The second time she woke up, that feeling of loneliness did not disappear as quickly as before. She rolled around in bed, but he was gone. She felt herself about to cry, and looked desperately around the room, but, although he was not there, his clothes and bags still were. She sighed with intense relief, and got up out of bed. It was only when she stood against the cold floor, and felt the chill in the air that she realized that her clothes from the night before were also lying on the floor. She bent down to pick up a t-shirt lying on the floor, but Ron's pale blue shirt, caught her eye. She picked it up, held it against her bare breast an inhaled his scent. She put it on, and wrapped herself in the folds of spare material. She wandered downstairs, doing up the buttons, still trying to take the inane grin off of her face. She walked into the kitchen and dropped into a stool by the breakfast bar. Ron was pottering around the kitchen, returning things to shelves, taking out cups, filling the kettle, getting the coffee out.

He looked up and smiled at her, "Morning."

They were acting completely normally, as if last night hadn't even happened, but all she could think was, They perfect look in his eyes, just before we kissed…

"Morning,"

"Did you sleep okay?"

The feel of his lips as they locked with mine…

"Yeah, fine,"

"Do you want some coffee?"

The light touch of his fingers on my back, thighs, stomach, breasts…

"Oh, yes please,"

He began to pour boiling water into the cups, "Milk? Sugar?"

His soft kisses all over my body…

"Milk, no sugar,"

"I was going to make cinnamon pancakes, but then I remembered your allergic, so..."

His beautiful face when he cried out…

They looked at each other and both began to smile and blush.

"I'm just gonna go upstairs and change," he said, tugging at one of the sleeves of the pink, fluffy, tight-fitting dressing gown he was wearing.

She giggled, "Yeah, sure."

She was about to get up from her stool, when Ron took her arm and kissed her tenderly on the lips.

She could hear his footsteps on the stairs above her. She wandered up, and stood in the doorway of the bedroom, watching him start to remove the robe. When he saw her standing there, he instinctively pulled the robe around t cover himself. He walked over to her, doing up the dressing gown as he went. She smiled cheekily at him. He put his hand on her hips and lifted her onto her tiptoes as he kissed her sweetly. She stepped back and began to slide off his dressing gown. One by one he undid the buttons of the shirt she was wearing.

"Nice shirt, Mya."

She wrapped her arms around him and he bent down to kiss her neck. She tilted her head back and felt herself fill with pleasure. They eased themselves onto the bed, and once again were together in the way that to them, was so new, yet so familiar.

"Mya, I have to go. Really. I've got three reports and an investigation. And we were meant to write up that thing for old man Fudge," Ron said, pulling on his jeans.

"Oh, yeah. I'd forgotten about that," she said, sitting up in bed pulling the sheet up to cover herself. "Oh, please stay, Ron. I don't know what I'll do without you."

"Hermione, for 13 years you've been desperate to me to go and get on with some work. I'm sure you'll manage."

"No, its just that…well…it's different now. This morning when I woke up and I thought you were gone, I wanted to die. I don't care what happens now, as long as I'm with you. I need you, Ron."

They stared at each other looking for meaning in each other's eyes. He slumped onto the bed beside her. She leant against his shoulder and put her hands in his lap.

"What time is it?" when she spoke, he could feel her breath on his chest.

"Er…3'o'clock."

"What day?"

"Sunday."

"You know, this is the first weekend since starting for the ministry that I haven't done any work."

He took her by the shoulders and looked at her.

"Are you kidding?"

She shook her head.

"Well, I'd better stay then, and help distract you from doing any."

She threw her arms around him.

"I love you," she whispered into the back of his neck.

"I love you," he said into her hair, "You know, people usually wait until they've been on a few dates before saying the L-word."

"I think being friends since first year counts for more than a few dates."

Had the little black owl which was flying past the window chosen to look in at that moment, he would have seen two naked people, so in love with each other, that their white skin seemed to glow, in the sunlight flooding the room.