AN: Romione Week, Day 7 - Free Day. Inspired by a Naley One Tree Hill scene.

Hermione waits for Ron's return from his final Auror assessment, but will he be bringing with him any good news?

Hermione sinks her hands into the bowl, her fingernails scraping against the purple plastic as she searches through the soap suds for the final stubborn fork. She knows it's there somewhere, but she can't seem to find it anywhere. Of course, it would have been a lot easier to do the washing up by magic, but she had needed the monotony of doing a task by hand. Something that required no concentration and could allow her thoughts to drift elsewhere.

With a heavy sigh, she allows her gaze to trail away from the dirty water, shifting beyond the kitchen window to the dark garden beyond. It's been four days since Ron left to attend his final Auror assessment, and she suspects she probably won't see him for at least another week.

⁂

His internal memo had come as a surprise a few mornings ago. Ron's almost unintelligible scrawl urged her to meet him at home within the next thirty minutes. Although the short note sent a hundred flobberworms squirming through Hermione's belly, she'd calmly asked her manager for an early lunch, and then hurried down to the Floo Network as soon as she had his approval.

By the time she got back to the townhouse she shared with Ron in South Wales, Hermione had discovered him shoving random items of clothing into his ministry-issued rucksack.

She takes a huge breath, using the moment to rearrange her thoughts and push all her concerns aside. Leaning against the wooden doorframe that leads to their bedroom, she tries to keep her voice light as she jokes, "What's going on? Are you leaving me or something?"

Ron's head shoots up, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "No. Why would you think that? Didn't you get my note?"

"Yes. I tried to decipher it, but all I could get was that you needed me to get home urgently."

Taking a cautious step inside the room, Hermione tries her hardest not to let the worst of her thoughts take over. A million possibilities race through her mind, each one more miserable than the last. Despite three years of being a couple, it's like she's been waiting for him to realise that he could have a girlfriend who was spontaneous, less naggy and much more fun than her. All it would take is a click of his fingers.

"We had a meeting with Robards this morning," Ron explains. "It's time."

"Already? But you thought you might have another month to prepare for it."

"Yeah, so did Harry. But the boss did warn us that it might come out of the blue if a suitable mission comes up. It's a reflection of 'being on the job,' I guess."

Hermione's shoulders droop. She's excited for him, of course, but the mission and his chosen career comes with a high level of risk. She'd thought that was all over with after the Horcrux hunt. Plus, Robards, the Head Auror, has always warned that they could be out for days or even weeks at a time on missions.

She's grown quite fond of having Ron around.

"Well, that's…great." Hermione winces at the hesitance laced through her voice. "You've been studying and training for this for almost three years. I reckon you're going to nail it."

Ron stops mid-packing, a balled-up Weasley jumper in his hand, appearing as if struck by a bludger. His body sags, and his skin turns pale, highlighting the expanse of freckles in all the areas his clothes don't cover.

"What if I don't?" he asks in a small voice.

Hermione quirks an eyebrow then saunters closer to him, prising the jumper from his fingers before laying it carefully on the bed. She then reaches up, pushing his too-long fringe off his forehead before letting her fingers rasp over the stubble across his jaw.

"Ron Weasley, you are the best Auror I have ever known. Not only are you skilled in duelling and tracing, but your strategic mind allows you to think ahead. You have the edge on anyone else in your class." Lacing their fingers together, she presses a soft kiss against his lips before whispering, "I have complete faith in you."

⁂

"Hiya, love."

His low, familiar voice yanks Hermione out of her daydream, igniting a fire deep in her belly. She turns around in surprise, the wayward fork still grasped in her hand, and drinks in the weary-looking man standing before her. Mud paints his cheeks and robes, and deep, dark circles sit under his eyes. Ron looks like he's been through hell.

"Oh Ron," she breathes out, clutching a soapy hand to her chest. "You startled me. If my wand was in reach, I might have hexed you. What are you doing home?"

Ron gives a small chuckle, allowing his bag to fall to the floor at his feet. "You know that red dress you wore to Harry and Ginny's engagement party?"

"When we went to the Ritz in London, and Arthur got over-excited about the teapots? Yeah, I know the dress."

"You looked amazing in that dress. I was hoping we could take another trip to London, with you wearing that dress. We could take Mum and Dad…."

Frowning, Hermione takes a step towards him, but he backs away, avoiding eye contact with her. Trying not to let his actions hurt her, she places a hand on her hip, ignoring the warm water as it seeps through her thick denim jeans. "Ron, what happened?"

"I'm not in the Auror Academy anymore."

With a sigh, she reaches for the tea towel, desperate to get to her boyfriend and provide the comfort he looks like he needs.

"I'm sorry, Ron."

"It's okay." He holds a hand up to stop her. "What do you say, Hermione Granger? Want to take the trip to London and spoil ourselves? Only, I kinda have to be there, considering I start my new full-time job on Monday."

Her heart skips a beat, and the kitchen fades away as she focuses on what he's trying to tell her. "What?"

"I passed the final assessment."

"You're an Auror?"

"I'm a Junior Auror."

Ron's wavering voice is the stick that breaks the Bowtruckle's back. The weak floodgates that barely held back Hermione's emotions break as tears fall freely from her eyes. Abandoning the tea towel and throwing herself at her boyfriend, she wraps her arms and legs around his gangly frame, raining down a shower of kisses over every inch of available skin.

"Thank you," he whispers against her curls, sending a buzz of pleasure from the top of her head, right down her spine before pooling in her core.

She pulls back, staring up at his deep blue eyes and trying her best to search for all the hidden meaning behind his words. "For what?"

"For believing in me."

Hermione buries her head against his neck, a fresh flood of tears washing over her face as she replies, "Thank you for being worth it."