The Young Married Couple

Next to Harry lay Hermione. Next to Hermione lay something oversized and striped. Despite the numerous nightgowns she owned (the more "imaginative" ones purchased for her by Harry), she always ended up commandeering his pyjama tops. But the pyjama top had been somewhat excessive for their previous activity, and had been ripped off with such force that half the buttons had sprayed across the room. He smiled and nestled into the mattress, looking forward to two more weeks of quality time – and similar incidents – with the woman he had decided to share the rest of his life with.

"Harry, I'm worried about Ron," Hermione said.

Harry sighed inwardly, but settled his new wife deeper in the crook of his room. Sheetplay had an effect of Hermione similar to what wine had on most other people. Afterwards she would confess that she had secretly thought he had been right during the argument they had that morning, that her NEWT results had not been quite as high as she had led everyone to believe, that she had made a mistake at work and been yelled at by her boss that day. Basically, she got honest. And vulnerable. "In what way?" he asked.

"Do you think he's become distant the last few months?" she asked.

Above her Harry frowned, but forced himself to adopt a teasing tone. "Of course he's distant," he said. "He's a man. The great non-communicators, remember? He'd watch the Chutley Canons lose 250-nil before talking honestly and openly about his feelings." That was a favourite accusation of Hermione's.

"Oh, you do like to tease," Hermione muttered, but without much heat. It was true enough. After the defeat of Voldemort - his defeat of Voldemort – and the worming out of the last Death Eaters, he had discovereda playful side of his personality that he had previously lacked the time or means to develop. After all, being told that either you or Voldemort were curtains was not exactly conducive to jokes. He was happy he hadn't been the butt of that one. "Are you listening to me, Harry?"

"I am listening," he protested. "I was just trying to figure out where you got the impression that Ron was acting strangely. I haven't noticed anything wrong with him."

"It's not him specifically," Hermione expanded. She drew away from Harry, then sat up in bed and began to slip back into the pyjama top. Merlin, she was pretty. He couldn't stop looking at her. Not that it had taken him four years to notice that she was a girl, unlike Ron, but it had taken him much longer to realise that he wanted to marry her. She realised the top no longer had any buttons and contented herself with holding it closed. "It's the way he treats me."

The pyjama top disappointed him for two reasons. The first was that it covered her up. The second was that her act of putting it on made him realise that she was serious about a conversation. A serious conversation. When he had other things on his mind. As soon as he registered the thought, he told himself off for being selfish and resolved to listen to his wife. Or at the very least nod sympathetically every so often. No, that was bad. He was going to pay attention to her. Not the subtle curve of her belly, now darkened from the Malaysian sun, or her long, lean legs – but her. And he would start by taking his eyes off her legs. "Hermione, I'm sorry, but I really don't know what you're talking about."

"I can't believe you haven't noticed," she said. Her voice had risen slightly. "So typical of a man! You mean you've never wondered why he never misses a single Quidditch match that you two arrange to go to, but always finds excuses not to come to anything when he knows that I'm going to be there? Why he only invites me to things where it would be rude not to – like a New Year's party – and even then, he spends most of the night avoiding me? Why he kept on making excuses to be somewhere else whenever I tried to talk to him at our wedding?"

Harry blinked. "That's ridiculous. Why would he want to avoid you? He was the best man, remember?"

"I don't know why," Hermione said miserably, the fire going out of her. "I just know that he is. You can't really say no if someone asks you to be the best man at their wedding, and even so, I'm not sure he would have said yes if you hadn't been the one to ask him. Harry, I don't think he even likes me anymore!"

Harry hastened to reassure her that it was just not true, and that Ron liked her fine, but Hermione would not be abated. "The three of us used to be inseparable. While we were in school they used to call us the "golden trio." We had no secrets from each other, but now it's like there's a wedge between us. I don't know what happened to us." She abruptly burst into tears.

"Oh, come on now," Harry soothed, pulling her back into his arms so that she now sobbed on his chest. Now that she mentioned it, Ron did appear to be avoiding her. "I'm sure it's nothing personal. Look, he's never had a serious relationship, and Dean tells me that things ended badly between him and Susan Bones. Perhaps he's just jealous of what we've got. And perhaps he feels uncomfortable because his two best friends are a couple, and he feels like he's got no one left."

"That's not true," Hermione sniffed. "He'll always have us. And I don't know what I can do to make him see it. Look, I don't want to cause trouble between the two of you. I know he's your best friend, but do you think you could talk to him and find out why he's acting this way? I'd hate to think that I've done something to hurt him without knowing what it is."

"No problem at all," Harry assured her. "He is my best friend, but so are you. You're my wife and I love you. Remember that. You're the two most important people in the world to me, and I don't like to think of you not getting along. Of course I'll talk to him." Truthfully he had been closer to Ron than Hermione during their Hogwarts years, but since the why-the-hell-not whim and the dare from Seamus Finnegan that had led to he and Hermione dating, she had become just as precious to him as Ron was. As far as he was concerned, they were both his best friends. How could you choose between someone who was brother to you in everything but blood and the woman you would love for the rest of your life? You just couldn't. The feelings he had for both were so strong, yet so different. Hermione snuggled closer to him, and despite his concern his stomach tightened in anticipation. Yes, very different.

"Thank you." Hermione's eyes were still wet, but at least she was smiling now. "And I love you too." They lay together in silence for a few moments, then Hermione said, "You know, I'm still a little upset."

"Yeah?" Harry said, feigning nonchalance. He knew where she was going with this one. This was a game he often played with Hermione Grang – Hermione Potter. He still got a thrill whenever he thought of her new last name. Their last name.

"There is something you can do to make me feel better though."

"And what's that?" Above her head he was grinning. "Make you a cup of tea?"

"No."

"Give you a massage?"

"You could start with that."

It was a struggle to keep from laughing. "Well, Hermione, what do you want me to do to cheer you up? I'm afraid I'm all out of ideas."

Hermione sat up and shrugged off the pyjama jacket. "Well, luckily for you, this time I have a few of my own."

Author's Note: Can't forsee when I'll be able to continue this since I'm currently living in Italy, but thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this.