"I hope you enjoy your soup," the waitress said as she put two bowls down in front of Ron and Hermione.

"You too." Ron smiled up at her.

The blonde blinked back at him, looking confused, and it took him a moment to realise what he'd said. He could already feel the blush creeping over his cheeks towards his ears, and he started to panic. He hated it when people thought of him as a blundering idiot, even though the more rational part of him knew she probably heard something similar every day.

Eventually, his brain clicked into gear, and he batted his long, blonde eyelashes at her.

"I mean, thank you very much. I'm sure it will taste delicious."

A wide smile appeared on the waitresses face. She giggled, then left the table, a noticeable spring in her step. Once she had disappeared back into the kitchen, Ron turned his attention to his lunch, missing the scathing look in his wife's eyes.

"You flirt in the most awkward situations," Hermione accused.

Ron lifted his head from his delightful bowl of vegetable soup and frowned. However, his ears continued to burn pink. "I don't have a clue what you're on about, 'Mione."

She scoffed. "Oh, please. That waitress was putty in your hands. You put on your biggest smile and bat those eyelashes, and suddenly she forgets all about the fact you said 'you too' when she asked if you enjoyed your soup! Just engage your brain before opening your mouth next time."

The soup was as delicious as it smelt, and Ron took advantage of tasting it with some bread whilst considering his reply to Hermione. After all, she would only shout at him further if he spoke to her with his mouth full.

Finally, he swallowed.

"You're just as bad as me." He took another spoonful of soup to hide his smirk.

Hermione's cutlery hit the table with a clatter, and she shrieked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You walked in on Bill getting changed the other day. Don't deny it," he added before she could protest. "He told me all about how you blushed as red as a schoolgirl, made a saucy joke and then left the room. Bet you made sure you got a good eyeful of my older brother before you did too. I always reckoned you fancied him."

"Yeah, well, when we bumped into Viktor on holiday last year, you gave his girlfriend the vilest look before asking him if he'd been going to the gym and 'could you share your workout with me, too?'" Hermione imitated cruelly.

"And what about Gilderoy Lockhart?"

For the third time since Ron had met her, Hermione seemed lost for words. Her eyes were wild, and her hair crackled with electricity as she struggled to gain some composure. But it was no good. With a thump, she returned her napkin to the table as her chair screeched back.

And then she was gone.

Unbothered by her erratic behaviour, Ron finished his soup before digging out his wallet and placing a twenty-pound note on the table, hoping that it would be enough to cover the lunchtime bill and pay a tip. He shoved his hands in his pockets and whistled as he left the cafe, ignoring the scathing looks of the remaining patrons.

He didn't get far, only as far as the empty store next door to the cafe, before his enraged wife stepped in front of him.

"How dare you use Lockhart against me!" She clenched and unclenched her hands at her sides, and her chest heaved with heavy breaths.

"But it's tru—"

"I was thirteen! Do you know how hard it is to be a teenage girl with all those hormones?"

"Hermione, you're talking to the guy who had to use a book to hide his reaction every time I saw you in your school skirt."

"Yeah, but…" she trailed off at the implication of what he'd said. "Really?"

"Bloody hell, yeah, of course! And don't even get me started on how it made me feel when I first noticed that you were wearing a bra. There was no avoiding it. You were just there all the time, bloody turning me on. I've told you all of this before."

"It's still nice to hear it." Hermione softened slightly towards her husband.

"You were the one who started all of this by saying I was flirting with the waitress. You know it's unintentional, right? I don't mean to flirt. Sometimes it just happens."

"You just…don't flirt with me anymore, Ron."

He raised his eyebrows then let out a low chuckle. "Are you kidding me? This is our flirting, Hermione. All this arguing, it's got me well riled up. I love bickering with you, it's my favourite thing to do, and you give as good as you get.

"Now, are you going to waste this opportunity, or shall we head home and continue this discussion there?"

He waited for her answer, but it didn't come. Instead, her petite hand moved to the back of his head and pulled him in for a hard, hungry kiss. Her spare hand reached down to squeeze his backside. As they continued to snog, Ron pulled her into the empty doorway, pressing her against the tiled entranceway.

Hermione moaned against his lips, sending a buzz of pleasure directly to his lower belly, and he knew he needed more of her, and soon.

Pulling away only enough to graze his nose against hers, Ron checked their surroundings. The cafe was at the quieter end of the high street, and nobody else was out and about. Letting out a sigh of relief, he focused hard on their bedroom, trying to ignore the suggestions of what he might do to Hermione once he got her there as they invaded his mind. His sole purpose was to get her home before he succumbed to the passion right there on the doorstep. He could sort out everything else after.