Chapter 6: At the Flat
Ron came in loudly as was his way, kicking the door shut haphazardly behind him as he dropped the Muggle post onto the small table in the entryway bearing their wedding photos. Then he shrugged off his bag, letting it land with a thud on the creaky wood floor of the tiny space that passed for the foyer.
Hermione lay atop the bed, pretending to sleep, as Ron moved methodically across the room, shedding his auror robes and shoes along the way in a daily ritual she'd come to know by heart. She smiled when she felt his weight hit the bed and he scrambled up the length of her body, coming to rest nearly fully on top of her, his face just inches from her own.
Hermione opened her eyes slowly, enjoying the view, as he grinned at her in that patently Ron way that still made her heart beat double-time.
"And you are?" she asked, a quizzical look on her face.
Ron rolled his eyes, and his smile broadened. He moved one hand up to cradle her face, the other to cup her breast.
"If you don't know by now, we've got a problem."
"We've got a problem, alright," Hermione said, grinning at him and moving her arms up to encircle his body.
"Hi," he said quietly, dropping a soft kiss on her mouth.
"Hey," she replied contentedly.
"Did you sleep?"
"Too much."
"No such thing, Hermione," Ron said pointedly. "How's the case coming?"
Hermione groaned loudly in response.
"That bad, eh?"
"Don't ask," she said, sighing.
It felt like months she'd been at it, puzzling over a particularly vexing case Kingsley had assigned her, the very first case she'd be handling on her own. Poring over legal texts at the Ministry for days, she'd been unable to reconcile the conflicting information found within the law library's different volumes. She'd toted those same books home every night, piling up so many of them that by weekends they'd occupy every inch of space atop the small kitchen table.
"Kingsley's going to sack me," she'd fretted aloud to Ron after two weeks of frustration.
"Kingsley is not going to sack you, Hermione," he'd assured her. "He'd be crazy to."
"It's two weeks now, and I don't have it figured."
"If you can't figure it, then it can't be figured."
"A lot you know about it."
"I know that much."
After "seventeen days!" of getting precisely nowhere, Hermione had become so distressed by her lack of progress, she was barely sleeping. Noting her chronic exhaustion, Ron had finally put his foot down, insisting she spend that June Friday tucked away at home in bed.
"Nobody can go this long without proper sleep!" he'd argued, ignoring her loud assertions that she was "perfectly capable" of going to work that day and threatening to hex her if she stepped a foot out the door.
Their row had culminated in an unexpected outburst from Ron that had had Hermione smiling all day.
"I am your husband, and I'm putting my foot down!' Ron had bellowed suddenly after ten minutes of debating had gotten him no closer to his goal.
They'd both stopped in mid-row then, staring at each other, a light blush creeping to their faces.
Then, as if on cue, they'd erupted in laughter.
"Was that too much?" he'd asked her, looking shy suddenly.
"A bit... But I liked it."
"Me, too," he'd said, grinning. "So does that mean you're staying home?" His tone was so hopeful.
She'd huffed and rolled her eyes.
"It's one day, Hermione. You need it.. Please."
Touched by his concern, she'd relented at last.
"Okay," she'd said, enjoying the way his face lit up in reaction. "I mean if my husband wants me to."
He'd blushed crimson at that, and she'd loved it.
And he'd been right, too, Ron, her husband, about just how much she needed a day off. After seeing him off to the Ministry, she'd slept the morning away, rising around 1pm to attempt to get back to work at the kitchen table.
"I know what'll fix you up," Ron said now as they lay comfortably together on the bed in early evening. Backing off of her, he took her hands in his and attempted to pull her up and off of the bed with him.
Hermione groaned in protest as his weight left her body, clutching tightly to his hands and attempting to force him back down to her.
"Can't you fix me up right here?"
Ron let his eyes drift slowly down her body.
"Later," he said, his blue eyes boring into hers as her stomach did a backflip and he pulled her reluctantly from the bed. "First, we eat."
Once they were vertical again, Ron wrapped his arms around her from behind and walked her over to the bag he'd discarded just inside the front door.
"I actually remembered to fetch the groceries today, if you can believe it," he said, releasing her and stooping to retrieve his leather satchel.
"You're on your game today, sir."
"I do have my moments."
Placing his satchel on the kitchen counter, Ron unzipped it and retrieved from its depths a flimsy plastic shopping bag the two of them pulled open. Removing bread, a block of cheese, and a pack of biscuits from the bag, he turned to fetch milk, eggs, butter, and a single large tomato from the narrow refrigerator.
Hermione snatched the pack of biscuits from the counter and chucked it backhanded across the room, smiling as it landed with a soft thud in the middle of the bed.
"No biscuits for you until after supper, young man."
"Yes, Mum."
Standing close to Ron at the kitchen counter, Hermione felt around inside the shopping bag for any remaining items. Pulling out a thick stack of familiar colorful cards, she smiled broadly and rolled her eyes.
"You know, Ron, they'll GIVE you our Chocolate Frog cards, the people who make them," she said, grinning at him. "You don't have buy up scores of these in hopes of stumbling upon our three."
Ron shrugged. "It's more fun to get them the regular way."
"Even if it means spending our life savings?"
"If need be," he said grinning.
Hermione shook her head. "Bloody hell," she muttered under her breath so quietly she was confident he hadn't heard her. She'd decided a swear didn't count if nobody could hear it. It was taxing enough trying never to swear with the constant influence of the always-colorful Weasleys.
"What was that you said?" Ron asked looking delighted, clearly onto her.
"Not a thing."
"Right."
Deciding to let it go apparently, he grabbed a pan from a cabinet above the stove and began coating its cooking surface with the end of a stick of butter.
"How about a couple of those cheese omelets your Dad taught us?"
"YES," Hermione said, nodding happily and managing not to comment on the rather uneven job he'd done with the buttering. She was getting better at that all the time, she noted inwardly with a smile, "giving that lovely boy a break," as her Mum put it.
Ron cracked the eggs directly into the pan instead of mixing them up separately in a bowl. Looking on with a grimace, Hermione sighed and bit her lip but didn't say a word.
Eager for a distraction, she reached for the block of cheese and steered the conversation in a new direction.
"You know, I'm never going to sleep tonight after sleeping all day," she said glumly, chewing on a bit of cheddar cheese she'd pinched off the side of the block.
Leaning down to drop a soft kiss on her forehead, Ron noted her still peaky appearance. "Sure you will," he said pointedly. "You're exhausted, Hermione."
Turning back to the stove, Ron poured a little milk into the pan, then deftly mixed the soupy mess into a frothy foam. Hermione couldn't help but be impressed.
"We've got the whole weekend to get you sorted," he added.
"If you say so."
"I do."
Five minutes later, Hermione was seated at the small kitchen table, halfway through the nearly perfect cheese omelet Ron had prepared.
"Good?" he asked, grinning over his shoulder at her before setting to work on an omelet of his own.
"Heaven," she replied, smiling at him gratefully, then dispensing with what remained of the omelet in two giant bites.
"I think my table manners are rubbing off on you," Ron observed, looking amused.
"Perish the thought," she said thickly through her mouthful of eggs.
"Now I know I'm rubbing off on you!" Ron declared triumphantly, her attempt at speech with a mouth full of omelet providing the proof.
"Next it'll be your robes all over the floor," he added, grinning.
Hermione attempted to look disapproving despite her smile. "Not in this lifetime," she said, still chewing.
She couldn't lay off him completely after all; It just wasn't them. She kept him sorted.
Hermione eyed Ron's auror robes where he'd dropped them unceremoniously to the floor a foot from the chair where she neatly deposited her dress clothes after work each day. She jerked her thumb in the direction of his discarded clothing and cut her eyes at him.
"Do you never manage to hit the chair, Ronald?"
"Not so far."
Hermione laughed out loud, feeling warmed by Ron's toothy grin and chuckle in response.
They were still in mid-chuckle when a brilliant white light taking the form of a stag broke forth suddenly near the foot of the bed, startling them both. A few seconds later, Harry's voice began echoing through the room:
"Sorry to muck up your weekend, mate, but it's about that baddie we tracked up to Manchester. We've got a sighting on him and a possible location. Shouldn't take too long to grab him, just a day or two if our intelligence is good. We'll be back in time for Sunday dinner at your Mum's. Give my apologies to Hermione, and meet me quick as you can at the Ministry. Thanks, mate."
Harry's bright stag faded, and a heavy silence filled the room. Hermione stared numbly after Harry's patronus, then cast a mournful look in Ron's direction.
"He's the Death Eater, right?" she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "The one in Manchester?"
Ron nodded.
Hermione swallowed hard and bit her lip, turning her head away and blinking rapidly.
Ron moved to her and gently pulled her from the chair and into his arms. She wrapped herself around him as he held her snug against his chest, his face nestled against her hair, her face tucked into the hollow of his neck.
"Sorry to run out on you," he whispered, regret heavy in his voice.
"I know you are."
After standing together for nearly a minute, Hermione pulled away from him slowly, fishing his robes from the floor, then sliding her hand into an interior pocket and pulling out a flip-style mobile phone.
She groaned. "Ron, you've left it open again!"
Ron looked at her quizzically.
"The battery's run down," she said grimly, trying to ignore an irrational ripple of panic rising within her. Moving to her small desk, she set the phone down and began going quickly through the drawers. "Where did we put the spare battery?"
"The what?"
Hermione sighed. The nuances of Muggle technology were still utterly lost on Ron, despite the fact that he'd been carrying the phone around for half a year. He still jumped a foot in the air every time the "sodding little thing" sounded off.
"Found it!" Hermione announced with relief, fishing the battery from a bottom drawer then turning back from the desk to face Ron again. She switched out the battery, then flipped the phone over and began running through its menu.
"I'm setting the ringer on vibrate. In case it goes off when you and Harry are in a tight spot."
"What?"
"The phone will vibrate, not ring, when I call you."
"Okay."
Hermione moved to him. "Promise me, Ron," she said looking up into his face and feeling emotional suddenly. "Promise me you'll answer it when I call you. As long as it's safe for you to talk. And that you'll remember to keep the phone closed, to save on the battery."
"I will," he said quietly, running a soft hand down the side of her face, touched by her concern.
Hermione nodded, swiping vaguely at her eyes. Fetching the pack of biscuits from the bed, she slipped them into his robes' interior pocket along with the phone.
Ron tucked in his shirt and straightened his tie, wriggling his way back into his shoes with a heavy sigh, then reaching for his robes.
Hermione turned to retrieve an overnight bag from the closet they kept packed for such occasions, then moved to the kitchen. Grabbing the bread and cheese from the counter, she quickly added crisps, two apples, and a bottle of water to the collection of items in her arms.
She was just about to grab the Chocolate Frog cards, when Ron's hand was suddenly on top of hers.
"We'll open them together," he said, looking into her eyes. "Once I'm home."
"Okay," she said smiling up at him, warmed by his tacit promise.
Turning to his overnight bag, Hermione unzipped the main compartment and lovingly tucked the food inside.
"Don't forget to eat, okay?"
"When has that ever been a problem?"
Hermione smiled broadly at Ron's comment and turned back to face him, sighing as she caught sight of his necktie. She cut her eyes at him teasingly as her hands moved up to loosen and undo the lopsided knot.
"Why is it you never manage to tie this thing correctly?"
"Then there'd be no need for you to do it."
Hermione broke into a wide smile.
"You like that, huh?" Ron said, enjoying her reaction.
"I don't hate it."
They chuckled together, Ron grinning down at her as Hermione made swift work of his tie.
"Better?" he asked, as she smoothed the creases from his shirt.
"Very handsome," she replied, smiling up at him.
Ron blushed noticeably, still unable to quite believe any positive assessment of his looks.
"You're cracked," he stammered.
Hermione laughed out loud. "I am indeed," she said. "But it also happens to be true."
"If I could have one person think that, it'd be you."
"Well," she said softly, moving her face close to his, "mission accomplished then," she breathed against his lips just before she kissed him.
The kiss was slow and loving, her arms moving to encircle his body, his hands rising to tenderly cup her face as her mouth moved against his. When they broke apart finally, Ron wrapped her in a tight embrace, lowering his head to rest gently on top of hers.
"I love you more than anything," he whispered to her softly.
"That's how much I love you."
They stood in silence holding each other until Hermione forced herself finally to pull away. Reaching for Ron's overnight bag and satchel, she raised the straps over his head then lowered them diagonally across his body, flattening them lovingly with the palm of her hand against his broad chest.
"I'm proud of you," she said softly, looking up into his eyes.
After a last look and brave smiles from them both, he was gone, off to continue the fight they'd begun long ago. With a troll in a bathroom and a pint-sized defender with a messy head of red hair. The fight that had started them, saved their world, and made the sweetness of their union possible.
A/N - Thanks so much for the lovely reviews! They're appreciated. More chapters to come..