The air in the room thickened with tension as the two young lovers stared at each other

The blank page taunted Hermione. For the past three hours she had been unable to do any work whatsoever. She had returned from her luncheon meeting fully intending to put the finishing details on her report concerning possible job opportunities for freed House Elves. Of course, the report's deadline was still two weeks away, but Hermione prided herself on staying ahead of her work schedule. Absent mindedly, she opened her left desk drawer to look at a rather well used accordion file. As usual, the familiar object soothed her frazzled nerves and allowed her mind a bit of space to breathe.

It was a habit she had begun at Hogwarts. Hermione had kept folders of completed assignments in a neatly organized accordion file that was always at her side when studying. It allowed her to have at least a small amount of routine during her rather hectic school career. The accordion file had provided her with a haven of sorts.

Granted, that wasn't to say that it had been anything approaching private—her two best friends had made sure of that. Once her boys had discovered the nature of the accordion file, it became a magical aid for all of their homework. And despite her constant lectures on the importance of academic integrity, Hermione had rarely been able to resist Harry and Ron's pleas for assistance. Under the combination of Harry's practically patented 'poor orphan boy' look and Ron's lop-sided grin she would usually cave. Hermione would allow them to go over her work for fifteen minutes before insisting that they go work on their own assignments. And of course, the boys would go off to start their own work with limited grumbling, but generally only after Ron paused to sing her praises.

Back at school, such antics from Ron would have caused her stomach to become a habitat for madly dashing butterflies and her brain a home for fanciful daydreams. Now, these memories caused her stomach to clench in frustration and filled her heart with a sense of loss.

Everything between her and Ronald seemed so difficult lately. It was as if they had lost the ability to simply be with one another, some unnamed tension straining their interactions. To make matters worse, she simply could not get her brain to leave her personal life at home. Thoughts of Ron drifted through her head at all hours of the day, regardless of whatever she really wanted to be doing.

Damn Ronald Weasley! She knew he was the real reason for her current inability to focus. Hermione slammed the book she was reading shut and cast aside her quill with an unexpected vehemence. Crossing her arms over her chest, she leaned back in her chair and heaved a sigh of pure frustration.

"Hermione, dear, are you all right?" Opening her eyes, Hermione discovered the grey-headed secretary of the department standing cautiously in her open doorway. Seeing the concern in his grey-green eyes, she instantly felt guilty about her miniature temper tantrum.

"Oh I'm so sorry for worrying you, Mr. Aldridge, but I'm quite all right. I just can't seem to keep my concentration this afternoon and I'm a bit flustered."

The older wizard gave Hermione a knowing look and a nod of his head. "Well then, if you're having so much trouble working, I think its time you went home. Go on, up you get—you're officially taking the rest of the afternoon off."

"But there's still so much to do on the—" Hermione stopped her protests at a raised hand from Mr. Aldridge.

"On work that's not needed for another three weeks? Nonsense. Up you get, you've piled far too much work on yourself lately. The world will continue to function if you skive off for an afternoon; Merlin knows everyone else in the Ministry has done it at some point or another."

Despite her protests, Hermione very quickly found herself standing outside her office, her bag in one hand (which was much lighter due to the fact that Mr. Aldridge had removed all of her work labeled 'take home') and her cloak and scarf in the other. She tried a few more feeble arguments, but when Mr. Aldridge looked at her over the rim of his glasses as he locked her office door, she knew she had well and truly lost this particular battle. Though if she were to be honest with herself, Hermione recognized that there were very few arguments with this particular opponent in which she emerged the victor. No one in the department really had the heart to argue too fiercely with Thomas Aldridge.

The kindly older wizard had once been a distinguished forerunner in this department. After his retirement, Mr. Aldridge had spent a few years travelling with his wife before they had settled back in London. To hear him tell the tale, his wife had forced him to return to work because she could not stand his incessant 'puttering around the house,' but Hermione knew that his brain was simply far too active to be content in retirement. He served as a veritable well of information on various topics—and not necessarily ones that were completely work-related.

Mr. Aldridge seemed to enjoy his position in the department, and found various ways to take care of those workers that were deemed his favorites. He had taken an instant liking to Hermione, and was always there to take care of her even when she thought it was unnecessary. She could not resist smiling softly as her colleague took her cloak from her to help her put it on.

"You know, Mr. Aldridge, you're just encouraging bad habits. What will you do if I decide that I like not being at work on Friday afternoons?"

Mr. Aldridge chuckled with laughter, "Perish the thought! The role-model worker becoming a slacker? I highly doubt that's a probability, dear. Now listen here, whatever it is that's got your attention, I suggest you find it, talk to it, and straighten things out so you can come back to work next week ready to continue your plans for changing our world. Off with you now, go home and relax!"

Hermione felt the blush creep up her cheeks as she stammered a thank you to the older wizard. Turning away, her feet went on auto-pilot towards the Apparation point while her brain tried once again to solve the puzzle of Ron Weasley.

Their interactions lately had been so forced, so increasingly awkward. While he still entertained her with stories of his daily life when they were together, the time they got to spend alone was very limited due to work and the upcoming wedding. A disgusted snort escaped her as she thought of Ron's eyes rolling whenever an owl arrived from Ginny asking for help with one project or another.

Hermione knew it wasn't a matter of a change of heart—she loved Ron like mad and could not wait to be with him forever, but she could not stand the immature displays he was pulling lately. She knew he was frustrated at the amount of time she was spending working on Harry and Ginny's wedding, but for the life of her she could not understand his reasoning behind it.

Didn't he see how important it was for the wedding to go smoothly? What with Harry's international fame as the Boy Who Lived and Ginny's increasing celebrity due to her Quidditch skills, their wedding was liable to be a bloody nightmare if not planned out down to the last detail. When Ginny had appointed her maid of honor Hermione knew this was going to be an involved process due to the high level of emotions that would run through the event. Mum-Weasley would want a traditional affair with all of the ruffles and frills since Ginny was her only daughter, and Hermione had known that the youngest Weasley was not about to let her mother plan everything about her wedding day. Hermione had always been the organizer among her friends it was simply what she did. She could not understand why her fiancé—the decorated strategic master of the Aurors—was having such a hard time understanding this.

Hermione casually waved to several familiar faces as she waited in the queue for the Apparation point. As she moved her hand back to her side, she caught herself staring at the engagement ring Ron had given her once again. She felt a pang of longing shoot through her heart. How she wished she had her old time turner so that she could go back to the first week of their engagement. She and Ron had spent every moment together, not doing anything particularly special, but relishing in one another's company. It had been like living in a fairy tale. . .

As she moved into the Apparation point, Hermione bit her bottom lip in consternation over her last thought. She stood there for several moments, calculating the implications and their consequences as she fell into a reverie. Eventually, the young woman checking Ministry ID's at the Apparation point brought her back to work by gently shaking her.

"Ms. Granger? Are you quite all right?" Hermione's eyes refocused on the concerned visage of the young woman. Stammering her apology, Hermione focused her thoughts on her flat and quickly Apparated.

Once she was in the safety of her home, Hermione quickly forgot all sense of routine. She dropped her bag and cloak in the middle of the hall rather than putting them neatly away. The resulting thud drew Crookshanks away from his favorite afternoon sunbeam to see what was going on in his home. Hermione merely muttered a quick "'lo, Shanks," before making a bee line for the kitchen.

The cool blast of air that hit her as she opened the freezer was slightly refreshing, if only because it brought her that much closer to her goal. The pint of ice cream was hidden under the healthy frozen meals she trusted herself to cook, waiting for an emergency. Her mind traveling back to the thought that had occurred to her at the Ministry, Hermione figured that now was the perfect time to open it. After all, the possibility that she had turned into a heinous woman who alienated her own fiancé did seem like a wound only ice cream could heal.

Perhaps Ron's feelings of being neglected were not totally unfounded. She had spent considerably less and less time with him as the month had gone on, and the two of them seemed to row at the drop of a hat. That thought made her rush to get a spoon and head to her favorite chair in the living room, though she nearly tripped over Crookshanks in the process. Hermione flopped down into the perfectly worn leather arm chair and dug into her ice cream with a vengeance.

Had she really been so wrapped up in Harry and Ginny's wedding that she had allowed things to turn so sour with Ron? Images from the past month flooded her mind—all of the cancelled lunch dates, nights where she had come home from wedding planning sessions to find Ron already asleep in their bed, and then the awful row from the previous week. . . Disgusted with herself, Hermione set her ice cream down on an end table and held her head in her hands.

She vaguely felt the impact of Crookshanks jumping into her lap, but continued to silently cry into her hands. It was only when the half-kneazle began to need his paws into the front of her jumper that she accepted the comfort being offered. She was forcibly reminded of the countless times at Hogwarts that 'Shanks had comforted her when she was crying over Ron. Rather than make her feel better, this memory just caused her to cry harder into the cat's ginger fur.

Thinking of Hogwarts did have an added benefit, however. Hermione realized that she was not going to solve whatever was wrong between her and Ron by crying about it. She kissed the top of Crookshanks' head before setting him on the floor, her brain already whizzing with a plot. She knew that something wasn't right, and she knew she was partially to blame, but the trouble was, she didn't even know how to begin to fix it. Hermione felt helpless as she gazed around her small flat, until a brilliant idea popped into her head.

There were two people in the world that knew Ron as well or better than she did. One would be occupied at the thrice damned Stag Night, but the other was probably sitting in the Burrow arguing with her mother over flowers for the wedding. While such things were important, Hermione decided that Ginny could take some time from this particular battle with her mother to offer some advice. The chestnut haired witch crossed to her fire place, grabbed some Floo Powder and took a moment to wipe away the remnants of her tears. With a determined look on her face, she made the Floo call to the Burrow, knowing what she needed more than anything right now was some decent girl talk.

Two hours later Hermione found herself in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place laughing so hard that her sides ached. Ginny was fervently waiving a piece of Nutella-covered shortbread (a treat Hermione had hooked her on earlier in the month) around, mimicking her mother's voice perfectly.

" 'George Weasley! Just WHAT do you think you are doing with that poor young woman? She has to be so horrified that you feel free to bring her to this house yet haven't even had the decency to introduce her to your family yet!' " Ginny's voice returned to her normal register as she continued, "And so then George decides to tell Mum that she and Dad have known Angelina for years which really got Mum going. I can not believe he was stupid enough to be doing that in his old room without a decent locking charm. I mean, honestly!"

Hermione tittered, "From how you're describing the event, it sounds as if a decent silencing charm might have served them better." Hermione watched as an embarrassed flush ran up Ginny's cheeks, and wondered at the cause for it before moving on to her question. "Did Mum-Weasley really burst into the room with her wand at the ready?"

Munching on the cookie, Ginny nodded emphatically, "She looked like she was going after Bellatrix all over again. And you would have burst in too if you'd heard Angie's scream. I was sure she'd broken something, though apparently I could not have been more wrong." The deliberate wag of Ginny's eyebrows set Hermione off on another fit of giggles, her mind easily getting a clear mental picture of Molly Weasley's rage.

Smiling, Ginny reached for the kettle to pour Hermione another pot of tea. "Good, now that we've waded through the small talk and I've gotten you to stop vibrating through patented Weasley humor, how about you tell me what's bothering you?"

Hermione's brow wrinkled as she levitated two sugar cubes into her tea. Taking a deep breath, she cast a desperate look at Ginny and found a pair of understanding hazel eyes gazing back at her. Perhaps this would not be as difficult as she had been expecting it to be.

"I don't know, Gin, everything between Ron and I has been so strange ever since, well, since New Years. It was like once I started to work on your wedding he became this jealous creature and kept insisting that I was pushing him away, ignoring him. And the frightening thing is I think he might have been right. And if he is right, what does that mean? I love Ron like mad, but if that's the case then why have I spent all of this time away from him? I've cancelled lunch dates, deliberately provoked him into arguments… On the one hand I feel as if I should have the right to busy myself doing whatever I want, and on the other I think I've truly been a horrible fiancé. I wouldn't even blame him if he was regretting asking me to marry him, really. I—I just don't know what to do." Hermione shakily set her tea down on the table and rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands. The emotion of the day's discovery was getting to her, and she really didn't have any better way to put it all into words.

Gentle hands tugged at her wrists, and Hermione looked up to find Ginny smiling at her, an air of comfort in her brown eyes. In that moment, Hermione marveled how her friend had gained her mother's almost instinctual ability to soothe. Ginny's left hand had settled on Hermione's shoulder while the other pushed a chestnut curl behind her ear. Straightening, Ginny patted Hermione's knee before beginning to speak.

"Oh Hermione, I doubt you've been a horrid fiancé. I also highly doubt Ron's regretting proposing to you. You have let yourself get rather wrapped up in my wedding, though."

"I couldn't h-h-h-help it," Hermione hiccupped as the tears began to fall. "I wanted to make up for being gone for so long and then ignoring you once I got back. Ron and I were in our own little world and—"

"As if Harry and I weren't in our own universe that entire week? He proposed to me a second time after Christmas, did I tell you? Told me he had been inspired by watching how happy you and Ron were, and that he didn't want to have to wait until the summer to get married."

Hermione barely whispered, "I'd had no idea."

Nodding, Ginny replied, "Harry said he loved to watch Ron with you. That it was like watching all of the puzzle pieces finally be put into place. But we're not talking about Harry and I right now, we're talking about you and Ron." Hermione started to protest, not wanting to feel selfish, but bit back her words when Ginny sent her a stern look. Knowing she had no say in the matter, Hermione gestured for Ginny to continue.

"You're not the first woman to get engaged and then want a bit of space, Hermione. I remember feeling like I was smothered by the engagement—as if I'd ceased being myself and instead became Mrs. Harry Potter. And it wasn't that I don't desperately love Harry, because I do. But I panicked shortly after the engagement and threw myself into training with a renewed focus and vigor. Harry wasn't as patient as Ron however, and demanded to know what was up about a week into all of this. Long story short, we ended up . . . solving things in our own matter after a nice long talk."

"I trust that the two of you remembered the silencing charm your older brother forgot?" Hermione bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing as she quirked an eyebrow in Ginny's direction. To her surprise, her best friend was soon covered by the trademark Weasley blush, and seemed to be at a loss for words. "Ginny you didn't!?"

"Well, it started out as this argument and we were really getting into it—full fledged screaming row to rival on of yours and Ron's bests—when I just grabbed him and kissed him. We weren't exactly planning on anything to happen when we started fighting, so neither one of us thought to cast the damn silencing spell. Let me tell you, sitting across from Ron while he shoveled his beans and toast in his mouth the next morning was the most awkward moment in my life. I think it was a full week before he spoke to me again."

"Wait, you mean you were here?! Upstairs!? And Ron was in his . . . Oh Merlin!" Hermione could hardly comprehend what she was hearing.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Ginny gave a throaty laugh, "Trust me, Harry and I have pretty much perfected silencing spells since then."

Hermione sat, shaking her head in disbelief. After a moment she got brave again and came back to the topic she found so difficult to talk about. "What do I say to him, Gin? It's not like I can erase the awkwardness of the past month with a simple apology. I, I even told him not to come home tonight after the Stag Party. It was in that awful note I wrote to him right before our lunch planning session—I told him to ask Harry if he could stay here. I feel so wretched about the entire thing." The weight of this experience felt like it was crushing Hermione's chest, and without warning the tears that had been falling freely down her face transformed into full fledged sobs.

In the flash of an eye she found herself in Ginny's arms, with the younger woman rubbing soothing circles on her back and humming softly. Hermione allowed herself to cry, but immediately began to make herself calm down. Coming apart in front of Ginny was hardly fair—after all, Hermione considered herself to be the person who was there to offer support, not the one searching for it. She shifted in Ginny's embrace to take a few deep breaths, and pulled away enough to give her friend a weary smile.

"Thanks, Ginny, I think I just ought to go home and lie down for a while. Ron and I will talk it out tomorrow. . ."

"There is no way that you are going home in this state, Hermione. You're exhausted physically and emotionally. Come on, you said you told Ron to come here after the Stag Night, why don't you go up to his room and wait for him to get here. Go on, you can get some rest and a bit later I'll come up and check on you and bring some food. Up you come, no arguing, now."

"You know, even if you don't always take it as a compliment, you are more like your mother than you know."

Ginny blushed and nodded her thanks. Hermione smiled at her friend as she stood, grateful for the offer of rest and a bit of space to clear her head before she encountered Ron again. She had a feeling it would do her a world of good.

What she hadn't counted on was that Ron's room at Grimmauld Place was so him. Posters of the Chudley Canon's warred for wall space with the veritable photo album he'd put on his wall with permanent sticking charms. Various scenes at the Burrow caused her to laugh at Weasley antics while a lump rose in her throat.

The lump had transformed into heartfelt sobs when she discovered that closest to the bed were a collection of photos of the two of them together over the years. She allowed her fingers to trace the edge of a snapshot of the two of them at his 'graduation' from Auror training, watching as picture-Ron lifted picture-Hermione up and spun her around in circles. She remembered how she had chided him for rumpling their formal robes while a blush flooded her face. It was a foolish thing to fight with him about, she admitted, gazing at the look of obvious glee they both had in the picture.

The final straw, though, had been finding one of his old Canon's shirts tossed onto the bed in a typically careless-Ron fashion. Truly, she had meant to merely fold it and put it away, but she could not resist the temptation of holding it to her. As she pulled it to her the outdoorsy smell that she identified as simply Ron overwhelmed her. With a strangled sob, Hermione had collapsed onto the bed and allowed herself to cry as she had not in years. There was no one else to worry about, no appearances to keep up, it was just her and the aching sadness in her chest. Lying there with Ron's shirt hugged to her, Hermione cried herself to sleep as she worried over what was happening between the two of them.

The sound of a floorboard creaking woke Hermione from her fitful slumber, and she rose expecting to see Ginny come in to check on her. As she blinked the sleep from her eyes, it became apparent that this was not the case, as Ginny certainly wasn't over six-feet tall, nor did she have those piercing blue eyes. . . With a shock she realized Ron was home, and a tiny gasp escaped her when she realized how he had found her.

"Oh, Mione. . ."

The air in the room thickened with tension as the two young lovers stared at each other. Sitting on the bed with his old t-shirt balled into her hands, Hermione battled with her emotions. She was fighting a war, trying to decide between throwing a fit at Ron for his earlier snarky letter, and throwing herself at him in appreciation for the love and concern she heard in his voice.

When he shot a nervous grin at her and spread his palms in a typical Ron gesture of apology a strangled sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob escaped her throat. Hermione recalled her earlier conversation with Ginny, and decided that all the petty words and fights were not worth the emotional havoc she was wreaking within herself. Without a word, she practically leaped off of the bed to get into Ron's arms as quickly as possible. Steady hands caught her and strong arms held her close, and she could feel him take a shaky breath of relief as she began to cover his face and neck with kisses, her hands entwined behind his neck.

With every kiss she murmured an apology for her actions, begging him not to go anywhere. She was almost frantic in her need to convey to Ron how much he meant for her, desperate to prove that she loved him now as much as she had on the day he proposed to her. Hermione didn't stop until Ron used his long arms to separate the two of them, and she groaned in frustration.

"Mione, love, what is it? What in the name of Merlin's beard are you apologizing for?"

Ron's face was scrunched up in confusion, and she desperately wished he would set her hands free so she could push his fringe out of his eyes. Somewhere in her brain it clicked that if she wanted him to take her seriously she was going to have to be the logical Hermione that had been explaining things to him since they were eleven. Despite herself, she could not help the shaky nature of her voice, which was already raw from crying.

"Oh Ron, I'm apologizing for being such a wretched fiancé. Here I've gotten totally gotten caught up in being the perfect Maid-of-Honor, and as a result I've ignored the best thing that's ever happened to me. I can't understand how you've put up with it, and I don't really have a decent way to explain it. I just…I've been truly awful, haven't I?" She felt his arms loosen their grip as he processed what she was saying. What she liked to term as his "Analyzing Auror" face stared down at her, and Hermione readied herself for the worst.

"I can't say that I completely disagree with that sentiment. Especially with all of those letters you sent back and forth at the office. . ."

Hermione felt her anger flare, "Ronald Weasley! I was not the only one responsible for that and you know it! I cannot believe that you would even suggest . . ." It was then that she saw what he was doing, deliberately working her up to show her that there was blame to be had on both sides and in doing so reassuring her that everything would be okay. With a grateful laugh she moved back into the sheltering circle of his arms, and as she did he began to stroke her hair soothingly.

"Hush, Mione, I know. We've both been pretty rotten lately, and I guess it's just the stress of life getting to us. I mean, it's not like we can spend all of our lives like that first week. . ."

"I was thinking about that today too." Hermione spoke into his chest. "I didn't realize that being together would ever be any different than that. I thought we would just, you know, fit." She took comfort in the rumbling chuckle that escaped Ron.

"Oh love, no one gets to have that kind of picture perfect life. People are people, they don't always agree on everything and live in a state of perfection—however much certain people might like that." Hermione playfully smacked his chest at this point, happy to feel the knot of tension that had been rising in her chest ease just a bit. "Just because you and I row doesn't mean we don't love each other. In fact I am pretty sure it's how we expressed that love without knowing it for a long time." He kissed the top of her head, and Hermione let out a breath she hadn't known she had been holding.

"I am sorry I have been gone so much lately, Ron. I just want to make something beautiful for Harry and Ginny; I think they deserve to have a day to remember. I didn't mean to get so caught up in it that you felt like you were less important." She pulled away from him enough to gaze up into his eyes, and felt her tummy flutter happily when he gave her that lopsided grin she so loved.

"Well, I reckon I have a few things to apologize for as well then. You know how much I don't like change, and with Harry getting married I just feel like this huge chapter on my life is closing. I don't really think being an adult was every truly real to me until now, and I'm not sure how much I like it. So instead of talking to you about it, I got snarky and annoyed you as much as possible about the wedding. I don't think the ceremony is stupid, you know. I just think it's what comes after that, the life together, that's really more important."

It was with that comment that Hermione realized that everything between them truly was going to be all right. Yes, they would fight—they always had and she was quite sure there would be days when she would love to strangle him. But worrying over the fact that their love was not fairy tale perfect would only serve to make her heartsick. She needed to learn to live in the moment, and appreciate what it was she had before her.

And at this particular moment, what she had before her was a very tall, incredibly handsome, loving, caring fiancé. And she decided it was high time she paid some more attention to him. An evil grin crossed her features, and she stood on tip toe to begin laying gentle kisses along Ron's collar bone and at the base of his neck.

"So, dear, how was the stag party?" Her innocent question was coupled with her hands sliding underneath Ron's shirt so that her fingers could play lightly over his back. She took him take a hissing breath, and grinned against his skin, losing herself in his heady scent.

"Oh, it went wonderfully well. Learned more from Neville than I ever truly wanted to know—you should see some of the gifts that Harry got. Gods, Mione, that's not fair—how can you expect a chap to tell a story when you do things like that!" Hermione beamed like a cat with cream she nibbled at the other side of his neck. Looking up at him, she bit her lower lip slowly while arching her brows.

She watched Ron's eyes fill with desire and as he bent to kiss her she whispered against his lips, "Frankly, dear, I don't."

They became entangled in the kiss and a desperate need to get their clothes off, to show one another physically how much they had missed truly being together these past few weeks. When Ron elicited a particularly loud moan from Hermione, she noticed him grasping for his wand to cast a silencing charm. Quickly she grabbed his wrist and shook her head. He looked at her questioningly, and she couldn't help the girlish giggle that escaped her.

"Don't cast it—just imagine their faces tomorrow at breakfast." Ron groaned and pulled her into another passionate kiss, his tongue entwining with hers eagerly. Hermione let her fingers run through his hair, loving the heady desire that filled her.

When he finally pulled back from the kiss, he breathlessly said, "Brilliant, but scary as always. I love you so much, Hermione."

"I love you even more, Ron."

"Doubt that," Ron said with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Prove it," replied Hermione, sticking out her tongue.

And for the next several hours, the young couple lost themselves in a pointless competition of showing one another just how much love there truly was between them. By all accounts, it truly was a tie.

A/N: Some of you have probably been wondering where the hell I have been the past few weeks. (Okay, so the past MONTH, really . . . ) To put it simply, real life did that annoying thing of getting in the way, and this chapter was VERY difficult to write. It went through several versions, one of which involved no dialogue, the other of which had a row that made Hermione sound rather like a certain ferret. . . to put it mildly it was UGLY.

Thanks as always to my beautiful beta hgfan1111, without whom I would have never made it through this particular debacle. Honestly, if I hadn't had her there holding my proverbial hand and telling me that it was all going to be okay, I think I would have pulled my hair out and just decided to be done with the story.

Thanks are also due to all you reviewers—lots of Glomps Hugs and Pygmy Puffs to you ALL.

Stick with me, readers, I'm back in the proverbial saddle and ready to continue this journey with Ron and Hermione.

Glomps, Hugs and Pygmy Puffs,

UD