Ron had forgotten how much a hangover could hurt until he got out of bed on Sunday. Harry was in the kitchen at the table when he shuffled in, bleary eyed and in search of caffeine and carbohydrate.

"Coffee's in the pot," Harry mumbled, looking like Ron felt.

Ron slopped some liquid into a mug, added more to Harry's and then eased himself gently into a chair opposite.

"Remember when hangovers were something old people suffered from?"

Harry managed a weak smile. "Yep. And last night was tame compared to some of the parties we've had over the years."

They reminisced quietly as the coffee eased into their bloodstreams and worked its magic. After a while, Ron felt brave enough to attempt to operate the toaster, producing a stack of hot toast that Harry set upon greedily.

"I feel… Horrible."

"You drank your weight in beer," Harry responded mildly.

Ron frowned. "So did you."

"Ah, but I refused the shots. And whatever it was that Fred and George brought."

"Cinnamon punch." Ron cringed, the thought of the viscous red liquid almost summoning the taste in the back of his throat. "Bastards."

"Yeah, you disappeared after that. Thought you were dead."

"I was probably vomiting."

"Don't think so. Or at least, I hope not. You came back covered in lipstick with your shirt half undone."

Ron considered this in his befuddled head. "And do we know who the lucky lady was?"

"Well, we took bets. Fred and George both said Mickie. I hadn't seen Cadence for a while so I guessed her. And Ginny thought it was Hermione."

"Hermione? Snogging at a Christmas do? Doubt it."

"Yeah, I told her she was barking up the wrong tree there. Anyway, turns out we were all wrong. It was Nicola."

"Oh bloody hell." Ron rubbed his face with his hands.

Yes, now that he thought about it, with the little bit of his brain that was operational, he vaguely remembered Nicola giving him the come-on. Or maybe he had given it to her.

"She was wearing that dress…"

"Yep," Harry nodded, drinking more coffee. "Don't blame you, mate. Not sure I'd have fared much better if she'd tried it on with me."

They smirked jointly and Ron delicately buttered toast, keeping his head tucked low in his shoulders to avoid any sudden movements.

After inhaling the first slice, he reached for a second, asking, "And what happened to Hermione then? I'm a little fuzzy on the details after Santa Claus."

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. Last I saw her she was sitting in the kitchen. Geoffrey had started up a poker game and that was my cue to escort Ginny to bed. You know how competitive she gets. If she'd have seen there was a game happening, she'd have been up half the night emptying wallets."

"True. At least she came though. Hermione. She's a bit of a workaholic. It was good to see her there."

Harry made a murmur of agreement and poured Ron some more coffee. They sat in companionable silence, slowly rousing themselves from their collective stupor and shards of memories returned to Ron as he became more awake and more sober.

Nicola had definitely been the instigator of their impromptu passion but he hadn't exactly fought her off. He'd had no idea she was interested in him that way but she made her feelings very clear after they'd snuck out the back. She had pushed for them to move upstairs to his bedroom and Ron was surprised to recall that he had refused. The reason for his refusal wasn't clear now; neither was Nicola's response.

He did remember going back into the party and walking through the chamber and the kitchen. He remembered noticing that Hermione wasn't there and that he had been annoyed about that. After this, things got blurry again.

Ginny and the twins emerged some time later and they fried bacon and eggs to supplement the toast. It was enjoyable, despite the ever-present headache. It was rare for Ron to have his family here at the castle with him. It was like the old days and they spent another hour or two chatting and gently ribbing each other until it was Fred's turn to relieve Percy at their parents' house.

OOO

Something else that Ron had forgotten was how long a hangover could last. Until he got out of bed on Monday.

Everything felt laboured, like walking through treacle. The castle was buzzing with activity as people brought their families to view the trees and lights and art students got their last sketches of the antiquities before the Christmas break. All of which Ron could have happily done without.

He spent most of the morning tidying up the remnants of the party in the McGonagall chamber before a notification pinged on his phone, reminding him it was his turn to phone Aunt Muriel again.

'I will literally give any of you a hundred quid if you ring Muriel' was what he wrote in the Weasley group chat.

'You don't have a hundred quid. So no' was Ginny's response.

'Not my aunt, not my problem' said Harry.

The twins responded with emojis indicating they would rather be set on fire.

Percy, Bill and Charlie didn't respond.

Facing the inevitable, Ron filled his tin mug to the brim with coffee and found himself a free bench in the grounds. It was easier to speak to Muriel in the outdoors, it felt less claustrophobic somehow. Plus, there was plenty of fresh air if you felt the need for a few, deep breaths.

"Oh Ronald. It's you." She always managed to sound disappointed when he called but Ron was assured that she responded this way no matter who she picked up the phone to. "Is this a social call or are the bailiffs finally at the door?"

Ron gritted his teeth. "You know we ring you every Monday, see how you are. Today it's my lucky day. So… How are you?"

"As well as can be expected. Not that anyone seems to care. Your mother doesn't take the time to visit anymore."

"Well Mum hasn't been well, you know," he responded wearily. "She and Dad aren't getting any younger."

"Nonsense!" Muriel's sharp tone cut right down the phone line and penetrated his ear drum. "Look at me! I'm old! Do I let it hold me back? No. And do I complain? No. Where would it get me? I just carry on, doing the best I can, with a family that never visits."

Ron felt his eyes roll back into his head. Muriel had developed this argument over many a year, rubbing away at it like the sea tumbling a pebble. It was her favourite, most well-worn attack on the Weasleys, despite the fact she had a very rich and varied social life and was seldom at home.

"Well, that's not true. Bill and Fleur visited a couple of months back. And you saw Fred a few weeks ago, didn't he take you to that exhibition? And you know you only need to pick up the phone. If you ever need anything. Just ask."

"Like you lot you mean?" Muriel sneered, sounding less and less like a refined old lady and more like a grotty old windbag. "Your family know just how to pick up the phone and pretend to care when they want something. Like access to my cheque book."

Enough of this shit.

"Well it's been lovely talking to you but I should be getting on…"

"Wait a minute!"

"Yes?"

"Are you going to Cornwall for New Year?"

"Nope. Don't ever do anything for New Year. Why?"

There was a shuffling on the line. "Didn't Carl Noth invite you? He told me he was going to."

Carl Noth sat on one of the boards Muriel was involved with and was also her lawyer. Despite owning houses across the globe, he was most content in Truro. Ron could see the appeal; Carl's ten bedroomed mansion sat overlooking the water and boasted a heated swimming pool and cinema room. It was a very comfortable way to live and a very pleasant way to spend New Year.

"Clemmie is very fond of you apparently."

His soul-devoid daughter Clemmie was not so pleasant. Raised in exorbitant wealth her whole life, Clemmie had nothing to do but shop and upload pictures to social media. She didn't use her expensive education for anything other than name-dropping, she didn't work or do anything creative and she could be cutting and overly critical of others. She was, Ron had always thought, a pointless human being.

She had pitched her tent at most of the Weasley brothers over the years, she once tried her luck with a bemused Percy by sticking her tongue in his ear. She, like many others before her, idealized the castle and the title and had no idea what this entailed.

Ron, on being on the receiving end of her advances in Switzerland, had decided to be completely frank with her. He laid out, in excruciating detail, the problems they faced dealing with a Norman castle but it seemed to fall on deaf ears.

He didn't go as far as discussing their financial concerns, though he would have been happy to if it had put her off. Muriel abhorred the Weasleys talking about money; she said it was classless. Really, Ron suspected it was because she didn't want people knowing they weren't as wealthy as she made them out to be.

"I don't think that's true," he said finally and hopefully. "Clemmie's not fussy. She'd take any of us."

This started Muriel on a rant which he only half listened to. In the distance, a red van had pulled up at the service entrance and was unloading several boxes. He could see Hermione reading off the driver's clipboard, checking everything was there, and he felt himself grin.

He would go and see Hermione after he ended this awful phone call. Her office was always warm and she had fancy coffee pods and miniature bottles of hazelnut syrup. Ron felt good when he was there. Her calm efficiency and tap-tap-tapping on her keyboard soothed him when things felt hectic.

"… you'll end up in the workhouse, mark my words Ronald Weasley." Muriel finished her enraged spiel with a phlegmatic cough.

"Oh, I think we'll be okay Aunt Muriel," Ron replied placidly. "Workhouses don't exist anymore and we're still managing to keep the lights switched on so it must be alright."

"One of you has to marry well. You know this," she pressed, causing the hairs to rise irritably on the back of Ron's neck. "It's ridiculous you have fought me on this for so long. As your entire family seems to have zero business sense and a complete inability to generate cash flow, it's your best option of securing the castle and protecting the Prewett legacy."

She paused before adding, "I'm warning you Ronald and I don't need to remind you or your family of the consequences of not heeding me. Tell your mother, she needs to start making plans. Before everything goes to Hell."

Ron could take much of what Aunt Muriel threw his way but this particular line of conversation was one he had never tolerated with any patience.

"I really must go now Aunt Muriel," he said in a falsely bright tone, guaranteed to wind her up. "Take care!"

Even as he ended the call, Ron had started walking towards Hermione's office; it called to him like a beacon. He imagined sinking into the chair across from her with a frothy cappuccino, forcing her to stop work so she could talk to him.

It didn't matter what they talked about and she did tend to enjoy topics that Ron usually found boring like cleaning methods or salt deposits on marble. Still, he found that he could endure it readily.

He was, however, disappointed, for Hermione wasn't in her office. Not only that, but it was locked so he couldn't even leave her a cheeky note. It was a pattern that was to continue for the rest of the week. He would drop by, bringing post or a delivery or sometimes not having any excuse at all, and Hermione wouldn't be there or she would be present but on the phone or in a meeting. Twice he had found her in the archives with Will and Becky but she made it clear they were heavily involved in the project in front of them and had no time to stop. She had even been finishing work on time every night, which was highly unusual.

Ron told himself it was the upcoming Christmas holidays that were the problem. It was true that everyone's activity had moved up a notch as they tried to accomplish everything they needed to before the doors shut and they took their two week break. It wasn't personal.

Still, it felt dissatisfactory. As the Monday before Christmas rolled around, Ron resolved that if he couldn't see Hermione casually, in passing, then he would schedule a meeting with her. She couldn't back out of that.

Waiting for the kettle to boil he scrolled through his inbox on his phone before clicking into her schedule and was surprised to discover she had taken leave for the next two days. The only day left before Ottery closed was Christmas Eve.

"Did you approve Hermione's leave?" he shot at Harry as he ambled through the door carrying a serving platter.

Harry looked momentarily stunned for a moment before replying, "Yeah. She asked if she could take some time off to do some last minute shopping. She hasn't taken any leave this year so I thought it would be ok. Why, is something wrong?"

"No, no, sorry mate." Ron scratched his chin and the beginnings of a beard. "I just wasn't expecting her to be off. It's not like her."

Harry watched Ron for a moment as he prepared his tea, lost in thought. Harry had thought Hermione's request a bit odd, though he was in no position to refuse it, and he wondered now if something had happened with Ron, given his edgy response to her absence.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Ron glanced up and the furrows in his forehead smoothed. "Yeah, course. Just shattered. Three more working days and we are done my friend. Then it's Mum's Christmas goose and a shit-tonne of pavlova. Can't wait."

Harry nodded. Ron was right, in three days they would be able to relax for a bit and if Ron was still acting oddly by then, he would have the time to sit down with him and talk it through.

OOO

Haroon had been like a cat on a hot tin roof since their morning meeting, excited by the prospect of two weeks off work. Hermione had hoped he would help her varnish a cabinet but she could see that his incessant chattering was going to break her focus, not to mention piss her off. So she had sent him back to the office to unpack the clock parts which had finally arrived.

The archive was cool, the air filter whirring quietly in the background. It was so peaceful she had no need for her headphones, basking instead in the utter silence.

It had been good for her to take time away from Ottery. Ostensibly, her leave had been to buy Christmas presents, but honestly she had just felt the need to remove herself from the picture for a while. She had exhausted herself the previous week by being continuously 'busy'; she didn't stay too long in her office or even in one place and if she did, she scheduled complex meetings and lengthy conference calls. Anything to not be available.

Inevitably Ron had sought her out and understandably, he seemed confused by her sudden inability to make time for him. More than once she had thought about taking a walk around the castle to find him and apologise for being missing in action; she just couldn't force herself to do it.

Each time she tried, she remembered the cold, sickening feeling she had upon seeing Ron with Nicola and she stopped herself. It wasn't right for her feel that way and until she was able to view the situation objectively, she had resigned herself to spend as little time as possible in Ron's presence.

Difficult to do but the holidays were just a day away and then she had two full weeks to get whatever this was out of her system.

"So this is where you're hiding."

Give me a break.

"I'm not hiding." Hermione smiled and looked towards the door, where Ron stood, hands in pockets. "I'm working."

"Haven't seen you for ages. What's been going on?"

He sounded so serious that, in a twist of anxiety, she wondered if he was going to say something about Nicola. Was it possible he knew that she knew?

Hermione was certain the tryst was not common knowledge; Haroon had his ear to the ground on castle gossip and she surely would have heard it from him, if only to mop up his heartbroken tears.

Still, she didn't look up as she answered slowly, "Nothing. Just varnishing a cabinet." As an after-thought she added, "Grab a brush and make yourself useful."

Thankfully, he did as she said and the awkwardness shifted. He was regaling her with the latest from Lilibet when she caught sight of Haroon over his shoulder, and sat back on her heels.

"How's it going?"

"Long," Haroon replied, grimacing. "Some of those pieces are ridiculously small. Also, not easy when this is going off every five minutes."

He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a mobile phone.

Hermione frowned. "Is that mine? No one rings me on that."

She took it from him and, removing a glove, worked the screen with her thumb.

Ron dipped his brush. "Old Norma No-Mates aren't you Hermione?"

She threw him a look before returning her concentration to her phone. After a moment she blinked before pushing the mobile into her jacket.

"Well?" Ron asked, taking the weight off his knee for a moment and rotating his ankle. "What was all the fuss about?"

"Nothing," Hermione mumbled, recommencing the work and not meeting his eye.

"Oh, come on. Had to be something. Was it serious?"

"No, nothing serious."

Still she wouldn't make eye contact, which ignited the desire in Ron to up the ante.

"So what was it? Your reading club asking you to bring some nice muffins to their next meeting? The haberdashery shop calling to say their latest collection of yarn is in and you just have to drop by and check it out?"

His cajoling did not incite Hermione to be more explicit and he was prepared to let it rest when Haroon suddenly piped up, "It was none of those things."

Hermione glanced up at Haroon and Ron grinned. "Oh yes?"

Haroon raised his eyebrows suggestively. "It was a man. Ryan. He rang while I was coming down here."

Ron turned back to Hermione who seemed a little pinker than before.

"Hermione Granger!" Ron exclaimed exuberantly, shoving her shoulder gently, "Dost thou have a secret admirer?"

She pushed her hair out of her eyes briskly in the face of Ron's teasing. "None of your business. And you," she pointed her brush at Haroon who held his hands up sheepishly, "Telling tales."

"Don't shoot the messenger," Ron said lightly, winking at Haroon. "He's just passing on the evidence. Who's Ryan?"

"Never mind who Ryan is," she huffed, slapping on the varnish much too vigorously. "Get back to work."

Ron set his paintbrush carefully on the side of the varnish tin. "Once you tell us who Ryan is."

"Oh, for God's sake. Why does it matter?"

"As your employer, I like to know that my staff are healthy and happy and leading lives outside work that are…"

"Wholesome?" Haroon interjected and Ron laughed.

"Yes, exactly right Haroon. Wholesome. Is Ryan wholesome?"

Even with her head down, Ron could see the blush on the apples of her cheeks darkening and it suddenly occurred to him that he might not want to know the answer to this question.

He started to back down, saying something about letting her off, when she raised her head.

"If you must know, he's a friend. A… good friend."

From behind him, Ron heard Haroon say, "Like a special friend eh Hermione?"

She smiled a little, having shaken off some of her initial embarrassment.

"Yes, Haroon. If we must talk like teenagers." She leant forward and swiped him playfully, catching his calf with her hand. "Ryan is a special friend. We're going out for New Year. I didn't get back to him last night about the plans and he wants to get everything booked so…"

Ron was aware of the conversation carrying on around him but an odd ringing had started in his ears which made concentrating difficult.

"Going anywhere nice?"

"The Waltham Hotel. Do you know it?"

Haroon whistled. "My cousin got married there. Not too shabby. Me and my brothers nicked the towels, they were so fancy. I could do with a couple of matching face cloths if you get the chance."

"As if!" Hermione exclaimed, laughing. "You have no shame Haroon, honestly."

"But I do have fancy bath towels! Ron would agree with me, wouldn't you Ron? See an opportunity and take it right?

Abruptly Ron got to his feet and made a show of stretching elongatedly. "Absolutely mate. Gotta grab them when you get them. Think that's me done for the day Hermione."

Hermione's face fell. "Seriously? I thought you were going to help me with this."

Ron shook his head. "Got a few things to do. Haroon'll help you, won't you mate?"

Before either of them could speak, he stalked out of the room.