A/N: Thank you to my fabulous beta Raye. She is an absolute goddess.

Chapter 4

Ron crept down the stairs, carefully navigating the various creaks and groans he knew were imbedded in almost every step. He had been so nervous at supper that he'd barely eaten a thing, and now he was starving.

Dinner had been a nightmare. It was just Harry, Ginny, his Mum and Dad, the git, and himself. His Mum kept giving him the evil eye. Obviously, she didn't believe him when he said he'd had nothing to with Hermione's absence, and believed she could glare him into a confession. He really had to give her credit though. He'd never doubt mother's intuition again.

To make matters worse, the greasy git kept eyeing him suspiciously as though he was about to sprout horns and a tail. Ginny and Harry seemed really disappointed, and even asked Ricardo… Renaldo… whatever the stupid wanker's name was… if there might be a way to coax her down. The prat just stared at him pointedly, and said that it wouldn't be possible. That something had turned her stomach. For the rest of the meal, everyone at the table made it a point to take turns scowling at him.

Ron still felt horrible for upsetting Hermione so badly. He'd forgotten how painful it was to hear her cry. But what was he supposed to do about it now? He had no other choice but to keep the Lavender ruse going. Hermione would hex his bits off if she ever discovered the truth. Or worse, she'd do something truly drastic like marry that…

Ron stopped himself. He refused to finish that thought.

When he'd nearly reached the bottom of the stairs, he glanced up and what he saw took his breath away. There at the kitchen table sat the ghost of a memory. The vision instantly took him back to when they had been searching for the Horcruxes during what should have been their seventh year. Back to the exact moment he'd realized he would never love another woman for as long as he lived.

Hermione had her knees pulled up to her chest with her feet perched on the seat below her, and she leaned heavily into the back of the chair. Her hair was haphazardly pulled up into a sloppy bun, and she wore men's pajamas that were entirely too big for her. At the moment, a slight crease had settled itself between her eyebrows, and she was biting her bottom lip furiously as she focused all of her attention into the leather bound book in her hands.

In his distraction, Ron inadvertently shifted, causing a loud creak to emanate from beneath his feet. He looked down to curse at the stair at fault.

'Damn that creaky third step'

When he looked back up, Hermione was pinning him with a stare.

"Um… Hi!" He offered.

She didn't answer, and she didn't look away. She seemed pained, and slightly nervous by his presence.

"Listen, I don't want to disturb you. I'll just…"

He started to head back up when her voice stopped him.

"No, no, it's alright. I was just finishing up."

She dropped her feet to the floor, and grabbed her bookmark from the table placing it at her last page.

"Don't leave. I mean you don't have to." He said coming down the rest of the way.

She stood, and hugged her book protectively to her chest. They nervously regarded each other for an excruciatingly long stretch. Suddenly, an idea struck Ron.

"Hey, since we're both up, we could figure out where to have the Stag and Doe. I mean it's nice and quiet now."

She eyed him for a moment trying to guage whether or not to trust this suspicious act of friendliness.

"Um… alright. I guess." She offered still extremely wary.

With that, he bounded excitedly up the stairs.

When he finally returned with the brochures from the different restaurants and clubs he'd looked at, he found her sitting at the table holding her cup with both hands, and staring vacantly out the window.

He shook his head slightly. Why was it whenever he entered a room and she was there, he was always struck dumb for a moment by the sight of her?

He cleared his throat to draw her attention. As if waking from a daydream, Hermione inhaled sharply through her nose and brought her eyes back up to him.

"Here we are," he said pulling a chair up next to hers.

He sat facing her putting his left leg almost flush with her knees, and his right behind her chair. He deposited the four brochures on the table for her inspection, placed his right hand on the back of her chair, and then looked to her for approval.

Hermione just stared down at the leaflets, wide-eyed for a moment.

"You did research?" She asked incredulously as she took one of them in her hand.

"Hey, I do my homework when it's important."

"No, no." She giggled lightly at his offended tone. "It's wonderful."

He studied her as she continued to read each one. The faint smile on her lips, and the slight laugh lines around her eyes made him realize just how long it had been since he'd found himself this close to her.

She glanced up, and caught the open admiration on his face. She felt her insides flip flop and her face flush at the intimacy in his gaze.

Realizing he was caught, Ron looked down, his ears burning a deep crimson. When he finally raised his eyes from the floor, he refused to look at her but focused his gaze instead on the pamphlets.

'Merlin, he's lovely when he blushes like that.' Hermione thought absently.

Shaking herself out of the daze brought on by his close proximity, she directed her eyes back to the brochures. She cleared her throat, and picked up all four pamphlets.

"I don't think 'The Three Broomsticks' is a good idea. I mean it's fine as a pub, but there's no place to dance and the food is passable at best."

Ron rolled his eyes, but chuckled. "How did I know you were going to say that?"

She leaned back in her chair, and swatted at his chest with one of the pamphlets. "Prat."

His stomach coiled tightly with nervous energy at her playful tone, but he didn't pull his hand away. Instead, he savoured the limited contact of his thumb against her back. If she was aware of his hand's position, she gave no indication.

"Now, I haven't heard of these two, but 'Witches and Wizards' sounds like fun. And if I'm remembering 'The Apothecary' properly, it has a really nice menu and martini bar."

"We don't have to stick with just one, 'Mione. We could always go to a couple of different places." Ron suggested.

She brightened and flushed at the idea and the use of his old nickname for her.

"That's brilliant." She whispered.

The shy, lopsided smile he gave her in response made her heart squeeze.

"So, what do you think then?" Ron asked.

Hermione sat up a little to study the pamphlets in her hands, and considered their options. Without thinking, she turned her body to face him placing her arm on the back of her chair. In doing so, her hand came to rest on his.

Their eyes met with a snap, and a delicious energy surged between them at the innocent yet intimate connection.

After an intense moment, Ron pulled away and stood. Running his hands through his hair, he walked to the sink then crossing his arms in front of his chest, circled on himself to face her.

Looking back down at the brochures in her hands, Hermione mumbled. "Um, how about we have dinner and drinks at 'The Apothecary', and… and then move the group to 'Witches and Wizards' for dancing."

"Yeah, sounds great." He responded distractedly.

Sighing deeply, she nodded, placed the brochures back on the table, and grabbed her book.

"Well," she said standing from the table, and moving toward the staircase. "It's late and tomorrow's a long day…"

That brought Ron out of himself. He couldn't let her leave. This had not only been the first civil conversation they'd had in years, but it was also one of the most pleasant. He didn't want it to end just yet.

"How about a drink? A shot of Firewhiskey, or something, for old times sake?" He blurted out.

Slightly surprised by the offer, Hermione considered him for a moment. "Ron, we never used to drink together. That's something you did with Harry."

He fumbled for an excuse. "All right, a new tradition then. To show that we can be…" He dreaded that he was actually going to say the word, but resigned himself to the fact that it just could never be any other way. "…friends."

'Friends?' She cringed inwardly. As loath as she was to admit it, she didn't think she'd ever be able to think of him as just a friend.

"Fine. One shot." She rolled her eyes, and smiled at him teasingly trying to hide her disappointment in his choice of words.

He quickly moved to the far cupboard and fetched two tumblers, then went to the liquor cabinet for the Firewhiskey. Placing the glasses on the table, he uncorked the bottle and poured two generous shots. He picked up both tumblers, and handed one to Hermione.

He raised his glass, and said. "To…"

After a moment's hesitation, she finished for him. "Being friends."

Their eyes locked and held, neither wanting to drink to that particular toast. After a sprawling silence, both reluctantly knocked back the amber liquid.

Hermione began to cough and sputter while Ron tried his damnedest not to do the same.

Finally regaining her composure, she placed the empty glass on the table, and said. "This has been… really nice, Ron."

"Yeah, it has."

Ron put his glass beside Hermione's, and shyly jammed his hands into his pockets.

After a long moment, Hermione made to climb the stairs, but being a little light headed from the combination of the shot and his company, she tripped up the first few steps. Instantly, she started to giggle, and Ron came over quickly to help her up.

"Are you all right?" He managed, trying hard to conceal his own chuckling.

He grabbed her by the waist, and she rose uncertainly to her feet on the first step.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Nothing but a bruised ego."

Still both laughing from the embarrassment of her spill, she turned to face him, and her free hand fell instinctively to his chest while both of his came to rest gently on her hips.

Their tittering waned, becoming soft breathing as they realized just how close they actually were to one another.

Feeling her heart pounding frantically in her chest, Hermione began to worry her bottom lip instantly pulling Ron's focus down to her mouth. Her breath hitched in her chest at the heat of his gaze.

He shifted his eyes back up to meet hers, and felt himself move in slightly. In turn, she pushed her chin forward a little, and licked her lips. He swallowed forcing down the nerves that were building in his chest, and inched his face a bit closer. They were so close now that he could feel the warmth of her breath against his mouth.

One more tilt of the head from either of them, and their lips would touch.

In the next instant, either one or both of them must have realized the colossal mistake they were about to make, because they both looked away from each other awkwardly.

Hermione dropped her hand from his chest, and Ron reluctantly took a step back placing his hands on his hips, and looking everywhere but at her.

"I should go." She murmured.

"To Roberto." He interjected soberly, and nodded more to himself.

She shifted uncomfortably on the spot, and focused her gaze downwards.

"Yes, to Roberto." She replied almost inaudibly.

Hermione looked up taking in his tall frame once more, and said softly. "You know Ron, you really will make an excellent father. Congratulations again."

For the umpteenth time that day, his chest clenched. Why did she have to say things like that? Things that could make him blush from head to toe, and ache dreadfully all in one go.

"Thanks." He mumbled as he looked to the floor.

"Well, goodnight then." She whispered.

"Night," he offered, willing her to stay.

She stared at him for a moment longer, then spun around and hurried up the stairs.

Left alone to his muddled thoughts, Ron wandered back to the table and sat heaving a sigh of frustration.