Ron's side of the bed was already cold when I woke up the next morning, but I could hear him bustling about in the kitchen. I pulled on a jumper over my pajamas and padded down the hall, finding Ron in the midst of making breakfast. I shouldn't have been surprised that Ron was a good cook; he was raised by Molly Weasley, after all.

He glanced over at me from the stove and smiled as I entered. I wrapped my arms around his waist from behind and rested my head between his shoulder blades. "Morning, love. Coffee or tea?" he asked. There was a mostly-full coffee pot on the counter beside him, so I reached for that.

"Breakfast smells good," I said to him. "I'm as rubbish at cooking as I ever was."

"Breakfast is easy. Here." Ron put a hand on my hip and eased me between himself and the cooktop, then handed me the spatula. "Just keep moving the sausages so they don't burn," he instructed, guiding my hand.

"This is a distracting way to cook," I murmured, glancing up at him over my shoulder.

"Mm, I quite like it." Ron leaned down and kissed my cheek before reaching over my shoulder to shut the burners off. He flicked his wand and the pans flew past me to the table, depositing the contents onto the waiting plates. I made to follow, but Ron put a hand on my arm to halt me. I looked up at him, taking in his serious expression. "I want to talk to you about something."

I swallowed nervously, my heart suddenly pounding. "Okay?"

"I know we haven't actually been together that long, and we said we'd give this thing a shot, but..." Oh, God, he was going to break up with me, wasn't he? My mind was flooding with worst case scenarios. "What do you think about me moving to New York?"

I blinked at him, sure I hadn't heard correctly. "What?"

"What do you think about me moving to New York?" he repeated, looking at me intently.

"I..." There was a hint of amusement on his face at having flustered me, but mostly Ron just looked nervous waiting for my answer. I shook my head. "Ron, I can't ask you to do that," I said finally. This was especially true now with Ginny's news, and he would surely agree when he found out.

"You're not asking. I'm offering."

I stared at him a moment, and he stared back without the faintest hint of an impending punchline. Merlin's beard, he was seriously considering this. Of course, I had been too, but London was home for me. There was a huge gap between moving and moving back, and Ron was talking about moving.

"But..." I crossed my arms over my chest just for something to do with them. My heartbeat was even faster now than when I thought he was ending things. "Your whole life is here."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "My whole life, Hermione, really?"

"Your work, your family—"

"You are in New York." His words were quiet but firm.

And that was the crux of things, wasn't it? When I thought of coming back to Britain, it wasn't to be close to my parents or to accept some brilliant career opportunity. Ron was here; that was the beginning and end of my thought process on the subject.

It felt like we were always just on the edge of something, Ron and I. From fancying each other at school and not wanting the other to know, up to now, even together as a couple, being afraid to rush into things, trying to pretend it wasn't as serious a relationship as it was. But it was Ron, and I knew, had maybe always known, that it was going to be serious from the get-go with us, because how could it not be?

And here he was, taking that first real, concrete, terrifying step over the edge, where at the bottom presumably waited a ring, and a wedding, and Sunday dinners at the Burrow with tots of our own thrown into what was so far shaping up to be quite a congregation of cousins, and all the things of my half-baked schoolgirl fantasies about him that were suddenly very much in front of me. And asking me to take his hand and jump over with him.

"Okay," I heard myself whisper.

Ron took a deep breath, allowing himself a tentative smile. "Yeah?"

"Only I don't think you should move into my flat."

Ron's smile disappeared, but he quickly rearranged his features to a passive expression. "Oh, er, I mean I...didn't assume..."

"Oh bugger," I muttered, realizing that what I had said and what I meant by it were two very different things.

"Did you just swear?" Ron looked both appalled and amused by this.

"What I mean is, my flat is so me," I hurried to explain. "And if you're going to move all the way to New York, then we ought to get a place together that's, you know, more us."

His smile returned, brighter than before. "That's not what you said," he chuckled.

"I know." I laughed and stepped into his outstretched arms, leaning high up to kiss him. "Besides, my place is a bit small," I added, thinking out loud now. "Probably better to get something we could grow into."

I didn't register exactly what I'd said until Ron repeated it back to me. "Grow into?"

"Oh." Bugger, indeed. "Uh...you know, if we wanted to get another cat or something." I stepped away from him to retrieve my coffee mug from the table, feeling the heat flood my cheeks. Well, that was certainly over the edge.

"A cat?" I still had my back to Ron, but I could hear the mirth in his voice.

"Or a dog. You know, whichever." When I turned to face him, Ron was leaning back against the counter, grinning ear to ear, and, I was sure, not the slightest bit convinced that I was talking about pets. And my face was only getting redder, I was sure of that, too.

"You're not really talking about a cat, are you?" he asked lightly, folding his arms over his chest.

"Well, of course I am, what on earth else would I be talking about?"

"Oh, I dunno..." He pushed off the counter and walked over to me, putting his hands on the table on either side of me to lean in close. "If I didn't know better, it sounds like you're talking about a place with room for children."

I laughed nervously and ducked away under his arm. He was barely holding back a smirk as he watched me circle to the other side of the table. "Don't be silly," I said. "We haven't even had that conversation yet."

"Right, so let's have it." He was so casually blunt about it, still grinning as if we weren't discussing anything more monumental than the weather. I let out a breath.

"It's too soon." But Merlin, was it? Damn Ginny and her bungled potion putting these things at the forefront of my mind.

"Says who?"

"We've only been together for two months."

"We've known each other for twelve years." Ron raised an eyebrow at me, a silent challenge. I was running out of protests and he knew it. It had slipped out; we had to at least talk about it. As they said, in for a knut, in for a galleon. But before I could say anything, Ron chuckled. "Go on, then. You want to have little ginger-haired babies. Admit it."

I lifted my chin and crossed my arms, defiance returning, albeit only as a matter of principle, and not because he was actually wrong. Though I wouldn't have said it quite so directly. "I will not," I retorted.

Ron slowly circled the table, stopping only a foot away from me. "Don't make me do this," he threatened teasingly.

"Do what?" Before I could react, he had wrapped one long arm around me and was using his other hand to tickle me mercilessly. I squealed and slapped ineffectually at his arms, but he didn't cease until I gasped, "Okay, okay!" He was still holding onto me, so I swiveled in his embrace to look up at him. "Okay," I said again, softly, reaching up to brush at his fringe. "I do, I want to have little ginger-haired kids with you."

He moved swiftly then, pinning me to the wall and kissing me passionately. I gripped at his shirt, returning his kiss with equal fervor. When he broke away to trail his lips down my neck, I laughed lightly. "I didn't mean right this second, you know."

"Practice," he murmured huskily, his hands drifting under the back of my jumper.

I pushed lightly on his shoulder, and he pulled back to look at me, his blue eyes dark and intense. "Is that what you want too, then?" I asked, suddenly feeling insecure at being the only one to make this emotionally-charged confession.

Ron threaded a hand into my hair. "Well...they don't all need to be ginger," he replied with a smirk. "But, having a family with you? Yes." I tugged at his shirt, pulling his face back down to mine.

When we returned a half hour later to the magically reheated breakfast Ron had made, I took his hand under the table and ate with my other. "I'll move back to London," I said without preamble. The morning's conversation had made that decision infinitely easier.

Ron looked at me in surprise. "You don't have to do that. What about your job?"

I turned in my chair to face him. "New York was never supposed to be permanent, you know. And honestly, I've gone about as high as I can go in my department. It's time for a change. Besides, all our family is here. I don't fancy being the one to tell Molly I'm taking you away, do you?" Ron smiled ruefully.

"You sure?" I nodded. "Well, then...I reckon I know of a job you could have."

I sat up straighter. "Really? You never said anything."

"I wasn't going to ask you to leave New York. I don't ever want you to feel like I'm holding you back. That's why I told you to go in the first place."

"I'd have stayed if you'd asked me to."

"I'd've gone with you, if you'd asked," he returned pointedly.

I sighed and squeezed his hand. "What's the job?"

"Well, it doesn't exist, exactly."

I frowned at him. "What do you mean, it doesn't exist?"

"Yet," Ron added hurriedly. "You know when Kingsley took office, the DMLE got rid of a lot of the more prejudiced wizarding law, all the shit against Muggles and Muggle-borns. But you wouldn't believe some of the minor rubbish still on the books. Stuff that hasn't been relevant for ages, only no one's ever bothered to change or get rid of the laws. Like, remember Dad's flying car?"

I rolled my eyes. "How could I forget? That was the quietest ride I ever had on the Hogwarts Express."

"Right, so enchanting the car was illegal. But it's also still technically illegal to enchant other modes of transportation, and some of those things trigger alerts in the Auror offices. The boats at Hogwarts that take the first-years across the lake?"

"You're kidding?"

Ron laughed and shook his head. "Every year, September first, the logs go batty. So Kingsley's always going on about cleaning up the laws, only no one ever does. And honestly, I think it's because in his mind, the perfect person for that job has always been you. I mean, you're the only person who's read every book in the Hogwarts library. Who else would have the patience to read through centuries of wizarding law text?"

"I can't think of anyone."

"Exactly. And, y'know, you could do a lot of good for the house elves and whatnot. The more egregious laws are gone, but there was so much to do after the war, I reckon you'd find a lot more to amend." Ron paused. "You could do anything you wanted, of course, it was just a thought."

"No, that...sounds brilliant, actually." I leaned over and kissed him. "I'll owl Kingsley about it after we finish breakfast."

"You don't have to rush, y'know. Take your time, get everything in order."

I shifted closer to him and leaned my head on his shoulder. "I want this. And you and I have been on hold long enough, don't you think?" He kissed the top of my head in reply and pulled me closer.