AN I'm so sorry, I know it has been a literal age since I last updated this story. I need to say a huge thank you to the guest reader who left me such a lovely review it kick started my writing again. As a bit of background, I started writing this fic when I was struggling to conceive and I was getting sick of reading fics where Hermione fell pregnant straight away…well now I have an 18 month old, that is how long I've been neglecting this fic for! I am back on it now and will hopefully finish it over the next few months although I can't promise regular updates

As Hermione gazed down into those perfect blue eyes, her fingers twining softly into the damp curls at the nape of his neck, she knew she had fallen hard.

"Oh, I'll love you forever," she whispered reverently, the words tumbling out of her mouth unbidden.

"Oi, a bloke could start getting jealous round here!" Ron laughed, "Now give me a turn holding my nephew! And Harry I still think you should have called him Ron, to say thanks to me for helping you out at work."

Ron had, after a short consideration, decided to take the job at the Ministry and had taken to it with relish, enjoying the opportunity to change a few things that bothered him about the running of the team. In truth, they had bothered Harry too, he just had never seemed to find the time or the energy to amend them. So he was just as pleased as Ron about the arrangement.

Reluctantly, Hermione handed the tiny baby over to Ron, who looked so at ease holding him, it made her heart ache in strange, unfamiliar ways. She reached out and squeezed Ginny's hand, who returned the gesture weakly, with a washed out smile – it had been a difficult labour and even after a few hours, the blood replenishing potions were obviously still working overtime.

"Congratulations Gin, he's beautiful."

"And Ginny was an absolute star!" Harry exclaimed enthusiastically, the slightly manic glint in his eyes still present, the only giveaway to the fact that he had been panicking during the birth, "Honestly, I'd duel Voldemort any day rather than go through that again, and I wasn't even doing the work."

"Hush now. I want our children to grow up not hearing that name until they are much older."

"Children?" Harry squeaked.

"Well, give me a chance to recover, then we'll see. We don't want James growing an only child do we?"

Harry and Ginny gazed into each other's eyes, both wearing identically soppy faces, imagining their future, before turning to look again at the baby. Hermione couldn't blame them – none of them could take their eyes off the perfect little boy.

Eventually, Molly and Arthur arrived and as the room seemed to be getting rather crowded, Hermione and Ron decided to take their leave. Hermione gave James another cuddle, breathing in the scent of the top of his head and savouring his warm weight in her arms, before handing him to Molly with one last lingering stroke of his impossibly soft cheek.

"Fancy lunch?" Ron asked casually as they strolled down the corridor together, breaking the silence that had settled over them.

Hermione's head jerked in surprise – she had been in a world of her own, allowing herself to think - for the first time in years - of toddlers with mops of red curls and bright blue eyes, of bookish little girls who always wanted just one more bedtime story and boys who would never be allowed to feel like they were anything other than the most important thing in the world to their parents. She had thought those phantom children had died, melted away long ago, but seeing Ron holding baby James had allowed them to peep shyly out from where they had been hiding in the recesses of her heart, clutching worn teddy bears and shuffling their feet anxiously as though they weren't sure if they were welcome. She wasn't sure whether they were or not, just yet, but she was prepared to acknowledge their possibility, rather than the faceless screaming brats that she had been imagining when the inevitable happened and the ministry succeeded in their plan for her to fall pregnant.

"Blimey Hermione, you look like you've been obliviated, Knut for them?"

"Oh…" she struggled to come up with something, anything other that what she had actually been thinking about, "I was thinking of going to visit my friend from work that I was telling you about, Amy Jones. Harry finally managed to get her address from his lady in personnel and I just wanted to go and make sure she's safe.

"No bloody way!" Ron stopped in his tracks, thoughts of lunch apparently forgotten for the moment.

"What?"

"A witch has gone missing from the house of a family about as dark as they come, and you want to pop round to check up on her?"

Hermione's hands went to her hips, "She's not "gone missing", she's just resigned from work. Don't be over dramatic."

"Well have you seen her, or heard from her or know of anyone who has seen her or heard from her since she resigned?" Ron's arms crossed in unconscious response to Hermione's change in body language.

"Well no… but."

"And you're concerned about her wellbeing."

"Yes… but."

"Then no, no way am I letting you go there alone."

Hermione growled in frustration, "Go on Ron, say it, I can practically hear the words, "No wife of mine is going off gallivanting without me to protect her"."

"How about, no wife of mine is going to put herself into unnecessary danger when I could gather a few aurors and make an official visit?"

"An auror raid?" Hermione's voice became positively shrill and a healer popped her head out of a nearby door to see what was happening. After Ron and Hermione both turned to glare at her, she disappeared just as quickly.

"What's wrong with that?"

"Because you've got no evidence, no official complaint has been made. If you go barging in there, based on something your wife's told you, well, that's tantamount to Ministry Corruption."

"Ministry corruption?" Ron exploded, seeming lost for any other words than repeating Hermione's back to her. She could see it ticking over in his mind, the stubborn refusal to think of himself and the aurors as anything but 'the good guys', with a right – no, the duty - to storm in and defeat the death eaters. Harry himself had struggled with learning to work within procedures rather than sneaking off and checking things out on a hunch so she wasn't surprised to find Ron, the more hotheaded of the two of them having difficulty grasping the same idea. "Is that what you think of me? Some corrupt official taking bribes like Fudge, or trying to manipulate people like Scrimgeour?"

Hermione laughed bitterly, "There's just no talking to you when you get like this. You have no grounds to raid the Averys' Manor and you know it."

"Well if there's no talking to me then I'll just go then, shall I?" his voice, already loud, raised another couple of decibels, challenging her.

"Fine!" she threw her hands up in the air in frustration,

"Fine!" Ron stalked off down the corridor, slamming the door at the end behind him. Hermione stormed back through the doors they had just come through, even if it was in the wrong direction, just so as not to give Ron the satisfaction of leaving her standing there.

oOoOoOo

Still fuming from her argument with Ron, Hermione apparated straight to the gates of the Avery Manorhouse, using the co-ordinates given to her by Harry. She was unsurprised to find herself looking at a long gravel driveway flanked by beautifully manicured gardens, leading to a large stone house. Whilst nothing about it screamed "dark" to Hermione, she cast all of the detection spells she could think of to make sure the wards weren't going to do something nasty to her as soon as she set foot on the property. Unable to find anything nasty, she glanced over her shoulder to confirm that the house sat in miles of uninterrupted countryside – if anything happened to her, no one would hear her scream. With a deep breath, in which she silently acknowledged that there was perhaps something valid in Ron's concerns about her visiting here alone, particularly because no one even knew she was here, she stepped through the ornate iron gates onto the drive. Immediately she felt a chilling shimmer pass over her and sensed the wards testing her mind. 'Friend or foe?" she heard echoing from deep within her consciousness and she concentrated hard on thinking that she was a friend….to Amy at least. Seemingly this satisfied the wards, as the feeling of cold water being poured over her ceased and she was able to walk forward unharmed.

To her surprise the front door opened well ahead of her arriving. However it wasn't Amy, or even Julius Avery that stepped out, but Delores Umbridge and her boss, Aurelius Hazeldene who hurried down the steps towards her. When they caught sight of her, they seemed as surprised as she was to see them. Evidently it was merely co-incidence, rather than them coming out to meet her.

"Mrs Weasley, what a pleasure" Umbridge simpered, a nasty smile playing over her face that suggested it was anything but.

"Ms Granger-Weasley," Hermione ground out automatically. A flash of movement in an upstairs window behind Umbridge caught Hermione's eye but when she looked up the curtains were drawn across the window. "Anyway, what are you doing here?"

Umbridge's smile turned to a snarl, "I could ask you the same question."

Hazeldene spread his hands wide in a conciliatory manner, making a better job of attempting a genuine smile, "Ladies, I wonder if we might be here for the same purpose, that is to check on the welfare of the newly married Averys."

"I'm here to check if Amy's ok, yes," Hermione admitted.

"Well then if I can put your mind at rest, both her and Mr Avery are very happy and seem to be settling in to their life together admirably. We've been visiting all of the couples married under the new law to make sure they aren't having any teething problems."

"So we'll be coming to see you soon," Umbridge couldn't help herself from adding.

Hermione glanced back up at the window to make sure Amy wasn't trying to signal to her that she was trapped and needed help but there was no further movement.

"I'll check that Amy's ok for myself, if you don't mind,"

Hazeldene bowed briefly, the amused expression on his face indicating that whilst it was a free country and he couldn't stop Hermione from trying, he didn't understand why she was, when he had just told her she was fine. Hermione just nodded in response and made her way up the sweeping stone staircase up to the front door. Then, thinking of something she turned back and called after the retreating pair.

"Mr Hazeldene?" he stopped and turned, the polite smile still in place, "If it comes to doing wellbeing checks on Ron – Mr Weasley – and myself, we would prefer you to invite us to the ministry than just turning up at our home." The thought of Umbridge poking about their house made her shudder with rage.

"As you wish," he agreed with a shrug, as though it made no difference to him. Maybe she had overreacted, Hermione wondered, as she turned her attention to the glossy black front door. She raised the silver gargoyle head knocker and heard it resonate within the house. She tried to listen for more, sounds of a struggle perhaps, but the place was silent, so much so that when the door creaked open it made her jump back in surprise. It only opened a crack, and Hermione could see Avery's beakish nose poking out at her from the gloomy interior, his expression thunderous. She forced her arm into the gap, offering her hand for him to shake, as she pasted on a cheery smile.

"Mr Avery, I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting before, I'm Hermione Granger-Weasley, a friend of your wife's."

"I know who you are," he growled in response, the door closing another couple of milimeters. Too late, Hermione wondered if it would have been better to come in disguise. She jammed her foot up against the door, refusing to let herself be afraid, as much to prove Ron wrong as anything else.

"Is Amy in? She mentioned when she left work that I should pop in and see her some time," she lied in a blithely chirpy tone that rivalled Umbridge's during one of her infamous showdowns with Professor McGonagall.

Avery allowed the door to swing all the way open. His sallow face drawn into a smirk – in sharp relief to the dark circles under his eyes – made Hermione step back involuntarily.

"Amy's indisposed, I'm afraid, she's in bed resting. As you saw, we just had visitors and those Ministry brutes can be very thorough in their questioning. It really took it out of her. I don't think she appreciated how much work being the wife of someone with my status would be, that sacrifices need to be made. I'll be sure to tell her you called."

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest in determination, "I'm happy to wait, honestly. I've got no plans for the rest of the day."

Avery's smile turned nasty, "She really is very tired. She's given me strict instructions that she not be disturbed. I'm sure as her friend, you'd be disappointed to visit and find that I wasn't doing everything I can to comply with my wife's wishes."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue before closing it again, her eyes drawn to a row of livid red scratches down the back of Avery's hand. He followed her gaze and hurriedly drew his hand into his robes, "Damned cat," he muttered, by way of explanation. Something about his words, as much as his haste to hide the injury chimed a warning bell in the back of Hermione's mind – something hidden just out of sight that she couldn't quite grasp a hold of in the darkness.

Avery, it seemed, had decided that it was time for the conversation to end, "I'll be sure to tell her you called," he repeated, before finally managing to get the door shut in Hermione's face. She pounded on the heavy black oak door for a few moments before realising that he wasn't going to open it again and apparated back to Diagon Alley with a huff of frustration.

She exited the apparition point still furious, and stormed straight towards the shop, muttering under her breath what she would do to Avery if she found that he had harmed even a hair on Amy's head. She didn't even see anyone in her way, just felt a bone jarring collision as she walked straight into someone's path. She smelled lime and freshly ground black pepper and looked up in surprise to see a normally sleek head of blonde hair, looking slightly more ruffled than usual from the impact.

"Granger!" Draco exclaimed, more a squeak of surprise than his normal disdainful drawl. Hermione realised she was standing on his foot, and jumped backwards, apologising profusely. "What's got you into such a delightful tizzy? Just look at you – your face is all pink and sweaty and that mop you call hair is positively electric! If you weren't looking so grumpy I'd say you'd just been well fucked. Oh and the fact I haven't been anywhere near you today." He smirked, his composure back in place well before hers.

"Oh just…shut up Malfoy," she blustered.

"Poised as ever I see, Granger, and I'm glad that the famous Gryffindor wit hasn't deserted you. Anyway, I'm glad I bumped into you, although you didn't have to be quite so painfully literal about it," at this he paused to brush invisible creases out of his immaculate robes in a way that made Hermione feel like an eleven year old again, "saves me the trouble of sending you an owl. I've finally bloody done it! Snape's notes were the key! I've managed to brew the potion in the dragon's egg for thirty bloody days. You know what this means?"

"It's time to add the Dragon scales!" Hermione exclaimed excitedly.

"Ugh, you really are the most awful swot, even now aren't you. But yes," Draco was unable to hold back the flash of delight over his own face before it fell away to disappointment, "You might need to come to the Apothecary with me, dragon scales are a restricted item and I'm still having some…trouble getting my hands on supplies."

"Only if I can be there when you add them to the potion, Snape's notes about the phosphorescence at that point sound fascinating. And swot I may be, but I'm a swot that can get their hands on restricted potion ingredients, so I'd just swallow that insult you're about to throw at me down like it's Ogden's finest."

Draco rolled his eyes and huffed under his breath.

"But you didn't answer me, what's got you stomping around like a hippogriff with a headache, bashing into innocent civilians on the street."

"Innocent – you? Don't make me laugh!"

"Perhaps not," Draco murmured, his eyes flickered over her shoulder for a second, but before she had a chance to see what had distracted him, he was gazing into her eyes, looking like the cat that had got the cream as he reached up to smooth the worst of her hair away from her face.

She heard a choking cough nearby before she saw Ron sweep by her, his head held high and his cloak billowing behind him as the aurors that flanked him struggled to keep up with the storming march he had just affected.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed in surprise which quickly turned to annoyance as he pointedly turned his head away from her, his expression a grim sneer.

Forgetting the fact that Aurors are not meant to stop to acknowledge civilians in case it identified them as targets, and ignoring the frisson of excitement that thrilled through her, seeing Ron in his fine twill robes with shining silver buttons, Hermione allowed rage to course through her blood. He had seen her with Draco and obviously thought the worst of it, just like a jealous teenager. And speaking of acting childishly…

Draco, obviously noticing the way her hands were clenching and unclenching, and her lips were twitching slightly as though holding back a torrent of curses, took a step back away from her, "Or….perhaps some other time," he suggested

"I think that would be a very good idea," Hermione growled through gritted teeth at him, although her eyes were still trained on Ron's retreating form, "If I were you, I'd be getting as far away from me as you can, as fast as you can. Of all the sneaky, juvenile –"

Draco bid a hasty retreat, cutting her off mid-sentence, and Hermione stalked back to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, too annoyed with every man on the planet to go home.

oOoOoOo

Hermione had been sorting shelves in the stock room for about four hours in an attempt to calm herself down. After seeing her storming into the shop with a face like fiendfyre, Verity had wisely decided to leave her undisturbed and Hermione had not seen another soul the entire time she had been there. Not that had stopped a steady stream of muttering under her breath, punctuated occasionally by a bitter laugh, as she viciously threw damaged stock into the bin, and arranged items in such a way that they wouldn't dare get untidy again, for fear of further manhandling.

So engrossed in her task was she, that she didn't hear the door click open softly and was surprised when she stood up from her crouch at the bottom shelf to find Ron standing in front of her, arms folded sullenly across his chest.

"You weren't at home." He made it sound like an accusation.

Hermione couldn't help rolling her eyes, "Clearly."

"Well now that I know you're here and not lying in a ditch somewhere, or trapped in some death eater's house with his missing wife, I'll go."

"Is that why you wanted to check on me? Because you were worried?" Sarcasm dripped off her tongue like acid as she enunciated every word, making her meaning clear.

"What do you want me to say? That I was checking you weren't off shagging Malfoy, after seeing him fondling you in the street?"

"Well obviously I'm not, so feel free to go."

Ron looked at her for a long moment, his eyes searching, but he obviously didn't find what he was looking for. He turned slowly towards the door, his hand rattling the handle, before turning back to her and shouting in frustration, "Why are you doing this?"

Hermione's hands went to her hips, "Being concerned about my friend's welfare? Well I'm sorry, that's just how I am. Maybe if I hadn't been so conditioned to it by having to keep an eye on you and Harry through so many idiotic schemes, I wouldn't feel the need to step in, or maybe it's just because I'm a decent human being instead of a selfish arse. Or do you mean spending time with Draco? Because he's my friend and I'm not going to change that, even if the pair of you seem to think I'm something to be fought over like a couple of dogs with a bone. Or do you mean clearing your stock room when frankly I've got much better things to be doing with my time? Well just maybe, I care about you enough, for some stupid reason, that I don't want to see you run yourself into the ground again. Or maybe it's just because I don't know how you can live in this mess like some DISGUSTING PIG!"

"Well isn't that just typical – that you can't just give me one answer, you have to give me about a hundred! But actually I meant this," he gestured to the door handle, rattling it again to show that it wouldn't open.

Hermione's face dropped as she rushed over to the door, "I'm not doing it, why would I want to keep you here when you obviously don't want to be. Perhaps it's stuck, or Verity's locked it from the outside?" she banged her fist on the door to try and attract attention to them.

"She was waiting to shut up when I arrived, she said she didn't dare come and bother you. So I sent her home. There's no one out there to hear you."

"What did you do that for?"

"Excuse me? So I was supposed to know that the door was going to jam and tell her to stay put for the rest of the evening in case we wanted letting out, was I? Perhaps I didn't want her to hear us having a huge row."

"So you came in here for a row did you?"

"Will you stop twisting everything I say?"

"I've had enough of this. Alohomora-oww!" Hermione massaged her hand, wincing, "it shocked me!"

Ron tried the same spell and also received a jarring shock up his hand and into his wrist, and found when he tried to shoulder the door open, he was repelled away, "so the door isn't jammed, this is magical?"

"Great deduction Sherlock."

"Who? Does he work at Gringotts?"

"Never mind. Whoever's there, let us out!"

"Hermione, you're in the store room of the leading security firm in the world, if there was someone out there, I'd know about it.

Hermione started fanning her face frantically, her head whipping around looking for a way out. Was it her imagination or was it getting warmer in the small room? She threw her robes off into a heap on the floor and loosened a few buttons on her blouse before beginning to pace around the tiny room, breathing deeply to prevent panic setting in.

She had barely completed one lap when Ron, who had been staring closely at the lock, stepped firmly in front of her and grabbed her by the forearms.

"Stop," he said simply, his voice calm but with a tightness around his eyes that suggested well contained concern.

All of Hermione's anxiety rushed out of her at once, its absence filled with sympathy for Ron.

"Confined spaces," she sighed, the corners of her mouth turning down as he nodded, running his hands through his hair in distraction.

"And being locked in them," he murmured. His fist clenched reflexively and Hermione knew he was remembering beating it against a bolted wooden door as he screamed her name.

Hermione, as she always tended to do when faced with a crisis, became businesslike. Folding her arms across her chest, she attempted a bright voice, "Well, we'll just have to try and think of something to distract you then,"

Ron's eyes darted downwards and he quirked an eyebrow at her, "That'll do it," he chuckled hoarsely.

Hermione looked down to see what the matter was and spotted to her embarrassment, the effect that her unbuttoned blouse and crossed arms had had on her cleavage. Horrified, she pulled her shirt together with a gasp, her cheeks hotter than ever.

"Hermione, I've seen a lot more of you than that before, you don't have to be embarrassed," Ron tentatively brushed her collar open again, his fingertips gliding over her collarbone with a feather light touch that made her shiver involuntarily.

Ron seemed to hesitate for just a moment, his eyes meeting hers, questioning her wordlessly before bringing his thumb up to her mouth and tracing the pad of it gently over her lower lip.

Feeling like her heart was going to pound out of her chest, Hermione slowly reached up on tiptoes, leaning closer to Ron's face. When she was mere inches away , he huffed out a soft laugh, causing her to rock back on her heels in indignation.

"What is it?"

His hands circled her waist, pulling her tight against his body, "Nothing much," he grinned sheepishly, "Just couldn't believe my luck for a minute there I suppose."

"Well you've spoiled it now," Hermione pouted in an attempt to stop the corners of her mouth from turning upwards, although the pressure of Ron's body against hers was making her feel very much like the moment wasn't spoiled at all.

"Oh have I? We'll see about that," he growled, and with no more hesitation, launched into a kiss that made Hermione almost dizzy with desire.

His hands were tangling in her hair as she fumbled at his clothes, neither of them wanting to break the kiss long enough to get undressed properly. Ron walked her backwards until she felt the backs of her thighs meet something solid. With one hand, he swept dozens of boxes of ingredients that Hermione had been trying to decide whether to sort or throw away, off the small desk that resided in the store room, and onto the floor. He tightened his other arm round her waist and lifted her backwards up on to the worn wooden surface.

Her skirt rode up high around her waist as she wrapped her legs around him, trying to bring him closer to her. He must have sensed her desire as he slipped his hand between them, grazing his fingers tantalising over the rapidly moistening cotton of her knickers. A gasp escaped her lips as writhed wantonly against his gentle fingers in an attempt to create more traction.

Hermione's hands trembled as she unbuckled Ron's belt and yanked his trousers down to his thighs. His hands suddenly moved away from her and she couldn't stop herself from groaning at their absence but after he pulled his tshirt over his head and flung it away from him, they soon redoubled their efforts. They were a hot and sweaty tangle of limbs and lips, slick skin on skin and breathless moans as Ron finally dragged her knickers down over her bare legs before he roughly penetrated her. The sudden fullness made her cry out as her need was met so perfectly. The legs of the desk squeaked in protest at the ferocity of his thrusts but still grabbed two handfuls of her hips to pull her up to meet him while Hermione threw her head back and thanked every deity she could think of for the wonder that was make up sex.

Like a fire racing to consume everything it touched, a powerful orgasm overcame her, wracking her body with shudders of pleasure that blinded her momentarily. As she floated back into awareness, she felt Ron thrust once more into her before he too gave in and spilled his seed into her, his eyes closed and her name whispered on his lips.

He leaned his face on her shoulder, the stubble of his cheek prickly on her skin, his ragged breaths hot on her neck. Hermione tightened her arms around his waist as he sagged against her. They stayed like that, silent and still, until with a sigh so heavy it was almost a groan, Ron pulled out of her embrace and began to collect his discarded clothes from the floor.

Hermione moved a damp strand of hair away from her flushed cheek, "So when did you remember we could just apparate out?" she asked amusedly, as she cast cooling and cleaning charms over them both and followed Ron's lead in redressing.

"Just after you started getting all hot and bothered and taking your clothes off."

"And you didn't think to mention it?"

"It didn't seem important at the time," Ron smirked, "besides," he frowned down at the door which was now ajar, "it looks like we can just walk out now anyway."

As they stepped out into the relative coolness of the deserted shop, Hermione smacked her face against her hand, "bloody sympathetic magic," she groaned, "I've read about this in a book, I thought it was a load of claptrap."

"Huh? What's that?"

"Just another delightful quirk of the wizarding world. Because we're married, sometimes our magic might give us a "helping hand", to make our marriage successful. Our magic wants us to be harmonious and helps us be more powerful when we work together. So I'm guessing the reverse is true and it doesn't like us arguing."

"What? And that's what we feel sometimes, like at the wedding or when we were tidying the cabin? How come I've never heard of this before? I know wizarding marriages are tricky, with ancient magic, but I didn't know they could do this. Not sure I like the idea of my magic holding me hostage."

Hermione smiled, "I think if you'd really wanted to go, or Id've really wanted you to go, it wouldn't have stopped you."

Ron just groused under his breath, seeming too embarrassed to confirm what she had said so she continued.

"I don't know if it is the marriage ceremony itself…" Hermione trailed off thoughtfully, realising the effects had been upon her, albeit more mildly, since they had broken up before and her magic had stubbornly refused to produce a patronus, "The book was a load of rubbish, it read like a collaboration between Professor Trelawney and Xenophilius Lovegood. But it mentioned something about….soulmates." she finished quietly, her cheeks pinking.

"Soulmates? Huh. Is that so?" Ron asked, trying extremely hard to seem nonchalant. Hermione half expected him to stick his hands in his pockets and start whistling while she considered her answer.

"Well as I said, the book seemed to be a load of claptrap to me but…yes."

"Forget the book, what do you think?"

Hermione's heart beat faster in her chest, as Ron took her hands tenderly between his own, bending at the knee to gaze at her intently. She had often thought of her, Ron and Harry as soulmates – the three sides of the hallows, when she was younger. But as they had got older, she had realised that the triangle was uneven – that what she felt for Ron was something deeper than she felt for Harry. She loved them both desperately – they had been her first friends – and Harry was like a brother to her. But Ron, Ron. He completed her in ways that her feel like a half of something, not a third. Merlin knows, he infuriated her more than anything else on the earth, but sometimes when she saw him unexpectedly, or just caught him looking at her across a room, she felt like lightening had rooted her to the spot and all she could do was just stare at him, feeling like she had discovered Nicholas Flamel's secret of alchemy. Feeling overwhelmed with the enormity of what admitting the truth of his question would mean, she took a deep breath to steady herself, suddenly dizzy. Ron seemed to interpret her silence as reticence and tried to backtrack, stammering as the tips of his ears reddened.

"I mean, I know things are still early days for us, and we didn't exactly get back together out of choice…"

Ron's expression was cautious now, shuttered, but he was unable to fully dampen the blaze of hope in his eyes. It made Hermione want to grab him and squeeze him tightly and gave her voice back to her. Only the fear that he didn't feel the same kept an indulgent smile from her face.

"You're right, it's early days, but initial indicators would suggest….that we can't rule it out right now. Not without further research anyway. That is...Maybe."

Ron beamed widely and actually looked as though he was having to stop himself punching the air in triumph, "Maybe. I can work with maybe."

He seemed pleased! That had to be a good thing, a very good thing, surely. Hermione gripped his hands tighter, wanting to say more, to allow the tidal wave of emotions that was swelling inside of her out and tell him the true depths of her feelings when the alarms started flashing in the shop and Verity re-entered, waving apologetically.

"Sorry, I got all the way home and I realised I'd left my purse here," her eyes flicked between the two of them as though she was unsure what exactly she had interrupted – break up or make up – but aware of the tension in the air. Ron leapt back from Hermione, dropping her hands as though they had been covered in bubotuber pus. She felt the words that she had been about to say turn to dust on her tongue.

"See, told you," nodded Ron, business-like, towards the shrill sirens and flashing lights before Verity pointed her wand to silence them, "Best security in the world. Now I'm starving. Shall we go home and get a takeaway?"

It was only when Ron had dozed off on the sofa next to her, full of muggle Chinese food, and she was flicking distractedly through one of her old transfiguration books that she remembered that Amy Jones had always complained about doing transfiguration with McGonagall at school. She said she should be exempted from her class because she was allergic to cats and couldn't be anywhere near them.