Half an hour later, Ron's entire family was seated in the dining room and living room, as well as on the balcony. The sun was shining, and heat filtered through the windows, so Ron had Harry turn up the air conditioning, because he wasn't sure how to work it himself.

His mother had been beside herself with pride for him: She had squeezed him so tightly when she saw the matching furniture in the living room that he'd nearly suffocated from her embrace. He'd been quite embarrassed afterwards, when Hermione had laughed at his purple face.

Ginny, Harry and Hermione were now seated outside on the balcony; His mother was in the kitchen, his father was asleep on the couch, and Bill, George, and Charlie were playing a game of Exploding Snap on the rug. Ron stood aside from all the commotion for a moment, humming an old Celestina Warbeck song to himself, before he decided to join his sister and his friends.

"I told you he could pull it off," Hermione was saying. "He's not as incompetent as you think."

"Thanks for the compliment," Ron said, and he pulled one of his new, green plastic deckchairs up to the table they'd gathered around.

"Oh," Hermione said. She blushed, looked away, and began to play with a loose thread on the cuff of her sleeve. "You're welcome."

Ginny winked at Ron and Harry grinned. Ron couldn't help but feel like he was the center of some diabolical plan they'd come up with to torture him.

"Would you like something to drink?" Harry asked his wife, and Ginny nodded.

"I'll come with you to get it," she said, and the two of them stood up and walked into Ron's flat, sliding the glass door shut behind them.

Hermione continued to play with her sleeve, and without thinking, Ron took a hold of it. He pulled slowly on the loose string, wrapped it around his pinkie finger, and yanked it away, breaking it off of her shirt.

Hermione looked at him then. "Thank you," she said, but she didn't smile and she looked upset about something.

Ron cocked his head to the side, and had to close his left eye so the sun wouldn't blind him.

"What's bothering you?" he asked her.

Hermione just shook her head. "Nothing. Everything's going… perfectly." Her mouth twitched on the right side, drawing Ron's attention quickly but he resisted the impulse to lean in to her, gripping the arms of his chair with his hands as tightly as he possibly could.

Hermione stood up. "I'd best be going," she said. Ron frowned. "You're not going to stay for dinner?"

She shook her head. "I have dinner with my parents every Sunday night. It's been a tradition for the past… well, four or five years. Thank you for inviting me though."

"Of course," Ron said, though he was thoroughly disappointed. "I'll walk you out."

Hermione pulled open the screen door, and stepped inside. Ron didn't bother shutting it behind him.

Hermione said her goodbye's to his family as she walked through the living room. She didn't stop to hug anyone, claiming she was already late for her family dinner, but Ron had a feeling she was fibbing a little.

In the entryway, he made sure to grab Hermione's coat before she could, and thought about insisting he help her put it on, but he decided against it: It was warm out then and she would certainly see his through ulterior motive, so he just handed it to her.

"Goodbye, Ron," Hermione said as he opened the door for her.

"Thanks for coming," he said. He kissed her cheek quickly, and shut the door before she could say anything about it.

In hindsight, it was probably a really stupid thing to do.

The next morning, Ron apparated into Diagon Alley and made his way down the main street, which was, as always, bustling with activity. He watched a woman drag her two little girls along behind her, obviously agitated, and he couldn't help but grin at the expression on her face.

He grabbed a Daily Prophet off the top of an overflowing rubbish bin, before sitting himself down on the bottom step to Gringott's Bank. He flipped to the classifieds and looked under the column that read, Quidittch. He'd thought about it a lot and realized he didn't imagine himself working in an office, or at the ministry, but instead, on a broom. He'd always dreamed of being an international Quidittch player but he'd put that dream on hold for Lavender. Now that she was gone… he couldn't think of a reason not to try for it. And it was almost summer, which was when teams began to search for new players in order to get ready for the fall season.

Just thinking about it got him excited.

Scanning the page carefully he found there was an open try-out for the Cannons, his dream team, exactly a month from then. He chuckled to himself, very pleased with the way things had turned out.

Ron got up from his seat on the stairs and folded the Prophet in half, before putting it in his back pocket.

He bought himself an ice cream on his way out of Diagon Alley, before apparating to the Burrow: If he was going to be a real Quidittch player by next month, he'd have to start practicing as soon as possible.

"Hey Mum," Ron said as he bounded into the kitchen. His mother looked up from a loaf of bread she'd been slicing and smiled at him, before kissing him on the cheek.

"Are you enjoying your new apartment?" she asked him as he sat down in a stool across the counter from her.

Ron nodded adamantly. "I love it," he said. "I couldn't have gotten anything better."

"And you're enjoying the single life?"

Ron thought about it for a moment, his mind suddenly on Hogwarts, a History, and deep brown eyes, before saying cautiously, "It's all right."

His mother laughed, winking at him. "Hermione and Ginny are up in Ginny's old room."

"Oh, well, I was actually going to play Quidittch but…" He paused, frowning at the amused expression on his mother's face, before adding, "I'll go up and talk to them."

He made his way out of the kitchen, and started up the stairs, taking them slowly. He wondered why the house was so quiet, but guessed that everyone else was just working.

He stopped on the third landing where his sister's bedroom was, reached for the door knob, and then paused, hearing his name.

"What do you mean, without Ron, Hermione?"

He heard Hermione sigh. "I'm just trying to explain to how hard it was for me… last time."

"Last time what?"

"The last time we didn't' speak. It… destroyed me."

"Hermione…"

"No, Ginny, I'm serious! You don't have any idea how much he meant to me! And the things he said just tore me apart! I was a complete disaster."

No one said anything for a moment, and Ron was about to open the door and pretend he hadn't heard when Hermione spoke again.

"And I'm falling for him again," she said. "I don't think there'll be any going back this time. I've always l-… I've always been too attached."

Ron stood there rooted to the spot for a moment, listening to the silence echoing throughout the house, before he turned around and began to flee down the stairs.

He'd gone 3 steps when he decided he was being a coward and walked back up to his sister's landing, before opening her bedroom door without a moment's hesitation.

Ginny and Hermione both stared at him in the door way, before Ginny stood up.

"Hey Ron!" she said, obviously trying to pull his attention away from Hermione, whose eyes looked red and puffy. "When did you get here?"

"Oh, just half a minute ago," Ron lied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. He stepped around Ginny and smiled at Hermione, though he still felt wary about what he'd overheard, before saying, "Hey 'Mione, what's up?"

Hermione half smiled and stood up in front of him. "Not much," she said, "Just discussing baby names for your future niece, or nephew." She smiled at Ginny behind him before putting her hands in the front pockets of her jeans and rolling back and forth on the balls of her feet. "Well, I'd best be going," she said. "I promised a friend from work that I'd baby sit her kids tonight."

Ron frowned and stared at Hermione for a moment. Despite the swollen look of her eyes and a little mascara smeared underneath them, she looked very pretty that morning, and he couldn't help the words that he spoke next. "You sure you have to go?" he asked her, frowning a little more than was necessary.

Hermione looked taken aback but smiled a little wider, her eyes sparkling.

"Well," she said, looking down at her feet, "I suppose I could stay for fifteen minutes or so."

Ron smiled with her, before grabbing her hand and pulling her out of Ginny's room and down the stairs.

"Guess what?" he asked her.

Hermione laughed. "What?"

"I said guess," Ron said, winking at her.

She rolled her eyes and smiled at him. "Okay… Erm… You bought a new lamp for your apartment?"

Ron shook his head. "I'm going to try out for the Cannons, a month from today. They need a new keeper."

"That's awesome!" Hermione said, beaming genuinely. "I'm sure you'll make it. And maybe the Cannons will actually win a game with you."

Ron grimaced, pretending to be offended. "Don't insult the Cannons, Hermione. That hurts," he said, sticking his tongue out at her. She laughed again, throwing back her head and wafting the smell of her perfume towards him. He inhaled deeply as they walked into the living room and sat down on the couch.

"Anyway," he said, "That's why I came by, to practice for the try-outs, but I didn't remember that I left my broom at my flat and can't really do much today, until… now."

Hermione just smiled at him, and leaned farther back into the couch. Neither of them spoke for a moment, but then Hermione surprised him by saying, "You know, this feels like old times."

"Yeah," Ron said, "Except then we were worrying about living through the night."

Hermione looked sideways at him, her expression contemplative. "I guess," she said, "But I miss those days anyway: I knew exactly what I wanted, what I was fighting for. Now, my life's easier but… boring… and in a way, more complicated. Does that make any sense?"

"Yes," Ron said, quite seriously. In his own way, he knew exactly what she was talking about. During the war he'd known exactly what he wanted, what he was trying to accomplish, but now that he'd started all over, and had nothing to fight against, he found that his life was boring. Though as he sat there with Hermione, that all left him and his life didn't feel so monotonous. He was happy.

"Hermione…" he said.

"Yeah?"

"I... would you like to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?"

Hermione blushed but smiled. "I'd love to," she said.

"Cool," Ron said, relieved. He'd thought for a moment that she'd turn him down flat, but it seemed she wanted exactly what he wanted. "Sounds like a date," he said, and Hermione nodded, and then blushed, again.

They sat together on the couch for a few minutes, neither speaking, but they did look at each other a lot. Hermione looked pleased: There was a sparkle in her eyes that he remembered seeing when she'd gotten an Outstanding on an assignment at school, or made a new discovery in the library. It made him want to make her eyes sparkle in his own way.

Finally, Hermione stood up. "I really have to go," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay, Ron said, standing up beside her. "I'll pick you up at your flat about 7 tomorrow. Is that good?"

"Yeah," she said. "I can't wait."

Hermione smiled and turned around, leaving the room quickly. Ron was slightly disappointed that she hadn't kissed, or even hugged him goodbye, but that thought didn't last long. Tomorrow he was going out with her… and maybe he'd get his second chance.