A/N-the last chapter was really a filler soo enjoy this double update! thanks for reading :)

I couldn't stop bouncing on the balls of my feet, anxiously waiting among the hoards of holiday travelers in the international area of the portkey terminal. It was two days after Christmas, and I had put my parents on a plane at LaGuardia that morning. Christmas was always a subdued affair with them, nothing like the loud hustle and bustle of the Burrow, and this year had been no different. Too often, seeing them felt like just something to check off a list; I didn't feel the same excitement with them as I did now, waiting for Ron to arrive.

Fortunately, Ron's height and bright hair made him easy to spot in a crowd, and I saw him as soon as he turned the corner. It was all I could do not to rush past the security checkpoint, but as soon as the attendant had cleared him, I was running towards him, and he caught me at full speed, lifting me off my feet with a soft oof as I crashed into him. "God, I missed you," I breathed, holding tightly to him.

"Missed you too," he said in a low voice. I sniffed at his hair; he'd changed his shampoo, back to what I had smelled at the Burrow, and in sixth-year potions. I pulled back to look at him and raised a questioning eyebrow. "Couldn't resist," he grinned.

I rubbed my nose against his. "Cheeky prat," I scolded affectionately before kissing him lightly. He set me down, probably thinking the same thing I was, that the MACUSA portkey terminal was no place for a reunion snog, much as that was all I wanted just then. "How was your Christmas?" I asked, taking his hand and starting towards the apparition point.

"It was alright. Thought you had wards on your flat?" His eyes flicked to the sign in silent question.

"I dropped them before I came over so that we could get home faster." I tried to give him a significant look, because a snog was not, in fact, all I wanted at the present.

He frowned at me, concerned-auror replacing boyfriend momentarily as he said, "That's not safe, Hermione."

"It's a Muggle building, and I've only been a half hour." We stepped into the apparition queue. "We'll put them right back, I promise. I'll even let you check them over, or strengthen them if you feel they need it."

He sighed, and I wasn't sure if he'd caught the meaning of my look until he leaned down to whisper in my ear, "Should've known magic would be foreplay with you." I fought back a grin and squeezed his hand as we stepped onto the apparition point.

We lay facing each other, afterwards, still tangled at the ankles (well, my ankles were up around his shins; he really was quite tall), and picked up the conversation we'd abandoned at the terminal.

"It was hard," Ron said. "First one without Dad. But everyone was there. Oh! Angelina is pregnant."

I couldn't say that was much of a surprise, since she and George had been together since not long after the war, though, like Harry and Ginny, they had yet to get married. Molly was going to have kittens if she didn't get more of her children married off soon, especially with grandchildren in the picture.

"What did your mum have to say about that?" I asked, letting my fingers trace patterns in the freckles on Ron's chest.

"Reckon she's just happy to have some good news, honestly. Though I think I caught her slipping George the key to Muriel's jewelry box."

"You think they'll get married then?"

Ron shrugged, his hand drifting up and down my arm. "Not because of this. But at some point, on their terms, yeah. George has never wanted much of a hoopla of a wedding. Not without Fred." I nodded, understanding.

"How's Fleur?" Their second baby was due any day now, and Fleur had already looked about to pop when I saw her a month ago.

"Miserable," Ron chuckled. "Think she's going to march into St. Mungo's and demand they magic the baby out of her if this goes much longer."

"She's still a few days out from her due date, though, isn't she?"

"It's tomorrow. But she says she's got some French healing spell that tells her when it's really coming, and her wand is still glowing pink when she does it, which is supposedly bad..." Ron shrugged again. "Anyway, think that about covers me. How was it with your parents?"

I sighed. "Same as ever, really."

I could tell Ron was trying not to sound sympathetic as he asked, "You mean your mum's dodgy fruitcake or their memories?"

"They gave me this beautiful cashmere scarf."

"That's nice."

"It's the exact same one they gave me last year." Ron was very poorly disguising his sympathy now, or no longer trying to. "Sometimes I wonder if I oughtn't have brought them back at all." I wanted to take the words back as soon as I said them. Here was Ron, having just lost his dad, and me selfishly worrying about my parents over a duplicate Christmas gift, as if it really mattered in the whole scheme of things. "Ron, I'm sorry, I—"

He shook his head and put a finger to my lips, cutting me off. "It's not the same, Hermione." I glanced down at the bedspread, dropping my hand onto it. Ron reached for it and placed it back on his chest, his hand holding mine against his heart. "Hermione. Look at me." He waited until I did, and then continued, his eyes boring into mine. "We've all gone through terrible things. It's not a contest. And my dad being gone does not invalidate whatever feelings you have about your parents. Okay?" I nodded once, suddenly overwhelmed with a very different surge of emotions. Ron and I had said those three words to each other on plenty of occasions before, but not yet in the context of what we were now. Even before, amidst the late night Forest of Dean confessionals that were the closest we'd ever been to the full truth, we had skirted around actually saying the words. I didn't realize I was staring at him until his brow furrowed slightly. "What?"

"Oh. Nothing." I smiled at him, but Ron wasn't fooled, and I shouldn't have expected him to be. His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as he scanned my face for clues as to whatever I was holding back.

As per usual, he read my mind as if he were a legilimens. I watched his face soften after a moment, and he smoothed my hair before resting his hand on my cheek. "What are you afraid of?" he whispered.

"I just...like how things are with us. I don't want that to change," I admitted softly.

"Yeah, but...look how much things have already changed between us." Ron quirked an eyebrow and glanced down the length of the bed. "And that's all been good, right?" I nodded, smiling at him. His thumb brushed my cheek. "It's just going to keep getting better. Think about it." He leaned forward and kissed me gently, then let me off the hook, asking, "Want your Christmas gift now?"

"Sure. I'll grab yours as well." I sat up and started to get out of bed, but stopped at Ron's laugh behind me.

"Honestly, Hermione," he teased. "Accio." He pointed his wand at his bag where we had dropped it in the hall, and a package squeezed out past a gap in the zipper that was logically much too small to be accommodating. He handed me the package and his wand and joked, "Are you a witch or not?" I barely mustered a glare past my smile as I summoned his gift from the closet and handed it to him. He nodded to the package in my hand, which unsurprisingly felt like a book. "You first."

I carefully peeled back the paper until I saw the rich chestnut leather and the gold lettering, and then I tore the rest of it off with a gasp. Ron was grinning proudly. "This is the new edition of Hogwarts: A History! This isn't meant to come out until the first of the year." I ran my fingers delicately over the title. "How on earth did you get your hands on this?"

"Covered a break-in at the publisher's flat a couple months back, and the bloke insisted he owed me a favor." Ron put his hand on mine on top of the book. "Promise you'll wait to lose yourself in it until I'm back in England? Or at least asleep at night?"

I set the book down and hugged him tightly. "Yes. Promise." I pulled back and reached for his gift. "Yours is not nearly this good, you have to let me take it back."

"Not a chance." Ron held it high above his head, out of my reach, then looked up at it as the contents rattled slightly. "Shit. Have I broken it?"

"Oh, fine, open it then." I stroked my hand over the cover of the book again as Ron unceremoniously tore into the wrapping of his gift. I had gotten him a chess set where all the pieces comprised a game of Quidditch; the king and queen were made to be a snitch and seeker, and so on. I didn't feel this in any way compared to what he had gotten me, but Ron's face lit up as he looked at the box.

"Wicked! I've never seen a set like this." He smiled and kissed my forehead. "You're mental, you know. This is brilliant."

"There's a charm for the players, too, so you can color the uniforms to your favorite teams," I told him, reassured now. "The details for that are in the box, I'm told."

Ron carefully set the chess set and my book on my nightstand and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me close. I sighed contentedly as I returned his embrace. "Happy Christmas, Hermione," he said, resting his cheek on top of my head.

"Happy Christmas, Ron." The other three words could wait. For now.