Author's Notes: Oh my! FFNet just crumpled half of this chapter into one big paragraph, deleting words here and there for no apparent reason! It took me ages to put it right, and I hope I didn't make a mess. If some sentences sound weird it's not my fault! To those that didn't notice, the rating has gone up for some sexy stuff that goes on in this chapter. Next one will be simply explicit, so don't tell me I didn't warn you! Comments are love, remember that! By the way, I just read a brilliant fan-fiction on AO3. You should go and read it, it's pure awesomeness and makes this story look really, really bad, but I loved it so much I think I need to advertise it here, it's called "Breaking Him" (plus its three sequels) by twistedmiracle. Go read it! I'm not even joking! It's an order! ;)

IV.

"Well, there is not much left to do on your list," said Ginny, nodding towards the piece of parchment that Hermione kept in her hands.

"No," murmured Hermione, putting the list of suggestions given by Ginny and Harry back in her pocket. She had showed up on her sister-in-law doorstep with the gloomiest of the faces and had become even more depressed when Ginny said that she couldn't breathe because of the laughter. Apparently, Ron stuck with a gag in his mouth and Hermione tied to the bed was not a reason enough for her to be sympathetic.

"So, when are you going to do the nasty in front of the Ministry of Magic?"

Hermione looked at her blankly. "First of all," she said calmly, "we are not going to do it in front of the Ministry. Second, things have been so bad between us that we don't even know if we are going to do it."

Ginny's eyes widened with horror. "What? You are not thinking of…" Her voice trailed away as she could not bear to even think at what they would do. Take time off? Separate for a while? Divorce? It was unconceivable that someone in the Weasley household would be unhappy in his marriage, and she knew that it would have worried her poor old mother if she knew Ron and Hermione's woes.

"No, no," replied Hermione hurriedly. "It's not quite as bad as you think, but we might just take it slow." She sighed. "Slower."

Ginny shook her head, relieved that Hermione and Ron were not thinking about Merlin knows what, but not so relieved that her and Harry's suggestions hadn't obtained the desired effect so far and hadn't succeeded in rekindle the passion between those two. "I don't think that's a good idea, Hermione," she said. "You should tackle that last thing as soon as possible and get over with it."

Hermione looked at Ginny puzzled. "Get over with it?" she asked. "You make it sounds like it's a chore."

"No," said Ginny, "you make it sound like it's chore." She sighed again. "You should have fun, not mope about what to do and how to do it."

"I don't mope," pointed out Hermione.

Ginny crossed her arms. "Then tell Ron to meet you somewhere and play by ear."

"I'm not good at that," confessed Hermione.

"Well, too bad, that's half the fun," she admitted.

Hermione looked uneasy.

"Well, you can decide the when and where," she conceded, "but I would leave the what to how you feel at that moment."

Hermione nodded. "Any suggestions?" she asked, smiling weakly.

Ginny grinned mischievously. "Well, those Ministry desks are surprisingly comfortable, you know…"

ooo

Recently, evening was Ron and Hermione's favourite time of day. They could just sit in their living room, or in the kitchen, with Rose, and for once not thinking about their sex life and the fact that they didn't have one. They could relax and think about nothing. Except for that very evening maybe. Ron lay on his stomach on the thick rug in front of the fireplace, Rose was sitting on his back, riding him as if he were a horse.

"Fast!" she said every now and then and Ron had to buck his back under her little body for a few seconds to please his daughter before going still again. Until she would say another, "Fast, Dada!" and he would buck a bit more. She didn't get bored easily, and Ron was not exactly grateful for that particular trait of her personality at that very moment.

"So," said Hermione walking into the living room with a glass of water in her hand and a book in the other. She sat on the couch and raised her legs to rest over the armrest. "Dinner is going to be in ten minutes."

"Great," moaned Ron. "I'm starving."

"Fast, Dada!" cried Rose.

Hermione smiled behind her book. "Fast, Ron!" she encouraged him.

Ron grumbled. "I'm too old for this," he said.

"Maybe you are old enough to talk about something else, then," she continued.

Ron's eyes widened and he raised his head, curving his back and making Rose slide down towards his bottom. "Wee! Again!" she screamed.

Ron sighed. "This is not the time to discuss that, Hermione," he hissed. "Not with You-Know-Who right here."

"Voldemort?" asked Hermione lightly. "And this is as good a time as any, You-Know-Who doesn't understand what we are talking about." And Hermione was right. As always. Rose was too engrossed in her jumping up and down on her father's back and pulling mercilessly at her father's hair to even care about what her parents were talking about.

"Listen you just have to give me a place and a date, we don't have to discuss the S-E-X right here right now." She sighed. "According to Ginny we don't have to discuss it at all."

"Why do you keep talking about our S-E-X to Ginny?" he whined.

"Because she is my friend," replied Hermione matter-of-factly.

"And my sister," Ron reminded her.

"Aunty Ginny!" said Rose.

Ron glared at Hermione. "See? Your D-A-U-G-H-T-E-R understands," he hissed.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Luckily, the kitchen alarm went off and dinner was ready, shifting the conversation focus from the S-E-X to the delicious lasagne that Hermione had cooked.

ooo

Ron Apparated in his own living room. "Hermione," he called, excitement and nervousness in his voice. "Hermione!"

"In the bathroom," came her faint reply.

He walked to his room and sat on their bed, facing the bathroom door, and expectantly waiting for Hermione to come out. When nothing happened, he decided it was time to give her a little incentive. "Hermione, the Muggle Rights Equality Act that you proposed last month just passed!"

There was a rustling, a ruffling of towels and some sliding of bare feet on the wet floor. Ron hoped that she wasn't going to fall, that would have all been his fault, especially because the news was just a big fat lie.

The door burst open. "It passed?" she asked, her eyes shining like Ron had only seen on their wedding day or when Rose was born.

"Well," he replied, regretting his lie, "no, not really. I just wanted you to come out." He smiled and patted the bed next to him. "But I have some good news."

Hermione looked ready to skin him alive. The act was probably the most important thing in her life after her family – and right now before Ron – at the moment. She had worked on it for months and had just recently submitted it to the High Committee.

"Sit," Ron encouraged her.

Hermione crossed her arms without moving. "What did you have to say?" she asked, icily.

Ron sighed, he should have imagined that his trick wouldn't have gone down well. "I just wanted to set a date and a place for our…" He blushed. "…rendezvous."

Hermione looked suspiciously at him and she had every reason to do so. They were less and less sure that Harry and Ginny's methods to revive the passion worked at all, and from time to time they had thought to give up on them. But a month had passed since their last misadventure with the bondage equipment and by now they were forgetting the fear of getting into involuntary trouble with some other brilliant idea and were once again starting to miss the S-E-X (as they were starting to call it even when Rose was not around).

"What place?" asked Hermione, completely still.

"Your office at the Ministry of Magic," he said, smiling. "Next Monday morning, between ten in the morning and three in the afternoon."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "My, that's an awful lot of time."

"Well, that's the window of opportunity that we have," replied Ron. "We are going to hold an Open Day for Sixth and Seventh year students at Hogwarts."

"I didn't know that," said Hermione slightly puzzled.

"Well, I just got the notice," he said. "Every Auror is required in the Atrium at ten and then the students will visit the most interesting places in the Ministry."

Hermione's eyes became two fissures. "And my office is not interesting."

Ron looked away. "No offence, but no," he said quietly.

Hermione glared at him. "And aren't you supposed to be in the Atrium as well? Aren't you an Auror?"

"I am. But I can disappear for half an hour, they won't even notice it." He winked and smiled.

"Blimey, still an awful lot of time," she replied blankly.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Come on, Hermione," he whined. "We will have the adrenaline of having sex in a public place, without the apprehension of being discovered."

Hermione looked at him seriously, probably pondering what to do. To believe or not to believe the safety of her office? Her train of thoughts was interrupted when Ron stretched his hand and grabbed her wrist, pulling her towards him. "Come on, Hermione," he said, "it's going to be fun." He smiled. "And safe, totally safe. Nobody will ever come in, nobody comes into your office anyway."

"That's not true," she said, trying to sound outraged without succeeding. It was clear that he was right. "Kingsley came into my office… three months ago."

Ron suppressed a chuckle. "Well, that makes it all the more dangerous."

Hermione's crossed face relaxed and her lips twitched into an involuntary smile. "So… Monday from ten onwards?" she asked, looking Ron into his eyes. "I shall wait for you."

"And I shall not be late," he replied huskily.

She bent down and kissed him hurriedly before going back to the bathroom to start the brobdingnagian task of taming her hair.

ooo

Harry walked into Ron's office. A small, bright thing with posters of the Cannons on the walls. "Are you nervous?" he asked, looking at Ron. "I think you've faced worse, haven't you?"

"Uh?" asked Ron distractedly. He was sweating and biting nervously his nails to the bones, his eyes staring at the wall.

"They are just students," said Harry nonchalantly. "And we get to see Neville."

"Do we?"

With a loud chime, the Grandfather Clock signalled that it was ten in the morning and that it was time for Ron to go. The Auror stood from his chair and grabbed the first pile of papers that he managed to find. "I need to take these to… to the…" He looked around and saw a bag of Gobstones – who says Aurors don't work hard? – "The Gobstones Club."

"The – what? Ron, but there's the Open—"

Ron knew there was the Open Day, he didn't feel too guilty when he slammed the door behind him and cut off Harry's sentence. He would have been back before anybody noticed anyway, well, anybody else at least.

The walk from the Auror Headquarters to Hermione's office was not long. They were both on the same floor after all. The only difference, according to Ron, was that Harry and himself got all the action and Hermione all the papers. Hermione didn't seem to mind though. She liked that Department more than the one where she had worked before and here she could have had lunch with Ron and Harry every day. Plus, hours were more flexible, exactly what she needed since Rose was born.

On his way to the office, Ron tried to look as nonchalant as possible. He whistled and greeted everybody, even people he had only nodded to in the past, and smiled nervously here and there, stopping at times to read notices and commenting on them.

"Ah, no milk in the cafeteria today," he said out loud, "what a catastrophe! What am I going to put in my tea? Why, oh why! In Merlin's name, why?" Or, "Another meeting on Saturday? When are we going to go on a strike?"

Employees of the Ministry were starting to look at him as if he had been attacked by one of the brains that were kept in the Brain Room, and since everybody knew that that had already happened once, they couldn't see why it couldn't happen twice

Ron's bizarre behaviour changed when he approached a heavy, wooden door with a golden label that said, 'Hermione Weasley, Head of Improper Use of Magic Office'. He straighten his back and tried to look as professional as he could. He held his papers up high for everyone to see and knocked on the door.

"Hey Weasley," called a short man at his back, "had a row with the wife?"

He raised his chin. "I don't know what you are talking about, Johnson."

"You look so serious," said the man, "last time you were here you threw a Dungbomb under her chair."

Ron turned red. Hopefully, Hermione had not heard that. She was still in the dark about who had done that and Ron would have wanted to keep it that way. And he hadn't thrown anything at all, it had just slipped from his pocket. "Shut up," he mumbled when, from the other side of the door, came Hermione's faint invitation to come in.

Ron pushed the door open and stepped inside. In a spacious and tidy office, behind the desk, there sat his wife. She looked just like every other day, yet as soon as his eyes lingered on her figure he felt a rush of unstoppable heat coming from his lower stomach. Probably it was the adrenaline, probably it was the fact that, as he stared at her, she did not actually look like every other day. Ron caressed her with his eyes and noticed that her hair was shinier than usual, her white shirt was unbuttoned a bit lower than the other days - and he could see her milky and inviting cleavage - and that she was wearing make-up, something that she usually did not bother with at work.

"Yes?" she asked, smiling sensually. "May I help you?"

Ron slowly licked his lips. "I sure hope so," he said, huskily.

"Weasley, is it?" continued Hermione. Apparently, she wanted to play a bit and that was exactly what Ron wanted to do too.

"Yes," he said, "and you too, apparently."

Hermione puckered her lips in disappointment.

"I saw the label outside," continued Ron, nodding towards the door.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Come on, Ron," she said, her voice irritated, "play along."

Ron sighed. "It's called a joke," he said, but decided to drop the argument for the sake of S-E-X. "Granger, right?"

"That's quite right," she said her voice back to a purr, "can I help you?" She fluttered her eyelashes at her husband and wetted her lips.

He swallowed. "I have some papers for you." He walked up to her and put the papers on her desk.

Hermione smiled and looked up at the tall man. "Thank you, these are so heavy," she said, pretending to attempt to raise them fromt he table without succeeding, "you must be very strong." Ron noticed that she had to bite her lip not to laugh at that. "It was very nice of you to take these all the way up to my office."

Ron smiled, the smile of a man who had just received a kiss from a Dementor. "No problem," he said. He was unsure as to what he should have said next. Luckily, his wife looked like she had no problem into taking the lead.

"Merlin, it's hot in here, isn't it?" she said, sliding her hand on her neck and down towards her chest, she was deliberately slow and sensual and Ron had his eyes glued to her exposed skin.

"It is," he said, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his own shirt. "Maybe you would be more comfortable without your shirt."

"Mr. Weasley!" exclaimed Hermione, faking embarrassment. "I don't even know you."

"Call me Ron," he said quickly. For a moment there he felt like Hermione was addressing his father and that was not a thought that would have made him hard at all. "And you are going to know me quite well, don't worry about that."

Hermione flushed or at least pretended to flush. She stood up and Ron could see that her shirt was tucked into a short, black skirt and white suspenders were slightly visible under the hem. She was also taller than usual, her feet squeezed into stiletto heel shoes. She pretended to lose her balance – or she actually did, not difficult to believe since Ron had never seen her in such high heels – and leaned against Ron, grinding her body against her husband's.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking into his eyes. "I'm lucky you are so muscular." She placed her manicured hand on his arm and squeezed gently.

Ron smiled broadly. He liked where this was going. "Thank you," he said. "So, shall I help you out of your shirt?"

Hermione smiled, she bit her bottom lip and nodded. She leaned her buttocks on the edge of the desk and pushed her breasts up, taking a deep breath. Then she stood completely still, holding back her breath. Waiting. Waiting for Ron to start unbuttoning her shirt.

Ron swallowed, his mouth dry. He took a step forward and brought his sweaty and trembling hands to her shirt. The task was more difficult than expected. In the name of fashion, the buttons were much bigger than the holes and it was only by bending them in a certain way that they would slip through the gaps. Sweaty and shaky hands didn't make it any easier.

"Do you need help?" asked Hermione bored that a good five minutes have passed and no button had been undone.

"No, I can do it," said Ron, wiping his hands on his jeans.

"You have to do it this way…" She grabbed a button and made it slide quite easily through the hole.

Ron glared at her. "Don't be bossy, Hermione," he said annoyed, forgetting the role-play all together. "You make me feel like an idiot because of your stupid shirt. I know perfectly well what to do, thank you very much." He grabbed his wand and waved it. "Diffindo," he said and Hermione's shirt was cut open as if he had used an invisible knife.

She was now standing in front of him, her breasts covered only by a see-through, pink, lacy bra. Her shirt hung open and Ron put his hands on her shoulders and made it slide down her arms until it lay discarded on the desk.

"I like your lingerie, Miss Granger," he purred, brushing her bra with his fingers. "I bet you are wearing coordinated knickers…"

"You would lose your bet," she replied, winking, "I'm not wearing any knickers…"

Ron looked at her in disbelief. "W-well, g-good," he smiled and came closer to him.

"You like that?" she whispered in his ear.

Ron smiled again, then Hermione leaned against the desk and slid effortlessly on it, sitting in front of Ron. "Are you going to kiss me or not?" she asked teasingly.

Ron didn't let her ask him twice. He stepped towards his wife and started to snog her like he hadn't done in a while. He crushed his lips against hers and felt Hermione respond to his passion with equal force. His hands roamed her body, from her shoulders down to her hips, but when they found her bra they stopped to push it down to uncover her nipples.

"Maybe we found our trigger," panted Hermione as Ron started to kiss his way to her cleavage. "We have to have sex in some public place."

Ron straightened and put his finger on her lips. "Don't talk," he said, before replacing his finger with his lips. He pushed Hermione down until she found herself with her back against the desk, then moved his lips down and attacked her nipples with his tongue and teeth.

Hermione moaned out loud.

"You like that, don't you?" asked Ron against her skin.

She nodded, breathlessly as he put his left hand on her knee and slowly inched it up towards her hip. Hermione took a sharp breath as he reached between her legs, but her words were unexpected when she spoke. "Don't!" she said, grabbing his hand. "Wait," she added, smiling.

She sat up, pulled Ron towards her, unzipped his fly and dived her hands into his jeans. He groaned as she closed her fingers around his filling member and started to rub with slow and firm movements. Her fingers touching him exactly the way she knew he liked to be touched. He felt touched that she still remembered.

"Hermione…" he breathed out. "You… So good…"

Hermione smiled satisfied. She grabbed his balls with her hand and stroked them a bit before withdrawing. He looked at her with disappointment a moan escaping his lips at the sudden loss of contact."

You don't want to finish before we even start, do you?" she asked sensibly.

Ron grinned excited. "No," he said as he slowly returned his mouth to Hermione's breasts. He grabbed her behind her knee, pushed her leg up, placing her left foot on the desk, and once again found her wet folds with his hand. Hermione's left hand was in Ron's hair, pushing him against her nipple, the other one was grabbing the desk edge. It looked like their passion was back on track and nothing would have stopped them from enjoying each other's body till they lay there all sweaty and happy. Nothing, probably, but a group of Seventh Year Students visiting from Hogwarts accompanied by Head Auror Harry Potter and Professor Neville Longbottom.

And that was exactly what happened. The door opened suddenly and if anyone had knocked at all, both Ron and Hermione hadn't heard a thing.

"And this is Mrs. Weasley's office," the Head Auror said, "she is the Head of Improper Use of Magic Office." There was snickering and gasping coming from the crowd of students. "What? What is it?" asked Harry as he was giving his back to the desk where the tryst was being consummated. "Why are you—bloody hell!"

Hermione looked up first, then it was Ron's time. At first, they looked surprised rather than horrified, then it was definitely horror that appeared on their faces. Hermione was the first one to react, she pushed Ron off of her and cried in dismay. Ron tried to grab the desk to steady himself, but Hermione's shock had made her particularly strong and, instead, he ended up on his back on the floor between her chair and the desk. Hermione, instinctively, covered herself up with her arms and the remains of the shirt. She rolled on her side and turned, giving her back to their audience. Unluckily, she was much closer to the edge than she had realised and ended up falling on top of him, squishing his family jewels as well as his stomach and ribs.

"Ouch," he cried out, "Hermione, get off me."

But she didn't seem to want to move. He looked at her face and noticed that her perfect make-up was all smudged around her mouth and down her cheeks as some hot tears of embarrassement were already starting to fall down.

"Well, let's go, children, come on," said Neville hurriedly, "it's obvious that Mrs. Weasley is busy." There was a rustling of feet and some protests and giggles, but after Neville had threatened to hex the students everybody left in silence and quickly, and Harry closed the door behind them.

Hermione was still curled on her side, all her weight on Ron's ribs.

"Hermione, I can't breathe," panted out Ron.

She raised her head and looked at him then, unceremoniously, she pushed on his chest and stood up, covering herself as best as she could. She magically repaired her shirt and made her skirt lengthen to something that wouldn't have been considered indecent. All this while her hands were still shaking and Ron was still lying on the floor.

"I think I broke something," he moaned out.

Hermione glared at him. She looked like she was seriously considering hexing her husband. "I would shut up if I were you."

Ron grabbed the desk and stood up, proving that he hadn't broken anything serious. "My ribs…" he complained to himself rather than his wife.

Hermione sat at her desk, absolutely deaf to his moaning.

"Hermione?"

"Ron, don't talk to me, don't call my name, don't even look at me," she hissed.

"What?" he asked confused. "It's not my fault if—"

"Nobody ever comes to your office, Hermione," she said, in a deep, masculine voice that sounded like what a speaking gorilla would have sounded. "They will never catch us, Hermione."

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it and closed it again. He walked to the nearest chair and let himself collapse on it.

Hermione, in the meantime, had taken out quill and parchment and was scribbling down furiously on a piece of parchment.

"What are you doing?" asked Ron weakly.

"What does it look like? Writing my advance notice," she said, without even looking at him.

Ron paled. "What? Isn't that a bit premature?" He massaged his ribs. "It was just Harry… and Neville… and…"

"… and a group of Seventh Years students from Hogwarts," she hissed. "I suppose you can ask George to go back to work in his shop and I… I can always become a dentist like my parents." She seemed to think about it. "I will have to go back to study, though"

"Hermione…"

She glared at him. "Shut it!"

Ron lowered his eyes. He understood that they have just been caught in a very compromising situation – blimey! They were about to have sex in her office! – but he felt like Hermione was overreacting like she usually did. "I don't think—"

A loud knock on the door interrupted their conversation.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a panicked look. Hermione opened her drawer and took out a small mirror. She had a quick look at herself, something that didn't do much except raising her despair at the view of her smudged make-up and worried face.

"Come in," she said, loud enough for the person on the other side to hear.

When the door opened Harry came in. His face slightly flushed as he looked from Hermione to Ron. Ron raised his eyes to look at his best friend.

"Hey," muttered Ron, looking away quickly.

Hermione stared at Harry, her eyes wide as she held her breath and braced herself for what was coming.

"Hermione, Ron," he said seriously. "I'm afraid the Minister of Magic would like to exchange a few words with you. In his office."

Hermione looked like she was on the verge of tears again. Ron turned a ghastly green colour. He was torn between the fear of losing his job alongside his wife and the shame he felt for having let themselves get caught.

"He said right now," added Harry softly as nobody was moving.

Hermione wiped away the tears that were threatening to fall again. She stood up and smoothed her skirt in the most graceful way possible. She didn't even look at Ron when she walked past him and waited for him in the doorway. "Hurry up," she hissed to her husband, when he didn't move.

Ron stood up with some difficulties and walked shakily towards Hermione, his head low, his eyes focused on the floor and one of his hands on his ribs. He felt his heart pounding furiously in his chest as he trailed behind his wife, but before they could actually walk out of the office Harry burst into laughter at their backs.

Ron turned towards him and saw his friend bent over, his hands on his stomach and his face all red.

"You think it's funny, Potter?" asked Ron in a hiss.

"Don't be nasty, Ron," bit out Hermione, "of course it's funny to him. We are a couple of fools!"

Harry shook his head, raising his hands to stop them. "No, no!" he breathed out laughing hard. "It's not that!"

Hermione and Ron looked at him without understanding, then, when Neville walked into the office in the same condition as Harry, something dawned in their heads.

"We don't have to see the Minister?" asked Ron tentatively.

Neville shook his head, laughing harder. "We… we…" he tried to say, but he was out of breath because of his laughter. He tried to regain composure and took a deep breath. "We Obliviated the students," he finally managed to let them know.

Hermione grabbed the door handle for support. "Is that even legal?" she asked weakly.

"Merlin's beard, Hermione, shush!" said Ron but, as he looked over at her, he knew that she was still shocked and that was the irrational part of her brain to speak. "Who cares…" he added.

Harry and Neville laughed harder. "And don't worry, we are not going to babble it out to anybody," said Neville.

Harry seemed to think about it. "Except for Ginny," he said.

"Yes, and Hannah," added Neville, and they both laughed again harder than before.

Hermione walked towards her chair, unstable on her heels, and sat down heavily. "I don't know what to say," she muttered.

"I do," said Ron fiercely, straightening his back and towering over his friends – a term he would start to use loosely to describe Harry and Neville – in a menacing way. "What is wrong with you?" he hissed.

Harry chuckled. "Just having fun," he replied. "Aren't you having fun?"

Ron glared at him. "No," he hissed.

"Aren't you, Hermione?" asked Neville.

Hermione raised her eyes on her friend and glared at him. "Get out," she said in a dangerously low hiss, "all of you, just get out of my office!"

Ron looked concerned. "Hermione…"

"Get out of my office!" she cried.

Harry and Neville, still laughing, left the office quickly. Their shoes clicking on the floor.

"Hermione, you are right to be mad, that was such a stupid—"

"Ron, get out! Leave me alone!" she thundered. "I'm too angry to talk to you!"

"But you are right. I'm angry too, you know. I'm on your sid—ribbit!" Ron had only the time to see an orange light zapping towards him from Hermione's wand and then he was falling down, down, down, towards the floor. When he looked up at Hermione she was now looking down at him with menacing eyes. He tried to say something but all he could muster was, "Ribbit!" and has he jumped towards his wife, he noticed that he was unstable on his green, small legs.

"Get out!" barked Hermione.

And Ron didn't have much left to do but turn on his legs and jump towards the door, where Harry and Neville greeted him by saying what a cute little toad he was.