Ron looked around the main section of the store, admiring the products in their perfect boxes. There still wasn't as much inventory on the shelves as he would have liked, but they were getting a big delivery later that day that should fix that problem. Satisfied, he walked back to the office, sitting at the desk in order to keep on filing documents, getting paperwork ready, and generally preparing for the grand opening.

He sighed. Things were slightly crazy. Harry and Ginny would arrive any time now, to help with... well, with anything and everything. Heading a business was a lot of work, and expectations were running high. They had paid for publicity on that morning's newspaper, and there already had been three people coming into the shop thinking it was open. Ron hadn't been fooled, though, they truly just wanted a peek at the store to gossip about with their friends. It didn't matter that Ron had set a big sign outside stating the grand opening date in bold letters; big golden prints in a happy Friday June 19th, 16:00 hrs - You Are All Invited!, the curiosity was bigger than the font. He wasn't going to complain, though. The more people wondered, the more they would fill every available square meter as soon as they opened the door.

Still, after the second intruder, Ron had added a sign right at eye level on the main door, requesting that only product delivery people come in. He would have fully closed the door, or put a spell of some kind on it, but he wanted people to see activity in the store. He thought it would get people even more excited.

Absentmindedly, he reached for that day's Prophet to check on the insert, which should be on the third page. He quickly skimmed the headlines, out of habit more than anything, except that something got his eye. Down in the corner, where one would usually find the tabloid section highlights, he saw his name.

Rather, his last name.

Weasleys reopening trick shop.

Then, in smaller print, a subheading. How soon is too soon?

Instantly fuming, Ron opened the newspaper to the right page, found the article, and read.

In less than three minutes, he remembered exactly how horrid these columns could be. There had barely been any mention of Harry and his family for weeks, only small, innocent notes here and there. They had thought that maybe they would be fine, and that the papers had decided to give them respectful space. They had been wrong.

The note on today's edition implied that his family was thirsty for galleons, so that they had decided not to wait before reopening the family business. They questioned whether Harry had invested money in it, too, since a source had confirmed he was going to become an Auror and was evidently looking to set himself for the future by getting in as many positions of power as he could.

Ron quickly rolled up the newspaper and threw it to the garbage. They had taken two facts and woven a story full of misleading implications. And there was nothing he could do about it.

He tapped his fingers on the desk's wooden surface, hoping the movement would somehow release some of his annoyance. Kingsley had tried to warn them, and his deep voice echoed in his head again now, advising him to let it go. To make himself feel better, he tried to concentrate on how the business might be affected by it, and finally decided that it probably was a sort of publicity. As long as the people he cared about knew the truth, and as long as it didn't affect anybody at their work, he supposed he could try to ignore it this time. He hoped things like that wouldn't happen too often; he didn't know if he would be able to simply learn to live with it, adapt to a life where people talked about you with maliciousness like that.

I told you, he imagined Harry saying, and Ron smirked. The git.

Well, what really mattered now was George. He hoped he hadn't seen the article. Ron had a feeling it would have made him take a couple of steps back in his recovery.

He had come to visit the shop that morning. He hadn't been there much yet, and had mostly sat with Ron for a while each day planning the reopening. In the beginning it had taken a lot of coercing; at times George got really mad at Ron and, at others, he simply responded in monosyllables as if talking was too big an effort for him. Yet Ron didn't give up; he kept on trying to get George to participate and have a say in organizing the new Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

The first time George had actually come to the store had been a hard time. Harry, Ginny, and Ron had been there, and had tried their best to support him. It had been better the second time, and better the third-that morning. George wasn't sure yet if he wanted to be there on Friday; he was afraid that the amount of people and the noise might be too much for him. Still, Ron was optimistic. If he got George to come to the store at least once a day once they were full on running, he would consider it a success.

A bell sounded above his head, announcing someone had opened the front door. Harry and Ginny would have Apparated directly to the flat above, so it couldn't be them. He quickly checked the time, and as it was too early for the product delivery, he realised it must be another person that thought the shop was open. With a sigh, he got up and went out of the office.

"Hello?" He called, scanning the place for someone.

And then he saw her.

"Hi, Ron," Hermione said.

It took him several moments and two forced swallows to believe his eyes. Could it be, that it really was her? His eyes soaked in her presence, like the first ray of sunlight after the longest winter night. She was standing close to the door, looking as scared as he felt, her interlocked hands hanging in front of her. Her hair was short, her eyes full of doubt, and even at a distance he could see her biting the inside of her lips.

Ron wasn't sure if his heart was still beating, or if what he was seeing was real. He felt himself getting slightly dizzy, desperately wanting to run to her, to hug her, to feel the volume of her body against his; to collect evidence that she was truly there, in the same room as him. Yet he didn't know if he was allowed to do it, and did nothing. He just leaned and held onto the standing display next to him, trying to regain his balance, almost deaf by the buzzing in his ears. He tried to smile, but his lips didn't do much better than quiver a little.

"I… I read the sign asking not to come in, of course, but I hope you don't mind?" she started talking, gaining speed with each word as she continued. "I saw a light through the window and thought that maybe someone would be here, I didn't know it would be you. I am glad it's you, though! I wasn't sure I should come in; I didn't know if I was welcome, what with the sign on the door and all. But then, maybe I was, and what if you knew I had been right next door and chose not to come in? I wouldn't want you to get the wrong impression! So I decided to try and see who was here, I have missed everyone so much!"

She went suddenly quiet, as if regretting talking so much. She pursed her lips, and then said, "sorry about that. I'm nervous," she finished with a small smile.

Ron let go of the stand and slowly walked to her, still only half-believing she was there in front of him. He stopped before an imaginary line, right where he would have intruded her personal space, and took a good look at her again: the curve of her cheek, a sharp clavicle, the line of her shoulder.

"You are one of my best friends and my family loves you," he heard himself say, locking his eyes with hers again, his voice lower and more unsure than he would have liked. "Of course you're welcome!"

"Oh, Ron!"

Hermione's arms were suddenly around his neck, and Ron bent to hug her back with almost despair, insanely grateful for it, needing to reinforce her presence to him. One of his hands went around her waist, pulling her close, and the other got tangled in her hair. He inhaled deeply, trying to catch its scent. Having the mass of her body between his arms, so close to him, was everything he needed to be sure that she was here, she was fine, and she was with him.

A noise came from the back of the shop, prompting them to let go of each other. The front of his body felt too cold now that she was no longer pressed close to him. "That'll be Harry and Ginny," he explained, his voice slightly coarse. "They'll-"

A high-pitched, happy scream silenced him, and he saw a blur of red hair running past him and enveloping Hermione in a tight hug. "They'll be thrilled to see you," Ron unnecessarily finished.

"Hermione! I can't believe it!" Harry was exclaiming, hugging her quickly and then affectionately rubbing and patting Hermione's back.

"When did you get here?" Ginny asked, hugging her again. "Why didn't you say you were coming? Your hair looks lovely like that!"

Ron looked again at Hermione, unable to get enough of her. His eyes traveled down the curve of her neck, now exposed thanks to her short hair. Her face was alight with joy. He didn't realise he was suddenly smiling himself.

"I got back here only a few hours ago. I was going to owl you all tomorrow morning. I just had to come get a new wand; I was on my way back home when I saw the light and decided to see if anyone was here."

"I'm so glad you did," Ginny continued. "We have missed you! Tell me, what are your plans for this evening?"

"Oh, I really should get back home. I need to get it back in working order, and I should start cleaning up if I have the energy for it. I'm so tired from the travelling. Australia is just so far away! And I don't want to impose, really..."

"Nonsense," Ginny declared, "though I get you're tired. Tell you what. We do have stuff to do here, but we can come tomorrow to your house and help you clean. We're experts at it now, after dealing with the Burrow and the shop. Then you can come with us back home, we're having family dinner to celebrate the reopening of the shop. You should join us."

"I'm not sure..."

"C'mon, Hermione!" Harry interjected. "I will be there, and so should you, now that you're back in England. Besides, there's this one ginger that can't wait to show you his love," he said mischievously.

Both Ron and Hermione looked at him, slightly panicked.

"Crookshanks has missed you a lot!" He finished, smirking, and Ginny slapped his arm while laughing alongside him.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione exclaimed, as she thought of her pet. "He's alright, then?"

"He is! He'll be ecstatic to see you. Everybody will," Ginny insisted.

"All right, then, if you think it's okay, I will go with you. I'll see you all tomorrow morning."

They all said bye, and watched Hermione slowly turn and close the door behind her.

Instantly, Ginny and Harry turned to Ron, expectant and intruding.

"What?" He asked, slightly affronted, not knowing how to react to their looks.

Ginny shook her head and walked away with a sigh. Harry followed, patting him on the back a few times before disappearing into the warehouse.

Ron stayed where he was, his face slowly setting into a gesture that made him look very much like he had been Confunded. He turned back to looking at the main door, closed now that Hermione had gone home.

To her home here in England.

She was back.

Yet he didn't know what that meant for them.

"Fuck," he whispered.

Now what?

"Ron! Wake up!" Ginny exclaimed as she opened the door to his room. "You have a date!"

Groaning and without even attempting to open his eyes, Ron took his pillow and covered his face.

"C'mon, get up!" she insisted, her voice telling him she was standing next to his bed. "We have lots to do. You don't want to disappoint Hermione, do you?"

He lifted the pillow from his face, but didn't open his eyes. "Stop it, Ginny," he said grumpily.

"What's that?" she asked, faking annoyance. "Don't tell me you're in a bad mood already? I thought you would be all smiles today, now that Hermione's back!"

He sat up in bed and gave her a serious look. "Don't. Stop."

"Hey, what happened?" she seemed genuinely concerned now.

"Nothing. Leave it be," he evaded.

She huffed. "Suit yourself. I'll be downstairs making some food to take to Hermione's. Then we'll leave. You better be ready," she said, and left his room.

He tried to be mad at her, but knew it to be unfair. He was mad at himself, really.

For some reason, he had thought that he would finally have a decent night's rest. Yet he had had the usual problems falling asleep, and as the hours went by, he had managed to turn everything that had been good about the world into a series of questions and doubts, all of which had plagued him until well into the night.

Yes, Hermione was back, but did that really mean anything? She had gone away in the first place, and had stayed away and unreachable for one and a half months. Had she even thought about him? How could he know whether she felt for him the same way he still felt about her?

He kept going back to the precious five minutes they had been together the day before. He spent half the night carefully dissecting each word, each gesture, trying to figure out if anything could be an indication about her feelings. By the time he was actually falling asleep, he had decided he had no way to know. His mood was so low, that he had been sure she probably didn't care for him that way. She had treated him in exactly the same way she had treated Harry and Ginny, so why would he think she thought of him in any special way?

He finally got up from his bed and walked to the closet. He moved some of his clothes away, to find the book he had hidden there in what seemed like ages ago. A book that once had given him directions on how to get Hermione to notice him the way he wanted; a book that had given him the confidence to try to make her fall in love with him.

Yet he still doubted. He had been hurt when she had left, right after he had offered to help her with her parents, knowing she wouldn't be able to come back in a while. And he had needed her. He felt bad that it made him angry to know she hadn't chosen him, when the alternative had been to postpone her parents, living with the guilt of it. He couldn't help it, though, he felt like he didn't matter to her when he thought of it.

So yes, he was hurt. It almost made him wish he could forget how his body and mind had reacted at the sight of her, like learning a new spell and feeling a brand new kind of magic running through your veins; like everything was finally going to be alright. He almost wanted to feel differently, but it had felt too good to really want it gone. And he knew it had happened because he still loved her, and he would never want to stop loving her, if only because he knew he never could.

He put the book back in its hiding place and reached for jeans and a faded shirt. He changed clothes quickly, his mind still running fast, trying to solve the puzzle of all his conflicted feelings. He was hurt, yet he longed for her. He was mad, at her and about her. Yet none of that was as infuriating as the nagging doubt of what to do about it, when he didn't know how she actually felt about him.

Hermione woke up with an extremely faint memory of something waking her up that was still ringing in the air, and with a headache that she immediately blamed on the sleeping pills she had tried for the first time the day before. The change in time zones had made it even more difficult to fall asleep, and she had thought that medicated sleep might help her fix her circadian rhythm. Perhaps it had helped, glancing at her alarm clock and seeing she had slept for nearly twelve hours. Still, she made a note of not taking them if she could avoid them.

Wait... twelve hours? She checked her clock again as she sat up in bed, slightly panicked. It was almost eleven in the morning! She had to get up before-

A knock on the door.

Too late, she thought as she opened her bedroom door and ran down the stairs straight to the main door. She quickly checked through the peephole and, seeing her friends, she opened the door to greet them. "Hi! Sorry, I slept in," she apologized. "I'm so jet lagged! Come on in!"

She saw the three of them come in, smiling back at Harry and Ginny, a smile that faltered when she saw Ron frowning. Her stomach fell to the floor, but she tried not to pay attention to it. Instead, she asked, "is everything alright?"

"How do you know it's really us?" Ron asked in return, his lips closing into a pressed line.

"Oh..." she quickly realised what he was implying, and was annoyed that he thought her so careless. "I put up wards around the house last night, one of which was to lift any disguising spells. You still look like you so I think we're fine."

He grumbled something and looked up at her. She had time to see him start in surprise but not to ask him why, before Ginny distracted her. "Don't mind him, Hermione. He's a bit pissy. But, hey, wow," she exclaimed, "your house is beautiful!"

"Yeah, Hermione," Harry added in agreement, "I hadn't been here before, it looks so... polished! Dusty, but nice."

Hermione laughed a nervous laugh. It somehow made her uncomfortable that they were so evidently admiring the place she had grown up in. "Oh, it's not that amazing. My parents have a good eye for this sort of thing, it's all."

"Talking about that, where are your parents?" Harry asked, looking around once more.

"In Australia," she said. She saw all three of her friends look at her in shock, and she couldn't help but laugh at their expression. "Sorry, I understand why that would be surprising. Why don't you all go to the kitchen? It's back there," she gestured. "Let me go change and I'll come back, then we can quickly go out and get something to eat before we clean up the place. I'll explain everything then."

Harry lifted a bag and gave her a smile. "No worries. We've got food!"

"Alright, then, be right back!"

Hermione turned around and went up the stairs in record time, hurrying to get changed before going back to her friends. She closed her door and opened the suitcase she had left on the floor the day before, deciding quickly on jeans and a nicely patterned mint-green shirt. She was suddenly thankful of all the shopping her mum had forced her to do; if nothing else, she hoped it made her look a little better than what they had seen as she had opened the door. She removed her shirt, which honestly looked quite rat-

"Oh, no," Hermione gasped, realising she was wearing Ron's clothes as pajamas, her hands clutching the old shirt to her naked torso.

He had noticed, she was sure of it. That would explain his startle. What would he think about it? Should she mention it at all, try to explain why she had been wearing his shirt?

After a moment of consideration and nerves, she decided it would be too awkward to say anything. She'd better try not think about it, and hope he didn't bring up. As for Harry and Ginny, chances were they didn't notice, right? The clothes were so old and looked so different on her that they probably didn't even realise. Determined to not let it make her feel embarrassed, she reached for her comb, tried to put her hair under submission with a few pins, and ran back down the stairs.

She found them in the kitchen as expected, and was amused at Ginny inspecting the coffee machine. "So this makes coffee?"

"Not any kind of coffee, but espresso," Hermione replied with a smile.

"Fancy," Harry said, being the only one who truly understood what it meant."So you take after your dad, after all?" he added, teasing Ginny.

"Well, I can't help it, can I? I was trying to think, and I can't recall ever being in a Muggle house before."

"Should we eat?" Hermione asked, suddenly noticing she was extremely hungry, as she hadn't eaten the evening before.

They all sat around the kitchen table and reached for the sandwiches.

"So what happened?" Ron asked, and it seemed to her like he was trying not to sound too curious. "How come your parents are still in Australia? I thought that was the whole point of you leaving so quickly," he added, frowning at his sandwich. She didn't know how to interpret his grumpiness, and knew she would think about it non-stop whenever she had the time. Right now, though, the conversation was going too quick for her to stop and consider the many possibilities of why Ron seemed to be upset.

"You did find your parents, didn't you?" Harry was asking, concerned. It effectively distracted her, for it made her realise what it meant.

"Wait," she interrupted, "you haven't gotten any of my letters yet?"

She looked at Ron, who had whipped his head up to return her searching look. She tried to catch any sign that he had received anything, if only just two or so of her letters. He seemed genuinely confused, though, indicating he hadn't. Oh, she thought, looking down back to her half-eaten sandwich, feeling utterly desolated.

"You wrote?" He whispered.

"Yes. I sent several letters. At least two of them should have arrived by now, I would have thought!" She complained, her heart heavy with the realisation Ron had not gotten one single letter from her yet.

"That's weird," Ginny said. "We have had no issues with missing letters, that we know of. All owls have come to the Burrow no problems-"

"I didn't send them the magical way," Hermione explained, saddened and concerned. "I had to use the Muggle postal service."

"The Muggle Post? Well, that explains it," Harry commented through a mouthful of food. "But why?"

"Because they closed the borders to anything magical," she explained, chancing a look at Ron again. He was intently focused on her. "I tried to go through the Ministries, but they couldn't do it. I had no other option," she insisted, wanting them all to understand. Specially Ron, but Harry and Ginny, too.

"It's been more than a month since I sent the first one, though," she continued. "Shouldn't they have arrived?"

"Well, I don't know how often we get sent Muggle mail. I don't know exactly how it works. Do you?" Ginny asked Ron. He nodded his head no. "We'll look into it, then," she assured her.

"Your parents, though," Harry said, changing the topic. "I still don't get why they're still in Australia, if you did find them."

"Oh, well..." she hesitated, not knowing how to begin nor how much to say. "I did find them, and they are coming back, just not now. They had made a commitment to teach a dentistry course; they're going to do a full term and then return to England. Things were not easy between us, but they should be back before Christmas," she mentioned in what she hoped was a casual tone.

"Alright," Ginny said, getting up from the table and wiping her mouth with a napkin. "We better get going. We can't be late for tonight's dinner. We'll ask mum and dad about how we get any Muggle mail delivered to our home, but now it's cleaning time!" she exclaimed as she held her wand in her hand and gestured a definite flourish.

Harry followed Ginny, leaving Ron and Hermione to clean up the food. Yet she didn't stand up yet, nor did he.

"Did they understand?" Ron softly asked, almost as if in spite of himself. The sudden concern in his voice almost made her cry, but she managed to hold it in.

"No, not really," she whispered back. "Things were very bad for a while."

Silence grew between them. Hermione found herself unsure of how much to say, knowing that all details were in the letters he would soon be reading. He would suddenly know almost every detail of how things had been for her, how much she had thought about him, and exactly how she felt about it all and about him. It was a scary thought. She still didn't know how to interpret his mood today, and didn't know whether it meant anything for their future.

"I wish we had gotten your letters, Hermione. I'll look into that," he said in the same tone of voice as before, his words eerily echoing her own line of thinking.

"If it helps to find them," she found herself saying, and went on before she lost all her nerve, "they were all addressed to you."

They held each other's look for a moment, the air itself vibrating with unspoken questions. Yet she didn't push it and simply focused on the small spark that had appeared behind Ron's eyes. She realised it had been the right thing to say, and it gave her hope for their future. She now knew all questions would be answered. They had time, after all.

AN: So there you have it! Several of you asked me or commented on when the heck was I going to make this happen? All I told you was I wasn't going to give you spoilers-and I hope you think the wait was worth it and you enjoyed this chapter! Gaaaah, I'm nervous to know your reaction!

I want to thanks all my readers, and do a little cheerleading thankful dance for all those who take the time to review. Picture me dancing with pompoms for a moment… or not. It's just that each one of them make me so happy! When I look back at my older stories I cringe at certain choices or what now I think of as mistakes in my writing, but I like to think they've helped me learn how to be a better writer. I'm using all of that in this story, the creativity and the time and the dedication, and to know you guys are enjoying it makes it all the better. Each review makes me want to post a new chapter right away, just to make you happy, lol! And I would, only that my productivity can't keep up with that kind of frequency…

A special shout out to annabellemelishphoto on Tumblr for helping me with the britpicking, and to Notsing who guessed part of what was going to happen ;)