This chapter is for gurrumais by way of apology for it taking so long!
Sorry the updating is a bit slow at the moment thanks for being patient and also all of the positive reviews.
"The problem is, it's weakened him a lot and he's not helping himself get better – he's working all day in the shop, trying to fit in maintaining all of his security contracts at the same time. He won't accept that he needs to rest for a few days. He's going to make himself ill if he's not careful. I'm just staying for a few days to make sure he eats properly and gets a few hours of sleep every night until he's better."
"I've got to say, Hermione, of all the excuses I've ever heard for moving in with someone, losing a foot in a splinching accident has got to be one of the worst, least romantic –"
"It's got nothing to do with romance Ginny. As I keep telling you. And Harry. And anyone else who will listen, there is nothing going on between Ronald and I."
"Except marriage."
"Except that."
"And shagging."
"That's quite enough now. And I think it's pretty rich from you, Miss 'Oh Harry, please can I move into Grimmauld Place with you, mum wants to turn my bedroom into a sewing room'."
"Well she did…probably! So how is married life treating you?" Ginny asked.
"Not as well as it's treating you," Hermione nodded to Ginny's burgeoning stomach, "I don't know. It's starting to feel…familiar maybe? Maybe the same as it used to be, when we were friends at least. It's still not quite right though. It's like…like when you thought you'd lost your lucky Holyhead Harpies t shirt." Ginny had spent a week looking for it frantically, only to find that Harry had been wearing it when he went for a run after work. It wasn't the most elegant metaphor, Hermione realised, but it avoided her having to discuss the tangle of emotions that overwhelmed her every time she thought of Ron.
"Did you really just compare your marriage to my brother to my ratty old qudditch robes?" laughed Ginny.
"I'm not the one who hexed all of Harry's hair off after I found him with said quidditch robes!" Hermione retorted, curling her fingers around the stem of the cool glass in her hand, "It's just that it feels familiar and comfortable being with him but…it's all just a bit misshapen now. It doesn't seem to fit quite like it used to. And there's always that worry that it might go wrong again,"
"Well now I know you aren't talking about my t shirt – there's no way Harry would dare take it again," Ginny laughed as she sipped her glass of juice with a longing glance at the condensation beading on Hermione's glass of wine.
The two of them had indulged in an unashamedly girly day: they had been shopping, at Ginny's insistence and hadn't stopped until Hermione's feet were sore and she wished that she had brought her beaded bag to stow the shopping away in, or at least Ginny would break her "no putting shrinking spells on clothes, it misshapes the fibres" rule. Once they had entire new outfits, from underwear to shoes, they had gone and got facials and had their hair done. She had tried to tell her that a pregnant woman shouldn't be on her feet for that long but Ginny brushed it off and had charged ahead into the next shop with the kind of energy Hermione could only wish for. Ginny had taken charge in the hairdressers, aided by an all too willing Anton, who Hermione had long before suspected of being bored of her usual six weekly trim. He had used his wand similarly to a muggle curling tong, winding each strand of hair round and round until all of her hair fell in voluminous curls down her back.
Once it was finished, Hermione couldn't help a shy smile in the mirror, "It's actually quite nice," she admitted.
"Pshaw, it reeks of sex. That is what you mean," Anton declaimed dramatically, before he turned his attention to Ginny, teasing her hair up on top of her head, "And where is it you ladies are going, that means you have to have entire new outfits, and hairstyles?"
"We're going on a double date!" Hermione was almost surprised that Ginny hadn't waved her arms in excitement to accompany her uncharacteristic squeal. She must have failed to hide her exasperated amusement sufficiently because Ginny, gimlet eyed, exclaimed dramatically, "It's alright for you, this might be the last time I get to go out in years!"
Hermione, who knew full well that Molly and Arthur, already doting grandparents to their rapidly growing brood of grandchildren, and honorary grandparents to Teddy, would be on hand to babysit whenever Ginny wanted, just took a sip of her drink and said nothing, keen to avoid another version of the talk that Ginny had been giving her all day – that this was definitely a very real and serious date and should be treated as such and that and slacking by Hermione would not be tolerated.
Eventually they were sufficiently beautified and headed back to Grimmauld Place to change.
"I look like a beach ball!" Ginny wailed, examining herself in profile in the large mirror in the sitting room, drawing her teal swing dress in under her small but pronounced bump for maximum effect.
"Ahh, but you're my beach ball," Harry entered the room and snaked his arms around her waist, kissing her on the cheek as he admired their joint reflection over her shoulder.
"Yeah, don't worry sis', it just looks like an engorgement charm has gone a bit wrong. We can tell people we're on the way to St Mungo's if anyone asks," Ron joked, moving swiftly to catch the hairbrush one handed that Ginny had thrown at him, "Ha, you'll have to move faster than that to get one Ron 'The King' Weasley. Hi Hermione," he added on, almost as an afterthought, smiling down at her as she fiddled with the clasp of her shoe. She rose stiffly to greet him. They aimed a kiss at each other's cheek, both awkwardly inclining their head the same way, then switching, giggling nervously. Presumably Ron had been drilled with the same 'this is definitely a date' speech, because he seemed as nervous as her, despite the fact they had been getting on perfectly fine for the past week.
"Good day?" he asked, stepping back to a safe distance away from her.
Hermione huffed ungraciously, "Your sister has dragged me through just about every shop in London it feels like."
"You look nice," nodding to her black velvet dress and making her blush. Hermione was just about to return the compliment about his suit but a cushion flew through the air and whacked him on the side of the head.
Harry and Ginny cheered, giving each other a double high five. "It was a great pass by Potter to Potter and Potter scores!" Harry commentated, as the hand that Hermione had clamped over her mouth failed to hold in the gale of laughter at the look of open mouthed surprise on Ron's face.
"Potter is our Queen!" Ginny sang tonelessly, dancing around the room.
Hermione threw up a shield charm between the siblings, trying not to laugh when Ron bounced ineffectually off it, landing in a heap on the floor, "Time to go, I think."
They headed outside and, rolling his eyes slightly, Harry stuck out his wand. He seemed to brace himself, not against the jerking of the tall purple bus that jerked abruptly in front of them, but the effusive welcome he knew he would receive from Stan Shunpike.
"Welcome to the night bus," the purple clad conductor started as he stepped out of the door of the bus, his arms spread theatrically, before he noticed who had hailed the bus, "Chosen one!" Stan pulled Harry into a tight hug. He may have been boastful and at times an inattentive bus conductor, but no one could accuse Stan of being ungrateful. After the war, when he was freed from Azkaban, word had somehow reached him that Harry had argued his innocence and that, coupled with his blurry memory of Harry's mercy during the battle of the seven Potters, was enough for him to issue Harry with a lifetime of free travel on the bus and treat him so affectionately that it made Harry uncomfortable. True to form, Stan was getting a little misty eyed at seeing Harry, and hadn't seemed to notice that he had now grasped his hand and was pumping it up and down furiously, "Here Ern'! It's only 'Arry Potter! 'Arry Potter who saved my life! When everyone else had deserted me, he remembered me! The Ministry was going to leave me to rot but –"
"Err, four singles to Diagon Alley please Stan," Harry managed to extricate his hand from Stan's vicelike grasp, "No beds or hot chocolate required."
"For you 'Arry Potter, the Knight bus is always at your service. Eleven sickles each to the rest of you," he added, barely able to tear his eyes away from Harry for a moment to address the rest of them, instead just holding out his hand for the money. Harry put two galleons into his hand and they made their way down the bus to find armchairs.
"Take 'er away 'Ern!" Stan cried to the ancient driver, hanging on tightly to a strap hanging down as the bus jerked forwards with an almighty bang. As they started moving more smoothly, they heard Stan move upstairs and start telling another customer in loud excited tones about how Harry Potter was sitting downstairs.
"Not a word," Harry warned, raising a finger to the other three as they struggled not to laugh, "Let's call me paying your bus fare buying your silence."
Mercifully Ernie Prang too felt they deserved some kind of preferential treatment. Either that or he was as tired of hearing Stan go on about the Chosen One as Harry himself was. Whatever the reason, he dropped them straight at Diagon Alley so their journey was only a few minutes long. Ginny had chosen the restaurant – a muggle Italian restaurant just a short walk from the Wizarding quarter, claiming that she had a craving for their spaghetti and meatballs. The narrowness of the pavement meant that Ginny and Harry had to walk ahead and Ron and Hermione naturally fell in line behind.
Ron was silent, his eyes trained down on the pavement as they walked along in step, "Are you alright?" Hermione fussed, "You don't need to be a hero you know. I've got a pain potion in my handbag, just in case you need it."
"I'm fine, stop going on! Honestly, you're worse than my mother. You'd think no one had ever been splinched before! It's embarrassing enough having done it, let alone being reminded of it every five minutes. Just stop nagging me!"
"Fine!" Hermione replied huffily, increasing her pace so that Ron couldn't keep up, before spinning on her heel so fast that the skirts of her dress whirled out around her, "Actually, no, it's not fine. Ginny is really excited about tonight, she's spent all day getting ready and dragging me along with her, hence my ridiculous get up, so please don't get into a strop and spoil it. You might not want to want to be here on this date but can you please just pretend you don't mind for a few hours, then you can be as grumpy as you want."
Ron stopped dead on the pavement, hands on hips, oblivious to the annoyed glances of the people whose way he blocked. He cocked his head on one side, looking intently at her, "Who says I don't want to be here? And for the record, I don't think you look ridiculous."
Hermione bit her lip, frowning. Ron's gaze on her made her feel hot and shivery all at once. She took a tentative step back towards him, feeling an almost magnetic pull.
"Here we are!" Harry called back down the pavement to them, waving towards a cosy looking restaurant. In unison, their heads turned to Harry, twin expressions of guilt on their face, as though they had been caught doing something they shouldn't.
"We'd better…." Ron gestured ahead of them, his cheeks pink. Hermione nodded in agreement and hurried towards the restaurant.
Hermione slid into the booth next to Ron and picked up the menu. Ginny, who was clearly in no mood to hang about, hailed a waitress before Hermione had even had the chance to read the starters. The waitress looked a little surprised but came over to take their orders nonetheless.
"For starter, please could I have the spaghetti and meatballs, just as a starter portion?" Ginny asked.
"Of course, and what do you want for your main course?"
"Spaghetti and meatballs please," Ginny said so firmly, as she shut her menu with a snap, that the waitress didn't dare to do any more than widen her eyes and write down the order on her notepad. The others glanced at each other, trying not to laugh and gave their orders. Hermione noticed how the waitress smiled at Ron and asked him if the table wanted to order any wine. In the wizarding world, people always gravitated towards Harry, but here in a muggle restaurant, the waitress seemed to view Ron as the leader of the gang. She cursed herself for her jealousy, reminding herself how silly she had thought it when Ron used to get jealous, and that actually the waitress was simply doing her job. After all, it wasn't her fault that Harry's stature showed all of the eleven years of neglect that he had suffered and he was always keen to shrink away from attention whereas Ron, tall and broad shouldered, revelled in leadership. She couldn't blame her that Ron had that relaxed manner that made him so easy to talk to, and a smile that drew you closer and blue eyes that were impossible to look away from, and…..Merlin, she needed to do something about her feelings, before she started writing him poetry about fresh pickled toads.
Ginny and Harry were laughing about something that George had sent them for the baby – a toy that transformed into a cloud of butterflies when the baby laughed, apparently.
"It sounds like they're having a great time," Ginny said, eyeing Ron, "George seems so much happier."
"Well good for him," he sneered, "So glad he's having a nice holiday while I pick up all the work."
"It's not a holiday – he's trying to make a new life for himself. One without Fred overshadowing it. I know it isn't nice to think of him wanting to leave Fred behind but he can't live in the past forever – he's got a family to think of now. And I know for a fact he's been sending you of suitable assistants to help you out in the shop and you've been blowing them up. How's that working for you, considering you're supposed to be recovering?"
Ron's ears reddened, "It seems like it's my day for getting nagged," he grinned ruefully at Hermione, "Fine. The next decent person that applies for the job, I'll give them a chance, how about that? Happy?"
"Delirious," Ginny replied dryly. Hermione threw her a grateful smile, relieved that she had managed to talk some sense into Ron.
"I know you're right about George. You must be right, because Hermione's been telling me the same thing. I have been a bit of an arse about it, I suppose."
Hermione reached across unthinkingly and squeezed his hand under the table. Ron looked at her, surprised but didn't let it go, a smile breaking out slowly over his face. Harry and Ginny were talking about something but all Hermione could think was how she was holding Ron's hand, and how natural it felt.
Suddenly, she realised that Harry was talking to her and she had been paying no attention to what he was saying, "… I've been sounding Kingsley out for information about the marriage law and he thinks that some people may have been paid off to vote in favour of the law. Just a select few to sit there and whisper to their neighbours about what a great idea it was and to shout 'hear hear' at the right moment."
She tried to compose herself even though she couldn't concentrate on anything but the warm fingers brushing against her own, "Well corruption in the Wizengamot is hardly a big surprise. There was probably the same number of people who were bribed to vote no. I've been researching Hazeldene and he's a pureblood from a family as old and inbred as they come. I'm not sure why the Hazeldenes weren't part of the Sacred 28 but he's well in with the Parkinsons and Goyles of this world."
"Well he's not in with the Weasleys," Ginny sniffed. The subject of the Sacred 28 was always a contentious one for all Weasleys who bitterly resented their inclusion on the list.
"Well I would like to think that if he came round yours for tea every Saturday, you might have mentioned it," Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend, "I just can't find out much more than that – he seems to be a complete mystery."
"Well I may be able to help you – I've got his personnel file here," Harry pulled a slim manila file out of his pocket, shrunken to miniature size and held it out to her.
Hermione hesitated, realising that if she reached out for the file, she would have to let go of Ron's hand, and she didn't think she had the courage to take it again once the bond was broken, Harry frowned and waved the file at her, allowing her a glimpse of the Ministry insignia on the front.
"How did you get hold of this? Did you steal Ministry property?" asked Hermione, shocked enough to let go of Ron's hand and snatch up the file.
Harry grinned self-consciously, "I may have had to carry out a little bit of subterfuge."
"And a little bit of chatting up that witch in personnel that fancies you?" Ginny turned to glare at him but Harry just shrugged and laughed.
"Well, being the chosen one must have some perks."
"Thanks anyway Harry, I do hope you don't get in any trouble."
"All ministry confidential personnel files have a trace on them so they can be tracked down if they go missing," Ron took the file from Hermione and turned it over to reveal the purple and orange WW logo on the back, "Luckily I can just…Abuigare," he pressed his thumb over it and twisted it sharply clockwise, causing the seal to drop off, "Don't you try that if you want to pinch anything else – your thumbs will drop off," he warned, looking at them seriously. Without the hint of humour that so often danced around his eyes, Hermione could see why so many people took him so seriously at work.
"That seems a bit of an overreaction doesn't it?" she exclaimed, as she picked the file back up to put in her handbag.
"Says the girl who scarred someone for life for betraying her," Hermione couldn't be sure but she thought she heard Ginny snigger under her breath at Ron's retort.
At that point the waitress brought over their starters and for a few minutes there was silence as they all ate, no one daring to come between Ginny and her prize.
Eventually Harry asked, "How's the house hunting going?"
"We think we've found the place," Hermione announced cautiously.
Ron stared at her in disbelief, "What do you mean think? We've paid a bloody deposit! You promised we wouldn't have to go and see any more. I don't think there's any houses left in England that we haven't looked round anyway!"
"Oh alright, we've found the place. I just can't believe it's real."
"Did you have trouble finding somewhere then?" Ginny asked, making Ron snort with amusement.
"Just a bit. What? It's true!" he exclaimed as Hermione glared at him, "Hermione decided that we needed a muggle and a magical estate agent so we could look at the full range of properties."
"Yes, I've already apologised about that. I'd forgotten how inconvenient muggle houses are. But in my defence, that woman was awful."
"Well the magical estate agent wasn't much better! Still, she came through in the end. Not that there was anything wrong with the first twenty houses she showed us."
Hermione's eyebrows nearly disappeared up into her hair, "Are you joking? What about that place we saw in Clerkenwell – the witch that lived there before had blown the roof off."
"At least it was light in there."
"What about the one that was underwater?"
I like swimming!" but Hermione could tell he was trying desperately not to laugh and turned back to Harry and Ginny, biting back her own giggles.
"Well in the end she took us to a lovely little place. It belonged to Elphias Doge but he's gone to live in Bournemouth with his sister. When he found out it was us trying to buy it, he tried to drop the price to almost nothing but we wouldn't let him. He wouldn't take anything like the asking price though. I do hope he hasn't left himself short – they wanted to go on a cruise this winter."
"What's it like?" Ginny asked with interest.
"It's a terraced town house, like yours, but with a garden out the front – full of every potion ingredient you can grow in Britain, and an enchanted greenhouse in the back garden to grow all the ones you can't."
"Which was in no way influential in Hermione liking the place," Ron joked.
"It's a bit dated but it's got dozens of rooms and with a bit of decorating it'll be perfect. I wanted to get an interior design firm in but Ron seems to think we need to do it all ourselves."
Ron folded his arms on the table top, "I just don't see the point of throwing money away when we could just as easily do it ourselves – dad'll show me all the decorating spells."
"So is it far?" interrupted Harry, recognising the warning signs of an argument.
"That's the best bit," Ron grinned, "It's about ten minutes walk from your place, so if we have a skin full round at yours, we can just walk home."
"Great news mate!" Harry laughed as the waitress cleared away their plates and brought their next course.
The food was delicious and the company was great but eventually Hermione noticed Ginny trying to hide a yawn behind the back of her hand; and as the waitress had evidently decided she would prefer to be at home in bed rather than ogling Ron, she had started noisily cleaning the tables around them, throwing them dark looks; she decided it was best to call it a night.
Harry helped Ginny on with her coat, dropping a kiss onto her cheek as he did so. It was an act so caring and strangely intimate that Hermione felt the need to glance the other way rather than watch. Ron met her eye and grimaced, embarrassed.
"Hermione, we're going back behind the restaurant to apparate, are you going to come with us?" asked Harry blithely.
Hermione shook her head, "I'm going to walk back to Diagon Alley with Ron, make sure he gets home ok and doesn't stay up all night working," she saw Ginny raise her eyebrows but resolutely ignored her look of amused scepticism.
Harry just nodded and started making arrangements with Ron about a quidditch match they were going to at the weekend. Ginny hugged Hermione tightly, her bump hard and round between them.
"Night sister, be good tonight won't you," Ginny winked at Hermione, a cheeky smile on her face.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh don't you? I saw the way you were looking at that waitress who was chatting him up. Why don't you just stop overthinking everything and just go for it?"
"Go for what? Ron doesn't see me like that anyway," she glanced in his direction but he was oblivious to their conversation, instead watching Harry who was now acting out a quidditch move.
"I wouldn't be so sure, tonight was his idea, you know. To go out, all together. On a date. Honestly!" she exclaimed when she saw Hermione purse her lips and shake her head in disbelief, "He said you'd be more likely to agree if I asked you rather than him and I wasn't to tell you he had anything to do with it."
"Which you are completely ignoring," Hermione pointed out, hoping to put the attention on to Ginny to divert from the quick intake of breath she took when Ginny told her, the way her face was flaming.
"What are annoying little sisters for?" she squeezed Hermione tightly again.
The four of them made their way out of the restaurant. The streets were largely deserted, save a few drunken revellers weaving along the pavement. With one last wave, Harry and Ginny slipped down the grimily dark alleyway behind the large wheelie bins and Hermione felt the ebb and flow of their magic as they apparated away. A light drizzle was falling and Hermione tutted in annoyance at the fact that her hair would almost instantly be back to its normal frizzy state, throwing up an impervious over her and Ron's heads. They attempted small talk about how nice the food was, and how quaint the restaurant for a few minutes but it soon faded away. Maybe it was down to the fact that the impervious shield above their heads was only the size of a muggle umbrella but the tips of Ron's fingers kept brushing against the back of her hand, sending sparks of electricity up her arm and making her magic leap in her belly. It was so distracting that she found the effort of conversation too much and was content to just walk in silence.
Eventually, it was Ron who broke it, "You didn't need to walk me back, you know, I could have done it quite easily walk back on my own. You may not have noticed but I am a man, quite a big one at that," he said, looking down at himself in amused surprise, as though he still expected to see the scrawny lanky figure of a thirteen year old.
Hermione tutted, "I know but you could be taken ill and then what would you do? You can't use magic."
"I'd just lie down and wait for one of those muggle aurors, ploicemen to come and find me," he grinned infuriatingly.
"Isn't it just easier that I walk you home and you stop moaning about it and at least pretend to be grateful for five minutes."
Ron just huffed but he slipped his arm through Hermione's so she guessed he must have been feeling tired after all and needed to lean on her.
By the time they made it back to Diagon Alley, Ron was limping heavily and his face was looking quite pale, enough that Hermione was starting to wonder whether he'd let her levitate him home.
She knocked on the door of the Leaky Cauldron, which was already closed, and to her surprise and relief, a sleepy-eyed Neville opened the door.
"Oh, it's you two!" he exclaimed, looking too pleased to see them to blush at the fact that he had been caught in his pajamas at the Leaky Cauldron at one in the morning.
"Alright Neville, things going well with you and Hannah then I'm guessing?" Ron teased.
"Yeah, pretty good, well better than pretty good really. She's amazing. It's like, all the things that I've always thought were stupid about myself, she likes! And she's just so –"
"I'm sure they don't want to hear about it," smiled Hannah, as she appeared at Neville's side in her dressing gown, but she glowed warmly at his words and stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek so she couldn't have been too bothered.
"Is everything alright anyway?" Hannah asked, concern furrowing her brow as she took in Ron's pasty complexion and the way he was leaning heavily against the door frame, "Do you need to get into Diagon? Trouble apparating, or is it something else?"
Hermione saw Neville draw himself up – the hero of Gryffindor ready to fight – and appeased him quickly, "It's fine, it's just we've had a bit to drink and…" she trailed off, unsure if Ron would be embarrassed to admit he couldn't do magic at the moment.
"I got splinched mate," Ron admitted, shamefaced, and waved his leg about for good measure, "The missus has got me on a travel ban."
"Yes," Hermione agreed, relieved, "In fact Neville, I don't suppose you mind giving me a hand getting Ron home?"
"Of course!" said Neville and, transfiguring a beer mat into a travelling cloak so neatly that Hermione couldn't help but look surprised, "We quite often have to do it for people who have had one two many or lost their cloaks on a night out," Neville admitted, with a glance at Hannah that left Hermione in no doubt where his newfound confidence for spellwork had come from.
They made their way out to the scrubby courtyard out the back of the pub, Neville now supporting Ron on one side and Hermione on the other, as Ron continued to apologise. With Neville's help, they quickly managed to get back to the shop and up the stairs to the small flat. Hermione was going to offer Neville a cup of tea but he seemed keen to get away, calling, "I'll leave you two to it, come and see me at the pub at the weekend," over his shoulder as he retreated down the treacherous spiral staircase down to the shop.
Hermione helped him to the squashy sofa and lowered him down into it. He fell back heavily, the momentum nearly pulling her into his lap. His hands settled on her hips to settle her it instead of pushing her back up, Ron just held her against him. One of her hands was on his chest and she could feel his heart pounding in time with her own racing pulse. Looking into his eyes felt like falling - like sailing in free fall.
"Hermione," he whispered huskily, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Cup of tea?" Hermione blurted out the first thing that came into her head, although the words came out too squeakily for her liking. She leapt up out of Ron's lap and dashed to the kitchen.
"Not for me, I'm exhausted. Don't reckon I've got the energy to drink it," Ron said, his words slightly slurred as if to demonstrate his point.
"Idiot. Idiot! Stop being such an idiot Hermione. What are you, twelve? You are a highly intelligent witch who is capable of dealing with her emotions like an adult. Stop being an idiot! " she muttered to herself under her breath as she reached into the cupboard for a mug with trembling fingers. As she cast an aguamenti charm to fill the kettle and started heating the water, she called back through to Ron, managing to control the quaver in her voice this time even though her mouth was painfully dry, "Ginny said it was you who asked her to set up tonight's date – which really was very thoughtful of you…"
"Always the tone of surprise," Hermione heard Ron mumble from the other room.
"Yes…well. I was obviously wrong with what I said earlier. And that made me wonder why you might want to go on a date with me? I mean, I hope I'm not being presumptuous, but perhaps I've been a bit hasty, you know with the homework planner, and making everything so formal…."
Ron didn't say anything to disagree with her so she screwed her hands up into fists so tightly she could feel her nails digging into her palms, "…I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I thought it would be easier to try and turn my feelings off but obviously I'm so far of wrong that I wouldn't even know how to get back to anything making sense without you keep showing me the way. You've acted nothing short of decent throughout this whole thing and I've been acting like a child having a tantrum. And what I really mean is…is…it would be stupid of me not to admit that between us there is some kind of, well more than some kind of - from my part anyway - I'd actually say what I was feeling was quite a big…"
A soft snore interrupted her. She poked her head round the door to see Ron's head lolled back against the sofa, his mouth open wide
"Attraction." She finished sadly, her shoulders slumping. She summoned a blanket from the bedroom and covered him over. As she tucked it around his shoulders, he smiled in his sleep. She bent down and kissed him on the cheek before making her way to bed.