make sure it didn't sound like I was trying to avoid the subject, or anything like that."

"It doesn't. It just sounds like you're doing the best you can to be emotionally supportive without smothering him with it or making him feel like that's the only thing that matters."

"Thanks. I felt like it was the right thing to do, but I wanted to get someone else's perspective, and you're the person who knows Ron as well as I do."

"You know I'm happy to help if I can," Harry smiled, which faded as he checked his watch. "I'd love to stay longer, but it's my day off and I have to go do adult crap. You two have fun tonight, and I'll see you at the Burrow tomorrow."

"Thanks for coming by, Harry. I feel better after talking," Hermione said, stretching up to hug him, causing Crookshanks to grumble and leap to the floor.

"Glad I could help. And don't worry too much, yeah? There's gonna be some rough times, but things'll work out."

Once Harry was gone, Hermione had a halfhearted lunch, did some cleaning, and made a quick trip to the market to get a few items she was low on, before coming home to get ready for her date. An hour later and half of her closet strung out on her bed, she wondered how it was possible to own so many clothes, and still have absolutely nothing to wear. Some clothes were out, since they were for work. Others were too nice-while she was thrilled to be going to see a film with Ron, it didn't call for formal wear. Other things weren't nice enough-clothes that were slightly faded, with loose threads, that she wore when working around the flat or running errands that required her to do lifting and moving. She finally settled on a black floral print dress that hit just above her knees, topped off with a soft, dusty rose colored cardigan. Finishing off the look, she added a pair of strappy but low heels, and swept her hair up loosely in the combs Ron had given her, before adding a touch of lipstick. She was just wondering if maybe she should change into something else when there was a knock on her door, which, given the time, was probably Ron there to pick her up. Grabbing her purse and securing her wand up her sleeve, she went to answer it, her heart doing an erratic dance in her chest.

The door had barely opened before he pushed his way in, swooping her up and spinning her in a few circles before setting her back down on her feet.

"What's that all about?" She laughed breathlessly, staggering a bit as she tried to get her feet back under her.

"For this morning. For being the most bloody brilliant witch of our age," he answered, grinning down at her. "How'd you know that was exactly what I needed?"

The worry she had felt since this morning melted away like a snowflake in the sun. "I was hoping you'd like them. They were a good choice, then?"

His smile softened. "They were-and the fact that you thought to do it was even better."

For some reason, his appreciation made her feel strangely shy, words lodging in her throat.

"And you look terrific, by the way-crap, I didn't mess anything up, did I? Sorry, I was just excited-"

"You didn't, don't worry! Besides, I'm glad you were excited; I had been worrying if you would like them or not, but judging by your reaction, I shouldn't have."

"Definitely not. It gave me exactly the jolt of confidence I needed to get up in the air, just when I started to doubt myself."

"Did they really? I'd been afraid that might happen, so I thought they might give you a boost."

"Well, you were right, and I'll tell you more about it while we shop, if you're ready to go? I know we didn't set up an exact time."

"I'm ready; just let me go make sure the lamp in my room is out," Hermione said, turning away from him to go check.


Ron jammed his hands in his pockets as she left the room, momentarily embarrassed by his outburst-definitely not the air of sexy, adult competency he was going for. Still, she'd seemed happy enough, so maybe he hadn't bollocksed up the afternoon completely. He looked down at himself, suddenly wondering if he was underdressed. After finishing up for the day at the Burrow, he'd stopped by his flat for a shower and a change of clothes. As an Auror, he had to be able to blend in when going into Muggle London when under cover, so he was at least halfway certain he should be alright; he was wearing dark brown cords, a blue and green plaid flannel shirt, and a dark green, slightly puffy sleeveless jumper that Muggles seemed to be obsessed with recently. Hermione hadn't seemed to think it was anything unusual, so he must have done a decent job. He patted his pocket, making sure his wallet, complete with Muggle money, was secure.

He heard her leave her room and step into, from the sound of shoes on tile, the bathroom, and he tried to keep from fidgeting. He'd managed to keep himself busy most of the day, between working on his dad's building and slithering out of his mother's attempts to get him to 'just help with a few other things, it won't take long at all.' While it hadn't been enough to wear him out, he had been able to keep his mind off his date, which was now running wild in all the ways it could go wrong. At his age, he felt more than a little stupid to be this unsure, but it wasn't like they'd had very many chances for proper dates-snogging around the Burrow and other related areas didn't count-and now he felt sure he had lost the hang of it. What if he embarrassed himself by...eating with the wrong fork, or something? Wait. Popcorn. You ate that with your hands. He was safe. On that front, at least.

"Is something wrong?" Hermione asked, startling him out of his thoughts.

He considered saying he was fine, but the truth popped out before he realized it. "Not really. I just...It's been awhile, hasn't it? I guess I'm just not entirely sure what to do, even though I want to do it."

"Well," Hermione said, with a playful smile, "I'd say we pretty much do what we would usually do-only since this is a date, you smile in the bookstore and pretend not to mind how long it takes, and offer to carry any heavy bags."

Ron threw back his head, laughing, his nerves easing as the familiarity of being with Hermione settled over him. "I think I can handle that; you ready?"

She took his hand. "Definitely."


Hermione, as frustratingly usual, was right. Walking around Diagon Alley with her was much like it had been when they were in school, only with much less she'll-never-like-me-that-way angst, and more hand holding. There were whispers, of course, as they strolled from shop to shop, but aside from a few smiles and nods, no one approached them, which he was thankful for. He'd never gotten the hang of people coming up and thanking him for...well, doing what a lot of them had done, something he'd never really thought of as being a choice. And today of all days, he didn't want to be mumbling and stuttering some kind of half-arsed reply when he was trying, for once, to give the impression of having himself together.

They were in no rush, but he felt Hermione pick up the pace ever so slightly as the bookstore came into view, her eyes lighting up in a way that always gave him a small twinge of jealousy when he was younger. Now, he merely smiled and lengthened his stride a bit, holding open the door that she nearly let hit her in her haste to get to a display.

"I'm going to check out the used magazines; I expect you'll be alright without me for a few minutes?" He asked.

"Hm?" Hermione was already flipping through pages. "Oh! Yes, of course! There's just a few I want to look for, I won't be long. Just come and find me when you're done!"

Knowing that for Hermione, 'a few minutes' in a bookstore or library could stretch well over an hour, Ron wandered off to the back, where the used and discounted books and magazines were kept-the Weasley section, he thought dryly, but not without a certain amount of nostalgic fondness. Everything was arranged in neat, tidy sections according to subject, so he was easily able to find the Quidditch section. Flipping through the stacks, he felt a melancholy stab in his chest at each unfamiliar cover, knowing how much lost time they represented. Then he snorted at himself. Well, he was fixing that, wasn't he? It was bollocks, but sulking about it wouldn't help. He paused, and shook his head. There was something wrong about your mother's words (or reasonably close) coming out of your own head...But, thinking of his mum, and looking at the magazines, he was suddenly reminded of when his mum used to buy him a bundle when she had a few extra Knuts, sometimes to cheer him up when he was sick, and sometimes just completely out of the blue. He would shut himself in his room, or find an out of the way spot away from the Burrow, and spend hours stretched out reading, feeling like a king-especially if she sent him off with a snack. He sort of wish he had appreciated that more at the time.

Selecting a little over a dozen of the latest issues, Ron went to the front and paid, noticing Hermione standing at a shelf, already with several thick books in her arms.

"You still looking?" He asked, wondering if they would be able to carry her haul.

"Just about; I only need to find one...no, two, more," she assured him.

Knowing she wouldn't go any faster if he stood over her, he went over to a small area with chairs, sat down on a comfortable one, and pulled out a magazine from his bag. Instead of reading it, though, he watched Hermione. It was an old, favorite pastime of his; lost in another world, she would walk slowly amongst the books, gently trailing her fingers over the spines, her lips pushing in and out ever so slightly as she read the titles.

Like many other things, it had been a long time since he had seen her this relaxed; usually, when they were together (always with Harry, of course), she was more uptight, reserved. Always choosing her words carefully, or not speaking at all if he was in one of his bleaker moods. It was nice, seeing her more open and comfortable around him. As if feeling his eyes on her, she looked up, smiling when she met his eyes. She held up a book she had just plucked from the shelf, and nodded towards the cash register, signalling that she was done. Ron stuffed his magazine back into the bag with the others and walked over to join her, rather surprised to find that she'd stopped at only six books.

"What me to carry that?" He asked, nodding to the bag that the salesclerk passed her.

"I didn't mean that literally!" She laughed, taking it herself. "Besides, you know I like to carry new books."

True. He remembered arguing about that in second or third year; she claimed that carrying them built the anticipation. And he had shot back that that might be true for other things, but surely not books-at least the ones she tended to read.

"Quidditch Supply, then?" He suggested hopefully, practically able to smell the shelves of new equipment already.

"Well, I had thought that it might be a good day to try on a few dresses, maybe look into that new hair cream..." she teased, before giving in. "Yes, let's go; you've indulged me with my books, so I can certainly stand to do the same while you fawn over brooms."

"Oh, come on!" He said, taking her hand and leading her excitedly to the door. "It's more than just brooms, it's-it's Quidditch! A sport built on athleticism and strategy, a-"

"A noble art," Hermione intoned, mimicking his reverence, the corners of her lips twitching.

"Noble? Don't think I'd go that far," he admitted, thinking of several matches, and those were just the ones he'd seen personally. "But still, more than just brooms."

"I'll take your word for it. Wait, we're just about there-for some reason I thought it was farther along," she said, squinting at the sign in puzzlement.

"Only because you never pay attention to it. You sure you don't mind coming in?" He asked, not wanting her to be bored on what was, technically, their second first date.

She squeezed his hand. "I don't mind at all," she said softly.


Over an hour and a half later, he thought she might change her mind; he had moved through the store at a good clip, picking up a few things he couldn't resist, and that hadn't taken much time, considering. But then he'd fallen into a casual conversation with the woman behind the counter about some new rule changes he hadn't been aware of.

"You can't tell me they actually made that legal! They've always slapped down on any kind of petition-every review board I've ever heard of always voted unanimously against it!" Ron spluttered in disbelief, leaning harder into the counter.

"Swear to Merlin, it's the truth!" She said, smacking the counter for emphasis. "Me Da would be rolling in his grave, but it's already written up and everything!"

"I can't see it lasting long, though, can you? I mean, sooner or later something'll happen to get it repealed," he said, tossing a new Quidditch handbook in with the rest of his things waiting to be rung up. "And another thing, I-" he caught Hermione off to the side, an odd smile on her face. "Um, I guess that'll be all for today, thanks."

He paid quickly and shoved his change into his pocket, grabbing his bag in the same hand carrying his magazines. Turning away from the register, he went to join Hermione, who had already moved over to the door.

"Sorry about that," he said with a sheepish smile. "What were you thinking back there? You were looking at me kind of funny."

Hermione shook her head as the bell over the door tinkled behind them. "Don't be, I wasn't bothered. And I was just thinking, back there when you were talking, about how much it was like when you'd get with Harry and Ginny in the common room back at Hogwarts. I swear, the three of you could go on for hours! Seeing you able to do that today-and talking to a stranger, which you never really do if you don't have to-it, well, it just made me happy."

Ron considered that. It was true, the only times, outside of a case, that he got in anyway excited about something was usually in an angry way. Snarling and sniping at someone was different than having a lively debate-a subtlety that was often lost on some people that ever watched him and Hermione. And it had been draining enough to talk with the people he cared about; he'd never had much energy or interest to make the effort with other people, something he knew was hindering his otherwise good record on the force.

"We'll see if you feel the same after I get boned up on everything that I missed-you might have to duck out on a few lunches," he grinned.

"Oh, I don't know," she waved her hand in an airy manner. "You might be surprised what I pick up. I might have my own opinions about the Hokey-Pokey Half-Twist, Or the Tutti-Fruitti Tuck and Roll."

"Or maybe we should just keep you stocked up on books for those days," he said in amusement, glancing up at the clock as they passed Gringotts. "Do you want to drop all of this off at your place before going to the cinema? The books aren't so bad, but the Quidditch gear could earn some odd looks."

"We've got about an hour before they start showing any films, so we might as well, and have a Butterbeer while we wait," she agreed.

Once back at her flat, bags set on the sofa and Butterbeers opened, Ron asked, "I'm surprised you haven't asked more about how things went this morning."

Hermione look a sip, then licked a few drops off her lips. "I didn't want to be pushy about it. So it was good, then?"

He spun his bottle slowly with his fingers, letting the bottom roll on the tabletop. "Well, you already know how much the gloves helped. But actually flying...I'd forgotten how much fun it actually is. For work, it's just drill, and getting from point A to point B. But today I was actually looking at things around me, and doing some of the tricks I used to do when I was a kid...It was nice, you know?"

"Regretting not taking up a career in Quidditch?"

Ron laughed. "Hardly. If I had to do it every day, I think it'd lose some of its appeal, and I never did really get over having pre-game jitters. Besides, eventually I'd have to go up against Ginny, and she'd never let me live it down if she scored on me professionally!"

Hermione groaned. "And at every family gathering, you'd both be arguing about whether or not it was a fair shot, or something or other. You're right, stick with the Aurors!"

"Still, it was fun. I think I might actually look into joining the department team, like Harry's always hinting at."

"Ron, that's great! So, after today, do you think you'll have an easier time? With what Hitchens asked you to do, I mean. Getting back into the things you enjoy."

Slowly, he nodded. "Yeah, I think so-at least, this part of it. Now that I've started, it makes more sense now. I always ignored it when people would tell me I was focusing on the job too much, that it wasn't healthy. And all the stories about Aurors who couldn't handle retirement, or had to be medically discharged after being injured. They couldn't cope, didn't know what to do with themselves. I didn't think that would be me, but maybe I was closer to ending up that way than I thought. One thing can't be everything, even when it's something important, can it?"

"You and Harry taught me that. Remember how I nearly burned myself out with that Time-Turner? And I love my job, but if I didn't have my books, or friends, or even Crookshanks, I think I'd go mad. I know you were also worried about what other people would think, but if they can't understand a basic human need like that..." she shrugged.

"I know a lot of people probably wouldn't understand, but they aren't people I'd be talking about it with, anyway. As long as I'm fine with it, and the people whose opinions I actually care about, it doesn't matter much. And I know that you, Harry, and the rest of the family are behind me on it. Well, knowing George, he probably won't be able to resist saying something like I got to start out easier than he did or something, but he knows basically what it's like to go through something like this, and I know that jokes aside, he'd understand."

"And you do still plan to play with Harry and Ginny tomorrow, right?"

"Huh? Oh! Yeah, If both of them can stay after lunch. George and Ange might like to get in on it too. Come to think of it, that'll be another first; so far I've only flown alone, I haven't had to focus on a game or a teammate."

She reached across the table and linked their fingers together. "You'll have to wear your gloves for luck, then."

He smiled. "Of course! Besides, I have to show them off, don't I?"

They sat in silence as they finished off their Butterbeer, the light coming through Hermione's kitchen window becoming dimmer as the sun set.

"We should probably go, if we want to get good seats," Ron pointed out, using his wand to send their bottles to the trash.

"You're right, especially since we still have to decide what to see. I'm not even sure what's paying, are you?"

He shrugged. "Nope. Didn't particularly care; I just wanted to be with you, he said honestly.

"That's terribly, terribly sweet of you," she said, standing and coming around the table to kiss him on the cheek. "And I'll remind you of it if we end up seeing a cheesy romance."


The theater they went to was older, the nap of the carpet worn, and the frames holding the posters for movies slightly fogged over with age. But it was still well kept, and the smell of buttered popcorn filling the air had their mouths watering.

"You take care of the movie, and I'll get the snacks," Ron said, knowing which he'd rather be in charge of.

"Feeling brave, are we?" Hermione asked. I'll be over to help you carry everything-do you have Mu-money?"

He patted his pocket. "Don't worry, they've made us practice, so I have it down. I'm going to go now, since that line looks pretty short."

He strode over to the concession stand while Hermione dealt with the tickets, the lady behind the counter nearly calling out at him to stop before realizing he was with Hermione. The line moved surprisingly fast, but it was around the time most people would be having dinner, and the teens wouldn't be out until later. Waiting his turn, there was a momentary sensation that all eyes were on him, and every whispered comment was directed his way. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was very much a reminder that the potion was just a patch and not a cure. Worried that it might happen again, he looked around, but nothing happened. No one was really looking at him, outside of the way one normally took in strangers in your general area.

Two large tubs of popcorn, a giant drink to split, and an alarming stack of brightly colored boxes later, he and Hermione carefully balanced everything as they made their way to the correct film.

"So what are we watching?" Ron asked. "Action? Horror? Animated?"

"Romance," Hermione said cheerfully, walking up the lighted aisle.

"Oh. Well then. Right. Romance it...is!"

"A romantic comedy," she clarified. "Heavier on the comedy."

"Thank Merlin," he whispered behind her. "Was afraid I'd have to bolt my popcorn so I could take a kip."

"Where do you want to sit?" Hermione asked, pausing at the rows of seats.

"I hear the back row is good for snogging," he said, waggling his eyebrows.

He was surprised when Hermione marched to the back, only to enter the second to last row.

"Tease," he said playfully, folding himself into the seat beside her.

There was some shuffling as they distributed the snacks, nearly knocking the drink out of the cupholder in between them. The popcorn was still warm, and as they munched away, slightly tinny Muggle music came from the speakers while adverts flickered on the screen. A few more people filtered in, but either this film had been out for awhile, or else it wasn't very good, since the seats were less than half full by the time the lights dimmed and went out, the sound roaring out and making them jump. Ron finished off his popcorn, sampled several of the sweets before saving the rest for later, and then 'helped' Hermione with her popcorn, only paying half attention to the movie. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't really his thing. He laughed at the funny bits, but he spent most of his time watching Hermione out of the corner of his eye, especially once she had finished eating and had leaned into him.

Darting his eyes around, he turned to the opposite side, raising his arm until the cuff of his shirt was close to his face, and performed a silent Breath Freshening Charm. That taken care of, with his other arm he performed one of the few cultural things the Wizarding World shared with Muggles; the time honored Yawn and Stretch. Naturally, Hermione didn't miss it, but aside from a quirked eyebrow to let him know she knew what was going on, she merely snuggled close to him.

Completely ignoring the film now, he spent the next ten minutes or so toying with strands of her hair, or running his fingers along her shoulder and neck. She shuddered slightly at his touch, her breath hitching, as she nuzzled her head into the crook of his shoulder, reaching for his free hand. He kissed her temple, filled with a sudden urge to give her a good snog, but he didn't. Wait, why didn't he? They weren't going to be shagging anytime soon, but a snog in the back of a dark theater was hardly that, was it? They'd already kissed, after all. No. He'd forgotten, they weren't in the very back. There was still a row behind them. Although with as empty as the place was, if it was clear, it was like sitting in the very back...

Stealthily, he turned his head to the side, further and further until-he met the knowing eyes of the middle-aged woman sitting behind him. He whipped his head back, his ears turning red. Shite! No good. There was an amused snort from behind him as the woman tapped his arm that was across the back of Hermione's seat, and just as he worked up the courage to look, he saw that she was gliding over to the other section of seats-so quietly he'd think her a ghost if she hadn't been so solid-leaving the field clear. Bless you, Muggle Woman, whoever you are!

Alright. It was like flying a broom; you never really forgot how, did you? Just start, and instinct would take over. Give her a signal, see if she responded...He kissed her temple again, before tipping his head to kiss her cheek. It was an awkward angle, but awkward was basically his natural habitat, so that didn't stop him. She stirred, leaning forward slightly, and he started to withdraw before she turned to him, letting their lips brush together. Success! Would she let him do it again? She would! This one was a bit longer, and while there was nono tongue, he could tell that her lips were suspiciously minty. Did that mean she had...? Of course it did. Hot damn! More confident, he shifted in his seat so that he had a better angle, absently transferring their drink to his other side. Their mouths slid together again, slowly, breaking apart occasionally to plant smaller kisses on the cheeks or the corners of the other's lips. It wasn't hot and heavy-there were still people around, and they didn't want to draw attention, but it was delightfully dizzying-bloody hell, had he said broom? This was miles better! He still wasn't...well, by now he'd usually be feeling a bit tight in the trouser department. He wasn't there yet, but by the pounding in his chest, and the way he felt drawn to her again and again, he didn't think that would be too long in returning, either.

Both of them blinked as people around them began to stir, realizing they had missed the ending of the film. Trading a small, secret smile, they gathered their trash and joined the small herd exiting, slowing for the bottleneck at the trash bin. Joining hands, they left the building, casually slipping into the alley before Apparating to Hermione's flat.

"Thanks for the date, Ron. I had a wonderful time," Hermione told him, looking a bit flustered. Her cheeks were pink, and her hair was mussed in random places from his hands.

She looked gorgeous.

"I did, too," he said, stepping closer. "Sorry you didn't get to finish the film."

"The what?" She asked, her face wrinkling in confusion. "Oh! Oh, the-yes, well. It wasn't all that interesting, really."

"No, there were definitely more interesting things going on," he grinned.

"Are you trying to get me to say you were a good snog?" She asked, cocking her hip a bit.

"Weeeeellll, a little positive verbal reinforcement would help my confidence, you know."

She pretended to think about it. "Hmmm. Sorry, but I think I'll need a little more to go on before I pass judgement."

Taking that as an invitation, he leaned down to kiss her, his hands spread against her back to pull her closer. She moaned softly as she stretched up to meet him, her fingers coming to play with the hair that hung over his collar. The kiss lasted several heartbeats, and when he pulled away, he was pleased to see she was as breathless as he felt.

"Well?"

She backed away, smiling mischievously. "It would be irresponsible to come to a conclusion after only two samples. I think it might take several sessions for me to decide."

He thought about going for another one here and now, but decided against it; there was only so far he could stretch the definition of 'taking it slow.'

"Well, you know I'm game for it, so anytime you want to try further experiments..."

Hermione laughed. "You're the one I'll call on. Oh! Before I forget, here are your things!" She said, going over to the sofa to hand him his bags. "We're still meeting at the Burrow tomorrow, right?"

He took the things he had bought earlier in the day, the plastic rings cutting into his hand. "Yeah, that's the plan. I know watching Quidditch won't exactly be your thing, but..."

She rose on her tiptoes to give his chin a quick peck. "But I'll be happy to watch you, even so."

"While sneaking glances at your book."

"Well. Yes. but only small ones."

Ron laughed, and backed away a few steps. "Alright, see you tomorrow then. And Hermione? I really did have a good time today. I hope we can do it-or something else-again, soon."

Hermione smiled back, looking pleased. "I wouldn't mind it becoming a habit, myself. Get some rest, Ron; see you tomorrow."

Knowing he couldn't put it off any longer, he Apparated a few streets away from his flat, wanting a walk in the cool air to work off some of the excitement. It didn't help much, for he practically floated down the street, grinning like a stunned troll. He was so caught up in replaying the evening that he passed the entrance to his building, and had to double back, although the smell as he entered the lobby brought him somewhat to his senses. Ugh. He'd have to do a Charm once he got to his flat...

He climbed the stairs, already deciding that a hot bath and bed were in order. There was something off as he stepped into the hall, but he didn't really notice until he was closer to his door. There, stuck to it, was an envelope. He paused. Who would leave a note like that? He took another step forward. His name was on the envelope, but the handwriting was completely unfamiliar-in fact, it had a distinct form used by someone trying to disguise their writing; large block letters, almost childish. He frowned, setting his bags down and pulling out his wand. Earlier he had felt a flash of the paranoia that sometimes gripped him. This, though, was different. This was a feeling born of experience and training, a gut feeling that he'd learned to listen to. Using the memory of his date with Hermione, he sent his Patronus off with a quick message for Harry; training had drilled it into him you only proceed with backup.

Things had been going pretty brilliantly lately, what with his potion and first steps in therapy. And his date with Hermione...outstanding. But now, now the long awaited shoe was dropping, that price that always came due when anything good happened.

He was in his element, and the cynical part of himself was oddly comforted.