Word Count: 1152

Ron isn't surprised to find his wife still awake when he heads down to the kitchen in the middle of the night for a glass of water. He stands in the doorway, blinking the sleep from his eyes, and smiles to himself. Hermione has accumulated a small mountain of paperwork and notes and plans from the Ministry. He suspects that most of it isn't actually necessary, that she's just doing that thing that she does where she has to be the overachiever. Sometimes he thinks her ambition and need to push herself would have been better suited for Slytherin, not that he'll ever tell her that.

"And here we find the nocturnal creature, the mysterious Hermione Granger-Weasley, in her natural habitat," he says, mimicking the voice-over for those nature documentaries that Hermione uses for background noise. "As you can see, she is in her natural state, one of constant overwork."

Hermione doesn't even look up. "Haha," she says dryly. "You're absolutely hilarious, Ronald."

"You say that, but your tone says otherwise."

Again, she doesn't look up. Ron suspects her head has been lowered, and she's been hunched over her work since after dinner. A quick glance at the clock tells him that if that's the case, she's been like this for at least six hours. He frowns, shaking his head. He understands that she has to have everything just right, that sometimes it means she doesn't really pay attention to much else. It doesn't mean he has to like it, though.

He walks away without another word. While he's in the kitchen, however, he decides to do something helpful. Maybe he won't be able to convince Hermione to come to bed just yet, but he can at least get her to take a break. Well, he hopes so. Stubborn as she can be, he might be better off arguing with the sofa.

He puts the kettle on and sets to work. Hermione doesn't like eating anything heavy after dinner. In fact, she rarely even gets dessert because she insists it will interfere with her sleep schedule. Ron isn't sure if she's serious about it, but he doesn't push her to make exceptions anymore. He's long since learned that Hermione will do what she wants, when she wants. He's always admired her independence.

Instead of fixing an actual meal, he slices up some bananas, setting a dollop of peanut butter on the side of the plate. In the center of the plate, he adds a few biscuits and waits.

Once the kettle begins to whistle, he prepares her tea. Ron knows exactly how she likes it. He's watched Hermione prepare her own for so long, and he pays more attention than anyone ever gives him credit for.

Ron sets it all on a silver tray and carries it into the living room, which has become Hermione's office when she isn't at work. As expected, she's still sitting there, neck craned, scribbling away on a slip of parchment.

"Sorry to interrupt," he says, "but I thought you might want a snack."

"I'm really very busy, Ron."

He rolls his eyes. "I know. I asked you to take a break and focus on yourself. The horror!"

Hermione looks up, eyes narrowed. He can see it in her expression that she wants to argue, that he has something sharp on the tip of her tongue. When she sees the tray, however, her expression softens. A soft pink creeps into her cheeks; it's so rare that Hermione actually looks guilt-stricken.

"Sorry," she says, scrubbing her palm over the back of her neck. "There's a meeting tomorrow to discuss a new treaty with the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest, and I…" She looks up at the clock and groans. "Today. There's a meeting today. Oh, Merlin!"

"You worry too much, Hermione. I think you forget exactly how clever you are," he says, setting the tray down on the coffee table. "I've seen you function with basically no sleep, awakened by a threat in the night, and ready to fight."

"This isn't a battle," Hermione sighs, dipping a slice of banana in the peanut butter and nibbling it. Her lips curl into a smile despite her clear stress.

"I'm well aware. But I know you, and I know how much this means to you. If anyone can pull this off, of course it would be you."

"You know you're my personal cheerleader, right?" she asks, and her smile broadens. "I'm not sure that I could do this without you."

Ron doesn't really believe that. Hermione is a perfectly capable witch. Still, he's glad to have her vote of confidence.

She sits in silence for a little while, nibbling the snacks and sipping her tea. She looks exhausted, and Ron is amazed that she hasn't collapsed on the spot yet. Maybe it's inevitable, only a matter of time.

"You're sure you don't want to get some rest?" he asks. "I'm going back to bed."

"I'll be upstairs later."

"Goodnight, Ron. Thank you."

…

When he gets home from work the next day, he's surprised to see takeaway burgers and chips on the kitchen table. More surprising, however, is the chocolate cake. Judging by how lopsided the cake is, and how uneven the icing is, he assumes Hermione baked it.

"You never do dessert," he notes. "I'm guessing your meeting went well."

Hermione makes a face. Maybe not that well. "We are currently negotiating a compromise," she says. "It isn't perfect, but I'm going to make sure the centaurs don't get screwed over."

"So, why are we celebrating?" he asks.

"Because I think I've been neglecting us," she answers, scrunching her face up to show her apology. "You know how I am. I get so caught up with my projects and work…"

"You? Never," he says, snorting.

She rolls her eyes. "Really, Ronald. If you're going to be so snarky, I'm not going to apologize."

Ron mimics zipping his lips, eliciting an amused laugh from her. He loves it when she laughs. It reminds him that it's all worth it.

"Thank you for keeping me grounded," she says, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. When she pulls away, she's grinning. "I think you're the reason I haven't lost my mind yet."

"Really? Because the last time we argued, you said I was the one who drove you crazy," he reminds her, unable to resist a smirk.

Hermione purses her lips. She's trying so hard not to laugh, and it sets Ron over the edge. He giggles, shaking his head.

"Let's eat," he says.

"Maybe we can do something tonight as well," she suggests. "There's a new documentary, if you'd like to watch it."

"You only ever watch documentaries for background noise."

She offers him a devilish smile. "Oh, I know," she says. "We won't actually be watching."

Ron raises his brows, taking a seat and grabbing a burger. "Yes, ma'am."