Is this real? Yes, I'm writing again!

First of all, thanks to Cheesyficwriter and RomioneB. Your suggestions are always so on point and make me the happiest with your comments.

Also thanks to everyone that takes the time to read this fic and leave a review, you all make me smile so much. I'm sorry it took me so long to post again but, well...life. I have the next chapter mostly written so, fingers crossed, next Friday you'll get an update (yaaaaay).

The wizarding world, characters included, belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, I'm a poor old lady still dreaming with magic.

'So, what do you think?'

Hermione was leaning against the door frame to the spare room she'd just closed after putting the twins to poor things had been knackered after a thousand-hour flight followed by dinner at The Leaky. She had a wary look on her face and was biting her bottom lip in that way that made me want to grab it with my own teeth and – wait, what did she just say?

'Uhm?' I asked, pretending I hadn't understood her. She just shook her head and began to walk towards the sofa as she spoke again.

'The twins, I mean. Did you like them?'

'Of course, I did! How could I not? They're amazing!' I almost jumped off of the sofa with the force of my answer. The twins were fucking wicked. But then, doubt washed over me. 'Did...er...did they like me?'

'What do you think?' she asked, sitting beside me. I shrugged in response, and Hermione cupped my face with her hand, 'They loved you,' she reassured me, 'they have from even before they met you, Ron.'

I was almost purring, nuzzling into her hand, but her last words made my eyes shoot open in surprise. How much do they know about me? I wondered. Still in place, not daring to lose contact with her hand, I raised an eyebrow.

'I may have told them some stories about you,' she answered shyly.

Interesting.

'What kind of stories?'

'Just...sto-aaah-ries,' she yawned. She'd moved her hand as she stretched, and I immediately felt cold at the loss of her touch.

'Are you tired?' I asked as I reached up towards her shoulder to straighten her jumper that was amiss, but before I could reach her, she leaned forward – faster than a Niffler diving for a galleon – and snuggled into me.

'Shouldn't you be going to sleep?' I chuckled as I wrapped my arms around her.

'Hmm,' she sighed. 'I'd rather stay here. Just...just for a bit. You're so warm and comfy.'

'Best hugs in the world, if I remember correctly?' I squeezed her tighter to make my point. She hummed her affirmation.

'I've missed this. I've missed you, Ron. So much.' She snuggled further into me, resting her head on my chest, right over my heart.

I felt myself relax and slid down on the sofa into a horizontal position. Hermione began to ramble, mumbling into my jumper some unintelligible words about her life in Australia. I was so happy to have her with me that I couldn't care less what she'd done or not done there. She was in my arms, she was with me, and all I could focus on was the familiar smell of her hair and how it reminded me of how much I'd missed her.

All too soon, she pulled herself out of my grip and sat up. She was looking down at her hands as they played with the hem of her jumper. Had she asked me anything? Was she expecting me to say something? I had been so caught up in my head that I hadn't listened to a word she'd said. I was so happy to finally have her with me that – wait. Was she with me? Did I even have anything to do with her being back?

She looked at me, and we spoke at the same time.

'Ron, I have to tell you I...I still love–'

'Why did you come back – what?–'

'–your hugs!'

'Oh.'

Hermione was blushing and looking sheepish, as if she'd said something she wasn't supposed to. I felt like there was now a hole in my chest. For a split second, I thought she was going to say… but no, how? Could she?

We stood there, blinking at each other in the most uncomfortable silence. Seconds felt like hours, but after a while, Hermione was the first to talk.

'That was...er...what I was –' she cleared her throat '– I love your hugs. Yes,' she finished with a short nod.

Despite her words, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more. She'd declared she enjoyed my hugs many times in the past without the slightest hint of pink on her cheeks. So, why all the blushing? I was determined to squeeze the truth out of her, but before I could question her further, she beat me again, speaking first.

'What was it? What were you saying before I…'

'Oh, that,' I muttered, disappointment evident in my voice. She was diverting the subject, but I didn't want to go back to the bloody Australia topic.

Australia!

She was talking about bloody Australia, which somehow led her to the "hugs" love declaration. If I played my cards the right way, I could still direct the conversation to where I needed it to go. I just had to stay focused and ask the right questions.

'I wanted to know why you came back. You didn't give a reason in your letters.'

She sighed, and her face relaxed into a half-smile as she went on, telling me all about her decision to come back to England.

First, I learned that, within the last year, the twins had begun to ask more about their father. She explained how she'd told the kids that they had a "Cup Dad" that had put his seeds in a cup, then those seeds were planted in her belly and grew, so she became their mother. But, although the twins were happy having only her, they still had some doubts and questions about their roots that she couldn't answer, which had forced Hermione to contact the donor.

Hugo was the most insistent on getting information about his father since he'd been feeling left out because he looked so different from his mother and sister. Hermione said that it was all due to how people in Australia judged him for being ginger – which was not a very appealing feature there, apparently – and how lonely he felt being the only one like that in his family.

My ears burned with rage as I pictured the little thing suffering over some shit he didn't even have control over. Blimey! Even to this day, being an old sod, I wasn't very fond of the flaming mop of red hair that I wore like a fucking flag over my head. But I was far from feeling bad about it. It was normal to me. I was a Weasley, and as such, I was part of a clan.

As I told Hermione that Hugo would never feel alone again in the "Weasley Army of Gingers", she beamed at me and pointed out that she was hoping we could give him the sense of belonging he was missing, even if we weren't blood-related. I scoffed at her comment and reminded her that the three of them were part of the family. They always had been and always would be. Even if it's not how I want them to be.

She then moved on to the last few reasons that made her come back. Her parents were planning to retire within the next two to three years, and they would be doing it here. Seeing as the whole point of going to Australia was to be with them if they were to come back, so would she. Also, she wanted the kids to go to a muggle school. The mandatory entry age here was five, and they'd be turning five in about a month. So, all of that together – plus an unexpected job offer from our Ministry of Magic in the Magical Law Department – Hermione had decided that it was the perfect time to return to England.

It was all great, but nothing she'd told me so far gave me any clues to where we currently stood. And based on her very affectionate greeting at the airport, the fact that the twins knew a ton about me, and her profession of love to my hugs...there had to be something else, didn't there?

In the last five years, I'd only found out about one bloke Hermione had dated. He was the son of one of her co-workers in Australia. They met about two years after the twins were born, and they'd been together for about half a year before she'd ditched him. After that, as far as I knew, she'd remained single. But I reckoned that because our letters had become so distant within the last few years – and that I wasn't keen to ask about the subject either – that whatever I knew could be as close to the truth as my Star Charts for Divination.

Hermione appeared very tired. She had spent several hours on a plane with the twins, many to be precise. I could see her fighting to keep her eyes open, and I knew the gallant thing to do was to send her to bed, but then again, I'd been waiting five sodding years for an honest chat. Scratch that; I've been waiting for it since the day she'd ditched me.

Never before had I felt so close to getting Hermione to come clean about her feelings towards me. She was knackered, yes, but there was this part of me that just couldn't let her go without getting the answers I wanted. So I settled on a strategy, determined to get from her what I needed to know so I could figure out whether it was safe or not to get my hopes up again. I could be a lovesick idiot, but I wasn't a masochist, after all.

I locked my eyes with hers and felt a rush of nerves as I took in the look she was giving me; it radiated warmth and...love? I gulped.

'Seems to me that everything kind of sorted itself for you to come back,' I said. She tilted her head to the side and answered with a smile.

'Now that you point it out, it really did. I think I was hesitant to just leave everything behind once coming back became a real option. I'd already settled at work, and the people were very nice. And you know how much I struggle to make friends, so I wasn't very keen to sacrifice all those relationships that I've worked so–'

'What kind of relationships?' I chipped in, trying not to sound as eager as I felt.

At first, she was stunned by my interruption. But then, she looked at me with a face I've come to know too well. She was trying to read me. I knew that if I gave her enough time, she'd eventually figure out what was on my mind. She always did. But then, I didn't want her to know my real motives, so I put the pressure on her by raising my eyebrows accompanied with a short shrug, urging her to talk. She frowned.

'What do you mean what kind of – Oh.' As realisation hit her, Hermione averted my gaze and fixed her eyes on the door of the spare room, her cheeks turning pink.

The ball was in her court, so I waited for her to figure out how she would answer. When she spoke, she was still looking at the door, her voice coming out so low that I almost didn't hear her.

'It's been years since my last...romantic affair…' she trailed off, closing her eyes as if to brace herself for what was coming.

'I won't say I didn't try,' she continued, 'because I did. I even got into a serious relationship – Ethan, I told you about him in my letters – but time passed, and he felt things for me that I wasn't... I couldn't feel for him.

'So I decided to end it,' she went on. 'And ever since then, I've decided to remain single because–' she turned to look at me, her eyes piercing mine with a determined expression that made my stomach flip '–the only one I can truly love...he wasn't in Australia.'

Merlin's saggy left–

'MUM!'

We were both startled by the kids calling for Hermione, and before I could muster up any sound or words, she stood up and ran to the spare room, leaving me stunned on the sofa. Suddenly, the weight of her words fell over me. She had fucking said it! I mean, she didn't say it say it, but she'd said... it. There wasn't any other possible interpretation.

I got up and started pacing around the sitting room, thinking carefully about what I would say to her when she got out of the room – because she had to come out, she couldn't just leave me like that – and stopped short at the sound of the doorknob turning. I was standing outside the spare room in two long strides, just in front of the bathroom door.

Hermione hadn't seen me standing there, so she bumped into me, losing her balance, but I reached out and held her by her waist. She looked up with a confused expression, and I let out an awkward, strained laugh. Despite the stupidity of my vocal cords and face, at least my arms were on task and squeezed her closer.

One of her arms was trapped between our bodies, the back of her hand pressing against my racing heart. We were so close; I could just lean in and kiss her right then and there. But no, we needed to talk; we had to do things right for a change. I had to tell her everything I'd been holding in for years, and then I would snog her senseless.

My mouth suddenly felt too dry. I cleared my throat in preparation, but before I could speak, Hermione reached up with her spare hand and placed it on my forehead. I instinctively closed my eyes as she ran her fingers through my fringe, moving it to the side.

'You never told me anything about other women. In your letters, I mean,' she said. I opened my eyes and found her glancing up at me with a curious look. 'Have you?' she frowned. 'Are you–'

'No!' I stated, a bit more eager than I had to. 'I'm not...but I had. Before, I mean. But not now.'

AHH! Fuck, make some sense, Weasley!

'Look,' I sighed as I let her go and leaned against my door, facing the spare room. She stood still, waiting for me to continue. I let out another deep breath before I spoke again, looking up at the ceiling.

'I've tried the dating thing, a lot, to be honest. But I just, I can't settle down, I don't want to. Not if it's not–' a door slammed shut, making me look down '–with the right – Hermione?'

I wondered if I should look for her in the kid's room when the sound of water gave away her location. Why had she left me there, speaking alone? Couldn't she hold it in for a bit?

I was going mental trying to figure out why the hell was she in the loo instead of snogging me after my love declaration when the sound of the doorknob made me turn towards the bathroom. Hermione opened the door, looked at me, took a deep breath… and frowned. Then, she tilted her chin up and passed me on her way to the kid's room.

'You can sleep in my bed, y'know?' I said; her hand had barely grabbed the doorknob, and she froze.

Hermione let out a shivering breath before she turned around to face me, her mouth still agape. Then, she pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose as if in thought.

'You want me to…'

'Shit! No, I didn't mean – well, unless you want to? But no, yeah. Er...I wouldn't be in the bed; I would–'

'Oh, honestly, Ron!' She snapped, 'I appreciate the offer, but if it bothers you so much, I'd rather sleep with my children,' She pivoted on her heels, entered the room and closed the door fast behind her.

What the hell?