Hermione walked into the little café, where she had agreed to have lunch with Lavender. It was a week after Halloween, and Hermione was practically floating on air, Ron's 'I love you' still keeping her buoyant. As she looked for Lavender, though, her eyes met, not her best friend's, but Ron's. Ron frowned, and Lavender, who was sitting across from him, turned and saw her. "Oh there you are, Hermione, I was beginning to wonder."

"I didn't know Ron was eating with us."

"Surprise. Sit down – I have a few things I need to say to you both."

She sat, a little heavily. "Alright. What do you need to talk about?"

"I think you both know."

Hermione and Ron simultaneously looked at each other, then back at Lavender.

"No? Alright, I'll just tell you. All the ladies down at Witch Weekly know about this little… love-triangle we've got going on here, and they've advised me on what to do. I am here to tell you both that it will be all right."

Hermione was horrified and couldn't respond, her heart lodged in her throat. Ron, too, stayed silent.

"Still nothing? You two are both so stubborn, I swear. Fine. I know you're both worried about what will happen when Ron and I get married, but I promise, that I won't ignore either of you."

Hermione swallowed, and her heart seemed to return to its normal place. "I don't follow."

"Well that's what's going on isn't it? You two were so weird around each other on Halloween. You're both just worried, right? That you'll have to share me? That is what's going on, isn't it?"

Hermione didn't even have to look at Ron. "Yes."

"Yup."

"Absolutely."

"You caught us."

Lavender looked mollified. "So I'm telling you now- yes, you will have to share me, but I promise to be as fair as possible."

"We appreciate that, Lavender, thank you."

"Anyway, moving on. Since you're both here – "

"Lavender you asked us both to be here."

" – I'll tell you now. I'm being sent to Paris for an extended weekend! Witch Weekly wants me to do an article about Christmas in Paris, so, Ron, we get an all-expense-paid vacation! In Paris!"

Ron sighed. "Lav, you know how much work I've been having lately."

"But it's the weekend!"

"Being an Auror doesn't stop on weekends. I'm sorry, but I can't go."

Hermione couldn't help but feel the happiness bubbling up inside of her. Ron had to be lying. He had to be, because he hadn't been working all that overtime, had he? The only thing he'd been having to do was… well… her.

Oh, God, she didn't mean it like that.

Fine, she did. She was proud of it.

Lavender pouted. "Isn't there any way I can convince you?" she batted her eyes seductively, and Hermione practically gagged on her lunch.

"Lavender, I can't," Ron said in a firm tone.

"Alright, fine." But, the rest of the lunch, she kept embellishing on the wonders of Paris at Christmastime, and glancing hopefully at Ron.

Ron stayed silent. Hermione smiled.

"Goodbye! Have a great time in Paris!"

"I will. Take care of Ron for me. Even after all these years, he can't cook to save his life."

"Oh I will."

Lavender left and Hermione immediately sent the owl out with a letter saying containing only three words:

Get over here.

Ron appeared in her fireplace two minutes later. "Is this a booty call?" He looked thrilled.

Hermione didn't even bother playing coy. The four day countdown had begun, and she wanted him naked as quickly as she could get him. "Yes. Take your pants off. Now."

Two hours later, and Hermione was waking to a glorious sight: a stretch of freckled naked back. She lifted her hand and started tracing shapes, using the little dots as guides. Finally, she gave it up as a bad job, and leaned in to kiss him on the shoulder.

It was the first time she had woken up next to him since her birthday, and she was enjoying the experience a lot more this time.

He groaned and rolled over, reaching for her and pulling her on top of him. She settled, and plopped her chin to his chest.

"I wish it could always be like this."

She didn't know who had murmured it, but she fully agreed with the sentiment. Falling asleep and waking up next to someone you loved – for she had finally admitted it, yes, in the throes of passion, but Ron hadn't minded – seemed so much more intimate than anything they had been doing in the past month.

And, admittedly, they'd been doing a lot.

"I want to take you out to dinner."

Her eyes met his. "Ron…"

"I know what you're thinking, but I've worked it all out. We can find somewhere in the middle of Muggle London. Besides, I want to see you all dressed up for me, and me alone. I want to hold your hand as we walk down the street."

She couldn't resist that argument. There was a small chance they could still get caught, but she wanted to risk it.

"I'd love to."

It was Friday night, and Hermione was going on a date with a man she really, really wanted to go on a date with. It was the first time she and Ron had left her bed since Wednesday night, except to eat (which was a necessity in life, according to Ron) and go to work (which was not).

Ron had gone home to get changed, and she was anxiously waiting his return. She had donned her favorite black dress, which gave a modest hint of cleavage but dipped low in the back, and decided, rather than tame her curls, to enlarge them. She stared hard in the mirror. Ron had said her hair looked the same when she was arguing and making love, and she was this close to yelling at herself in the mirror to see if it would achieve the desired effect.

Instead she just grabbed some mousse.

She was putting in her earrings when she heard a knock at the door. She opened it to find Ron, looking handsome in his suit, holding a bouquet of flowers.

He smiled. "I wanted to do this right, and the guy always shows up on the pretty girl's doorstep with flowers." He handed them to her.

She buried her face in them and inhaled deeply. She had surprised herself by the action; it was such a girly thing to do. "Thank you, they're gorgeous. Come on it. Let me find a vase for these."

She turned and heard Ron inhale sharply. "Hermione…you're hair."

Turning back to him, she held a worried hand to it. "Is there something wrong with it?"

"Oh my God." His hands were suddenly tangled in it, and his mouth was pressed to her's. A few long moments later and he released her. "Sorry. But it's so wild right now…reminded me of how it looks…" he trailed off.

"That's what I was aiming for." She smirked.

"Wench. Ready to go? We might have to walk a bit since we can't Apparate right to the restaurant."

"Sounds perfect."

She Side-Along Apparated with him, and they ended up in a dark alley. "You are a man of strange tastes. Broom cupboards, loos, alleyways…"

He laughed and guided her in the right direction. They walked for a few minutes before she felt the brush of his hand against hers. She smiled, letting him interlock their fingers. She looked up at him, and he was grinning just as brightly as she was. His thumb brushed her knuckle, and she couldn't stop staring at their hands. How her slightly tanned skin looked so much darker against his pale one. It was intoxicating.

A few blocks later and they were at the restaurant. She disappointedly let go of his hand, but was quickly taken in by the quiet atmosphere enveloping her. She looked around, drinking it in. The tables were covered in white linens, the lighting was dim, and the walls… were covered in books?

"It used to be a library," she heard Ron whisper in her ear. "I found it accidentally, and then read up on it a little because I knew you'd be interested."

"You did research for me?"

He looked proud. "I did."

She flushed. It was practically better than a compliment. "Go on, then."

"It was a privately owned library that used to be owned by some billionaire in the late fifties. Apparently he was as much of a bookworm as you." He grinned down at her.

"A privately owned library?" Her voice was filled with awe.

"I knew you'd like that bit. Anyway, when the man died, the library was passed down to his oldest son, who had no appreciation for books whatsoever." The hostess showed them to their table and Ron quickly pulled out her chair for her.

She thanked him. "So what happened?"

"Apparently he was all for turning the place into an office building, but one of his sisters flat-out refused to let him. Smacked him over the head, so the story goes. She's the one who came up with the idea to turn it into a restaurant. It's been the same ever since."

"That's a lovely story." The waiter came to their table asking if they'd like a glass of wine. She and Ron gladly accepted.

"It's really what made me decide on the restaurant. The sister reminded me of you. I can just imagine you smacking some dolt over the head. Hermione Granger, defender of books."

They had an amazing dinner. The food was delicious – Ron was practically giddy – and the conversation, easy. Ron told stories from his childhood she had never heard before, including the one about the twins turning his teddy into a spider. He had always refused to explain when she had asked him about his phobia, and was flattered that he had finally told her.

They stood, and he paid the bill, while she made the required noises of complaint. "It's fine, Ron, we can split it, it's expensive…" but he met all of these with a resounding "No."

"I asked you out to dinner, Hermione, so I should be paying the bill. Besides, I'm the guy."

"We have got to knock those sexist tendencies out of you, as charming as they are."

"What, you don't like chivalry? Did I offend you when I pulled out your chair?"

"No, it was flattering."

"But not sexist?"

She was stumped. "Stop it."

"I just won that argument, didn't I?"

"Shut up."

He laughed and put an arm around her shoulder, and one of hers went behind his back. As they walked, she felt his hand move into her hair once more. She looked over her shoulder to see him winding a strand around his finger, then to his face, to see him completely transfixed by it. She couldn't stop herself. She hooked a finger in his belt loop and her thumb under the waistband of his trousers. He shivered slightly, and she looked back up at his face. Hermione could not help but compare these actions with the ones she had seen Ron and Lavender perform on Halloween. Back then it seemed so comfortable, but now, here, it just seemed cold. The two hadn't even been looking at one another. She and Ron could not look away.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and they Apparated back to her apartment.

Author's Note: Couldn't stop the pervy joke this time, sorry, Hermione. Spending all that…intimate time with Ron must have given you a dirty mind. McEs.

P.S. As much as I'd like to take credit for the restaurant idea, there is actually a restaurant in New York called The Library, which, I'm sure, is not the only library-modeled-into-a-restaurant. The idea of using it just fell on me, and I knew Hermione would appreciate it.