Ron woke up the following morning on the couch in the living room at the Burrow. He lay there thinking of nothing for a moment, his thoughts a complete blur, before he remembered the events of the day before. He smiled widely when he thought to himself, I'm not a married man anymore.

He bounded off the couch, ran outside and down the steps and onto the brightly colored lawn. He held his hands out in front of him and twirled around in a circle, feeling extremely ridiculous, but he threw his head back and laughed out loud, the blue, blue sky spreading out above him, not a cloud in view. He became so dizzy after a few minutes of twirling that he collapsed onto the grass, still laughing.

He lay there, looking up at the beautiful sky, until the world stopped spinning and he could sit up. Only then did he see the silhouette against the porch steps, bent over in laughter.

He stood up and sat beside Hermione on the porch step.

"You seem pretty happy today," she said.

He chuckled. "Yeah, I guess I am. Did you stay over last night?"

Hermione nodded. "Yeah," she said. "Your mom said I might as well stay, because it was so late when we finally stopped celebrating and I was a little tipsy." She blushed then as if she'd said a little too much, but Ron didn't think it was anything to be embarrassed about: In fact, he found it quite appealing that Hermione could let herself go every once in a while, something he didn't think he'd ever realized before. He stared at her for a moment, her hair blowing back from her face in the breeze and her cheeks red, but forced himself to look away.

"Erm… Breakfast?" he asked her.

She nodded and stood up, before offering her hand to Ron. He took it and she helped him up, but he didn't let go of her hand. He couldn't bring himself to do so… He felt like he had to be touching her somewhere, and even the slight contact made them both shiver.

He pulled her into the kitchen, where his mother was already busy cooking for all the people at the Burrow that morning. Harry, Ginny, Bill, Charlie and George had all stayed over the night before, like Hermione.

Ginny came down the steps yawning and Harry stumbled down the steps behind her: they had both clearly just woken up.

Hermione let go of Ron's hand and sat herself down at the table: She raised an eyebrow at him and so he made himself sit next to her. Her hand dangled over the side of her chair, begging Ron to pick it up, but he saw Ginny smirking at him and decided not to give his little sister the satisfaction.

His mother put a huge plate of eggs on the table, with several serving spoons, and then she flicked her wand at the cupboard in the corner of the room and a stack of plates flew onto the table.

Ron picked one up, handed it to Hermione, and then grabbed one for himself. He loaded his plate down with a tower of scrambled eggs, and caught Hermione shaking her head in disbelief.

"I'm hungry," he told her, shrugging, and then he reached for the orange juice, pouring her a glass, and then, once again, one for himself. Ginny nudged Harry in the stomach and he gave a little Oof!, clearly not conscious enough to understand what she meant.

Ron gave up on trying to get Ginny off of his back. It was just too easy for him to try to please Hermione.

A minute later, everyone was at the table, and digging in, clearly hungry after sleeping in so long. Ron looked at his watch, and realized it was almost 12 o'clock.

A few minutes of silence passed, while Ron helped himself to more eggs and Hermione watched him out of the corner of her eye, before everyone pushed themselves back from the table. George belched and his mother scolded him, but she laughed along with everyone anyway. It was only then that Ron realized just how much he'd missed these mornings with his huge, discombobulated family. He didn't know how he'd ever functioned without them.

He caught Hermione's eye and she smiled at him. "What are you going to do now?" she asked.

Ron shrugged. "Look for a new apartment, I guess. That's not terribly exciting."

"It's a good next step, though." Hermione said.

Ron nodded, paused, and then asked her, "What do you think my second step should be?"

She smiled widely at him: "I think you'll have to figure that out for yourself."

"As you can see, this flat has a beautiful view of the countryside, and it's quite near the Ministry, so if you chose an occupation there, you won't have to commute far."

Ron found himself on a wooden deck, overlooking a green valley stretching miles and miles before him. This was the fifth apartment he'd looked at over the past two days, but he thought then to himself, This is the one. It had a large, open living room which led out to the deck he now stood on, a kitchen with sparkling new appliances he knew his mother would envy, and some magical box in the bedroom which his guide, who happened to be a muggle, called a Television. It was the kind of place he could imagine having his family over to, though they'd probably have to squeeze to fit through the entryway together, and, dare he say it, bring someone home to.

And why, he asked himself, did barely thinking that automatically bring Hermione to his mind? He thought he had an answer, but he was a little scared of it. He'd been divorced just days before and he was pretty sure he was already thinking about another woman. It frightened him beyond belief to think about the future, even the very next day, because he had no idea where he was going.

Well, he had some idea now: "I'll buy it," he said, turning back around to face his realtor, and she nodded happily at him.

"We'll start on the contract tonight, if you'd like."

"Absolutely," Ron answered. He took a final look out at the green valley behind him before following the woman out of the apartment, humming to himself. He hopped into her car in the parking lot and waited patiently as she drove to her office, a few blocks down from the apartment complex, and opened the door to endless amounts of paperwork and a few nights of little sleep.

It was all worth it.

After weeks of moving boxes, shopping for new furniture and filling his refrigerator, Ron was ready to show off his new abode. He'd straightened the couch in the living room at least 50 times, wiped the kitchen counters meticulously clean, and gone to the Leaky Cauldron to buy platters and platters of snacks for the unveiling. The dining room table, which was settled on a hardwood floor between the kitchen and living room, was overflowing with his, and his families, favorite foods.

He went back to his bedroom, and turned to stare at himself in the mirror. For some reason, he'd gone insane trying to find something to wear, pulling every last piece of clothing out of his new closet. He wanted this night to be really special. He felt more proud of moving himself into this new apartment than anything he'd ever done: Maybe it was because, stereotypically, he should've been really depressed about his divorce and he was glad he hadn't gone off the deep end. Or maybe he felt like he wanted his mother to really know he wouldn't be eating her out of house and home anymore. Either way, he was treating the occasion with the utmost respect. In the end, he'd decided on a collared shirt with a tie and black slacks.

He sprayed himself with a bit of cologne and straightened his tie, while glancing at the clock. He'd told his family to arrive at 6: 30 sharp, but he'd asked Hermione to come at 6:15. He wanted her to be the first to see it, because she'd helped him buy the right couch and matching towels, things he wouldn't have been able to accomplish by himself. He hadn't let her help him anymore though because he'd wanted it to be a surprise when he was finished.

It was 6:10, and Ron had no idea what he was going to do for the next five minutes: He might drive himself insane trying to pass the time.

He straightened the bedspread, turned a few frames to face him, and leant down to pull the bed skirt out from where it'd gotten caught in the sheets, before realizing he was acting nothing close to masculine. George would probably ask him if he'd gone loopy if he were there. And that wasn't something he wanted to be asked. He might be afraid of his answer.

The door bell rang.

In a flash, Ron was out of his bedroom and at the door, smoothing down the front of his shirt. He ran a hand through his hair before turning the door knob. Hermione stood on his doorstep, her hair piled in an elegant bun on the top of her head and wearing a simple black dress he'd never seen before, along with a blue jean jacket.

She smiled at him, and handed him a bottle of wine wrapped in brown paper. "Congratulations!"she said, her brown eyes sparkling. He found himself at a loss for words for a moment, staring at her lips, which were bare but full, before he could speak again. "Thanks," he said, making himself look away from her. He focused his gaze on the bottle in his hand, before looking back up and losing himself again.

"Well… Are you going to invite me in or leaving me standing here all night?"

Ron shook his head. "Of course, of course," he said, a little loudly. He pulled the door open a little wider and let her pass through but caught her wrist as she started to walk out of the hallway.

She lifted an eyebrow at him, before asking, "What?"

He put the bottle down on the floor behind him. "I have to cover your eyes. It's supposed to be a surprise."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," he said. "Let me take your coat."

Hermione unbuttoned it with quick fingers before handing it to him. Ron only realized then that her dress barely covered her shoulders, and the sight of her bare skin made him shiver a little. She handed her coat to him, watched him hang it up on a hook on the wall behind him, before smiling. "All right. Surprise me."

Ron nodded. "Turn around," he told her. She turned and Ron hesitated just a few seconds before placing his hands carefully over her eyes. Her eyelashes fluttered against his palms, and he could hear her breathing in and out, but he made himself move her forward.

They walked into the living room and Ron leant down and whispered in Hermione's ear, "You ready?"

"Yeah," she said, and Ron felt her shoulders relax and her heat beating wildly. He pulled his hands back and let her look around the room.

She ran her hand over the couch, it's matching pillows and then the leather chair Ron had bought in Diagon Alley, before heading towards the fireplace and picking up a picture frame he'd put there. It held the picture of he, Harry and Hermione in the Great Hall that he'd found in his photo album, months ago.

He saw her grin from the side and couldn't help but grin along, glad that it pleased her. She lifted "Hogwarts, a History," off of the coffee table, before putting it back down slowly, as if it weighed more than it actually did.

She turned to face him, and said, "It's wonderful, Ron. You did a great job with this place."

She looked back at the table, picked the book back up, and brought it to him. "Have you ever actually read this?"

Ron flipped it over in his hand, and thought about it for a moment. "I might've flipped through it once or twice," he said.

Hermione laughed. "Well, until you find work, you'll have a lot of time to read. Maybe you'll actually enjoy it."

"Not tonight," Ron said, and he took a little step closer to her, watching her reaction. He could see the freckles on the bridge of her nose from where he stood, and could feel her breath, warm and sweet. He found himself leaning down to her level, unable to stop himself, and he felt his heart skip a beat as her eyes fluttered close, her breath became shallow. His lips were just centimeters from hers when someone knocked on the front door, and Hermione's eyes flew open.

She took a step back and stared at him, before moving past him and walking to the door. Her heels clicked against the tile in the entry and Ron stayed where he was just listening to her footsteps.

"Harry!" she said, and Ron assumed she was embracing him. "Where's Ginny?"

"She couldn't find her favorite shoes, so she told me to go on."

Ron sighed and threw the book down on his coffee table, before meeting his two best friends in the hall.

"Hey, mate," Harry said as he shook Ron's hand. "The place looks great." He looked between Hermione, who was staring at the floor, and Ron, who had a far off look in his eyes, before asking, "Do you want to give me a tour?"

Ron nodded and picked the wine bottle Hermione had brought up from the floor. He headed to the kitchen and put it down on the counter next to the sink. "Well, this is the kitchen. Hermione bought those towels…"

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