Standing in the bedroom of her flat, Hermione told herself that this was not that big of a deal. Glancing over the stack of clothes she had prepared to pack, she silently chided herself for the thousandth time about the butterflies speed-racing through her stomach.

This was merely a trip to see the people who had become her second family. The Weasley home was a place of love, warmth, laughter and welcome; she had no logical reason to feel as she did now—so anxious that her stomach was in knots. For pity's sake, she had spent more time growing into a woman in the Burrow's comforting warmth than in her own parents' home! Maybe viewing this as a visit similar to the many she had made during summer holidays maybe that would help. . .

But it's not as if you've ever spent the whole of Christmas there, now is it? That's something very different than coming for part of the summer. Something much more meaningful. . .

Well, so what if she'd never been there for Christmas before, Hermione argued with herself as she restrained her hair in a messy bun. What of it? It wasn't as if she were going to be the only person outside of the family there. Harry was bound to be there as well as Neville and Luna. When you added their numbers to the Weasley family members, the Burrow was sure to be the site of a chaotic and enjoyable holiday. She would be able to reconnect with plenty of people after being gone for so long, and was sure she would find herself quite busy.

Too busy to reconnect with the particular Weasley that invited you?

Sighing, Hermione gave in to the fluttering she felt in her heart and allowed herself to think of Ron. Dropping an unfolded shirt on her bed, she walked over to the small window in her bedroom. Leaning her forehead against the cool pane, she attempted a few calming breaths before going over the momentous past year in her mind.

The post the Ministry was offering her was something of which to be immensely proud. In her heart of hearts she knew that. She was the youngest witch, or wizard, to even be considered for such a position, and this particular project had been one of special interest to her ever since she had met Dobby in her second year at Hogwarts. It was with a great sense of accomplishment that Hermione accepted the appointment offered her by Kingsley ShacklebotShacklebolt. Thus, she became the youngest member of the Ministry's delegation to the Summit for the Rratification of the International Treatment of Magical Creatures Act. The summit was to take place in a top secret location in France, and Hermione's excitement at the opportunity was diminished at the thought of leaving her loved ones behind.

The decision to spend the year living abroad had been hard for Hermione on many levels, but the hardest part had been leaving Ron behind to pursue her own career aspirations. It wasn't as if she didn't have reason to believe that this might upset the delicate balance and understanding to which the two of them had come. Ron had always been slightly jealous and possessive, and though he had grown out of most of his adolescent stubbornness, it still came out occasionally in rather violent flashes. It was with great trepidation that she told him of her decision to accept the position on the UK's delegation.

A part of her had dreaded what might become of their friendship and budding relationship if she left; but she knew herself well enough to acknowledge that if she passed the opportunity over in favor of him, a selfish part of her would always blame him for it. That was not a possibility she was willing to face.

Therefore, she had made the decision to inform him of her plans face to face, rather than a cursory owl much like the one she had sent to her mother and father. Hermione had invited him to her flat on Diagon Alley for dinner, and after the meal sat across the table from him avoiding his steady blue-eyed gaze. She had begun by simply telling him that she had been offered the chance to be a member of the United Kingdom's delegation at the Summit for the Ratification of the International Treatment of Magical Creatures Act. The more she talked about how important this position was to her and how vital it could be to her career, the more she became aware of just how much it would really hurt to leave him behind. In the end, she was the one with tears clogging her throat. At a loss for words, she silently pleaded with him through her eyes to understand how much she needed and wanted this chance to make a difference.

In typical Ron fashion, he did the exact opposite of what she was expecting him to do. Instead of ranting and raving at how unfair she was being, Ron pushed himself out of his chair and came to hold her. His hands stroked her hair and back as he began telling her how proud he was of her and how amazing she would be at this new job. Hermione had cried into his shoulder then and allowed him to see how much the separation would hurt her, even if she could not find the words to say it aloud. How long he held her she never knew. What she did know was that he had stayed with her that night, holding her on the couch until she fell asleep within the strength of his arms.

They had said a tearful good-bye the next day, neither comfortable enough to admit the depth of feeling between them. She had even thought a part of him must be filled with unchecked hatred for her selfishness, until he pulled her into his arms for the tenderest tenderest hug she had ever known. A part of her had ached to know she was leaving this behind, and the pain had only grown when he tilted her chin up to lay the gentlest of kisses on her lips. Tears stung her eyes as he spoke to her in a near whisper:.

"You go take care of the house-elves; I'll be here when you come home."

With that promise locked in her heart and the memory of their kiss burning on her lips, Hermione journeyed to the Ssummit with her colleagues. The first night spent in her suite was difficult, and it took several hours to convince herself to unpack her one bag. Though there weren't as many beads on it as when she had purchased it before the Horcrux hunt, it was still one of the most useful magical items that she owned.

Thinking nothing of the action, she opened the bag and set it on her bed so she could sort out her belongs. Reaching into the first compartment, her hand brushed upon something overwhelmingly soft. Confused, she drew the item out only to find it was one of Ron's old Christmas jumpers. Upon closer examination, she realized from the cut on the right sleeve that it was the one he had given her at Grimmauld Place when she had mentioned being cold the first night they had hidden there. Attached to the sweater was a note in Ron's scrawling script:

Just in case you get cold while you're busy showing the world how brilliant you are—just try not to be too scary!

Ron

Laughing through her tears at Ron's old phrase for her, Hermione had immediately pulled the sweater on while breathing in his scent that lingered on the wool. His gesture of support meant the world to her, and she felt herself gear up for the challenges that lay before her.

She then dove into her work to seek solace from the ache of missing him. It was not long before Hermione Granger had become known as one of the United Kingdom's brilliant young Wizarding minds, and a skilled advocate for the rights of house elves. She took the compliments given to her graciously, and baffled everyone by refusing every date she was offered. Several famous young politicians of the Wizarding world were left tongue tied, confused to find themselves turned down so politely when they were used to women falling at their feet.

Yes, at the Ssummit Hermione Granger was something of a mystery.

She had heard rumors that she was dating a member of the Weird Sisters, or possibly several. The things people came up with when left to their own devices. . . Now in her flat, Hermione flopped ungracefully down on her bed as she considered what had actually been going on.

The truth of the matter was when she wasn't filling her time doing research and arguing for addendums to the Act, Hermione was writing letters back home and eagerly awaiting their return.

Every letter was a reminder that she had a life waiting for her back home, with people who cared about her as more than the Ministry's new brilliant acquisition or as one of the "Golden Trio" of the Second Wizarding War. She kept a folder for each person's letters, and the pictures they had sent her were held up with sticking charms all around the workspace of the suite she was living in.

It had surprised her initially to have Mrs. Weasley respond to her letters so openly. Hermione was touched when the woman she regarded as a second mother offered her not only advice, but some simple recipes that greatly improved the quality of food she was eating.

She had been even more pleasantly surprised when Ron's letters arrived, and always marveled over the evident amount of time and effort he put into each. She would deliberately make herself wait until she had read and responded to everyone else's letters before starting on one of his. She always spent the longest reading and responding to Ron's letters, and knew if she started with his she would never get through all of her correspondence.

His letters represented something precious to her. There was a connection in his missives that could not be found in the letters from everyone else. And because of that, she would force herself to reserve the pleasure of reading them for last. She would wait until the very end of her long days. After work and dinner and a long shower she would pull on his jumper, set herself up in her favorite armchair with a cup of tea, and set to reading his letters.

In Hermione's mind, Ron Weasley was an expert story teller. She adored the way he would take the time to describe the events of a week in details that occasionally left her laughing out loud in the silence of her suite. He had a way of couching his encouragement so as to let her know that, while he missed her terribly, he knew the value of what she was trying to accomplish. It occurred to Hermione that such support had been the reason behind their first kiss, and she always smiled to herself when he duplicated that sentiment in his letters.

While everyone else wrote in vague generalities, Ron told her detailed accounts of his every day, which often included the hilarious inner monologue he carried on while sitting through Auror Meetings at the Ministry. She had laughed for a full five minutes when he described running into "the ferret" at Gringotts and how twitchy said ferret had gotten when Ron displayed his new "Mad-Eye Moody" model Auror Robes.

It was from Ron that she learned of Neville and Luna's engagement, and the way Neville had floated on air for weeks afterward. She could detect in his writing a pride in their once awkward friend's Gryffindor courage, and a hint of jealousy at what he and Luna had found in one another.

As time went by the letters served as her foundation, and she was able to focus more clearly on the task she had come here to accomplish. Hermione's work began to feel as if it had meaning. For the first time in her life, the people around her took her concerns about house elf welfare very seriously, especially given the example of Kreacher. Spliced in with her success at work were the constant reminders of the people waiting for her at home, most particularly Ron.

Though she could not pinpoint the exact date when their letters had become more frequent, Hermione knew it had to have been somewhere around her birthday. Her colleagues from the UK had treated her to an evening dinner, and when she came home she was surprised to see Pig sleeping patiently on her window sill. Throwing her keys on the kitchen counter, Hermione hurriedly ushered the little owl in. She carried him to the couch, where he perched comfortably on the back while she undid the parcel attached to his leg.

Pulling opening the wrappings, she found a single note from Ron attached to the gift box the parcel contained.

Hermione,

I thought you might like these, considering you've been using yours so heavily lately. I hope I'll see my gift again soon. . .

Ron

Confused, Hermione set Ron's note down to open the actual gift box. A small "Oh" escaped her as she beheld the thoughtful gift. Ron had obviously been paying closer attention to her habits than she had realized. Not only had he gotten her a large stack of her favorite parchment from Flourish and Blotts, but he'd had it transformed into a stationary that bore her name in elegant script at the top and center of every page. In addition, he had sent her the simply gorgeous swan quill she had been admiring for ages.

Touched more than she could possibly believe by the thoughtfulness of his gift, Hermione walked to her desk drawer to retrieve some much deserved owl treats for Pig. As the tiny owl happily feasted, Hermione took the first sheet of parchment and wrote Ron a heartfelt thank you with her new quill. She also distinctly remembered signing that letter "Can't wait to hear from you, Hermione."

Over the next weeks their correspondence increased in amount rapidly, to the point where she had to live her office window open to allow Pig access to deliver Ron's letters. Her colleagues would often stop by to ask her for lunch, only to find her engrossed in one of Ron's tales from home, Pig sitting comfortably on the perch she had bought just for him. Even her boss noticed the change in Hermione's mood, and commented that he was glad she had found happiness in her personal life in addition to her professional life.

Then came the fateful letter that spurred Ron to invite her over for Christmas. Hermione never really knew what made her write that short note to Ron during her meeting. All she knew was that at the time she had been listening to the Hhead of the American group elaborate point by point upon the agreements made in the International Act for Fair Treatment of Magical Creatures. Despite her best efforts to focus, she could not get thoughts of Ron to leave her brain.

Maybe it was because after years of hard work and dedication, she had managed to get rights for house elves included in this Act. The memory of how Ron's face had looked as she set out the goals of S.P.E.W. flashed through her mind at a most inopportune moment in the meeting. Hermione was forced to turn her giggle into an awkward cough, and beg everyone's pardon while trying to hide her blush behind her curly hair.

Safe behind the protective wall of her locks, Hermione couldn't help but beam to herself. Shaking her head slightly, she knew she had to resume a more professional demeanor if she were going to survive the meeting without any awkward questions. As unobtrusively as possible, she pulled a book and a single sheaf of parchment onto her lap. A few deep breaths later and she shook her hair away from her face in a confident, well-practiced motion.

The mask of 'Studious-Hermione' fell easily into place over her features, and she was sure that all present thought she was diligently making note of important statements by the brassy American wizard before them. Instead, she was writing to Ron.

It wasn't the most eloquent of missives or the longest, but she could not remember the last time her quill had flown with such ease over the parchment. In those few unguarded moments in what felt like the most boring meeting she had ever sat through, Hermione simply wrote what she felt.

The completed letter burned a hole in her pocket until a break in the meeting was called. She hurried back to her temporary office to discover Pig relaxing on his owl perch. He hooted exuberantly in greeting, and kept turning his eyes to the drawer in her desk where the treats were kept. Laughing, Hermione gladly spoiled the owl before fastening the letter to his leg. Pig sailed through the open window back towards Ron, and Hermione ran back to her meeting. Now that the letter was sent, her mind seemed better able to focus, and she quickly lost herself in the intricacies of international Wizarding law.

It wasn't until she got back to the suite the Ministry had provided her with that she began to worry. As she reheated left over Chinese takeaway in the microwave, uncertainty began to wash over her in waves. Hermione's nerves had her so on edge that when Pig began to enthusiastically attack the window pane with his beak that she jumped nearly three feet in the air and whirled around, wand at the ready. At the sight of Pig's madly flapping wings, however, she started to chuckle to herself and hurriedly opened the window. Taking Ron's response from Pig's leg, Hermione allowed the little owl to perch on her shoulder. She walked over to her favorite squishy armchair, and plopped down to read this new letter.

She had been simply overjoyed when Ron had replied to her owl by inviting her to visit. Even now, lying on her bed in her Diagon Alley flat, she could not keep a ridiculous grin off of her face at the thought of the answer Pig had brought her. Closing her eyes, she remembered the precise phrasing of the letter they way she could recall any passage from Hogwarts, A History. . .

Hermione,

Since you're going to be back anyway, why not spend Christmas with me at the Burrow? I'd really love to see you and I know everyone else would as well. Harry's already said he'll come, and Luna and Neville will be here too. Please, you really do have to come. Just write me back and let me know when I can expect you.

And you think what Ginny did was funny when written in a letter, wait until I can tell it to you in person. If you mention Pygmy Puffs in front of Harry he still turns an AMAZING shade of red . . . Better than my ears, even!

Don't feed Pig so many treats; he's going to start to think he's your owl at this rate!

Love,

Ron

His handwriting hadn't improved any as he had gotten older, which made her adore it all the more. She recalled how delighted she was to have him share stories of life at the Burrow with her, as if he were trying to make sure she knew all that occurred in her absence. Her stomach had given a little flip at his signature—she could not recall the last time he had signed a letter Love, Ron. Not only that, he had asked her to spend Christmas at the Burrow specifically with him. Her response had taken less than two minutes to write, and then it was a matter of counting down the slowly creeping days until her return.

In truth, the date of her scheduled visit had snuck up on her incredibly stealthily. So much so, in fact, that she now found herself in the position of not even having everything packed yet—something her usually organized self would never allow. Yet here she was, on the verge of leaving for the Burrow and her clothes were spread out all over her room, a clear display at how unsure she was of her coming visit.

It wasn't that she doubted her feelings for Ron. She knew she loved him, and knew she had for almost as long as she had known him. What she doubted was the ability of their closeness to go from the relative safety of letters to the out -in -the -open interaction that would come when they met face to face. Would he behave the same way with her as he wrote, telling her fantastic stories and making sure his care for her was implied in every word? Would she be able to be as honest with him face to face as she could be when she was behind a veil of parchment and ink?

Groaning, she pushed the heels of her hands in her eyes to try and stop the oncoming headache. Unfortunately, a familiar popping noise in her living room drug her out of the realm of memory and back into the present. Who in Merlin's name would be Apparating into her flat on the day of Christmas Eve?

"Hermione Jean Granger? Where are you? I cannot BELIEVE you told Ron that you were coming to stay for Christmas and never made mention of it to me! I thought I was supposed to be your brother!" Hermione relaxed slightly as Harry's voice rang through her tiny flat. Standing up, she brushed an imagined piece of lint off her shirt and walked into her hallway. She made sure to firmly close the door behind her, and in the process, was caught off guard by Harry's bear hug.

"Harry! Put me down this instant!"

"Never! First you leave for a whole year and then when you return you only tell Ron! This is highly unfair, and as such you'll just have to put up with my enthusiastic greeting," Harry chuckled as he set Hermione on the floor. For one moment she was tempted to scold him for coming into her flat unannounced, but decided against it when she saw the laughter dancing in his green eyes. One of her favorite things since the end of the War was to see how joyful Harry was; as if he lived each moment in celebration. Deciding that resistance to such ebullience was futile, Hermione flung her arms around his neck and hugged him tight, finally allowing herself to realize just how much she had missed being home.

After a moment, she released him and the two made their way to the kitchen. As Hermione put the kettle on while Harry leaned against the counter.

"It's quite unfair of the two of you. I can remember a time when they called us a 'trio' and we kept no secrets from one another. You're lucky Mum-Weasley let the secret out when I flooed her earlier; I never would have forgiven you if you'd shown up without telling me." Hermione shook her head as she handed Harry a mug and scooped two spoons of sugar into her own tea.

"Now that's not fair, I had no idea Ron hadn't told you that he had invited me to come spend Christmas with him. . ." She got no further because Harry had started to chuckle over her flustered state.

"Spend Christmas with him is it? What's he going to do, take you upstairs to that old room of his and hide you from the rest of us? Say, that's not what you want him to d—OOF!" Hermione continued playfully punching Harry's shoulder until the two of them had dissolved into gales of laughter. Hermione took a long drink of her tea before turning the tables on Harry.

"Now wait a minute, even if you knew I'd be home, why on earth didn't you just send an owl or Floo me so that we could meet like normal people?" She tried to maintain the serious look she used to give the boys while they were in school, but her grin probably spoiled it.

"Well that's simple,simple; I came by to see if you'd like to come with me over to the Burrow right now? Knowing you, everything's already packed and set to go," Harry raised an eyebrow at the unexpected flush that crawled over Hermione's features. "What, you can't mean to tell me you're not through packing?"

"It's not that. . .I just have to finish wrapping the rest of the Christmas presents before I'll be ready to go. Why don't you go ahead without me and I'll be there shortly?" Hermione prayed that Harry would buy her feeble excuse and not point out the stack of wrapped presents on the table in her living room. Instead, he merely raised his eyebrows and bent forward to kiss her cheek.

"All right, I'll just head along first, shall I? Oh, and Hermione, if it helps to know, he's just as nervous as you are." With that last statement, and a cheeky grin, Harry Potter Disapparated with a loud pop.

The funny thing was, knowing that Ron cared as much about their reunion as she did really did help Hermione focus. Smiling to herself, she allowed the butterflies to speed-race through her stomach, holding out hope for what her reunion with Ron would bring.

A/N: A huge thanks goes out once again to hgfan1111 for her amazing Beta skills. Her e-mails and comments make me giggle and do happy dances, as do all of the lovely reviews this story has received so far. I am so pleased to see people actually enjoy it! Now what ever shall happen in the next chapter, I wonder. . .

Edit: Got rid of the double letters and words, just to make it a bit easier to read. I wasn't in a hurry to post this or anything, ;