Title: An Understandable Type
Author: smolder
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Angel the Series belongs to Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt. Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling.
A/N: These drabbles won't always be in strict chronological order.
A/N 2: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

Ron slammed open the door of her study and Hermione startled, making a line across her notes.

"What is it, Ron?" she asked her voice teetering between worry and annoyance.

"Krum has retired!" he proclaimed, wide-eyed shaking the sports section at her.

She simply stared at him, waiting to see if there was more before sighing, shaking her head and flipping her pencil over to erase the messed up area – happy that she hadn't been using ink.

"Hermione, didn't you hear me?" her husband asked sounding much to hyper for a man of his age.

"Yes, yes," she said not looking up. "Victor's retiring – about time. He's been considering it for a while now. And you know if he wants to spend more time with Susan, he has to go to her. She is not scooting from that castle."

There was a long silence and she finally looked up again unsure if he had left, but he was just staring at her.

"Did Susan tell you all of this?" he asked in an odd voice.

"No, Victor did," Hermione said studying him carefully. She was unsure as to what this was about. Was he upset that she hadn't let him know about Quidditch things she was told about before they hit the news? But she did know that the tone of this conversation had definitely changed.

"Oh, of course," Ron said in an overly casual voice. "Because you still write each other and everything."

And then it hit her that Ron was jealous. That the fact that Victor and her Owled on occasion, and he hadn't been aware of it this time at least, made him jealous.

Even after two fully grown kids and almost twenty years of marriage now, a single letter from a man who she barely dated for a few months (if you were being generous) had the power to turn him back into the awkward teenager who couldn't tell her the he liked her.

Could turn them both back into teenagers apparently, because certainly she shouldn't be feeling this pleased that she could still make him jealous (without trying) at the age she was now.

"Yes," she responded after a long pause busying herself straightening up the papers in front of her until the blush had faded from her cheeks. Then she got up out of her chair and approached her husband.

Slowly she wrapped her arms around his neck and he instantly put his around her waist, pulling her against him and heedlessly crushing the newspaper that was still in his hand.

Hermione smiled as she heard the paper crinkle and she looked up at her husband, running a hand through the back of his hair – loving the way his eyes closed in contentment at her touch. "There has never been anyone else," she assured him quietly.

Ron's eyes snapped open. "Hermione-," he started.

"Shhh...," she interrupted him. "Victor is a friend. I think I'm one of the few people he considers someone he can talk frankly to without them assuming he has to be a certain way. I am so glad he has found Susan, I don't know why I didn't think of trying to set up the two of them myself before. But," she smiled shaking her head slightly, "there is no reason for you to worry - I'm still rather ridiculously in love with you. I don't think I've ever stopped."

He stared at her for a moment before abruptly squeezing her tighter and burying his head in her neck. Hermione gave a slight inelegant squeak of surprise and he chuckled against her.

"Merlin, Hermione," he mumbled and she could feel the movements of his lips against her neck. He pulled away and smiled down at her, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear – his fingers seemed to burn. She suddenly felt very warm under his stare.

"What are you thinking, Ron?" she whispered looking at him through her eyelashes.

Her husband chuckled before answering. "I was thinking about Krum again actually."

She raised her eyebrow.

Ron's lips twitched at her implication before he continued. "It's just I can't fault the man his type – first you, now Susan."

He leaned down and whispered against her lips, "After all, smart girls are fucking hot."