"'Mione!" a muffled sound came from a darkened corner of the Weasley kitchen. Hermione heard something land softly on the floor.

Hermione placed her bag on the kitchen table and turned around. Ron was leaning against the counter, half a sandwich at his feet. "What are you doing here?"

Hermione smiled, taking in the sight of him for the first time in over three months. "Your mum told me at the beginning of the year I could drop by whenever I felt like it...but I haven't taken her up on it until now."

"Life at Hogwarts is that easy now? You didn't need an invisibility cloak or anything?"

"I'm of age," Hermione said, "and I asked for permission a few weeks ago. What did you do today?"

"Same old," Ron said. "You don't have too much homework?"

"I'm ahead of schedule."

"Well...brilliant," he smiled. His grin seemed to glow. He looked slightly burnt, Hermione realized, from all the training he must be going through. Aurors-in-training did many of their drills outside. In fact, he looked more than sunkissed, although it did seem as though his freckles had multiplied...he looked healthy.

Ron's lean build had a certain weight to it now, a sturdiness that the boy she had grown up with never possessed. This was better than the Ron she had seen so much of last year, even from last summer, when healing had been so difficult. When the three of them had had matching sets of sunken cheeks and tired eyes.

"Is anyone else awake?" she said.

"Just me," he said. "So what are you doing all the way over there?" he said in a low, different voice. He hadn't bothered to pick up his sandwich.

"Having a good look at you," she said quietly. She breathed in the fresh, grassy smell that always seemed to radiate off of him. It was times like these where she felt like pinching herself. Could it be possible that she had made it out of the war alive? And that Ron had too?

He eased at her touch. She leaned into him. "I've bloody missed you," he murmured into her hair. She pulled her head away and let her mouth find his just for a few seconds.

Ron looked at Hermione as though she was walking through the doorway for the first time again, the tips of his ears red, a smile threatening to give everything away. "Come on Granger, give me something to work with here," he whispered before leaning his face into hers again. And this time, she ran her hands up his chest, her fingertips pressing into the thin cotton of his shirt. Ron's hands were making their way to her jacket's zipper. She felt herself respond with even more intensity, her fingers tugging at the end of his shirt, pulling it upwards. She managed to get his shirt halfway off.

"We," Hermione said breathlessly, "need to stop. Let's go to your room," she was finding it difficult to concentrate with his mouth leaving a trail of kisses on her throat.

"Do we?" his hand lifted up, playing with a lock of hair near her shoulder.

She froze, her hands hovering an inch away from Ron's skin. His t-shirt dropped back onto his torso, slightly lopsided.

She paused to straighten out her clothes and pull her hair away from her face. "Somebody could turn up at any minute."

"Doubtful, considering my family's so small."

"Ron."

"What? My parents haven't stayed up past nine since New Year's. Peacetime means sleep time," he wagged a finger. "And don't forget that Ginny's at Hogwarts. My brothers are all in their respective homes."

"That's not the point, Ronald Weasley," she rolled her eyes. "I was thinking more along the lines of, well, a bed. But if you're not interested..."

"Hold on, who said I'm not interested?"

"Perhaps if you could lead me to a bedroom, you'd be able to show me exactly how interested you are."

Ron sighed. "You're not very exciting," he teased.

"Your family eats in this room. I'm being considerate," Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron sighed, walked over to her belongings, and hoisted them up, leading her out of the kitchen. They made their way up the many floors to his room.

"'S kind of a mess, sorry," he apologized, whispering as he let himself in. He put her bag down and Hermione looked around the familiar room, shutting the door behind her. She smirked—everything was more or less the same. Ron knelt down, grabbing and shuffling errant papers together and pushing them under the bed. He knocked over a few boxes of Extendable Ears that were teetering in a stack near the dor. "Nothing you haven't seen before, of course. This is really the only option. Ginny's charmed her room, and the twins' roo—"

Ron halted, looking as though the wind had been knocked out of him. Hermione grabbed Ron's hand as if to steady him.

He looked at the ground, then he looked back at her.

Wordlessly, he turned, kissing her again. She pulled him close, deepening the kiss. His hands were on her waist, and her hands were rogue. They flitted over the fabric on his back, his sides, his hips—

"Mmmph," Ron responded, tugging at her jacket. Hermione pulled away from him. She quickly slipped it off, but only after taking out her wand and muttering a few charms.

"What was that?" Ron asked. Hermione paused, helping him get his shirt off. She paused before answering, letting her eyes linger on his torso.

"We don't want to wake anybody up," she replied, kicking shoes away and shimmying off her jeans.

"You're quick."

"Which part?"

"Oh, the wandwork, I reckon. And the—"

"Stop talking," Hermione pulled Ron to her.


"Hermione, what are—when did you get in?" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed from the sink. Several dishes were in the air, awaiting their turn to be scrubbed by a floating sponge. Hermione walked over to hug her, taking care not to bump her nose against the bottom of a soapy pot behind Mrs. Weasley's head.

"Late last night," Hermione smiled. "Sorry to drop by so suddenly. I took Ginny's room."

"Nonsense," Mrs. Weasley said, ushering her to sit at the table. "Ron will be so pleased! You've always been family," she said warmly, a new twinkle in her eye. Hermione looked away quickly, something in Mrs. Weasley's tone more suggestive than usual.

Right before she had returned to Hogwarts in September, she had endured a rather pointed conversation with wherein Mrs. Weasley had dusted off an old jewelry box and she had been shown Ron's Great Aunt Magdalena's engagement ring, "Just to see if it fits."

Ron turned beet red and Ginny had quickly shut the conversation down on Hermione's behalf. She had not spoken about it with Ron since, but she had taken his embarrassment to mean that it was far too soon to be talking about such things at all. A relief to her, if she was being frank. She'd like to finish her N.E.W.T.s and see to it that a few Death Eaters saw their days in court before doing anything like that.

Hermione nodded vaguely, clearing her throat. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No, no, Arthur just left for work and he barely ate, so here, you can have his breakfast," Mrs. Weasley waved her wand over the stove, which lifted bacon and eggs off of a pan and onto a plate on the table with a soft hiss.

Hermione sat down. "But it's Saturday."

Mrs. Weasley shook her head. "Arthur was promoted!" she exclaimed, brandishing her wand a little too forcefully. A few of the floating plates clanked together.

"Oh, how wonderful!"

"He's overseeing the memory spells for the muggles. The Death Eaters weren't too careful about what they let them see. Arthur is making sure we have it all on record before sending them off on their way. Poor things," she sighed.

"On the record," she repeated. "So that'll be included in the charges against them?"

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley sat down across from her and grabbed the open copy of The Daily Prophet that was sitting on the edge of the table. She skimmed the headlines. "If they ever get around to it."

"It does seem to be taking a while."

"Lots of politics," Mrs. Weasley shook her head. "Everyone thinks it should be done one way or the other…"

"I heard something about a special tribunal...on war crimes," Hermione said hopefully, eager to see if Mrs. Weasley would confirm or deny the rumors she had seen in the news.

"Morning," a voice came from the doorway.

"Look who's here!" Mrs. Weasley pointed at Hermione. She hastily jumped out of her chair and hugged him, making a show of patting him on the back a few times. In his groggy stupor, he kissed her cheek and looked at her, bewildered. "That's a nice greeting," he mumbled.

"I got in so late last night and I thought I'd surprise you! I haven't seen you in so long!" Hermione said loudly.

Ron cleared his throat and tugged at his maroon t-shirt, poking his thumb through a worn hole near the bottom. "Oh. Great!" he nodded vigorously. Hermione rolled her eyes at his delivery.

"Ron, you're up far too late. Next time get here before the bacon gets cold," Mrs. Weasley pointed at the counter.

"'S only ten o'clock!" Ron protested.

"Is training making you feel terribly tired?" Hermione asked lightly, as though she wasn't the reason Ron had been up late.

Mrs. Weasley jumped out of her seat with a squeak of the chair. "I think I heard someone out front. Might be a neighbor," she ducked out of the room without looking at either of them.

Hermione frowned. Ron busied himself with the food.

"What's wrong? Your mother's about as good at hiding her emotions as you are. What's happening in training?"

Ron looked after the doorway wistfully before answering. "We're drilling shield charms. I haven't gotten the knack of it yet."

"Are you and Harry...having fun?" She'd noticed a marked shift in the way Ron and Harry interacted in the past year. Where Ron used to sulk at Harry's fame, he now genuinely commiserated. It was harder for Ron to be jealous of the attention now that he was fielding owls every week — fan mail from Witch Weekly subscribers.

"Harry's really dedicated." he said.

"If you wanted, I could go over some things with you, you can try some spells on me."

Ron gave a little smile. "Thanks. That's really nice of you, 'Mione," he added, "But you've been busy studying, right? For your N.E.W.T.s?"

"I'm staying on top of it," she said airily. Hermione's study schedule flashed to the front of her mind. If she kept up the pace she'd set for herself, she'd be ready for her second round of revisions a full month before exams. Luna and Ginny exchanged looks of bewilderment every time she took out her overstuffed planner, but she knew these tests would be the most difficult trial of her knowledge yet. Sometimes, she counted the hunt for Horcruxes in her tally. Casting simple disillusionment charms, keeping steady hold on a moving dragon, and staunching the blood from a clean splinch wound were simple tasks in isolation. Being able to undo one too many billywig stings in the latter half of a wolfsbane brew under half an hour while planning on writing a written response — that, she'd have to practice. "You don't have to worry about me. I'd love to help, and in fact, I'm sure I'd learn something myself —"

"—Hermione, thank you," he said. "You're so good to me," he squeezed her hand. Ron took a deep breath, as if steeling himself to do something. "I've actually been thinking...of changing career paths," he said timidly, "D'you hate that?"

She blinked. "I'm—no, Ron, of course not! But if it's a question of skill, you know I think you're capable."

"I thought it was that at first, too," he sighed. "But I don't think I'm happy. Not like Harry. He's brilliant, you should see him duel. He even knows spells other than Expelliarmus now."

She laughed. "Well, I think it's better to know this about yourself now, even if you don't know what's next."

He fiddled with his wristwatch buckle. "That's the thing," he said. "I'd like to help with George's shop. He said I could," he added quickly.

For a moment, Hermione envisioned it: Ron in the back aisle of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, stocking the shelves and sending out order forms, making jokes to the customers. Helping George concoct ideas. It suited him and his humor.

"Well, are you happy with that?" she said.

"I think so," Ron said, "George isn't used to being on his own, y'know."

"That's really sweet of you to help him out."

"But I mean, I want to do it, too. Even if it wasn't about...that," he added hastily. "And I was thinking about...you."

"Me?"

"You could work there after you graduate, maybe," he said all of this in one breath. "If you need something to do, I mean, not permanently of course! I know you don't want to work in a joke shop for the rest of your life, but maybe for the summer, or a few months, and maybe if you wanted, you could live with me?" he took a deep breath. "What do you reckon?" his ears were bright crimson. He searched her face for a reaction.

She felt dazed. "Ron," she said slowly, "I'm really touched."

"...But you don't want to live with me," he finished, his face falling.

"I'm not sure what I imagined for myself after Hogwarts..." she trailed off. How could she relay what had shifted in the past year? She had worried about regressing as Harry and Ron went on to be Aurors and she, back to her studies, but something else had happened instead. At Hogwarts, she felt simultaneously inside and outside of her childhood. The way the castle enveloped her, gray and cavernous, was familiar. The rhythm of schoolwork eased her as it always had. She missed Ron and Harry.

But not as much as she thought she would have. By October, she had reclaimed her favorite armchair in front of the hearth and her evenings with Ginny and Luna felt no less full than the ones she used to have. When she couldn't fall back asleep, she would take long walks on the hills behind the school. With so many students watching her now, she liked the ease of being alone. And she felt ready to finally leave Hogwarts, at last, on her own terms.

"I have to think about it," she said at last. This, at least, was true.