"Hotter for fuck's sake!"

I was growing increasingly impatient with the plumbing. The shower was running for more than a few minutes and it was still spewing water that could only be described as "tepid".

If Ron were home, he would be scowling, telling me to just use magic already. To which I would have replied that I wouldn't have to use magic if our lazy, good-for-nothing landlord would get around to fixing the bloody water heater.

Giving in, I sighed and waved my wand, the water instantly warmed to a reasonable temperature for a long shower. I stood under the hot water and squirted some body wash into my hands. The scent of citrus filled my nostrils as I worked up a lather. I felt the little exfoliating beads rolling back and forth in between my fingers as I worked my hands over my arms, my chest, stomach and finally my legs. I rinsed off and took the bottle of shampoo down from the rack hanging from the showerhead. Angelina had recommended the brand, saying it had worked wonders for her hair. I figured I had nothing to lose, even though I felt like I had tried hundreds of different products on my wild curls. At least this one smelled nice.

The hot water still blasting on me, I ran my wide-toothed comb through my hair and noticed a difference straightaway. The comb didn't catch on a single snarl and there was no embarrassing clump of hair clogging the drain.

After I finished, I grabbed a warm, fluffy towel and wrapped it around myself. Passing from the loo to the bedroom, I paused in front of the picture of Ron and me at my Hogwarts graduation ceremony. Our arms around each other's waists, I held my diploma proudly out in front of me and we smiled at the camera before turning to each other and sharing a sweet kiss.

He still had one year left of training before he was a fully-qualified Auror. Lately, training had him away from home more often than not. He and Harry were at the top of their class; which I knew was a point of pride, especially for Ron. He was finally being recognized for the talent I already knew he had. The instructors and fellow trainees recognized he was more than Harry Potter's friend. In one of his letters, he told me that in their down time, the others in his training unit peppered him with questions about our involvement with the Order of the Phoenix, our infiltration of the Ministry when we'd stolen the horcrux from Umbridge and about the Battle of Hogwarts.

Ron was not an attention-seeker, but this recognition by his peers as someone who knew things they didn't was doing wonders for his confidence. He was only completely confident and at ease with me. He knew he had nothing to prove, I loved him and that was that.

I dressed in denim shorts and a plain purple t-shirt and sandals. The best part about our building - what I had quickly discovered was the only good part about it - was the beautiful social room on the seventh floor. It was 360 degrees of windows and had an outdoor patio with a number of lounge chairs. The inside part sported a lovely fireplace and lots of comfortable couches and cushions for residents to use as they wished. I liked sitting there reading at night when Ron was away. The community room reminded me just enough of the Gryffindor Common Room that I could trick my brain into thinking Ron was just up in the Boy's dorm, or swiping extra food in the kitchens. I knew of course that he was in all likelihood several hundred kilometers away, learning about detecting and tracking the sources of dark magic, defense and interrogation techniques, among other things.

He told me the details of the physical training and it sounded just as mentally taxing as it was physically strenuous. The Ministry was gradually (and by that, I mean moving at a snail's pace in a salt mine) incorporating useful Muggle methods in different ways. For the Aurors, the instructors were teaching them a fighting technique called Krav Maga. It was a martial art utilized by many Muggle military forces all over the world. We encountered first-hand how physically demanding dueling and all-out combat could be. Ron and Harry were both excited about being in the first group of trainee Aurors to learn the technique. In the couple of weeks before the sessions were to begin it was all he could talk about - he was chuffed to bits. When the owl arrived the morning after his first session, I tore the parchment open, overflowing with excitement to read all about it. There were only eight words scrawled in smudged black ink:

"So bloody knackered. Thought I tore my bollocks."

At first sight, I yelped in concern. Then re-reading what he'd written, I laughed heartily. If being an Auror didn't work out, he could certainly find work writing greeting cards.

I grabbed a bottle of water from our fridge and tucked a paperback under my arm before heading up to the seventh floor. When the lift doors opened, I found the room deserted as it almost always was. The view wasn't particularly luxurious, but it was a nice spot to watch a sunset. I curled up in my favorite chair and cracked the bottle open, taking a long swig before opening my book at the page I'd marked.

"That boyfriend of yours sure leaves you alone a lot." I jumped at the unfamiliar voice. Looking up, I recognized our neighbor from the flat across the hall - what was his name? I couldn't remember.

"Yes, well...he's...in the military." I replied. It wasn't exactly a lie.

He leaned his body casually against the double paned floor-to-ceiling window directly across from where I sat. He must have been sitting outside when I arrived, I hadn't heard him come in. He wasn't quite as tall as Ron, but he had broad shoulders and a smallish waist - a swimmer's body I thought. His brown hair was cut short on the sides and in the back. There was some length at the top and he had it slicked back. His face was tanned and he had large, brown eyes.

"Oh the military, eh? What branch?" He asked a smile curling his full lips.

I paused, to buy some time, I said - "Pardon?"

"What branch of the military? Army? Air Force?" He crossed his arms over his chest as he spoke.

"Oh, erm- the branch that takes him away from me for weeks at a time." I said. He nodded.

"I'm sorry, I forgot your name..." he said, holding out his hand.

"Oh, I'm Hermione." I said, standing and shaking his outstretched hand.

"Her- what?" He knit his eyebrows together and took too long to release my hand.

I smiled and sat back down, "Her-my-oh-knee"

"Oh, Hermione! As in, A Winter's Tale, Shakespeare?" He responded. The reference took me by surprise. If anyone recognized my name as one they'd heard before, it was usually because of the actress Hermione Gingold.

"Yes, that's exactly right, A Winter's Tale." I smiled.

"Are your parents literary types, then? Professors?" He asked.

"Oh, no indeed. My parents are dentists. It's just a name they liked." Why was he looking at me like that? He reminded me of someone, I couldn't place him.

"Oh, that explains it, then." He said, knowingly.

"Excuse me?" What is he playing at?

"Your smile, it's perfect." He said, winking.

I smiled back, blushing. "Are you flirting with me?" I asked, amused.

"Only a bit. But now that I know your boyfriend could probably break my arms off, I'll stop." He plunged his hand casually into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He tapped the pack in the palm of his hand and removed the plastic wrap. Taking one out for himself, he held the pack out, offering me one.

"Oh, no thanks." I said, waving it away. I promised Ron I would quit and I had. I knew it was a terrible, unhealthy crutch but when my nerves got the better of me, I found it terribly soothing. He put the pack back into his pocket and instead of going outside to smoke, he tucked the ciggy behind his ear and sat on the floor with his legs stretched out near me.

"You look so familiar. Where did you go to school?"

Why was he being so bloody nosy? I just wanted to read!

"Oh, erm - nowhere you'd know. A small - private - academy in Scotland." Again, not a lie.

"Sounds exclusive and expensive." He mused. I nodded.

"I've forgotten your name as well..." I said finally.

"Oh, it's Evan. Sorry, Hermione." He pulled his legs in and sat with them crossed. "So, is that where you met...Ginger?" Evan asked.

I normally wouldn't have, but I chuckled. "Yes, Ron and I met at school."

"Ron, right. You haven't lived here long, what do you think of the building?"

I shrugged my shoulders, "I don't know. It's fine. I love this room though, so quiet." Until nosy, good-looking neighbors interrupt me.

"This room is worth the bloody cold water." He said, motioning towards the windows.

"Yeah, that is a really annoying problem." I agreed.

We looked at each other for a few moments, growing uncomfortable with the silence. I didn't want to be rude, but I really wanted to read. I had just lowered my eyes to my book when:

"What are you doing for dinner?" He asked. I opened my eyes wide. He knew I had a boyfriend, a serious one given that we were living together.

"Erm - "

He shook his head, laughing. "My flatmate is making pasta, but she always makes too much. There'll be plenty if you don't want to eat alone." He clarified. I'd met his flatmate in the lift once - what the devil was her name? Dina? Dianna?

"Oh, I...I suppose that would be nice." The words came out of my mouth before I could process it. I had no intention of dining with this...whatever he was. Take it back, Hermione. Make an excuse.

"Excellent. See you in...an hour or so?" Without waiting for a response, he popped up and made his way to the lift. I was utterly bewildered, it was one of the odder chinwags I'd ever had, minus just about every conversation I'd ever had with Luna. One thought rotated over and over in my brain:

Why does he seem so familiar?

I read and re-read the same page of my paperback three times and still didn't know what it said. Sighing heavily, I closed it and stood up. I stretched my arms high above my head and yawned. I wasn't going to have dinner with Evan and what's-her-name but my stomach growled rudely and I realized I really did not feel like fixing myself anything. The invitation was there, why the hell not? I decided.

I grabbed a bottle of red wine from our liquor cabinet. I nearly dropped it when I heard keys in the door. I rushed to the front door, still holding the bottle by the neck and saw Ron tossing his rucksack down.

"Ron!" I motioned to wrap my arms around his neck but he put his hands up, stopping me.

"Sorry, love. Still very sore. Hi." He put his hand around my waist and pulled me in gently for a long overdue snog. When I ran my fingers through his hair I discovered he was entirely soaked to the bone.

"When did it start raining?!" I asked, surprised. I helped him pull his boots off and got him a towel. He stripped his wet clothes off right where he stood, leaving them in a pile on the floor. As he was drying off with the towel, I went to the bedroom and got him some fresh clothes.

"Thanks. Can you put them in the loo? I need a shower something fierce." I nodded and did as he asked. When I came back out, he was still starkers and had the towel hanging loosely around his neck. It wasn't until then that I noticed the new muscle definition.

"Bloody wow, Ron..." I said, taking him in. His chest and his arms looked remarkable, hard and strong.

"Oh yeah, I'm a regular bloody body builder over here." He said. "It's really wicked learning Muggle fighting but sodding hell it hurts." He bopped me on the nose with his finger as he passed by me for the loo. I playfully swatted his bum as he went by and found myself staring at it until he closed the door behind him.

As he showered, I went into the kitchen and found it embarrassingly bare. I didn't keep much food in the house when I knew I'd be on my own for long stretches. My mum always said I was like a caterpillar, I could live on a lettuce leaf if I had to.

He strutted into the kitchen in jeans and a thin cotton undershirt on. I saw something in his pocket, a squareish box – what the hell?

"What's that in your pocket?" I asked moving towards him. He smirked at me. I put my hand in his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigs.

"Are you joking? You made me promise to quit and now you've picked up the habit?" He laughed.

"Nope."

I puzzled at him, studying his blue eyes for the answer. It dawned on me that it was the same brand that Evan had offered me in the community room. I opened the pack and there was only one missing. I didn't smell smoke on Ron when I hugged him at the door. He cocked his head to the side and I saw the missing ciggy tucked behind his ear.

"That was you upstairs!" I realized.

"Pretty good, eh?" He beamed, removing a small zippered pouch from his pocket. He opened it and I saw several clear glass vials. I pulled one out and saw a few strands of hair. I turned it to the side and read a label printed in Ron's handwriting:

"Blonde, brown, 6 ft"

I gave him a confused look and he kissed me.

"It was my idea. When we track people we should always have a flask of polyjuice," he gestured towards his ankle, "and a stock of disguises. Just in case, you know. The instructors are considering making these kits standard issue. I wanted to see if I could trick you. You know me better than anyone, if I could get by you, I can get by anyone."

"That is completely brilliant, Ron! I didn't know it was you at all!"

"I did get you to agree to have dinner with him, though." He said, faking a hurt expression.

I blushed. "Oh shut up!" I said playfully. "I was wondering why he was flirting with me so shamelessly."

"I only had to look and sound like someone else, I didn't have to pretend not to want to shag you." He teased.

"Why were you soaking wet when you came it – it's not raining…" I said, looking out the window. I watched him turn crimson and smile wickedly.

"Well…I was in the shower with you. Harry loaned me the Invisibility Cloak. I've gotten pretty good at hiding, I wanted to see if you'd notice."

"You're a perv. But I love you, anyway. I'm really proud of you, Ron. You really love this work." I said.

"You could say I've been training for it since we were eleven. It's important work. They've shown us some awful things, Hermione. I want to prevent those things from ever happening again."

The angry look in his eyes told me he needed to talk about it. I kissed him and he followed me to the sofa.

"They showed us photos. Death scene stuff. From the first war and the second. Harry's parents. It was awful." He clenched his fists.

I let that sink in and was appalled. "Harry was in the room? They showed the pictures from Godric's Hollow with Harry there?" He nodded.

"It didn't occur to them. They always show trainees those photos, we need to be prepared for what Dark Magic could do; we need to have respect for it." He said.

"But…Harry clearly knew that already! You too!" I said. I felt tears of rage welling up in my eyes.

"Harry already knew what happened. He saw it in the Pensieve, remember? That whole thing with Snape and his Mum?" He was staring at his hands.

"Yes but that was private – he had to see it all over again with a group of strangers?"

"Mione, we're like family, those blokes and us. We'd lay down our lives for each other if it came to that." His voice was so serious it gave me the shudders.

I considered what he said and nodded. I was very proud of him; very nervous about the inherent danger that went with his career but so proud of this man sitting in front of me.

"It won't come to that, though." I said softly, kissing his arm.

"No. It won't. I promise to always come home to you." He kissed my mouth.

Gurgle.

We laughed.