A/N: Thanks as always to all those that have read, reviewed, favorited, and put this story on alert. You're all fantastic.

Shameless self-promotion: I wrote something—gasp—not fluffy. It's called "Anniversary" and it's from George's perspective five years after the war. If you want to check it out, that'd be brilliant. If not, forget I asked and I won't be offended.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter because last time I checked, J.K. Rowling was not an American college student. Or a ginger.

"The First Reunion"

17 October 1998

It was eight o'clock on the dot when the charmed alarm clock, which sat on a table beside a picture of a redhead with his arm around a bushy-haired brunette, began to chirp. Ron's eyes sprung open immediately. Two thoughts were immediately clear in his mind. It was Saturday. He was seeing Hermione today.

Ron showered, dressed, and brushed his teeth in what must have been record time. It had been more than six weeks since the last time he'd seen her. In some ways the time had flown by; he'd been very busy, after all, working for George and preparing for Auror training in January. But in most ways, it had been some of the longest weeks of his life. This was the longest he'd been separated from Hermione in ages; they made a point to write several times a week, but it simply wasn't the same. Today, finally, he would get to see her smile, kiss her, hug her, kiss her, hear her voice, kiss her…

Harry was already sitting at the table when Ron came in the kitchen to make his breakfast. "Morning," he said as he folded up the Daily Prophet.

"Anything new today?" Ron asked as he grabbed a box of cereal and a bowl, not to be bothered by the idea of making anything more complicated.

"Not really," Harry answered, pouring more milk into his own cereal. "The trials are set to start next month."

"Good," Ron replied shortly. The process of reorganizing the ministry's courts as well as gathering the witnesses and evidence to try the remaining captured Death Eaters had been painstaking. No one had wanted it to drag out longer than necessary, but it had been quite a task to complete. To hear that the bastards would finally be set to get what they deserved caused Ron a great amount of relief.

"I've been asked to testify at the Malfoys'," Harry remarked a little too casually. Ron's eyes snapped up in interest. "Kingsley gave me the official letter yesterday," Harry clarified.

"Are you gonna do it?" Ron asked, replicating Harry's casual tone of voice.

"Probably, but I'll give a statement instead of going to the trial," Harry said. "I don't want a scene."

"Good idea. I want them to get what's coming to them," Ron said fiercely.

"They're more cowardly than they are evil," Harry remarked. "I think just that will get them off easier than the others, 'specially given what Narcissa did for me."

Ron nodded begrudgingly. They'd had this very discussion several times, and he was no less pleased with the result. "It doesn't change the fact that they just stood there," he said pointedly, knowing Harry would know what he was making reference to.

"And the jury will know that," Harry said reassuringly. "I don't want them getting away with that either."

"Good," Ron said, content to drop the subject. It's not as though discussing it for the dozenth time would change anything, anyways. "We're all on for butterbeers at two today, right?"

"Sounds right. Will four hours with Hermione be enough for you?" Harry teased.

"Of course not, but what can you do?" Ron replied with a sigh. "I can't wait 'til they're done with school."

"Neither can I," Harry said. "Does that make us pathetic?"

"I won't tell if you won't," Ron quipped.

"Everybody around us knows anyways. George is the only one that even bothers to take the piss anymore," Harry remarked.

"And I really couldn't care less at this point," Ron said emphatically, picking up his cereal bowl, setting it in the sink, and muttering a charm to make the dish wash itself. What he said was true, the only thing on his mind was that he had less than an hour to go until he could see Hermione.

After aimlessly wandering about Grimmauld Place for awhile with the sole intention of killing time, it was at last nearly ten. Ron pulled on a light jacket and disapparated for Hogsmeade. When his feet touched solid ground again, he barely had time to register whether or not he'd reached the designated meeting place when he was ambushed by something with a lot of brown, curly hair.

Despite briefly getting the wind knocked out of him, Ron smiled as he wrapped his arms tightly around Hermione, who was squeezing him as hard as she could. It might have hurt, he thought, if she weren't about half his size. "Hi," he murmured into her hair as he rested his head atop hers.

Hermione responded by making a muffled noise into his chest that he supposed was meant to be a greeting. When he tried to pull back to kiss her a moment later, she refused to let go and somehow managed to hold him tighter. "I missed you," she said, turning her face to the side a bit so that he could hear her properly.

"I missed you too," he replied immediately. "I'll sneak into the damn castle before I spend another six weeks without seeing you."

Hermione sniffed loudly before adding, "And I'll let you."

Ron smiled into her hair. Sometimes it scared him how incredibly in love with her he was.

It was a few more minutes before Hermione finally loosened her grip on his torso, pulling back and grabbing his hands in hers. "Hi," she said, beaming up at him.

"Hi," he repeated. "Your hair is longer." He let go of one of her hands briefly to tug on a curl.

"Hair grows, you see," she responded, raising an eyebrow.

"That's what I've been told," he said, squeezing her hands quickly.

Hermione laughed. "It's been weeks, and we're talking about hair."

"Well what did you want to talk about?" Ron asked teasingly.

"I don't know. You're a bit taller," she said.

"I grow, you see."

"You ought to stop. Soon I won't be able to reach you."

"I'll buy you a step ladder for Christmas."

"Well, that's romantic."

"It's practical. I know how sensible men get you all hot and bothered."

"I hate you."

Ron chuckled. "I missed you," he responded, and he couldn't take it any longer—he pulled lightly on her hands, bringing her closer to himself, and planted his lips directly on hers. She responded immediately, and Ron figured that if she truly hated him, she certainly had a favorable way of expressing as much.

After a few blissful moments, Hermione pulled back suddenly. Ron groaned in protest. "I'm Head Girl; I can't very well be seen snogging right in the middle of Hogsmeade!" Hermione hissed, looking around them as if she was certain McGonagall was hiding behind one of the shops.

"We're on one of the side streets," Ron reminded her. "But have it your way, what do you want to do?"

"Oh, I don't know. I didn't really have anything planned," she responded, still distracted by glancing around.

"You're telling me you don't have anything planned?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Not particularly. I thought we might go over by the Shrieking Shack for a bit, since it's not too cold out today. There's that grassy space over there, we could sit and chat alone before we meet Harry and Ginny," Hermione suggested.

"Sounds great, but we have to stop by Honeydukes before the Three Broomsticks," Ron said as they began to set off toward the Shrieking Shack.

"Why's that?" Hermione asked.

"Because it's Honeydukes," Ron answered, feeling the subject needed no further clarification.

Hermione just rolled her eyes but did not protest. They spent the rest of the short walk in a comfortable silence, exchanging silly grins and simply enjoying the feeling of being with each other again. When they reached the grassy clearing by the Shrieking Shack, Ron took a seat on the ground, leaning back against a tree stump. Hermione sat directly in front of him, leaning back against his chest with his legs on either side of her. He placed his hands on her waist and kissed the top of her head, sighing contentedly.

"So, is anything new with you since your last letter?" Hermione asked in a relaxed voice.

"Not really. I do the same thing almost every day. Work at the shop, eat dinner at the Burrow, and read the training books before bed," Ron replied, rubbing her waist with his thumbs.

"How's George?" she asked, a bit too casually.

"Better," Ron replied truthfully. "Cliché as it sounds, we're all getting better together. He doesn't have many bad nights anymore, and the bad nights aren't as bad as they were."

"Good," Hermione said. "Better's about all we can ask for, really."

Ron nodded before realizing she couldn't see him. "Yeah. He's okay. Life keeps going, you know? And he wants to keep going with it."

Hermione leaned back further into him, and he squeezed her waist lightly in response. After a moment of comfortable silence, Ron asked, "So what have you been up to lately?"

Hermione pretended to contemplate for a moment before answering, "Going to class, scolding the imbeciles that roam the halls, and studying."

Ron chuckled. "What fun you must have."

Hermione was quiet for a minute before responding, "It's not the same, you know. Not without you and Harry."

"Nobody to nag about homework?" Ron asked, in an effort to keep the conversation light.

"I don't nag," Hermione replied primly.

"Right, you just suggest," Ron said, smiling and wrapping his hands further around her middle.

"That's right, and Ginny doesn't leave her assignments til the last minute," Hermione said pointedly. "I can safely say I don't miss trying to make the two of you do your homework."

"I miss you trying to make me do my homework, though," Ron countered. "It made it all the more fun to slack off."

To his surprise, Hermione laughed at this. "You're ridiculous."

"You're mental."

"You're incorrigible."

"You're bossy."

"You need to show respect for the Head Girl," Hermione said with an air of superiority, turning around briefly to tap him on the nose.

"You need to come home, Head Girl," Ron said sincerely, moving his arms so that they were wrapped all the way around her small waist.

Hermione sighed deeply. "Want to know something?"

"About you? Always," Ron replied solemnly.

"Sometimes…" Hermione trailed off for a moment before continuing. "Sometimes I wonder if I made the right decision, coming back."

"How do you mean?" Ron asked, a bit frustrated that he couldn't see her face properly in their current position.

"I guess—Hogwarts was the one place I belonged when we were younger, but it's so different now. I think I'm just realizing that the belonging part wasn't just the place I was in. It was more about the people I was with," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"That makes sense," Ron replied, recalling his own childhood—he may have come from a family of wizards, but it wasn't until he'd become friends with Harry and Hermione that he'd truly felt he belonged anywhere on his own. He may have had his doubts at times through the years, but in the end he knew it'd always be the three of them. "But I don't think you'd have been happy not finishing school," he remarked to her after a moment of reflection.

"I don't think so either, really," Hermione said. "It's just hard. I never thought much beyond the war, but when I did, it wasn't quite like this."

Ron grunted his agreement. He was quiet for a moment before a thought struck him. "Are you sleeping alright?" he asked bluntly.

Hermione gulped audibly. "Mostly. But you know it's better when I'm not alone."

"You could always ask Ginny," Ron reasoned.

"Ask your sister to share a bed with me?" Hermione replied skeptically.

"Yeah, didn't think that one through," Ron conceded, laughing lightly.

"What about you?" Hermione asked. "Have you been sleeping well?"

"I'm faring about the same as you are, I reckon," Ron said. "Did you ever talk to your parents about Christmas hols?" he asked, abruptly changing the subject. He really wasn't in the mood for a deep conversation; he was just so happy to even be with Hermione again, and he didn't particularly want anything bursting his bubble.

"Oh, yes! That's what I meant to tell you. I got the letter from Mum this morning; I'm set to stay with them through Christmas Eve, then I'm coming to the Burrow until Ginny and I have to go back. You're welcome to come over to my parents' any time while I'm there, by the way, and Mum hinted that she'd love for you to come to our party on Christmas Eve," Hermione said.

"Okay. What do muggles do at Christmas parties?" Ron asked, grinning as he realized they'd be seeing each other every day for at least two full weeks over the holidays.

"Nothing much. It's always a small group of us. My aunt—my mum's sister—will come over with her family, and a few of the neighbors normally come too. We mostly just eat and socialize. It'd be nice if you could make it," Hermione replied.

"Of course I will," Ron agreed automatically. "So your aunt's family are the only relatives coming?"

"Well, yes, they're our only close relatives, and we don't see them much," Hermione answered. "They'll come over every Christmas and occasionally we'd visit them over the summers. Taking care of them was the easiest part of the Australia endeavor—I just sent them a letter telling them my parents had decided to take an extended holiday and they didn't question it."

Ron laughed humorlessly. "Your family's so different from mine."

"Surely you have cousins you don't talk to much?" Hermione reasoned.

"I guess, but only because we had so many siblings that we didn't feel the need to see our cousins that often," Ron explained. "Nobody wanted to host regular reunions because it'd essentially turn into a large babysitting adventure."

"Do you think it will be the same when you and your siblings all have kids?" Hermione asked.

"Nah, I think after the last few years we're all closer than Dad is to his brothers. And it's just convenient that Harry'll marry my sister and be in on it all anyways," Ron replied, realizing as he spoke that in his head, Hermione was included automatically too—she'd be the mother of his kids. He didn't even need to think about it, and in some ways, that scared the shit out of him. In other ways, in most ways really, it seemed perfectly natural.

"You think Harry will marry Ginny?" Hermione asked casually.

"You know him, once he's set on an idea he can't let it go," Ron joked. Though he couldn't see her face, he could practically feel Hermione rolling her eyes.

"Really though?"

Ron thought for a moment before answering. "It doesn't mean I particularly like it, but it's obvious he's mad about her. Don't you think?"

"Yes, of course. I guess I just hadn't thought about them getting married," Hermione said.

"Don't you think about the future?" Ron asked uncertainly, feeling more like a tit the more he spoke.

"Sure," Hermione said. "It just all feels very hypothetical to me."

"Explain," Ron prompted. This was a system they'd devised a few months prior; rather than getting frustrated when Hermione said something cryptic, Ron would merely request that she explain herself and she would oblige without argument. This caused considerably fewer headaches for both of them.

"Well, I'd be lying if I said I'd never thought about...you know, us someday," Hermione said. Ron tilted his head to try to look at her face and saw a very noticeable blush on her cheeks. "But the future seems so far away. Like there's so much to be done between now and then."

Ron didn't process much of the latter part of her statement; he was stuck on the fact that she'd thought about him and the future in the same context. It didn't matter how many times she told him she loved him; he was sure he'd still be a little surprised every time she said something that expressed as much in such a tangible way.

It was when Hermione twisted her head around to look at him while biting her lip that he realized he'd never said anything back. "I think about us too," he said hurriedly. She looked skeptical, and as though she were about to interject, so he explained quickly, "I mean it. I've told you I intend to be around for as long as you'll have me."

"Ron," Hermione began exasperatedly, but he was quick to interrupt:

"And if you'd stop protesting every time I say I'm lucky to have you, that'd be fantastic."

"Just so long as you realize I'm lucky to have you, too," she replied as she turned around in his arms, shifting so that she was now sitting atop his lap backwards, straddling him. He sucked in his breath. Did she really not realize what this did to him? "I really did miss you," she continued. "Have I said that enough yet?"

"You can say it more, if you want," Ron managed to reply. He meant to sound flirtatious (and was sure he'd failed in that endeavor), but Hermione didn't seem to know or care what he'd said. She slinked her arms around his neck and kissed him, hard, making him forget what exactly they'd been talking about in the first place.

Ron was fairly certain he would never, ever get tired of kissing Hermione. It had always been the little things about her that drove him absolutely mental, and the way she kissed was no different. For instance, the way she liked to run her hands through his hair while snogging was probably the most brilliant thing on the planet. As if the whole having his tongue in her mouth thing weren't already good enough, her hands in his hair or rubbing his scalp just felt perfect.

Then there were times, like today, when Hermione had apparently made an executive decision that they could go without breathing if it meant they could keep snogging. She didn't even pause when he knocked his head on the tree stump as she pushed him to the ground; nothing was going to stop her from kissing him, and he had absolutely no complaints.

It occurred to Ron in the back of his mind, somewhere around the time that his hands found themselves decidedly below the small of her back where they'd been previously residing, that he and Hermione really hadn't had many marathon snogging sessions like this one. No, that'd been something much more familiar to his relationship with Lavender. But this was completely different from that. For one, he and Hermione actually liked talking to each other, and didn't need to snog in order to fill time. For another, his mind didn't wander quite so much when he was kissing Hermione. If it did, it never lasted long, because he'd remember that he was kissing Hermione.

His train of thought, weak as it was anyways given the present situation, was completely cut off when Hermione made a moaning noise in the back of her throat and kissed Ron deeper still. Ron wasn't sure how, but one of his hands had found its way to where he was sure the side of her left tit must be, although he couldn't really feel it through the several layers of clothing she was wearing. The other hand still rested on her bum, and her hands were underneath his jacket, on the strip of bare skin between the top of his jeans and his shirt, which had ridden up a bit due to their movements.

Ron wasn't sure how long they stayed on the ground, snogging and groping madly like they'd never have another chance, but he didn't particularly care either. He'd rather snog Hermione than do anything else, anyways. But inevitably, their kisses eventually became slower, and Hermione slowly rolled off of him. As they lay side by side facing each other, hands now safely on waists above clothing, Ron couldn't help but kiss Hermione softly again, not quite ready to go back to the real world. He then pulled back to look at her dazedly and chuckled.

"What?" she asked self-consciously.

"Your lips are all swollen," he said, and leaned in to kiss her one more time.

"That's hardly going to help the situation," she protested half-heartedly when he pulled back. She then leaned forward to brush his lips with hers once more before saying, "Yours are too."

They both laughed quietly, and Ron pulled her in closer. "The ground's kind of cold," he remarked conversationally.

"Did you want to move?"

"Not particularly."

Hermione smiled. "Let it never be said that we're normal."

"I thought most people first snog their girlfriends in the middle of a war."

"I snogged you, remember?"

Ron just smiled contentedly. "But I was a willing participant."

Their conversation trailed off then, save for the occasional remark about some detail of their lives they'd not discussed in their letters. It was funny, Ron thought to himself, how he'd thought back in May that he and Hermione really couldn't get any closer, when in reality they'd grown even further together in the five months they'd been boyfriend and girlfriend. He'd never been this close with another person before, and he couldn't imagine being like this with anybody else.

Ron didn't remember drifting off while they were lying there, but he must have, since he was awoken by a sharp poke in the side. "Hey!" he protested, catching Hermione's finger in his hand.

"What time is it?" she asked. "We're meant to meet Harry and Ginny at two, you know."

"Don't you have a watch?" Ron asked somewhat irritably, but he checked all the same. "It's nearly one."

"We should go then, if you want to stop in Honeydukes," she said, reluctantly sitting upright only to have Ron pull her down again almost immediately.

"No," he said stubbornly, knowing full well he sounded as if he were about seven years old.

"Ronald," Hermione said impatiently. It had been awhile since she'd used his full name, he noted with a sly grin.

"Don't wanna."

"Really now?"

Ron sighed. "The sooner we get up, the sooner I have to leave," he said, supposing he might as well be honest with her. She'd figure it out anyways.

Hermione's face softened. "I don't want you to go, either."

"Then let's stay. We could snog some more."

Hermione blatantly ignored the latter part of his statement. "I want to see Harry."

"He looks the same as he always has. Still a skinny tosser with glasses and a funny looking scar."

"Ron."

"I know."

A moment later, he relented and got to his feet, although he couldn't help but steal a chaste kiss before they left the privacy of the clearing and walked hand in hand toward the village. Yep, he was a goner. It's not like he ever really had a chance anyways. She'd been working on driving him mental since they were eleven, and Hermione Granger never left a task unfinished.

Their next stop was Honeydukes, where Ron insisted on buying Hermione a large handful of sweets with some of the money he'd made working at the shop.

"Honestly, I barely eat sweets as it is," she tried to protest, but Ron was having none of it.

"Don't pretend you don't love sugar quills," he said, counting out a few galleons and sickles to pay for the two bags of candy they'd collected between them. Or rather, that he'd collected for them.

"It's still your money. You needn't be spending it on me," she replied half-heartedly as he shoved one of the bags into her hands.

"I spent plenty on myself, too," Ron said, grinning cheekily. Hermione threw him a skeptical look, but nevertheless, she took his hand as they left the shop. The truth was that he loved being able to buy her things (wasn't that what boyfriends were supposed to do, anyways?), but he knew he'd never hear the end of it if he voiced such a thought. He also loved holding her hand in public, he noted as they walked through the street. There was something about the fact that everyone knew she was with him that made him beam with pride whenever they were out together.

"Are you hungry?" Hermione asked as they approached the Three Broomsticks.

"Starved," Ron answered. He hadn't eaten in nearly four hours, but he'd been too caught up in Hermione to particularly care until now. "I can get us some sandwiches to go with our butterbeers."

"That'd be lovely, thank you. I'll have—"

"Turkey and cheese with lettuce and tomatoes," Ron finished for her.

Hermione looked taken aback, but smiled. "I didn't realize you knew my order."

"It's not exactly a hard one to remember," Ron replied as he opened the door and held it for her, internally awarding himself several points for being a gentleman, "and I do pay attention, sometimes."

They spotted Harry and Ginny sitting at a small table in the far corner and waded their way through the multitudes of Hogwarts students to join them. "About time you showed up!" Ginny said as she stood to hug her brother briefly.

"Honestly Ginny, it's not even two yet," Hermione said dismissively, hugging Harry tightly and giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "It's so good to see you, Harry."

"You too, Hermione," Harry replied as they sat down. "Ginny says you've been busy harping on the first-years."

"Now see here, I do not harp on anyone, I'm simply explaining to them what they can and cannot do to be successful students. And honestly, if anyone were to follow my advice…" Hermione was speaking in a heated voice that meant she wouldn't be done talking anytime soon, so Ron rubbed Hermione's shoulder affectionately, a gesture that went largely unnoticed, before excusing himself to go buy their butterbeers and sandwiches.

He didn't notice until he'd placed his order with the suddenly much less attractive Madam Rosmerta that Ginny had followed him. "How are things at home, big brother?" she asked after requesting two butterbeers.

"Better," Ron said, repeating what he told Hermione earlier. "We're all doing better. George especially."

"Good," Ginny replied. "It's been hard. Y'know, not being around."

"I can tell you it's no picnic being there all the time, either," Ron said honestly. "There are bad days."

"There'll always be bad days," Ginny said bluntly. "But it's a lot easier to have bad days when somebody's there with you. I spend a lot of time with Luna and Hermione, but he wasn't their brother, y'know?"

Ron nodded and put a comforting hand on his sister's shoulder. She shot him a smile that looked a little more like a grimace. "We'll be alright, yeah?" he asked.

"Course we will. We're Weasleys," she responded, and they both chuckled as Madam Rosmerta came back with their drinks and food. When they returned to the table, Hermione was still talking Harry's ear off about NEWTs and Head Girl duties.

"Sandwich for you, love," Ron interrupted loudly. Harry shot him a grateful glance.

"Oh, thank you Ron," Hermione said. She must have realized how long she'd been talking because she then changed the subject. "So what all have you been up to lately, Harry?"

"I would be relaxing, but somebody always finds some reason or another for me to be somewhere," Harry answered disgruntledly.

"The problems of the rich and the famous, you see," Ron chipped in helpfully. Harry sent him a look across the table so vicious it probably could have killed Voldemort without all the hassle.

"You know you wouldn't want all the attention either, Ron," Hermione scolded.

"Doesn't make it less funny when it happens to someone else," he replied, taking a large bite of his sandwich.

"It's true, I wouldn't be very sympathetic if it were the other way around," Harry said truthfully, and Ron shot him a grateful look. There was really no need to get Hermione riled up unnecessarily.

"I don't think I'll ever understand men," Hermione grumbled.

"Well that's good for you," Ron said. "It's best if you leave at least one subject unconquered. Wait, two—I forgot divination."

Harry laughed. "I don't know why we hated that class so much. It was good fun a lot of the time."

"But it was a waste of your time," Hermione reminded them.

"I think it might've been interesting with the right teacher," Ginny remarked. "I know you've seen Trelawney have real visions, Harry, but I still find it hard to believe."

"But think about it, those prophecies wouldn't have meant anything if someone hadn't believed they did," Hermione pointed out.

"Hermione's right," Harry said, "but it'd still have been more useful if we'd had someone else teaching it. Firenze wasn't so bad."

"Useful's still a stretch," Ron said with an air of finality. "So how's Quidditch, Ginny?"

The group continued to chat and laugh long after they'd downed their second and third butterbeers. At various points in the conversation, Ginny entertained them all with accurate impressions of each of her professors, Hermione talked enthusiastically about her newly devised revising schedule, Harry rehashed his most recent attempt at cooking for himself, and Ron talked about the new products George was beginning to develop. It was only when Hermione checked her watch and saw that it was past five that their conversation came to a halt. Reluctantly, the four made their way out of the Three Broomsticks and onto the darkening street. In a fit of chivalry, Harry and Ron insisted that they walk the girls as far as the gates to the Hogwarts grounds, and neither Hermione nor Ginny put up much of a fight in opposition.

When at last they reached the gates, Hermione pulled Harry into a hug almost immediately while Ron threw an arm around his sister. "No need to get sentimental, eh?" he joked.

"You're a git," Ginny responded, but hugged him back all the same. "Write me soon and let me know how the shop's doing, yeah?"

"Sure," Ron agreed, making a mental note to ask Harry or Hermione to remind him to follow up on his promise. "I'll see if George wants to come round for your game next month, too."

"That'd be great," Ginny said, smiling. "Take care of yourself, big brother."

"You too," Ron replied. After checking that Harry and Hermione were still occupied with their goodbyes, he added, "And you know you can write me too. For the bad days or what not."

Ginny smiled again. "Thanks, Ron. You're not half bad."

"Same to you," Ron said, pulling her in for another quick hug. In a family of siblings that were close but not terribly sentimental, that was as much of an "I love you" as either of them was ever going to get out of the other, and they both liked it that way.

Next came the awkward business of trying to say goodbye to Hermione while thoroughly ignoring Harry's goodbye to Ginny. After much uncomfortable coughing on both sides, Ginny announced loudly that she had something to show Harry over by the Quidditch pitch, and this was accepted as truthful by all parties involved. It made the most sense anyways, Ron thought, since the "Chosen One" wasn't as likely to be reprimanded if he was found on the school grounds.

As Harry and Ginny rounded the corner and went out of sight, Hermione slipped her arms around Ron's torso and sighed heavily. "I guess it's goodbye again," she said.

"Hardly had time to say hello," he remarked sadly.

"I'm becoming one of those girls I always thought were pathetic," Hermione observed. "You know, the ones that moan about missing their boyfriends all the time."

"At least we're both pathetic then," Ron said with false enthusiasm. "Besides, it's different with us."

"How do you mean?"

"Nobody'd think you were pathetic for missing your best friend," Ron said, realizing a second late that his statement came out a lot sappier than he'd intended.

Hermione laughed shakily. "That's true." She gave a particularly loud sniff, and Ron pulled back to look at her, though their arms remained around each other. Oh, no. It was just as he feared. There were tears forming in the back of her eyes. It wasn't that he was still afraid of dealing with crying girls, although he was to an extent. No, his main concern was that her emotion would incite a similar reaction in him, and in his opinion, they really couldn't afford to spend their precious few moments together sobbing on each other. They'd had enough of that back in May and June, and Ron was sure there would be more of those days to come. He didn't want today to be one of them.

"Hey, it's not even a month until Ginny's Quidditch game," he said, sounding a lot more optimistic than he felt. "What's a month when we've gone six weeks?"

"Still too long," Hermione replied. "Just don't forget about me and run off with one of the shop girls." A few months ago, Ron might not have recognized the small sliver of truth in her worry. She hid it well, but he'd learned how to read her better than anyone.

"That'd never happen," he said confidently, "so I think we'll be alright, unless you're planning on leaving me for one of those Ravenclaw prats."

"The proper term is prefects," Hermione corrected softly with a smile, "and that won't happen either."

Ron kissed her then, softly and slowly. He wasn't going to leave this spot all night if he could help it. Unfortunately, Hermione foiled that plan when she pulled away a few minutes later.

"I ought to be getting back, before anyone misses me. All the students were meant to be back nearly ten minutes ago," she said reluctantly.

Ron didn't respond; he just pulled her into a tight embrace. It was cruel, he thought, to have to leave again after just a brief reminder of how much better life was with Hermione in it. He'd known he missed her, but it was as if he hadn't known how much until today. It was funny, he thought, how he'd spent the past seven years alternating between being scared of growing up and not being sure he'd ever actually get to be an adult, and now all he wanted was to have a normal life, to live in a normal home, go to a normal job, and spend all his free time with his not-quite-normal family, friends, and girlfriend.

"I've really got to go," Hermione whispered a few minutes later.

"Yeah," Ron replied reluctantly, loosening his grip and kissing her again. "I love you," he reminded her.

"I love you, too," she replied with a small smile. "I'll write before the weekend's up."

"Please do," he said. "Just a month, yeah?"

"Just a month," she replied, hugging him one last time. She then stood on her tiptoes and kissed him chastely on the mouth, and squeezed his hands once before finally letting go. "I'll see you soon."

"Yeah. Soon," he said. She smiled and turned on her heel to walk back to the castle. He watched her, waving back every time she turned around to look at him again, and then she was gone.

With a deep sigh, Ron turned on his heel and disapparated, finding himself at the edge of the wards surrounding the Burrow when he found his footing. A few feet away from him, he spotted Harry.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said sarcastically.

"Well, your mum would think something was wrong if we didn't show up," Harry replied as they began to make their way to the house, the wards having been charmed to allow them through.

"What does it say about us that she'd be more inclined to think we died than just decided to cook dinner for ourselves?" Ron asked, causing Harry to chuckle as they walked companionably toward what could be accurately described as both of their childhood homes.

And that night, as Ron ate a delicious home-cooked meal surrounded by his family and his best mate, he realized how lucky he was. After all, if he could survive a bloody war, he could surely get through another month of missing Hermione. Seeing her had reminded him of what he had to look forward to; and now he knew, life could only go up from here.

A/N: Fun fact about this chapter—I got major writer's block at several points while writing it and somehow still ended up with a 6,000 word fluffy monstrosity, which is maybe a little strange considering I could summarize this chapter with "Ron and Hermione snog and talk." It'd be lovely if you'd let me know what you thought of it. :)

A note: the Christmas party that Hermione alludes to is not going to be featured in this fic, but I am considering writing a one-shot about it at some point. If I do, I'll mention so in an author's note. It's funny how the process of writing one fic really just facilitates the writing of many, many, many fics. I have several one shot ideas that might also make an appearance at some point. Tis a slippery slope, or as HalfASlug put it, a cliff.

I've got more final exams starting tomorrow, so I'll be busy again. I do promise that the next chapter will appear by Christmas. Thanks again for reading!