He'd been horribly distracted all night, pondering—no, obsessing, really—about what he would say to Hermione, when and if she showed up, and the best his brain could come up with in the moment was hi?

But Hermione was looking up at him with a slight smile. "Hi," she echoed.

There was nothing and everything to say all at once. How was he meant to start a conversation with the love of his life after ten years of silence without sounding like an absolute prick? "Have a nice Christmas?" he finally settled for.

She nodded. "It was quiet. How's your family?"

"Good, good." It hurt more than he thought it would to see her again. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms, to forget the last horrible ten years without her had never happened, to just pick up where they had left off and be a family again...but that was impossible. For all intents and purposes, the woman standing in front of him was a complete stranger.

There was awkward silence between them until Hermione finally asked softly, "Why am I here, Ron?"

Her words hit him like a herd of hippogriffs. Of course, she wasn't here for small talk. His eyes flickered down to her empty left hand, though the lack of a ring didn't necessarily mean anything. They had once been very committed to each other despite the absence of one, though Ron had certainly thought about it, back then. Shaking himself from his thoughts, he turned abruptly and called to Verity at the front counter. "We'll be right back."

"Take your time. Hi, Hermione!" Hermione gave her a tentative wave in return and followed Ron toward the back of the store. He saw a puzzled frown cross Hermione's face as he opened the door to the staircase next to the one that led to the storeroom.

When the shop had first opened, Fred and George had lived upstairs, and they had had a small desk and a filing cabinet crammed into the storeroom that served as an office, but after the war and Fred's death, George had hated living there and converted the flat into real office space as soon as he could. Of course, that had coincided with Ron coming on board at the shop full time, which hadn't happened until Hermione left, but she followed him without question.

"It looks really nice up here," she said finally as Ron shut the door to his office behind them and circled his desk to sit down. "I didn't realize George had done so much work on the place."

"Yeah, well, it's been ten years, a lot has changed." He couldn't stop the bitterness that seeped into his voice, but he barreled on before Hermione could snap back and start an argument. "We've got a bit of a situation."

"I figured as much." Hermione conjured a chair and sat down across from him. "What's going on? It's about the girls, I assume, or you'd have just sent a message through Harry."

Ron nodded. "They, er…" He frowned and rubbed at his neck. "They know about each other."

Hermione's eyes widened. "You told Rose?" she blurted accusingly, sitting up in her chair and fixing him with a familiar annoyed glare. "Honestly, Ron, I think we both knew we'd have to tell them eventually, but you could have at least mentioned it to me first."

"For the record," Ron returned coldly, "what I choose to share with my daughter is none of your damn business, because that's the arrangement that you chose."

"We chose," she interjected, though it had never, to Ron, felt like he'd had much say in the matter.

"Regardless...they both know. Because they've both been at Beauxbatons since September."

"Wait, wait...you didn't send Rose to Hogwarts?" Ron shook his head. "Why?"

"Her request. Too much of a legacy at Hogwarts, she said, wanted to blaze her own path. Why isn't Holly at Ilvermorny?"

Hermione shrugged. "She asked to go to Beauxbatons." She gasped suddenly. "Merlin, do you think they already knew?"

"No, they met at school."

"Rose told you that?"

"Actually…" Ron hesitated, but this was the whole reason he'd asked her here, wasn't it? "Holly told me that."

Hermione frowned at him. "Excuse me?"

"Holly's at the Burrow right now. You have Rose, at your parents' house."

Hermione scoffed, but she got up from her chair and began to pace. "Don't be ridiculous, Ron."

"They switched places, Hermione," he insisted, standing to face her. "They swapped lives because they wanted to get to know the other half of their family."

"And exactly how did you crack this little mystery?" she asked derisively.

"Because George gave Holly a Skivving Snackbox to help her get out of the family Quidditch match earlier. Rose would never."

Hermione seemed to be fighting a smile. "Holly doesn't fly. No one to teach her."

"I figured. No offense." Hermione shrugged.

"So I've had Rose all week?"

"Looks that way."

"And Holly's been with you?"

"Yup."

"Pretending to be each other?" Ron nodded, and Hermione glanced around the room. "You still keep firewhiskey around here somewhere?" Ron smirked and summoned the bottle from the cabinet, along with two glasses. He leaned against his desk and handed Hermione a glass, and he was surely imagining the jolt that went through him as her fingers brushed his. "So what do we do?"

"Well, for starters, I'd tell Rose that you know what they did."

"I mean…" Hermione looked down into her glass, avoiding his gaze. "Going forward. We can't exactly keep them apart now."

"Let's just worry about one thing at a time. Talk to Rose, and then...I think it's important we talk to them together. They're going to have questions."

Hermione's eyes were slightly teary as she looked back up at him. "I don't know if I have the answers," she admitted in a whisper.

Ron swallowed hard. He felt the same way, but it was shocking to hear her say it. "We'll figure it out." He reached out and tentatively brushed the one tear that had fallen from Hermione's cheek. Her eyes drifted shut at his touch, and then she suddenly came back to herself, stepping away from him and setting the empty glass down on his desk.

"So, shall I bring Rose by the Burrow tomorrow then?" she asked, resuming her businesslike tone.

"Um…" Ron hesitated, disconcerted by the mood change. "Yeah, sure. After breakfast?"

"Okay, good. See you tomorrow, then." She turned and swept out of the room without another word.

Ron sighed and sat down again, pouring himself another small glass of firewhiskey. He supposed that had gone about as well as it could have, considering the way they had left things all those years ago. She hadn't screamed at him, or hexed him...he hadn't accidentally snogged her senseless...But tomorrow they would have to finally face the repercussions of splitting up their daughters, and Ron was sure his next encounter with Hermione wouldn't run quite so smoothly.