After talking about their relationship and reaching a sort of agreement, Ron expected things to be easier. He was wrong. Now, he had become even more aware of the way he felt about Hermione.

It was so strange to feel things for her and yet to have no memories to back up those feelings. He decided that must explain it; it was the disconnect between his emotions and his brain that caused the awkwardness with Hermione.

He got out of the shower, wrapped the towel around his hips, and got out of the bathroom to get dressed. As soon as he was ready, he went downstairs in search for breakfast.

"Good morning, Hermione," he greeted her when he saw her standing in the kitchen, a cup of tea in her hands.

"Hi," she replied, smiling.

Ron looked around, trying to see if there was anything edible at hand. He didn't want to ask her and appear as if he expected her to cook for him. His stomach made a growling sound, making it painfully obvious how hungry he was.

"So, I have an idea of what we can do today."

"You do?" asked Ron distractedly, still thinking of food. "Is mum coming to make breakfast?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "And to think that in the past couple of years, you had become quite the cook. No, she's not coming."

"I can cook?" Ron asked, trying to decide if he could maybe make breakfast himself.

"Yes, you can. You love eating, so you figured no one better than you to satisfy your appetite. I was happy about that, too," Hermione continued, as she set her cup on the counter. "I can cook, but nothing fancy like you learned to do. And it's always nice to come home to your fiancé making you dinner."

Another sound came from him, even louder this time. Hermione took pity of him. She opened the fridge and took an apple out, handing it to him. Ron stared at the fruit, wondering how to return it to the fridge without looking like an ass.

"You're starving, even more than usual," she said, trying to hide a smile. "Well, you need to recover, so you're lucky we had that apple."

"Lucky?" He asked, looking from the apple to Hermione. She laughed.

"Merlin, Ron, you look despaired! That's just to hold you over for a little while. We're going to your mum's place right now."

Ron let out a sigh of relief. "So, how about you tell me all about your idea as we eat breakfast?"

Soon they had Apparated to The Burrow.

Hermione's plan for the day sounded like fun, in Ron's opinion. She had put together a little trip to Hogwarts for the day, and he was really excited to go and take a look around. Maybe, this time, it would spark some kind of recognition in him.

As soon as they had reached The Burrow, Ron and Hermione had breakfast with Arthur and Molly. Then, they stood by the old oil lamp that would take them to Hogwarts and waited for the Portkey to be ready.

"There are some perks to working in the Ministry," Arthur said. "And in knowing the Headmistress of Hogwarts! Not everyone gets to go there for a visit like this."

"Don't worry if you feel slightly queasy as you travel by Portkey," Molly had added, unable to stop mothering Ron. She started fiddling with his clothes and hair. "It only lasts a few moments and-"

"I'll be fine," Ron interrupted, feeling slightly awkward with all the patting. He was a grown man, after all.

"It's glowing, we should go. See you later!" Hermione announced, and without further to do, Ron echoed her goodbyes and they both took the Portkey to their old school.

The world spun around him for a few moments, but Ron was determined to not feel sick. Still, he was thankful when it stopped, and he found himself in a large, circular office. A multitude of voices started exclaiming at once, most of them coming from the many portraits covering the walls.

"Miss Granger! Mr. Weasley! It's good to see you," a woman told them. She was wearing interesting looking clothes and a pointy hat.

"Hedmistress McGonagall," Hermione said, evidently happy. "We're so thankful that you've made an exception and allowed us to come."

"Welcome, welcome!" one of the portraits was saying.

"Please, feel at home!" another one echoed.

"Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley, it's been a few years since I last saw you," the painting of an old man, with long beard and spectacles, greeted them.

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said. "I'm glad to see you awake."

"Of course we are! We didn't want to miss your visit!"

"Well, well, let them be," McGonagall interrupted before many more portraits could speak. "We're just waiting for- this must be him. Come in," McGonagall exclaimed in answer to a knock at the door.

"Excuse me, Professor McGonagall, you called?"

"Professor Longbottom, yes I did. As you can see, our visitors are here."

"I'm glad to see you," Neville told them as he hugged Hermione. Then he extended a hand towards Ron, which he shook. "Are you doing okay?"

"I am," Ron replied, smiling. "All things considered."

"I hope that your visit today helps you, Mr. Weasley. Mr. Longbottom is going to take care of you while you remain inside Hogwarts. I'll see you at five for your returning Portkey."

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall," Ron said as they left the office.

While Hermione and Neville shared some small talk, Ron tried to pay attention to the castle. He tried to imagine himself there, going to classes and spending time with his friends. He tried to envision a past where the halls they were walking through were full of students, and where him, Harry, and Hermione would try to figure out ways to defeat a villain.

It still felt surreal to him. Not having memories to recall, to not know how you became to be who you are, was challenging in so many ways. As they reached Gryffindor Tower, and Neville and Hermione told him stories of different adventures they had shared there, he wondered if he would ever feel connected to any place again. He wanted to feel like he belonged, like he was indeed the same person they referred to in the recounts of their shared past. He couldn't wait to be himself once more.

They left the tower and visited the Room of Requirement, where the stories of fiendfyre and tiaras sounded like fairytales. It certainly explained why so many of the students they came across stared at them in bewilderment, accentuating his feeling of detachment. Did he really have it in him, to do all those incredible acts of heroism?

They finished the first part of the tour in the Great Hall; it mostly empty since it was the end of lunch hour. There, they sat at the end of one of the tables and shared a meal together.

"I hope we're not taking up much of your time, Neville," Hermione commented as she put some food on her plate. "You must be very busy, now that you're a professor here. How long has it been, a full year now?"

"Yes, I just started my second year here. It's been incredible! But to answer your question, don't worry one bit. I cleared my morning schedule to see you both. Right after lunch I have a couple of classes to teach, so I thought you could visit the Quidditch pitch while I'm busy. I'm sure Ron is going to love it."

"Will I?" Ron asked, curious.

"Oh, yeah, you will," Neville replied between bites. "You were the Keeper for our team back then when we were students."

"Were you two in the team too?"

"No. Neither one of us is very good on a broom."

"You used to love it," Hermione said, wistfully. "You would spend hours practicing, which meant you ignored many of your other assignments in favour of Quidditch practice."

"Did I," said Ron, amused. "Was I a poor student?"

"No," Hermione answered. "But you could have been so much better, if only you had applied yourself."

"Were you a good student, then?" Ron teased her, only to hear a loud snort from Neville.

"The best! She was always top of our class. She was always busy reading or writing something; so much so, that some of our classmates were convinced she was doing yours and Harry's homework as well."

"I never!" Hermione countered, flustered, her food forgotten on her plate. "I mean I did help them, sometimes more than they deserved, but they always had to do most of it."

"Even Ron? We always knew you had a soft spot for him."

Ron looked at Hermione, to see her blushing slightly. He found he really liked seeing when she blushed, and it felt good to know she might have helped him a bit more than she did Harry.

"You don't have to answer," said Neville with a smile. "Did you ever hear about the bet?"

The bet? What bet?!" Hermione asked, slightly scandalized. Ron, on the other side, was feeling more and more amused by the minute.

"It was mostly Seamus and Dean, but there were other Gryffindors involved." He turned to Ron, and added, "The five of us used to share a dormitory, you see. And they both had an ongoing bet about when you two would get together."

"Are you serious?" Hermione asked, slightly put off. "We were never that obvious!"

Neville laughed. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to upset you. I thought you knew."

"But were we obvious?" Ron wanted to know. He was thoroughly enjoying seeing her like this, offended that they had been the target of curious teenagers. It made him think that she really cherished their story, making him wish he knew every detail of how he came to be so lucky to have her fall in love with him.

"I would say that if you spent enough time with you two and didn't guess how much you fancied each other, then you were not observant at all. You spent all your time together, whether Harry was there or not. But most of all it was the bickering and the jealousy. You should have seen Seamus imitate you two!"

"I can't believe what I'm hearing," Hermione complained.

"If you ask me," Ron said, "I'm just glad not to be the only one hearing this story for the first time, this once at least."

She smiled at him, resting her hand on his knee. "I'm sorry I reacted this way. I still get upset when people tell us we should have gotten together sooner. Our story may not be perfect, but it's ours and I wouldn't change any of it."

Seeing Hermione so proud of how relationship had evolved erased all sense of amusement in the story. He suddenly felt melancholic for the lives they used to have, and that he didn't know anymore. He fervently wished he could turn back the time, and somehow prevent whatever had erased his memories.

"Not even the past year? Wouldn't you want to change it?" Ron asked, unable to stop himself. "I would."

"I'm sorry," Neville said, serious now as well. "I didn't mean to cause this."

"It's alright, Neville, really. I know you meant well."

"Why don't we go to the Quidditch pitch," Ron suggested, wanting to do something that would make him feel better. "Let's take a walk and talk some more. I'm sure Neville doesn't mind."

"Actually, it works well for me, too. I have to go now. See you guys later!"

"See you," both Hermione and Ron replied, as they all got up and went their own ways.

"Poor Neville," Ron commented, still feeling nostalgic. "I think he didn't expect the conversation to go that way."

"Yes, I know. It's alright, I'll talk to him later."

They came out of the castle and started to walk towards the field.

"Were we that bad, though?"

Not that bad, I don't think. We were teenagers and we had a lot of maturing to do. We made mistakes. We spent a lot of time trying to make each other jealous and doubting ourselves, so that we never really talked about how we felt."

"But we got together, eventually." Ron looked at her, noticing the way the breeze was messing her hair. He would have loved to reach out and tuck her hair behind her ear. He almost did, but he still felt shy about initiating any kind of contact after his failed attempt to kiss her.

"We did. It was the night of the final battle, here in Hogwarts."

"Here?" Ron asked, turning to look at the castle behind them with new eyes.

"Yes. You wanted to warn the House-elves and tell them to escape," she answered and then laughed. "Looking back, it doesn't sound all that romantic. But when you mentioned the elves, I just had to kiss you. It showed me that what had once been important only to me was now important to you, too. You listened to me, and that, added to not knowing whether we were going to survive or not..." She sighed. "Well, I just... had to kiss you, if only once."

"I must have been pretty clueless, then. If all I had to do was listen to you, then how come I didn't get you to kiss me sooner?" Ron shook his head. "Please tell me I got better."

"We both got better," Hermione replied, "I wasn't perfect, either. We've been through so much, and we have been together for five years now. There's been many fights, and conversations, and a lot of learning from both of us. We still fight, and we still bicker, but it's a lot easier. The learning curve has been steep, but I think we're both better people for it."

They reached the Quidditch pitch, and Ron looked at it in amazement.

"I wish I remembered, Hermione. I want to remember everything; how we got together and everything that happened before and after that. I want to know all those things, and also all the small, simple details, like how much I fancy this game. George was telling me all about it the other day."

"Do you want to fly?"

"Do you think I can?"

"We won't know until we try," she countered, a glint in her eye. "Let's see if we can find a broom." They checked the locker rooms for stray brooms. They were about to lose hope, when a group of students walked in.

It was pretty easy to convince them to lend Ron a broom. The student who lent them the broom were slightly star struck, having heard all about Harry Potter's friends. Ron and Hermione found the whole situation hilarious, and had fun despite all the attention.

Ron enjoyed himself thoroughly. The feel of the wind on his face was rejuvenating, and the acrobatics he was soon able to do were exhilarating. He even got Hermione to fly with him, giving him the opportunity to enjoy the feel of her close to him.

It was the closest they had been since he had been back. He could feel the shape of her as he held her in place, and even though she had tied her hair in a knot, lose strands kept tickling his nose. He inhaled deeply to feel her smell again, and this time, it was like a punch to the stomach. It was the same smell he had felt the very first morning he was back, and the same smell that had reminded him of home.

He was still thinking of this revelation as they walked back to the castle to meet Neville and head back to McGonagall's office. When he had woken up that first day back, it had been her scent that had welcomed him. It wasn't only the certainty that he knew and loved that smell, but the realisation that if he had felt it at all was because it was supposed to be Hermione's bed as well. Only that she hadn't been sharing it with him the past few nights.

"Hermione?" He asked. "I can't believe I only noticed this now, but... I've been sleeping in our room."

"Uhm... yes?" Hermione answered, not knowing what Ron meant.

"Where have you been sleeping, then?"

"Oh," she said, getting a little shy. " Uhm, well... on the sofa."

"The sofa?!"

"Yes," she replied, this time her voice steeling. She was getting ready to defend her choices.

"Why on Merlin's beard would you sleep on the sofa?"

"Hi, guys! Are you ready to go?" Neville asked, a dubious look on his face. He had notice they were arguing.

"Yes, Neville, thank you," Hermione said, ignoring Ron.

"But... No, that's unfair. If anything, I should be the one sleeping on the sofa." "You need your rest more than I do."

"This time, the Portkey will take you directly to your place," Neville added, slightly uncomfortable to be witnessing what was obviously a domestic discussion.

"That's balmy. I'll sleep on the sofa tonight."

"We'll talk more when we get home," Hermione tried to stop the conversation.

"Thanks for everything, Neville."

"No problem. Professor McGonagall had a sudden responsibility to attend to. She's sorry she can't say goodbye, and wishes the very best for your recovery, Ron."

"Hermione, don't think I'll let the issue rest. I feel like a git that I hadn't noticed until now."

"Tell Headmistress McGonagall we're very thankful, Neville, please."

"I will," he replied as they reached the office. "She said she'll let you know if the Professor Against the Dark Arts finds anything that might be of help for your research."

"Research? What research? Hermione, we really need to talk,"

"We will, Ron, now will you calm down?"

"It's glowing!" Neville announced.

Frustrated, Ron stared at Hermione as if that would get his point across. He held the Portkey alongside Hermione, ready to jump into an argument as soon as they arrive home.

But everything he had wanted to say died in his throat once they got home and found it had been wrecked.

A/N: Thanks to Pili for her thoughtful, accurate beta work, as always. Thanks also to musingmarauder for pointing out a mistake I made in ch. 8 - Will correct it a.s.a.p.!