I hope you enjoy!

Hermione had become accustomed to waking up in a cocoon of arms and legs wrapped around her in the following months that she had been home from school. Living together in the house Ron had put so much thought and effort into had been a seamless transition - which Hermione found much comfort in knowing that Harry and Ginny seemed to be going through some growing pains as they were now engaged and living together in Grimmauld Place. Hermione chalked a lot of it up to the fact that the 'small, simple wedding' that Harry had been championing for was turning into a circus, and his bride to be wasn't doing much to pull the reigns back a bit. Harry was over at the house last night, Hermione turning in around eleven that evening once she realized that between the fierce game of wizarding chess and the half empty bottle of Ogden's between them, it would be a late night for the two of them. She barely noticed Ron climbing into bed a few hours later, but assumed that he would still be in bed that morning when Hermione opened her eyes and found herself free to move about, and the space next to her cool to the touch. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she found a note on Ron's pillow with his familiar chicken scratch.

Went to your parents. Thought I'd let you sleep in - feel free to come on over when you wake up. Love, Ron

She couldn't imagine what on earth Ron was doing at her parents' house before nine in the morning on a Saturday - especially after a night of drinking with Harry. Figuring she'd find out when she got there, Hermione climbed out of bed and took a quick shower. Ron might assume that the library he built for her was her favorite room in the house - but Hermione was quite certain that their large shower in the master bathroom could easily tie for the number one spot. Tiled along three sides with the other wall made of glass, it was large enough for the both of them when they were in the mood to share, and Hermione was particularly fond of the tiled bench area he had installed so she could shave her legs the Muggle way without having to attempt an awkward balancing act.

She slipped into a pair of gray linen shorts, threw on a white sleeveless blouse, and grabbed a black cardigan to slip over her bare arms. Hermione placed a bit of makeup on her face, tied her hair up into a low, messy side bun, and slipped her feet into a pair of flats, giving herself a final once over look in the mirror. She was glad that spring was here, because that meant Harry and Ginny's wedding was around the corner, and the sooner the chaos of this wedding was over the happier everyone would be.

"Hermione!" her mother cried with an excited clap of her hands, catching her daughter walking through the fireplace as she came down the stairs. "Ron said you'd probably be along once you woke up."

Dropping her purse on the couch, Hermione smiled and greeted her mother with a hug, then a kiss on the cheek. "How long has he been here?"

Jean looked over at the grandfather clock down the hall. "It's what, a bit after nine thirty? I reckon he got here a bit before eight. He's on the roof cleaning out the gutters for what I'm hoping is the final time this year."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Ron - my Ron - is on your roof, cleaning out the gutters? On a Saturday morning?"

Jean laughed. "Don't look so surprised, Darling. Ron has been a wonderful help around the house, especially when you were at school your last year, helping your father out with things that I'm not particularly wild about him doing anymore - like cleaning out the gutters." She motioned with a nod of her head for Hermione to follow her into the kitchen, where the smell of freshly baked cookies floated through the air - chocolate peanut butter chocolate chip cookies to be exact - which also happened to be Ron's favorite sort of cookie. "Your father likes to think he's still twenty-two," Jean said as she pulled out another batch of cookies from the oven. "But that hip he thinks doesn't need to be replaced is going to need to be replaced soon, and therefore him bounding about up on the rooftop is just out of the question." She tossed the oven mitts onto the counter and turned around to smile at her daughter. "Ron really has just been a lifesaver - your father might be more smitten with him than you are."

Hermione sighed with a smile, shaking her head slightly. "So…exactly how much time has Ron spent with you two?"

"Well…when you were away at school, he started coming over every Saturday morning," Jean replied as she moved the cookies from the tray to the cooling rack with the others. "He comes over, helps your father with whatever project needs tending to, I feed them lunch, and then they play chess - your father is very much into Wizarding chess. I personally find the entire thing barbaric but he gets such a kick out of his pieces slaughtering Ron's."

"It's completely barbaric," Hermione agreed. "But he loves it…it's one of the things Ron's always been very good at. Harry can never beat him and it drives him mental. He has a very strategic mind."

"Your father's yet to beat him - but he's been close a few times," Jean replied with a grin. "Have you eaten breakfast?"

She shook her head.

"Would you like some? I can whip you up an egg sandwich if you like."

Hermione smiled. "That sounds wonderful, Mum." Taking a seat at the small table in the kitchen, she picked up the newspaper on the table, already read by her father as it was folded up in the opposite way that it came, and began to put it back in its rightful state before beginning to read the headlines.

Jean brought her over a cup of coffee and a few minutes later, a egg sandwich with a cup of coffee for herself. "Ron said at breakfast that the wedding planning for Harry and Ginny is going less than stellar."

Nodding, Hermione took a bite of her sandwich and closed her eyes as she chewed. Her mother was more of a baker than a cook - much like Hermione - but there were a few things her mother did perfectly and her egg, cheese, and bacon sandwich was one of them. "He was up late last night with Harry - playing chess and drinking. Harry has just been so frustrated lately, and I have been too, but I'm stuck in the middle and I never know what to do anymore. The wedding is in two months and quite frankly, it could not get here soon enough."

Chuckling, Jean took a sip of her straight black coffee while Hermione finished up her sandwich. She'd been hearing bits and pieces about the wedding from both Ron and Hermione, and it was hard not to agree that things were starting to sound a little bit overboard. "Does Ginny not realize how big the wedding is becoming?"

Hermione swallowed a snort as she finished off her sandwich. "She's a Weasley. They don't know what the definition of 'too big' is. And I don't mean that in a bad way, necessarily, but take their need to celebrate everything and add in the savior of the Wizarding World - I'm not sure the Burrow will be big enough for all the guests." Cleaning up her plate full of toast crumbs, she walked the dish over to the sink, rinsed it off, and popped it into the dishwasher. "The more I have to help with this wedding, the more I want to elope when the day comes."

Jean laughed. "Ron said the same thing this morning."

"He did not."

"Ask your father," Jean dared. "He said the whole thing was 'bloody mental' and that he'd rather elope - but then quickly amended his statement to include the fact that your father and I could come."

Hermione shook her head. "He's insane if he thinks his mother would ever let him get away with it."

"He said that too," Jean added for good measure. "Have you two talked…you know…about marriage?"

She returned to her seat at the breakfast table and crossed one leg over the other. "Just that we're obviously going to marry each other…but we have no plans to do it in the near future. I think Harry and Ginny are too young, personally, and there are things Ron and I want to do, individually and together, before we take that step," Hermione explained in her logical tone, which she also inherited from her mother. When she would explain something to her father in that tone of voice when she was younger, her father would always laugh, shake his head, and tell Hermione, Whatever you say, Jean.

Jean reached a hand over and grabbed Hermione's and gave it a squeeze. "There's nothing wrong with that - and you shouldn't let anyone make you feel that it is."

Hermione couldn't help but grimace. "Ron told you about his mother, didn't he?"

"He may have mentioned that Molly, while being full of good intentions, has been asking at rather frequent intervals about you and Ron's future plans."

She rolled her eyes. "She's just driving me crazy, Mum! She and Ginny both! If she and Harry want to get married and have babies before they are twenty then so be it because it's there life but I don't want that and neither does Ron! He doesn't want a gigantic family, he doesn't want the constant hustle and bustle, and he's always razzed on by his brothers and nagged by his mother about what he does or doesn't do and now that I'm saying this aloud…it's no wonder he's spent so much time over here when I was at school! You two probably kept him sane!"

Jean squeezed her hand once more. "We are very fond of him, mostly because he's incredibly fond of you - but just like we told him, and have told him, your father and I will support whatever you two decide to do, whenever you decide to do it."

"Ron, did those leaves do something to personally offend you, other than float into the gutter after we cleaned them out last fall?" Richard asked in a jovial tone, as he watched Ron scoop out the damp, clumps of leaves with his glove clad hands and chucking it down to the ground with much gusto. "Because if they offended you, I'm sure they didn't mean it."

Wiping his brow with his sleeve covered forearm, Ron took a breather for a moment and sat back on the slant of the roof facing the front of the house. He was almost finished, and had probably been using the cleaning of the gutters as a way to relieve some of his frustration as of late, but was obviously unaware until Richard pointed it out to him. "Sorry," he said. "It's just been a long week."

"But everything's ok with you and my daughter.?"

"Of course," Ron said quickly. "Like I said at breakfast - Harry and Ginny's wedding is just…consuming everyone's lives at the moment."

Richard nodded. "Well, if it makes you feel better, this ought to be the last time until next year that my wife makes you climb up onto the roof of our house because she thinks I'm going to kill myself if I do it."

Ron laughed as he went to finishing up the rest of the remaining gutter. "She and Hermione are a lot alike…so it's probably best for everyone involved if you just let her be the boss. That's what I do anyway. With Hermione, that is." Tossing the remaining goop of leaves down to the ground for Richard to rake up and bag, he made his way carefully over to the ladder and climbed down. "Besides - I don't mind being helpful. I'm actually getting good at doing things the Muggle way, and that makes Hermione happy because she's very serious about having a good balance between the two."

"My daughter? Serious? You must be talking about someone else," Richard mocked. He held the garbage bag open and let Ron take the rake to pile up the remainder of the mess to bag up for the trash pickup on Monday. "I assume there are probably better things you could be doing with your Saturday morning, by the way, so thank you for coming over to help."

Ron shook his head. "Don't even mention it. Honestly - I like feeling useful - and if you're wife is going to trade my help for cookies - well, it's not a bad deal for me."

Grabbing another full garbage bag, Ron carried the two of them as he followed Richard back over to the garage, depositing them into the large rubbish bins with wheels. "How are things at work for you two?" Richard asked, taking a seat on the garage doorsteps that lead into the house.

Ron sat down next to Richard and nodded. "Good. Harry and I work in different areas now, which was weird in the beginning, but it's great. He's my best mate and all, but like Hermione always says - Harry's always going to cast a 100 meter shadow over anything he's involved with, and it's kind of nice to be recognized for what I can do, instead of being Harry Potter's side kick. He's a field auror, and I now work with the teams that create the plans and maps and backup plans for the field aurors."

"Sounds like that's right up your alley," Richard encouragingly replied. "And often times - those are the most important members of the team. After all, you can't execute a plan if you don't have one, right?"

Ron chuckled. "I reckon so. And Hermione - she's only been there a few months and she already works too hard, but she's going to do great things for our world. Everyone's already talking about it."

Beaming with pride, Richard nodded. "I always knew my daughter would find a way to make her mark on the world. Of course, I didn't add in the whole witch factor, but I still remember the day Professor McGonagall came to our house to tell us about your world in every detail, and I remember late that evening my wife pacing, convinced she was losing her mind, and furious with me because I didn't seemed panicked at all. But how could I be panicked? An odd woman in a peculiar hat came into my house and confirmed to me what I'd always known - that my daughter was exceptionally extraordinary. We've of course had our reservations and hesitations - especially right before your all's sixth year - but we don't regret for a moment letting her go into your world."

"Did you know everyone calls your daughter "the Brightest Witch of Our Age?" Ron asked.

"Really? I thought that was just some sort of mickey you all took out of her because she's so smart?"

"Oh no - everyone says it," Ron confirmed. "She's bloody brilliant at everything she does, and it definitely does not go unrecognized." He leaned back against the stairs and stretched out one leg, then the other. "Can I ask you a question, Richard?"

"Certainly, Son. Ask away."

Ron paused a moment before speaking, popping the knuckles on his hands. "Are you…or, really, will you and your wife think less of me if Hermione and I do wait a few years before getting married, or if I wait a few years before actually asking her, officially that is? My little sister is getting married, Percy just got in engaged, George and Angelina eloped back at Christmas and they're about to have a baby. My parents have already accepted that my oldest brother, Charlie, will be a bachelor forever, and it's not that I haven't found who I want to marry, but I can't seem to get my family to realize that Hermione doesn't need to wear a ring for me to be as serious as I am about her - and she doesn't want it either. At least not yet, anyway…the ring that is."

Richard could see that Ron was trying to sound nonchalant about his rambling question, but the seriousness of his inquiry was written all over his face. "I'm the youngest of four brothers, did you know?"

Ron shook his head. "Hermione mentioned you had brothers, but I didn't know you were the youngest."

"Well, I am, and I always will be," Richard said with a wry laugh. "And sometimes that worked out for me, and other times…well…sometimes I felt like my parents, when it came to be my turn to experience something for the first time, acted like it wasn't a big deal because my three brothers had already done it. My oldest brother, Jack, was an excellent athlete. Not a sport he couldn't play. Then there was Tommy, and he was a master negotiator. There wasn't anything he couldn't talk his way out of, and it's probably why he's a successful salesman today. Todd is much like your twin brothers - always making people laugh, always has a joke up his sleeve, and no one can ever be mad at him because even when he's infuriating, he just has this charm about him that works as a get out of jail card, so to speak."

"That's exactly how Fred and George used to be," Ron said with a fond smile. "George still is that way, though it's not as in your face as it used to be. When we were younger, they would prank Mum all the time and she'd be furious for about thirty seconds, before hugging them both and scurrying them away."

Richard nodded. "By the time it became my turn to do anything, one of my brothers had already done it, and more often than not, had done it better. So when school was finally over and it was time to decide on what to do when I got to university, I did the only thing I knew I could do that none of them had come close to attempting - and I became a doctor. Well, a dentist, anyway, but I'm still referred to as Dr. Granger."

Ron chuckled. "You're right about that."

"My parents nagged me to death about marrying Jean and having grandchildren," Richard continued. "And we did appease them, getting married right at the end of dental school, but we didn't have Hermione until Jean and I had managed to establish a practice - one that could survive Jean being out on maternity leave at that. We were married at least five, maybe six years before Jean got pregnant. We didn't intend of course to wait that long, it's just how it happened. Jean getting pregnant was a right miracle after years of trying, and we tried to have another a year after Hermione turned one, but it was just never meant to be. My brothers have ten kids between the three of them - all of them boys - and we just have Hermione. And we still hear about it to this day. Families are a tricky thing, Ron. You can't live with them, but you can't live without them. But if you accept the fact that they won't change, life gets a little bit easier."

It was hard for Ron not to feel sympathetic towards Richard's story, knowing that Hermione had always wanted a sibling. He also found great comfort in Richard's story, in the similarities between the two of them. He and Richard had developed a good rapport while Hermione was away at school, and he was one of the very few people he felt like he could be completely honest with and not immediately judged in return.

"And the best part about deciding to become a dentist was that if I hadn't, I would have never met Jean," Richard added with a twinkle in his eye. "Hell, I may not have passed our first course if it hadn't been for her dragging me to the library every spare moment we had."

"I reckon I can give Hermione credit for getting through six years of Hogwarts because of her dragging my lazy ass to the library," Ron said with a smirk. "Thank goodness too - it definitely rubbed off on me during training - being able to make myself sit down and study." Sighing, he rubbed his hands on top of his knees and shrugged his shoulders slightly. "I reckon I just get bogged down by everything everyone says…when really all I need to worry about is what she thinks, you know?"

"Absolutely," Richard said, standing up to his feet. "After all, the only two opinions that really matter in regards to what you both want to do with your lives are yours and hers. Don't mind what the peanut gallery says."

"The peanut gallery?"

"It's a Muggle phrase, as you call it," Richard clarified with a laugh. "It just means don't let outsiders influence your decisions, because they have nothing to do with what you want." He walked up the steps and clapped Ron on the back as he walked past. "Let's head inside and see if those cookies are done. I believe our hard work this morning has earned us a treat!"

"Sounds like an excellent plan," Ron replied, smirking as he followed Richard back into the house.

The two of them returned back to their house that afternoon, after enjoying a nice long lunch with her parents. Ron barely had time to put down the plastic bag filled to the brim with cookies before Hermione launched herself onto him, hugging him tightly before placing a searing kiss to his lips.

"Well what on earth was that for?" he asked with a laugh as Hermione pulled away. "Not that I minded it, of course."

"Why didn't you tell me that you had been taking care of my parents while I was away?" she asked in a whisper.

Ron shrugged. "I wasn't taking care of them…I was just helping your dad out, and I figured this way, it would let them get to know me a bit better. Besides – I like spending time with them."

She traced a finger along the white horizontal lines of his maroon shirt and sighed. "Sometimes I forget that you're not the boy I grew up with. You certainly wouldn't have gotten up after a night of drinking with Harry to go and clean out gutters of all things without magic a year or two ago."

He plucked her nose with his finger and smirked. "Well, you've been nagging me for years to grow up - maybe I finally just went ahead and did it without you noticing."

"Maybe you did," Hermione said with a smile. "I love that my parents love you."

"Me too," he said with a laugh. "And I really love your parents, Hermione. They've helped me out loads too while you were away. It's nice to have someone else I can talk to the way that I talk about things with you." He yawned, not bothering to cover it up or stifle it in the slightest, and then grinned slightly at Hermione's giggle. "Don't laugh at me - cleaning gutters is hard work you know!"

She gave his chest a few light love taps with her hand and walked past him. "There might be a football game on TV. Maybe you could go relax for a bit before we have to go to your parents' tonight? God knows we're going to wind up leaving there with matching migraines." Retrieving a beer out of the fridge for Ron and a bottled water for her, Hermione handed him the beer and the two of them made their way into the living room. Watching Ron plop down onto the couch, she gave him a faux scowl and rolled her eyes. "Must you drop down onto the couch like a dead weight? You're going to ruin it one of these days."

"I can't help it," Ron replied with a smirk.

Grabbing her book from the coffee table, Hermione sat down next to him, tucking her legs up underneath her as she leaned into his chest, propping her bottled water up against his leg. "And might I ask why?"

Ron magicked the beer bottle cap off of the glass bottle and then vanished the metal cap. "Because we don't fight like we used to - which don't get me wrong - I don't miss it - but I do like pushing your buttons every now and then."

Shaking her head, she opened up her book and resumed her reading from the night before about uncommonly known facts regarding werewolves and felt him kiss the top of her head. "You're such an idiot sometimes," she quietly spoke with a faint laugh.

Ron laughed, taking a swig of his beer. Retrieving the remote, he turned on the telly and flipped through the channels until he found a football game. "Just as long as you remember that I'm your idiot."

"It'd be pretty hard to forget," she plainly replied with a flick of a page, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips.

It didn't take long for Ron to fall asleep, just as Hermione predicted he would. Last night was probably the first night she hadn't felt him toss and turn about, and that was probably due to the amount of whiskey in his system. The insistent nagging from his family while they planned Ginny's wedding was clearly wearing on him, but there wasn't a whole they could do about it. Avoiding his family wasn't even a plausible option, but what bothered Hermione the most was that the family Ron cared so much about clearly had no idea how much their words affected their youngest son. She grabbed the knit throw from her side of the couch and draped it over the two of them, pecking his cheek lightly with a kiss before she resumed her reading.

Two hours into her reading, Hermione finished her book and realized that Ron was still sound asleep. She managed to get up without disturbing him, and placed her book back on the coffee table. They were supposed to be over at the Burrow around five, but the more Hermione thought about it, the more she wasn't feeling it. She had a dull ache beginning to grow in her head, and knew a loud, boisterous Burrow crowd would only exacerbate what had the potential to increase in size and pain.

Every spare moment they'd had and wedding planning had monopolized every weekend and Hermione decided that she would rather spend the weekend with her boyfriend with some much-needed peace and quiet. She sent a patronus off to Harry, and made her way to the kitchen pantry so that she could find what she needed to make lasagna - one of Ron's favorite dishes.

Hermione never really ever saw herself as a domestic sort of person, but when she and Ron moved in together, she realized that there were some things she truly enjoyed. One of these things was cooking. Some of it had to do with seeking redemption from the times she had to make food while they were hunting for Horcruxes, bot most of it had to do with the brilliant look on Ron's face when she'd mastered a new recipe.

She was spreading a garlic butter spread onto the halved loaf of French bread she purchased from the market the day before when Ron tiredly shuffled into the kitchen, his nose leading the way as the lasagna had about fifteen minutes left in the oven. "Hermione…not that this doesn't smell…amazing," Ron said through a gigantic yawn. "But aren't we eating dinner at Mum and Dad's tonight?"

Hermione shook her head as she dolloped more of the butter garlic spread on to the bread and smeared it about. "I decided we could do with a little bit of peace and quiet."

"Mum's going to kill us."

"No she won't," Hermione stated.

"Yes she will."

"If she does she can't plan our wedding or help name the nine grandchildren she thinks my body will be producing."

Ron barked out a laugh as Hermione, wearing a smug grin, popped the cookie sheet with her two halves of garlic bread into the oven on the top rack. "We're not having nine kids."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Obviously."

"Two will be more than plenty."

"Absolutely."

"Really?"

"Why do you sound surprised?"

He walked past her to pull out plates and silverware from the cabinets and drawers. "I didn't mean to sound surprised. I reckon we haven't talked much about kids…except that they're in the very far future." Setting the small kitchen table, he took a seat and watched Hermione retrieve a bottle of wine from the rack on the counter. Glasses and a bottle in hand, he stood up enough to pull out her chair as she sat down. "This is a good idea, by the way. Dinner…just the two of us."

Hermione smiled as she uncorked the wine. "I thought it would be."

"Harry and Ginny's wedding is becoming a bloody time suck."

She didn't bother minding him about his language because Hermione felt the same way. Drumming her fingers on the table, Ron took the bottle from her and poured a glass for her, then one for him. "Thanks."

"What did say to get out of dinner tonight?" Ron asked.

"I sent Harry a message and told him I had a migraine," Hermione nonchalantly replied.

"A migraine! Why didn't you say something?" Ron asked, his voice laced with concern. He knew migraines were a frequent source of frustration for her, a lingering side effect from being under the cruciatus curse for a prolonged period of time.

She shrugged it off. "It's nothing, really. I think it's just the change in the weather pressure. I think it's supposed to storm tomorrow."

The timer on the oven began to buzz, and before Hermione could stand up, Ron beat her to the punch and gave her shoulder a squeeze as he passed by her chair. Hermione turned and watched Ron pull the lasagna out of the stove, giggling slightly as he almost forgot to use the oven mitt but remembered just in time. He levitated the lasagna over to the table with a flick of his wand and chopped up the garlic bread, tossing them into a basket Hermione had all ready for them and carried them over to the table.

Slicing into the lasagna, Ron placed a serving onto Hermione's place, then one onto his. "I don't like it that you don't tell me when you aren't feeling good."

Hermione reached out and gave his forearm a gentle touch. "I didn't really start until I finished reading my book, and you were still asleep. Besides, what could you do about it?"

"I would have thought of something," Ron replied as he snagged three pieces of garlic bread from the basket. "I could have, you know, rubbed your shoulders or something. Helped you relax."

Hermione smiled. "That's very sweet of you…and I may take you up on that offer later."

"Oh yeah?" he asked with a cheeky smirk.

She took a sip of her wine and gave Ron a wink, causing his cheeks to blush as red as his unruly mop of hair.

Dinner was pleasantly quiet with just the two of them, talking about anything and everything. Ron told her more about the time he'd spent with her parents while she was gone at Hogwarts, and Hermione told him all about her plans to create a new message to spread to the Wizarding world about werewolves and how she would separate fact from fiction and make it so that wolfsbane potion would be properly mass produced and readily available in every apothecaries in every wizarding village. He couldn't help but find her enthusiasm endearing when she found something to be passionate about, even if it was something as mental as freeing house elves. Thankfully, she had come to terms that freeing the elves were actually causing the elves more grief than good, but the laws she was helping set in place to make sure that they were treated properly instead of like property were going to be revolutionary.

Hermione shook her head and laughed as Ron heaped a third helping of lasagna onto the place. "Honestly Hermione, of all the things you make well, this might be the best," he said with a mouthful, only understandable by those who were well versed in translating Weasley-speak when food's involved. "I'm glad you liked it," she said with a grin.

"Love it," Ron corrected after he swallowed. "You keep this up I'm going to become a big fat lump."

"I figure your auror workouts will help balance it all out," she teased.

"I reckon you're right about that," Ron replied with a chuckle. "Though I've been slacking a bit now that I'm in the office all day. I've been thinking about starting back up with the guys at the gym this summer, if you don't mind me being home late on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

Hermione smiled and shook her head. "I don't mind at all."

The two of them cleaned up dinner together, snacking on cookies that Jean sent home with them for dessert, neither of them hearing the sound of the floo in the living room. Ron had tried to clean up himself, insisting that Hermione just sit and watch because of her headache, and after she deliberately ignored his pleading requests, he snagged her by the waist and picked her up, placing her on top of the granite countertop.

"Just sit," he said, using his serious voice. "You made dinner. I can clean it up."

"A headache doesn't make me incapacitated," Hermione tried to explain.

His hands placed firmly on the tops of her thighs, he leaned in and kissed her, squeezing his hands ever so slightly as he felt her arms move up and around his neck, pulling him closer.

"Yeah - Hermione looks really sick."

Both of them jumped back with a start, finding Harry and a scowling Ginny standing in the doorway of kitchen. Ron, standing with his back to Hermione now, almost as if he was her protector, rolled his eyes at his sister. "She has a migraine, and you know she doesn't like being in loud places when she has one."

"But we were going to sample cakes tonight!" Ginny exclaimed. "She's my maid of honor so she has to help!"

"Hermione doesn't even like cake!" Ron retorted. "When have you ever seen Hermione eat cake!"

Ginny shook her head. "Hermione eats cake! Everybody eats cake! Who doesn't bloody eat cake!"

"Hermione doesn't," Harry replied, looking positively exhausted.

"And I really have a migraine," Hermione added, her hands resting on Ron's shoulders. "We still have time to pick out the perfect cake, Ginny."

Still scowling, Ginny huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "You were still supposed to come tonight."

"Ginny…" Hermione said with a heavy sigh. "Don't take this the wrong way…but we just needed a break this weekend."

Looking at Hermione and her brother incredulously, Ginny could hardly speak for a moment, but eventually regained the ability to do so. "You need a break? You? I need a break! This entire wedding is spiraling out of control and no one can stop it!"

"You can stop it!" Ron exclaimed. "Merlin, Ginny - you look miserable! Both of you do! For Merlin's sake it's supposed to be a wedding and it's turning into a bloody circus! You and Mum have completely gone overboard!"

Suddenly, Ginny burst into a fit of tears and ran right into her brother, sobbing fat tears into his chest. Ron instinctively hugged his little sister close, looking over at Harry who seemed to just be at a loss about everything. But he knew this, based on their whiskey-fueled conversation last night. I want to marry her more than anything, Harry emphatically told him. I just don't think everyone and their mother needs to witness it. There are people on that guest list I don't even know, and I don't think she knows them either!

"Shhh," Ron whispered, rubbing Ginny's back. "Come on, Gin. It'll be alright."

Showing no signs of calming down, he looked over his shoulder at Hermione, who nodded in response. Grabbing a couple of cookies from the bag, she showed them to Harry, and the two walked out of the kitchen, leaving Ron alone to console his sister.

"George was brilliant about his whole eloping plan," Harry said after swallowing a mouthful of cookie.

"That was my idea, actually," Hermione teased as the two of them sat on the couch in the living room. She sat on the end of the couch where Ron usually sat, a Molly Weasley original knit blanket draped over her lap. Ron always used it when he dozed off on the couch. The lights were dimmed in the living room and the curtains were closed in an attempt appease the dull thumping in her head. "I'm sure everything will calm down," she reassured Harry as she sat sideways on the cushion, leaning her head into the plush backside of the couch and her back against the arm.

Harry nodded, taking another bite. He looked over at Hermione, watching as she closed her eyes and kept them closed for several moments, and felt a pang of guilt in his chest. Once he defeated Voldemort, the pain of his scar, and other haunting memories disappeared, but his friends came out of the war with scars they didn't have when they started. "Are you sure you wouldn't feel better if you went upstairs to lie down?"

"I'm fine," she said with a hint of exasperation as she opened her eyes.

Harry gave her a wry smile. "I'm sorry you and Ron have been sucked into all of this."

"We're family, Harry," Hermione replied kindly. "It's what we do. But I just think that maybe some of the stress is exacerbated by the fact that second of May is in a week, and just like last year, Molly always works herself up into a bit of a tizzy in the weeks and days leading up to the actual day."

Harry nodded. "I guess, but you would think that the wedding would be a welcomed distraction."

"Except she's channeling everything she's feeling into the wedding, thus driving the rest of us completely crazy."

"Yeah, probably," he agreed. "But I can't tell if Ginny's a mess because Molly's a mess, or if Ginny's a mess because maybe she's having second thoughts."

"There's no way Ginny's having second thoughts," Hermione said. "Absolutely not."

"I don't know, Hermione. The things she's been stressing out about lately…"

Hermione gave him a look and shook her head. "She is about to marry the savior of the wizarding world," she said, sitting up a bit. "And even if you hate that phrase, or hate that everyone thinks that way about you, it's true. And while you don't care, and Ginny certainly doesn't care, it has to be a lot of pressure regardless! I know Molly is in a crazy, overbearing mode right now, but she's just as much your mother as she is Gin's and she wants everything to be perfect, and Ginny can't walk five feet without seeing some sort of rubbish in the wizard mags about her not being good enough to marry you instead of talking about how brilliant she's doing this year with the Hollyhead Harpies, and I'm sure it's just been slowly building up over these past months."

"But anyone who knows me knows that I don't want anyone but Ginny!" Harry exclaimed. "I love her. I've always loved her."

"She knows that," Hermione reassured him. "But it's still a lot of pressure for a nineteen year old girl."

"I guess you're right," Harry said with a dejected sigh. "I take it this is why you and Ron aren't in a rush."

Hermione shrugged. "We know where we stand with each other," she said. "I know I'm going to spend the rest of my life with him…and I also know the moment we get married Molly will ask about grandchildren. I'd rather her nag us about getting married at this point then when I'm going to add to the Weasley brood. There are things Ron and I still want to do before we jump into that next phase." She pulled the blanket up over one of her shoulders and sighed. "Everything will work out, Harry. It always does."

"I know," Harry said. "I just wish everything would calm down."

"It will," Hermione reassured him. "Maybe not until after the wedding, but it will calm down." Shifting in her seat, she covered a yawn with the back of her hand. "Maybe you guys should take a holiday."

"Like a pre-honeymoon holiday?"

"Or a we-should-collect-our-sanity-before-we-spontaneous ly-combust holiday," Hermione rattled with a laugh. "Just go! Ron and I did back in the fall. Mind you, we weren't stressed, we just decided to do it, but it was wonderful!" She threw off the blanket and got up from the couch. Clicking the end table lamp on, she reached underneath the coffee table for the basket that held photo albums, and handed Harry a thick book filled with all the pictures she took from Greece. "It was really the best time. We were cut off from everyone, and had nothing to do but explore, eat delicious food, walk in the ocean -"

"And sex?" Harry teased.

Hermione blushed. "You know I won't dignify that with an answer."

"I know - I just wanted to see you blush."

She leaned over and smacked him in the arm. "Tosser!"

Harry laughed as he opened up the photo album. "Are there pictures of you in your bikini, or does Ron have all of those in his desk drawer?"

She blushed again. "I'll have you know I'm appropriately dressed in all of those photos, considering we showed our parents the pictures when we returned." Hermione bit her lip as she watched Harry leaf through the album for a few minutes before speaking again. "Ron has pictures of me in his desk?"

Harry chuckled. "I catch him looking at them every now and then. Some of these that are in here are in frames on his desk, but there's one of you in a bikini he keeps in his top desk drawer. He left it out on accident once right after you two came back, and Seamus came in and saw it, made some comment about not realizing that that's what was hiding underneath your school robes, and he hauled off and decked him in the face."

"I saw the picture - I never took you for a skimpy bikini kind of girl."

"Well I didn't buy it for anyone else but Ron," Hermione retorted. "And it was a tasteful bikini, thank you very much. We stayed in a private villa, and there wasn't anyone on our part of the beach. I was in a tasteful one piece when we were around people."

Hermione closed her eyes, thinking back to when they came back from Greece, remembering that Ron came home from work one day with his hand bruised. Intern auror training exercise ran a muck today, he told her as she mended his hand. "Well, Seamus knows that Ron is a jealous git when it comes to me, so he was really asking for it."

"You're condoning violence now?"

"I am if Seamus is going to make inappropriate remarks about me," Hermione retorted with her nose up in the air. "Regardless, I think you and Ginny should take a holiday. Just remove yourselves for a week and when you come back, you'll have enough sanity restored to survive until the big day."

Harry continued to leaf through the photo album. "Maybe you're right…maybe we need a week away."

"You won't regret it," Hermione encouraged. "Just pack up and go."

Harry nodded and stood up, placing the album on top of the coffee table. "I'm going to go check on her."

She settled back into the couch, smiling as she felt Harry give her shoulder a squeeze as he left her alone in the living room. By the time she woke up, she found herself leaning against Ron's chest, his arm draped around hers as he leaned back against the couch, channel surfing the telly with his feet propped up on the coffee table. She smiled as she felt him lightly kiss the top of her head. She wondered how long she'd been sleeping, and how many times he'd kissed the top of her head during that time. Hermione gave his arm a slight squeeze as she sighed. "What time is it?"

"Eight o'clock," Ron replied. "You've been asleep for about two hours."

"Harry and Ginny ok?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, they're alright. I told Ginny those two needed a holiday from Mum."

She laughed slightly. "I told Harry they needed a holiday too."

"Great minds think alike," Ron replied as he gave her a squeeze with the arm around her. "You feeling better?"

"I am," she said, and she was. The dull roar in her head from earlier was gone."

"I still want to know when you aren't feeling good," Ron said, a hint of either irritation or disappointment in his voice.

Hermione wasn't sure which one it really was, but she could tell he was unhappy either way. "I'm fine," she promised him. "And I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I didn't tell you because I really just thought it was the weather."

"It's alright," Ron said, his tone a little lighter.

She shifted in his hold so that she could look up at him, reaching a hand up to scratch the side of his jaw. "I didn't make any dessert tonight," Hermione said. "But I know that the ice cream shop down the street is open until nine o'clock.

Ron grinned. "Ice cream, eh?"

She shrugged. "The sun is starting to stay out longer. Maybe we could go for a walk while we're at it."

"Maybe we could," Ron replied, letting go of Hermione so she could sit up. "I reckon it's a probably a perfect night for it."

With shoes slipped on and jackets snagged, Hermione slipped into her black cardigan, holding Ron's jacket in her hand as he locked up the house. He tossed his coat on as the two walked down the front steps of their house and hooked a left to head to the center of Ottery St. Catchpole, where a night of ice cream, walking, and hand holding awaited them.