A/N: Time jump!

"Harry, love, breakfast is ready!" Ginny called through the house.

"Be there in a moment!" Harry called back.

Ginny slid a fried egg onto Harry's plate, next to his toast, just as her raven-haired husband emerged around the kitchen door, still doing up the buttons on his shirt.

"You're very Muggle today," Ginny remarked.

"Mmhmm. Robards has Davidson and I following up on a report from a wizard in Manchester, in a muggle area, so we have to look the part. By the way, have you seen my black tie? It wasn't in the closet."

Ginny thought for a moment.

"I think it may be on the side table in the den. I seem to think it was on the floor and I picked it up, but it never quite made it back to the closet."

"How'd it get on the floor in the den?" Harry asked with a puzzled look as he sat in his usual seat.

"Well, if I recall," Ginny replied with a smirk as she sauntered over to his seat at the table, "the last time you wore that particular tie was also the time I made that excellent shot at practice and was promoted from Third Reserve Chaser to Second Reserve Chaser. I seem to remember a lot of celebration, and not a lot of caring where certain items ended up."

"That would explain it then," Harry remarked as he swiped his toast through the runny yolk on his plate. He glanced at the clock on the counter.

"You'd better go. Practice starts in a few minutes," he told his wife.

Ginny leaned down to give him a kiss. She'd meant it to be a quick kiss goodbye, but Harry clearly had other intentions. He placed his hand on the back of her neck and drew her in deeper.

"Maybe we can find something else to celebrate, later," he said in a low voice as he slowly released her from their embrace.

Ginny smiled at him coyly.

"Mmmmm. I like that idea," she replied before straightening up, her eyes glittering with mischief. "Except that we promised Mum we'd be over tonight to do invitations for the wedding." Ginny patted him on the head and laughed as his face fell.

"Bloody wedding," he muttered insincerely as she stepped back, eliciting an even heartier laugh as she turned on the spot and popped out of their kitchen.

Ginny was still laughing when she appeared in the lobby of their training house only half a second later. Life with Harry was particularly cheery these days. Bill had taken them around to all their houses shortly after Christmas, and they'd decided to move into a quaint little cottage they owned in Northern Wales. They'd briefly considered Grimmauld Place, as it was now clean, airy, and ready to go from where they'd fixed it up for the Grangers, who were planning to move into their new home sometime before the end of January, but neither Harry nor Ginny was keen on living in the middle of the bustling city. The place still held a few too many unpleasant memories for Harry, anyway, despite its radically different appearance. The cottage put them in mind of a sturdier version of the Burrow, which meant it immediately felt like home, so they chose it. It took them a couple months to make the place ready, as it was rather outdated and hadn't been lived in in a very long time, but by the end of February, they were happily living in their own home.

At first, they'd been over to the Burrow nearly every night for dinner and fellowship, but as time went on, they started enjoying the times when it was just the two of them. They developed a system. Ginny would make breakfast in the morning, and Harry would clean up, since he didn't have to be at work until thirty minutes later than Ginny did. Then, when they got home from work, her from Holyhead, and him from London, they'd cook dinner together. Ginny had learned a lot just from watching her Mum and helping in the kitchen, and Harry knew his way around a stove from living with the Dursley's, though Ginny did often have to remind him that some things were easier with magic. And despite their collective distaste for potion making, they were both quite adept at reading and following recipes.

Of course, there were still those nights when something would go wrong, and they'd end up back at the Burrow. Like a couple weeks ago, when they'd gotten a bit...distracted while they were cooking and managed to burn not one, but two separate attempts at dinner. They popped into the Burrow's front yard just as her mum was setting the table. She looked at them knowingly, causing a blush to rise on Ginny's cheeks, and Harry to say something about running off to find Ron, before she turned around with a grin and pulled two more plates from the cupboard.

Ginny found she rather enjoyed her newfound privacy, and she knew Harry did, too. It was a first for both of them. There was just something incredible about being able to walk from the bathroom to the bedroom wrapped only in a towel without having to worry about a brother walking by and making a snide comment. Not that Harry never commented, but his remarks were rather more appreciative than her brothers' had ever been.

They hadn't "fallen into bed with each other," as they say, immediately after moving in. Not the first night, or the second night, or even the first couple weeks. But, with their bond strengthening as they spent more and more time together, it was inevitable that they would take that final step, especially given that Harry was no longer bound by his misgivings about being under her parents' roof. And, to Ginny's delight, he finally proved that there was one area of his life where he was not, in fact, disgustingly noble, given that he didn't put up nearly as much fight as she expected him to when it finally did happen. Especially after the first time. Ginny was very much looking forward to Hermione's visit over the Easter Holiday. She had so many things she needed to talk about with her best girl friend.

When things between Harry and Ginny began to escalate and it was clear to her that they weren't going to be waiting much longer, she'd gone to the only other woman she knew who could offer advice: Fleur. She was wonderfully informative about all sorts of things Ginny had never considered, and the redhead spent an inordinate amount of time blushing furiously. Of course, when Ginny asked about the best form of contraception, the spell or the potion, Fleur had thrown her head back in laughter, gestured at her rounded belly, and said she was probably not the best person to ask.

Bill and Fleur had announced their pregnancy at Christmas, which brought a much-needed lightness to combat the heaviness of Fred's conspicuous absence, and George's uneasy peace with the Potters. The sullen twin even cracked a genuine smile. Bill and Fleur had chosen not to find out the sex of their baby, but they knew the newest Weasley would be born sometime around the middle of May. That was now just a bit over a month away.

Harry and Ginny had planned their wedding for the end of April, but then the Harpies had made the tournament playoffs and Ginny's season was extended through June. Not wanting to complicate the already busy season of both their birthdays, or overlap with Bill and Fleur's anniversary, they chose to push their wedding all the way to the end of August. They'd be officially re-tying the knot in a not-so-small ceremony on August 28th in the garden of their new home.

Molly had, of course, wanted to have the ceremony at the Burrow, but Harry and Ginny were anxious to show off their home to all their friends, and their back garden was just as remote and secluded as the one at the Burrow, so it made sense to have it at their house. Harry had been a little concerned about security, but Ginny had laughed and reminded him that almost the entirety of Dumbledore's Army, most of the remaining Order of the Phoenix, and a sizeable chunk of the Auror department were all on the guest list, not to mention the formidable Weasley family, and an all-women Quidditch team renowned for its ferocity on and off the pitch. Their back garden would probably be the most well-guarded place that day.

Plus, Bill, Fleur, and Hermione had all agreed to double-check the wards before allowing anyone onto the grounds. That, more than anything, Ginny suspected, had put her husband's mind at ease.

Unfortunately, because of Harry's celebrity status and Ginny's role on a professional Quidditch team, they had once again become the center of Rita Skeeter's attention, as well as several of the gossip columnists and some reporters from Witch Weekly. They'd even found their names in more than a few foreign papers, too. Their wedding was being touted as the Wedding of the Century, despite the fact that, legally, they were already wed and the whole ceremony was just for show...and because Ginny wanted it. The ceremony wouldn't make them any more husband and wife than they already were, but the girlish part of Ginny that she rarely let out was too giddy about having the wedding of her dreams with the wizard of her dreams to just call it off. So, reluctantly, and with Percy's help and advice, they sent out a small number of limited-access press invitations to the wedding. Rita Skeeter was not on the list.

Still chuckling over the disappointed look on Harry's face and tracing her Serch Bythol mischievously, knowing he'd be cursing her good-naturedly as he was beginning the breakfast clean up, she walked into the locker room.

"Oi, girls! Potter's got that look on her face again," one of her teammates called out to the room with a smile.

"Did you and Harry have a pleasant morning, this morning?" another girl teased. "I noticed you're a bit later than usual coming in, today. Anything you'd like to share with the class?"

Since day one, they'd assumed Ginny and Harry were sleeping together. After all, they said, who would be married to Harry Potter and not be warming his sheets? Despite growing up with older brothers who loved to make bawdy jokes, she often felt her face flaming at their innuendos those first several months. Since their relationship had shifted, though, she felt almost proud. Besides that, it was a form of acceptance with these women, and Ginny was glad to know they'd taken to her so quickly.

"No, thank you, Marcie. I never kiss and tell," Ginny replied cheekily.

She opened her locker door and began pulling off her regular clothes and donning her practice gear. She'd been nervous at first, changing in a room full of older, stronger women, especially after one of the girls asked about her tattoo. She told them it was just something she'd seen somewhere and thought looked cool, and that was the end of that. Well, except maybe for the shrewd look she'd gotten from the Second Reserve Keeper, Siobhan, whose mother was a member of some Druidic Witch's Tea Circle, but if she knew what it really was, she'd been discreet about it and hadn't told, so Ginny had put it out of her mind. Standing naked in a room full of women wasn't so intimidating anymore.

"Notice she doesn't deny that it happened, just says she won't tell us about it. I do hope she's on a good potion." Devonna cried from across the room.

"She's contractually obligated to be on one, same as you," Gwenog Jones said as she walked out of the office to the side of the locker room, "whether or not she's shagging Harry 'Savior-of-the-Wizarding-World' Potter or some random bloke from a bar like the sad lot of you ladies tend to do." A chorus of laughs greeted her statement. Some of the girls were married or in serious relationships, but the unattached Harpies, including Gwenog herself, did have a bit of a reputation at the local bars. "Now, are we going to stand here and jabber about Potter's sex life, or are we going to go out and get ready to crush Portree on Saturday? Here's a hint: there is a wrong answer to this question."

With that, the chatter died down as girls hastily finished pulling on pads and lacing up boots. They slammed their lockers shut and filed out onto the pitch, pulling gloves over their fingers to keep out the last of the winter chill. It may be getting warmer on the ground, but it was still cold in the air.

Ginny felt Harry grow more distant as he apparated to the Auror office in London. Tuning her senses away from their link, she mounted her broom and flew to the sky.

Hermione paced nervously up and down the floor of her compartment. She hadn't seen Ron since their last Hogsmeade weekend, Valentine's Day, and hadn't seen her parents since Christmas. As much as she missed her parents, she still somehow missed Ron more.

She'd been on the Hogwarts Express for hours already and she was ready to be home. She should have just apparated from the station, but she was so excited she was afraid she'd splinch herself. And, of course, once the train started moving, she lost her chance. Hermione had read all about the difficulties of apparating from a moving object, especially under emotional stress.

And she was definitely emotionally stressed.

She and Ron had been writing each other all year. Poor Pig had gotten quite the workout flying from Devon to Scotland and back on a weekly basis. Every letter he signed exactly the same. "Thinking of you, Ron"

Except the last one. It had arrived only the night before, coming straight to her window instead of waiting for owl post in the morning. He'd told her how excited he was about her coming to visit, how much he'd missed seeing her since February. He told her he missed kissing her, but also just being with her and hearing her voice. Such beautiful things he'd said, and Hermione had tears dancing in the corners of her eyes by the time she was finished. Then she'd read those last two lines, and had to do a double take.

"Love always,

Ron"

Ginny would have thought she was crazy for reading so much into the signature of a letter, but Ron was nothing if not a creature of habit. For him to break that habit was...unusual. She couldn't imagine it had been an accident. Especially considering Ron knew Hermione, knew how much she read into each little word. Since they'd been together, he'd made a conscious effort to choose his words more carefully, at least in his letters.

Had he consciously chosen these words, too?

Ron had mentioned that he'd arranged with her parents to pick Hermione up at the station, then take her to her parent's new house, where she would stay for a few days before joining him at his flat in Diagon Alley. Shortly after Harry and Ginny had moved to Wales in February, he'd asked George if it would be alright if he took the empty room in his flat, the one that had once belonged to Fred. George had been hesitant, at first, but Arthur had said it would be good for both of them, so George had eventually agreed. Hermione knew Ron was happy to finally be living semi-independently, though she understood that he and George were frequently at the Burrow for supper, since Molly's food was undoubtedly better than anything either of the boys could make.

Her parents and his, of course, thought she'd be staying at the Leaky Cauldron while she was there, and she had rented a room in her name, just in case, but she was secretly hoping that Ron had intended for her to stay with him at the flat. Not that Hermione was intending to get up to anything...untoward, but she missed her boyfriend, and they'd gotten accustomed to sleeping in the same bed while they were in Australia, though that felt like ages ago, now.

Even though she wasn't planning anything with Ron, she was aware that something unexpected may happen while she was here, and she found she wasn't opposed to the idea. It was her last trip home before the end of term, they'd been together for nearly a year, and things had been getting steadily more serious between the two of them. Despite Ron's bumbling assertions when he'd picked her up for Christmas, they hadn't, in fact, had sex. They'd done nearly everything else, though, and they always enjoyed snuggling and falling asleep together afterwards.

Besides, it had been Ron who'd stopped them in Australia, but if his behavior at their Hogsmeade visit was any indication, he wasn't too keen on stopping them anymore.

Plus, there was the way he'd signed the letter. That had to mean something, right?

What if it didn't? Could she take that step with Ron if she wasn't sure of his feelings for her? She was willing enough, before, but she hadn't really taken the time to think about it. How very unlike herself Ron made her, sometimes. How could she have even considered doing something so monumental without fully considering all the consequences and repercussions? It would change everything, their entire dynamic. But when she was with him, none of that seemed to matter.

Finally, she heard the squeal of the brakes and felt the train slow beneath her feet. She ran to the window to see them approaching the station. She dashed out of her compartment, her bags already shrunk to fit in her pocket, and stood waiting by the door. As soon as she heard the brakes hiss and felt the train come to a full stop, she threw open the door and ran out onto the platform.

She'd spied his ginger hair through the window as they slowed, and even on the ground he was a head above most everyone else so he was easy to spot. Not that it mattered. The crowd parted for her as she ran headlong into his open arms.

Hermione buried her face in Ron's chest, inhaling the scent that was uniquely him as they clutched each other for dear life. She felt his body shift as he bent his head down and she lifted her face to meet his kiss. Uncaring of the people around them, she kissed him for all she was worth.

When she finally pulled back, he smiled down at her, his blue eyes shining with joy for having her back. She returned his smile with one of her own, and he reached down to clasp her hand in his.

"Shall we go?" he asked her. "I told your parents I'd have you back by six."

Hermione glanced at her watch. It was only just after four. She gave him a curious look.

"I thought we might stop by my flat first. You know, since you haven't seen it, yet," he said, nervously scratching the back of his head. "But, you know, if you'd rather go straight to your parents, I understand. They have a new house, too, I suppose, and you've never seen it before, either. I just thought, well, that I missed you and I wanted some time with you before-"

She silenced him with a kiss.

"It's fine, Ron. I'd love to see your flat."

He held out his arm to her and she wrapped hers through it, drawing close to him as he side-along apparated her straight to top of the stairs. She looked around at the spartan room.

"This is the kitchen and living area," Ron said. "As you can see, we don't spend much time here. George is usually downstairs working, and when I'm home, I spend most of my time in my room. Come on. It's this way."

He led her down the only hall. There was a closed door on the right, one at the end of the hall, and another to the left.

"Loo," Ron said, gesturing to the door at the end, "and that's George's room. Here's mine."

He pushed open the door on the left side of the hall after unlocking it with a complex wand motion. Hermione turned an inquisitive eye towards him.

"George has been his old self a lot more lately, which is good, except that I've opened my door to some unpleasant surprises several times in the last couple weeks. I started warding the door with one of those spells you taught me last year. He hasn't figured out how to get through it, yet, but I'm sure he will eventually," Ron remarked.

"I'll show you a new one before I leave. I read a fascinating book about wards just the other day."

Ron smiled at her. "Of course you did." He shook his head with a chuckle as he walked fully into his room.

It was larger than Hermione expected, and cleaner. There was a desk in the corner, Ron's bed from the Burrow along one wall, and a set of free weights rested on the floor in the corner next to the closet, which Hermione wisely decided not to open. Ron may be maturing, but he was still Ron, and she didn't fancy being buried in whatever burst out of the closet when she opened the door.

Hermione took a seat in the desk chair as Ron closed and resealed the door. Pig hooted at her from his cage and she suddenly remembered the parchment in her pocket. Ron's letter. She chewed her lip between her teeth in nervousness.

Ron's hand fell on her knee, and he crouched in front of her, bringing their eyes to the same level. He peered at her with concern and gently pulled her lip from her teeth.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?" He asked.

She pulled the letter from her pocket, now folded into a small square, and ran it between her thumb and forefinger. Ron looked from the letter to her face before he finally seemed to understand. He rocked back on his heels and looked at the floor.

Hermione opened her mouth to ask a question when he suddenly snapped his head back up and met her gaze.

"I meant it," he said.

Hermione sat stunned, not sure she'd heard him quite right.

"What?" She inquired breathlessly.

"I said, I meant it. Every word. How much I've missed you. How much I looked forward to seeing you. Everything."

Hermione exhaled. Of course. Of course he meant that. Not the end. Only the stuff in the main part of the letter.

"Oh," she said. "Of course you did. I miss you, too."

"And?" Ron prompted.

"And what?"

"What about…" Ron took a deep breath before something in him seemed to solidify, strengthen. "What about what I said at the end?"

Hermione opened the letter and scanned the last line.

"The part about seeing me tomorrow?"

"No. Not that part."

"Oh. Then you must mean…"

"Hermione, I know you're not that thick. The part at the very end. The part where I said I love you."

"Oh," Hermione said breathlessly, not quite meeting his eyes. "Yes, I-I wondered about that."

"Did you? Because I didn't."

"No?"

"Nope. I was sure it was exactly what I wanted to say when I wrote it down. Though I was a bit nervous about how you'd react. I ruined about twenty pieces of parchment letting the ink drip while I gathered the courage to write those two words."

Hermione smiled. That sounded like Ron, forgetting that he could just scourgify the ink away from that one spot instead of getting a whole new parchment.

He put his finger under her chin and pulled her eyes up to meet his.

"I love you, Hermione Granger. I started to realize it sometime over this last term when I noticed how I counted down the days until I could write you again, until I could see you. And then, last week, George was working on one of his Wonder Witch products, and it requires a heavily diluted bit of Amortentia, but I happened to walk through the workroom while it was still strong, before he'd weakened it, and I thought you'd come back, somehow. I was sure you were right around the corner or standing behind me. I was looking around for you, and then George came in and I asked if he'd seen you, because I could swear that you were just there. He just pointed at the cauldron and walked away laughing. He's been taking the mickey for days now, but I don't even care because I can't believe it took a sodding potion for me to realize that I love you. That's why I wanted to come here with you first. I couldn't...I couldn't let you go off to your parents for three days without telling you how I felt. I've been a bloody wreck since Pig delivered your letter."

Hermione sat there, glued to the chair. She should probably be offended that he didn't know for sure that he loved her until a potion told him so, but that might be a bit hypocritical since it was in Slughorn's class sixth year when she realized that the third thing she smelled in the potion was the same thing she always smelled when she was near Ron. Seemed fitting, in an ironic sort of way, that they both figured it out through the heady fumes of Amortentia.

Ron's eyes were still shining at her and his fingers were still on her chin as she thought about what to do next. Even as she'd agonized over the truth of those words, somehow she'd never thought about what she would do if he had meant them. Maybe she should stop thinking so much.

She leaned forward and captured Ron's lips with her own, sliding a hand around the back of his neck. He responded eagerly, tangling his fingers in her hair. Merlin, she loved it when his hands were in her hair. He scooted closer to her chair and she wrapped her legs around him, holding his body close to hers. She felt him smirk as he rocked his feet backwards, then stood, supporting her with strong arms as he walked them a few steps to the right, chuckling when Hermione gasped at suddenly finding herself supported by her boyfriend, rather than the chair.

She had the incongruous image of a set of free weights in the corner and suddenly it made sense. Apparently the physical part of Auror training had been doing him some good.

She felt her back slam into the wall as he pinned her roughly with his body, keeping one arm under her and transferring the other back to her hair. He was kissing her hungrily, demanding more and more, and she was giving it happily.

His hand tightened on her thigh and she let out an audible gasp.

They were interrupted by a pounding on the door.

"Oi! Ronniekins, just because I can't open your door doesn't mean I can't hear anything through it. Keep it down in there, would you. A nice silencing charm might be good, eh? And don't forget those contraceptive spells! Tell Hermione I said hello, and I'll see her soon. Fully clothed, I hope!"

Ron rested his forehead on hers, both of them breathing heavily, and Hermione still pinned to the wall. Her face was flushed, partly from kissing and partly George's insinuations. Slowly she unwound her legs from Ron's back, and he helped lower her gently to the floor.

"Sorry about him. Didn't know he was about," Ron said sheepishly.

"It's okay. It's probably for the best. Mum and Dad...I don't know if I could face them right after we'd-"

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Besides. I don't want you to think I said I love you, just so I could get into your knickers."

Hermione reached up and ran her fingers through his hair.

"I don't think that."

"Good."

"And Ron?"

"Yes?"

"I love you, too."