A/N: Thank you all so much for the support you've given this story! You're all fantastic. Stay awesome.

FYI: I posted a one-shot a few days ago called "When the World Comes Undone." It's not nearly as fluffy as this story, but it is a Ron/Hermione piece and some of it was inspired from bits of this fic. So, it's there if you'd like to give it a read. :)

Disclaimer: Just checked and apparently J.K. Rowling still owns Harry Potter.

29 October 1999

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately to stay asleep but failing miserably. She'd been forced to take the day off because apparently it was against ministry policy to go more than three months without taking a personal day. Hermione considered this policy utterly ridiculous, but complied nonetheless in order to avoid trouble. It was all for naught, though; she'd woken up the second Ron had got out of bed to go to work, and her efforts to go back to sleep were failing miserably.

With her eyes still determinedly closed, Hermione listened as Ron padded around her bedroom for a bit before his footsteps began to move toward the kitchen. She would get up when he came back in for his shower after breakfast, she decided. She'd brought a bit of work home for the long weekend that she could get started on right away. Her supervisor couldn't possibly expect her to go an entire day without working, after all. She'd need to be caught up for Monday regardless of ministry attendance policies, and she wanted to get a bit of work done before spending time with her mum later.

After a surprisingly short amount of time, Hermione heard familiar footsteps coming back into the bedroom. They were moving quickly, too—Ron was practically running. "What's wrong?" she asked groggily, lifting her head to look at him. Ron was pale white and naked, save for a pair of maroon underwear he must've put on before leaving the room. (Hermione knew very well that he hadn't been wearing them when they'd gone to bed the night before.) He was wearing a mortified expression. "What's happened?" Hermione repeated, hoping to break through his shell-shocked demeanor.

"Hermione," Ron said, fear and mortification evident in his voice. "Your mum is in your kitchen."

"What?" Hermione stood up immediately, pretending not to notice (but really quite enjoying) the way Ron's eyes drifted immediately toward her naked body as she began to get dressed. "She wasn't meant to be here until lunchtime."

"Your mum is in your kitchen, and I was in my pants," Ron moaned.

"Ron—"

"I might as well have said, 'Hello Mrs. Granger! Do you like my penis? Your daughter certainly seemed to last night!'" Ron flopped back on the bed dramatically, covering his face with a stray cushion.

"I certainly hope you didn't say that," Hermione murmured, quickly running a comb through her hair. "I'm sure she won't make a big thing of it," she added comfortingly as Ron began to curl into the fetal position. She got only muffled groaning in response.

"I'm going to go to the kitchen now," Hermione announced, rolling her eyes as she snatched the cushion away from Ron. "Any chance you'll join me?"

"Are you joking? Not a one," Ron replied incredulously.

"You can't hide in here forever. She already knows you're here," Hermione sighed.

"Does the word 'stiffy' mean anything to you? I hadn't…you know, taken care of it yet!" he hissed.

"Oh honestly, I know it's a bit weird but that's a perfectly natural—"

"Can't expect me to look her in the eyes—"

"Ron. I know it's sort of embarrassing, but it's just my mum. Please." Hermione put on her best puppy-dog face, knowing he had a difficult time saying no to it. A perfectly fair tactic, she reckoned—he used the same maneuver several times a week.

"Fine. But I'm showering first," Ron conceded grumpily, sitting up.

"There's a good boyfriend." Hermione smiled, pecking him on the cheek before leaving the room and happily ignoring his mumbling complaints. Though she'd hidden it from Ron, she was a bit apprehensive about her mum walking in unannounced this morning, especially given the circumstances. However, Hermione was confident that her mum, at least, would approach the situation reasonably and tactfully.

"Morning, Mum. I didn't realize you were coming so early," Hermione said, squeezing the elder woman's shoulder in greeting as she entered the kitchen.

"Oh, I thought I might surprise you with a spot of breakfast in bed," Mum replied, looking up briefly from her cooking to smile at her daughter. "But I should've known you'd be up early, even if you've got the day off."

"I never could sleep in much past seven or eight," Hermione replied. "Do you need any help?"

"Oh no, dear, you sit down and relax. Now, when does Ron need to be into the office this morning?" Mum asked in an all-too-casual tone.

"He's got a briefing a little after eight," Hermione replied.

"Oh good, then he'll have time to eat as well," Mum said, opening the cupboard and pulling out three plates. She turned and looked at Hermione with a bit of a mischievous glint in her eye. "I see some things have changed since the last time I pestered you about your personal life."

"Yes," Hermione replied, a bit stiffly. "Ron's ever so embarrassed, Mum, please don't give him a hard time."

"You know I wouldn't," Mum scoffed, carefully scooping some eggs and sausage onto each of the plates. "Would you like some toast, dear?"

"Yes, please," Hermione replied. She took a deep breath before continuing, "I'm sorry, Mum, I didn't realize you'd be over for breakfast or I wouldn't have let Ron stay—"

"Don't apologize. You're a grown woman in your own home, and I've arrived unannounced," Mum answered, batting her hand at Hermione as if to throw off her apologies.

"Still must've been a bit weird for you," Hermione pointed out, reaching for her plate as Mum began to set the table.

"Well yes, I wasn't certainly wasn't expecting—but I'm sure it was worse for Ron," Mum said, taking a seat at the table. "Shall we wait for him, or does he take long showers?"

"He might this morning," Hermione muttered. "You're okay with this then, Mum?"

"Well, you're okay with it, yes?"

Hermione nodded. "More than okay."

"Then so am I," Mum smiled. "And he's certainly a handsome one, that man of yours."

"Mum!" Hermione shrieked.

"Do you not agree?" Mum asked, smirking.

"Of course I agree, but—Mum!" Hermione protested, beginning to feel Ron's mortification.

"Oh, let me have some fun dear. It's been ages since I've had someone to poke fun at; all my friends have been married a quarter century by now," Mum said. "I sound terribly old when I put it that way, don't I?"

"A bit," Hermione said solemnly. "If you can have your fun then I can have mine," she added primly as Mum shook her head, pretending to be offended.

The women's laughter was interrupted by an awkward cough as Ron, now fully clothed in his black Auror robes, entered the kitchen. He stopped abruptly in the doorway, eyeing Hermione warily.

"My mum's made breakfast," Hermione said cheerily, gesturing for him to sit next to her at the table.

"Thank you, Mrs. Granger," Ron said stiffly, crossing the room and taking his seat. Hermione noticed that he was making a point to be polite, taking small bites and chewing with his mouth closed. She smiled to herself—perhaps there were some perks to her mum's unexpected presence this morning.

"Long shift today, Ron?" Mum asked conversationally.

"Short, actually," he answered. "I'm normally there til six, but as it's the weekend they're planning to let me leave around five, provided the raid goes well."

"Which it should, as they're fairly routine, correct?" Hermione interjected, picking up on the bit of worry that showed on her mother's face.

"Yeah. Robards and Price have got the domestic raids down to a science," Ron said, reaching for the jam and spreading it on two slices of toast—one for each of them, as was his routine. Hermione smiled, grateful for her mother's relaxed demeanor. Because of it, Ron seemed to have got over his previous embarrassment fairly quickly, though she could still detect a blush on his cheeks.

"I suppose they must," Mum said, smiling as she watched Hermione accept one of the slices of toast from Ron. "Do the two of you have any plans tonight?"

"I'm going to theirs once they're done working," Hermione answered. "Harry's going to try to cook for us, apparently."

Ron snorted. "I think he's gone mental. Do you know he actually went grocery shopping the other day?"

"How else would one get groceries?" Hermione asked, rolling her eyes.

Ron rolled his eyes right back at her. "I don't mean popping out to grab what you need. I mean right proper grocery shopping! He was out for nearly two hours. And he bought three cookbooks! Mental, I'm telling you."

"Ginny's been gone nearly two weeks," Hermione explained to Mum. "She normally gets weekends off at least, but Gwenog Jones—that's the coach of her squad—has just got that position and probably wants to prove her worth, so the team's been training non-stop."

"I'm sure Harry must miss her terribly," Mum remarked.

"Yes, he does, though he'll never admit it, of course," Hermione said. "Men and their emotions, you know."

"Oi, I resent that!" Ron protested.

Hermione ignored him. "At any rate, he's taken up cooking, though neither of us are sure why. Harry's never been particularly domestic."

"He's barmy," Ron repeated. "I watched everything he drank for days because I was so convinced he was Polyjuiced."

"What's Polyjuiced?" Mum asked curiously.

"Erm…it's a potion. If brewed properly, you can masquerade as another person for one hour," Hermione said delicately. "It's not exactly legal anymore."

"Ah." To her credit, Mum always did her best not to look alarmed when she learned something new about the magical world. Hermione had come to terms long ago with the fact that her parents would likely never understand many of the things she considered part of her daily existence, and they had a silent agreement to maintain the delicate balance between the magical and muggle aspects of her life.

Ron coughed again. "Well, it's about that time," he said awkwardly, taking his dish to the sink and using a self-cleaning charm on it. Hermione winced as Mum's eyes widened at the blatant use of magic.

Ron realized his mistake a second late, but Hermione shook her head slightly; it was best not to make a big deal of it. "I'll come to yours around five-thirty, if that's alright?" she asked, standing and brushing a bit of lint off his shoulder.

"I'll send my Patronus if they need me to stay late," he replied. He turned to glance at her mum, who was tactfully facing the opposite direction, before kissing Hermione quickly on the lips. She smiled and pulled him into a hug.

"Be careful. Love you," she whispered in his ear.

"Always am. Love you, too." He squeezed her lightly before stepping back from the embrace. "Thanks for breakfast, Mrs. Granger," he called politely as he made his way to the fireplace.

"Of course, Ron. Have a good day!" Mum replied, placing the now clean dishes back in the cupboard.

"Same to the both of you," Ron said, giving Hermione a mock-salute before taking a handful of Floo Powder and throwing it into the fireplace. "The Ministry!" he shouted, before stepping in and disappearing.

"Oh dear, I always forget you lot can do that," Mum said, joining her daughter in the sitting room, which was really just an extension of the kitchen.

"You know perfectly well that I got a fireplace installed for the sole purpose of using the Floo network," Hermione reminded her.

"Yes, but all the same. Magic really is brilliant, if not a bit scary," Mum said. "Now, I was hoping we could go to some shops in London today, if you'd be alright with that."

"Okay, but I need a quick shower first," Hermione replied. She didn't particularly like shopping, but Mum had always loved doing "girly" things together and Hermione could never help but to indulge her. After all, when she was younger, she and Mum had spent just as much time in libraries as they had in clothing shops. The Granger women were nothing if not fair—in most circumstances, anyway.

Once Hermione had showered and dressed properly, they were off. Mum had apparently set out with an agenda—there were no less than six shops on her list, and she seemed determined to hit all of them before lunch. While some of their stops were errands she needed to run, Mum seemed to be most interested in persuading Hermione to try on various dresses and outfits that suited her fancy. It amused Hermione, sometimes, how her mum seemed to be a strange mix of her silly schoolmates and a reasonable woman. Other times, it simply irritated her. Today was somewhere in between, though the longer they were out, the more cross Hermione became. They were out for over five hours before they finally stopped for lunch, each holding several bags and nearly stumbling into a small pub that a starved and exhausted Hermione had spotted and loudly pointed out.

"So," Mum began once they'd summoned a waiter and ordered their lunches, "am I allowed to ask you about Ron again?"

"You can ask whatever you'd like, but I can't guarantee I'll answer," Hermione replied reasonably.

"I don't suppose you'll tell me how long it's been, then?"

Hermione pursed her lips, not having to ask to what her mother was referring. "About a month."

"And he's always respectful, yes?"

"Of course."

Mum smiled. "I had no doubts. He seems quite the gentleman when it comes down to it."

Hermione snorted a bit. "Perhaps in some ways, but not in most respects, I assure you. He makes an extra effort around you and Dad, too."

"That shows he respects us too, then," Mum said wisely. "Or at least fears us, both of which are good things."

The corner of Hermione's mouth twitched.

"Does it really bother you to talk about it with me, dear?" Mum continued.

"It's just a bit strange," Hermione replied carefully. "I don't really talk about it much, especially not to my mum."

"Not to your girlfriends?" Mum asked, smiling and thanking the waiter as he returned with their lunches.

"That's mostly just Ginny," Hermione answered once they'd begun to eat, "and she doesn't fancy hearing much about my romantic relationship with her brother, as I'm sure you can imagine."

"Well, I'd love to hear about it if you'd like, you know that," Mum continued. "I can't relate too well to much of your life, Hermione, but I understand things like this. Relationships and the like are universal, magic or not."

Hermione wasn't sure if the guilt trip was intentional, but she instantly felt a desire to share as much as she could. She'd kept so much from her mother over the years, though she'd wanted to let her in. Now, she finally had the opportunity. "What do you want to know?" she finally conceded.

"You never told me about the first time he kissed you," Mum pointed out. "I'm sure that must have a story to it, and I'd bet it's a better one than the time that Crummy boy kissed you."

Hermione smiled shyly. "I kissed him first."

Mum chortled. "Of course you did."

"We were about to fight for Hogwarts, actually," Hermione said seriously. "We weren't sure how it would turn out, and we were both scared out of our minds, but he'd been right there with me the whole night. And then he said something about the house elves, and you know I've spent years going on about them. I never thought he was listening, but he was and he was just so him about it, and I wasn't sure if it'd be my last chance—so I ran at him and just kissed him."

Mum smiled broadly. "And did he kiss you back?"

"Yes, he did," Hermione replied politely. "He literally lifted me off my feet, actually."

"He is quite tall," Mum remarked.

Hermione giggled. "Want to know something else?" At Mum's nod, she continued: "Harry was there."

Mum laughed merrily. "Oh, but of course. And how did that go over?"

"I think he had to shout at us about focusing for a good while before we even heard him," Hermione admitted with a chuckle, finding her mum's laughter infectious and this foreign concept of "girl-talk" rather fun.

"And you've been together since?"

"Basically. It wasn't really official til about a week after the fact, but there was so much else going on."

"I imagine," Mum nodded knowingly. "And how did it become official?"

"He kissed me," Hermione said, smiling at the memory—that day in general had been terrible, but that moment had meant the world. "Twice. And then it stopped mattering who kissed whom because we both wanted to kiss each other, a lot."

"It's lovely to see you so happy, dear. You must know that's all I want, to know that you're happy," Mum said, reaching across the table to grasp Hermione's hand.

"I'm very happy," Hermione admitted, blushing. "He's my best friend. I can be my whole self around him, Mum, and he still wants to be around me. Sometimes that still amazes me."

"That's the way it should be," Mum replied warmly. "You're a beautiful, incredible person, Hermione."

Hermione tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "You're my mum, you're meant to say that."

"But Ron's not," Mum reminded her.

"Exactly," Hermione said, giggling. She was quite certain her past self would have chastised her for getting all girly over the fact that a boy thought she was pretty, but she couldn't bring herself to care. After all, the Hermione from two years ago hadn't expected to be alive by now, let alone in a pub with her mother, who remembered exactly who she was, sharing details about her boyfriend, who just so happened to be Ron Weasley.

Hermione and her mum stayed in the pub long after they finished their lunches, chatting away like they hadn't in ages. Afterward, they began to make their way back to Hermione's flat, multiple shopping bags in tow. They separated once they reached the place Mum had parked her car.

"Do come round for dinner next weekend, will you?" Mum asked as she hugged Hermione close.

"Of course. I'll phone you in a few days," Hermione replied.

"And please do bring Ron, but I'd suggest you make sure he's dressed. I don't think your father would have a particularly favorable reaction to the contrary," Mum teased, winking.

"Oh, ha," Hermione rolled her eyes and blushed. "I love you, Mum."

"I love you too, darling," Mum replied. "Have a good evening, and send my love to Harry and Ron."

"Will do," Hermione smiled, turning on her heel and walking the short way to her building. It really had been a lovely day, she thought as she began to climb the stairs. She'd had a very close relationship with her mum before she went to Hogwarts, and she was glad that they were beginning to reconnect. Though they'd never truly disconnected, she supposed, they were finally getting back to where they'd once been, and Hermione couldn't be happier. Still grinning as she reached her door, she turned the key in the lock and opened it to find a certain red-headed man sitting at the kitchen table.

"Oh! Hello, Ron. You gave me a bit of a fright. It's only four o'clock," she exclaimed, setting her bags down on the couch. Only then did she notice that he was resting his head in his hands with a morose expression on his face. "Ron, what's wrong?"

He looked up suddenly, as if he'd just noticed her presence. Without a word, he stood up and crossed the room in three strides before pulling Hermione into a fierce hug. She immediately returned his embrace, grasping the back of his shirt as they began to sway slightly. "Tough raid," she heard him say into her hair. She nodded and rubbed his back comfortingly. She knew better than to ask what had happened; Hermione had learned early on that even if he wanted to talk about it, the Aurors weren't allowed to say much about the cases they worked until all the paperwork had been filed.

She wasn't sure how long they stood there, holding each other in the middle of her flat. But a few minutes later, she felt the tell-tale lips on her neck. A grin spread across her face as Ron planted soft kisses on her neck, her chin, her cheek, her nose, and finally, her mouth. As much as she enjoyed their heated snogging (and shagging, if she was being honest), Hermione appreciated these slow, relatively chaste kisses just as much. She smiled against his mouth as she kissed him back, feeling incredibly lucky to be in love with this man.

They broke apart a couple minutes later, and Hermione gestured toward the table. "Sit down and I'll make you some tea."

"Thanks, love," he responded. She could sense the weariness in his voice as he once again rested his head in his hands. "How was your day with your mum?"

"Very good," Hermione said honestly. "She talked me into buying a new dress," she added, deciding to try to take his mind off whatever had happened in the office earlier.

"Yeah?"

"Yes, and of course I've got nowhere to wear it, but she convinced me nonetheless. Perhaps to the Ministry's holiday party; we'll both be invited this year, you know. It's a nice navy blue, it'll probably go nicely with your eyes."

"And why does your dress need to match my eyes?" Ron asked. Hermione turned from the stove to face him for a moment and was glad to see an amused glint in his eye.

"It doesn't, but that was one of the reasons Mum told me to buy it," she replied.

Ron chuckled quietly. "Your mum's a bit mental. Must be where you get it from."

"Perhaps," Hermione said lightly. "At any rate, I had a good day."

"Good," Ron said. There was a comfortable silence for a few moments as Hermione finished with the tea and brought two cups to the table. Ron took a sip from his, and Hermione was glad to see his facial features immediately relax as he swallowed the beverage. "Ginny's back in town, by the way," Ron said suddenly, as if he'd only just remembered.

"Oh, good! When did she get back?" Hermione asked.

"Earlier today. She won't be around much until Sunday though. She surprised us at lunch, but had to get back to the team by mid-afternoon. They're training in the same stadium as the English national team tonight and tomorrow." Hermione could detect a hint of jealousy on Ron's face as he finished his statement. At least the Harpies and the Cannons weren't sharing practice space; in that case Ron would likely drop everything to go and "support his sister."

"Well, I'm glad. For Harry, too."

"Yeah, I knew he was beginning to lose it the second he bought cookbooks. He's starting the lasagne now, by the way. Should be ready a little after five. Oh, and Fleur's pregnant."

Hermione nearly spit out her tea. "Fleur's pregnant?"

"Yeah, Ginny stopped by the Burrow this morning and Mum was all a twitter with baby stuff," Ron said, pulling a face.

"That's so exciting! Do you know when she's due?"

"Erm…spring sometime, I think? Keep it quiet, though. I think they're announcing it to everyone else later this weekend," Ron said, taking another large sip of his tea. "This is good, by the way."

"Are you not excited to be an uncle?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Course I am. Just a lot on my mind," Ron said vaguely.

"Of course, sorry," Hermione said, but Ron waved off her apologies. Nevertheless, she rose and moved to stand behind his chair, then began to lightly run her fingers through his hair. She'd learned a few months back that he was quite partial to these scalp massages, though she wasn't entirely sure why. But the desired result was achieved; he sighed and relaxed into her touch.

"Nobody was hurt," Ron said after awhile, breaking the silence that had fallen a few minutes prior. "Close, though. And the blokes we were after weren't in good shape either."

"At least you're all fine now, yeah?" Hermione offered optimistically.

"Yeah, just makes you think," Ron said cryptically. Hermione made a sympathetic noise and continued her ministrations. Several minutes later, she leaned down and kissed the top of his head. He reached around with one of his hands and tousled her hair affectionately. "You're the best," he said lazily.

"You're not half bad yourself," Hermione responded warmly, taking their teacups to the sink to be washed. When she turned back around, Ron's eyes were glued to her. She recognized this look—it was similar to the expression he adopted when he was studying the chess board in order to determine his next move. This particular look, however, was filled with the sort of tenderness that made her heart skip a beat. "What is it?" she asked, a bit breathlessly.

"Hermione," Ron began in a gravelly voice. He shook his head quickly as if to clear it, and then rose to stand in front of her. He took her hands in his and met her eyes. She was a little surprised by the intensity she found there. She could feel her cheeks getting darker as she stood there—the effect he had on her sometimes was ridiculous, if she did say so herself. In fact, if it weren't so clear he had something to say, she probably would have already jumped him. But instead, she met his gaze and waited, patiently yet expectantly.

"Hermione," he said again, breaking eye contact and looking down at their joined hands. "I—you know I don't like to do feelings and shite."

"Clearly not," she quipped. He shot her an exasperated look. "Sorry."

"What I mean to say is…I just want you to know that you—" he stopped and raised his eyes again, looking searchingly into hers. He seemed to gain the confidence he needed, because a second later he continued in what was nearly a whisper: "You're it for me, Hermione."

Hermione breathed in sharply. "Oh, Ron—"

"No, let me finish," he insisted. "I got to thinking today, after everything at work went to hell. Thinking about what I want, mostly. And I was just thinking—I want to buy you a ring someday. A proper diamond." He stopped and gulped. "If you want, that is—"

Hermione fought to regain her power of speech as she noticed that Ron was looking at her anxiously, the bits of insecurity he would likely never lose apparent in his eyes. "I—I'd want."

"Would you…" Ron trailed off, biting his lip thoughtfully.

"Would I?" she prompted.

Ron took a deep breath and nodded his head as if he were making a sort of decision. "Hermione Jean. Do you think—maybe—when I buy you this ring, and I ask you to wear it…I'm gonna ask you to wear it forever. And I was just wondering…will you? Someday, that is?"

"Yes. Yes, I think I would. Someday," Hermione said softly. She could feel tears pricking at the edges of her eyes. "You—you're it for me too, you know."

A slow grin spread across Ron's face. "So...you're saying you'll hypothetically say yes…someday?"

"I think that's exactly what I'm saying," Hermione replied, going up on her tiptoes in order to place her hands on Ron's shoulders. His moved automatically to her waist, keeping her in place as she tried to keep her balance while solving the problem of their height difference.

"Will you stay at mine tonight?" Ron murmured. "Harry might like to have some company for once, but I'm not prepared to sleep alone to ensure that happens."

"Of course," Hermione agreed. "But keep in mind that it's only sleeping when Harry's in the next room over."

Ron stuck out his lower lip in mock disappointment. "Not even snogging?"

"I'm about to snog you now, if you hadn't noticed," she smirked.

But he beat her to it—he kissed her full on the mouth, and they were very pleasantly occupied for an indefinite amount of time. The next time Hermione was fully aware of her thoughts, she was somehow sat atop the kitchen counter with Ron standing between her legs, hands on her thighs as he kissed her neck purposefully.

"We should probably—Harry's waiting," she pointed out, too caught up in Ron to bother stringing together a coherent sentence.

"Let him," Ron murmured against her shoulder. "He's got all night to feed us lasagne and play endless rounds of chess. It's not every day you say that you'd someday hypothetically agree to marrying me, after all." He then returned his lips to hers, which was an argument she simply couldn't refute.

Hermione was passionate about a great many things, but when she kissed him back, it was with a passion she reserved solely for these purposes. Throughout their whole conversation tonight—their whole relationship, actually—this was the first time Ron had said any version of the word "marry." That alone made the whole discussion seem very real. She knew Ron had been serious, of course. Ron Weasley was not the type to joke around about commitment, after all. But still, this was the first time they'd really acknowledged the path they were headed down, and to Hermione, that meant the world—and perhaps, it was worth it to be a little late to dinner.

A/N: Hello, fluffy. By the way – the title of this chapter is "The First Proposal." I just didn't want to put that at the top and ruin the surprise.

Apologies that this is up a little later than I originally expected. Life was being lifey, and I went through a bit of a rut at the beginning of the week during which I didn't feel much like writing/editing. I think it's safe to say this fic will see updates once a week at the very least – but I'm hoping to start updating once every 4-5 days again, like I was at the beginning.

I thank you once again for your continued support. It means a lot to know that people enjoy reading my silly head canons. :) Let me know what you thought if you've got a minute!