Dinner was… awkward. Ron was still angry at his mother. He couldn't understand why she made such a big deal about them arriving a few minutes later. Hermione, Harry, and he had been left to their own devices for a good part of a year, so why was his mother suddenly having a fit about it now? He supposed she might worry about them being attacked by run-away Death Eaters, but he thought that unlikely. Voldemort was gone, and this time, everyone knew it was for good. Known Death Eaters had largely been rounded up (ironically enough with methods quite like the snatchers used to round up muggle-born wizards), and those in hiding would gain nothing by attacking them. Ron was quite sure they were safe.

His mother hadn't said a word all afternoon, except for minimal directions to keep everyone on their chores (Clean shed! Wipe table! Fold laundry!), and had been furiously chopping vegetables and potatoes when preparing dinner. Ron had not sighted Hermione until dinner was announced. She had been kept busy upstairs with Ginny, first cleaning Ginny's room, then moving on to clean the bathroom.

When they finally came down, he saw that Hermione was looking fatigued. Her hair was in complete disarray, and her cheeks were red from exertion. His mother rounded on her immediately.

'Hermione, dear, ' she said, a warm smile on her face, 'Why don't you come and sit down over here?' His mother indicated a seat on the other side of the table from Ron, next to Bill and their father's usual seat. George and Bill both looked at their mother with raised eyebrows. Knowing Hermione would not soon go against his mother's wishes, she meekly did as she was told, glancing at Ron as she sat down with a resigned look in her eyes. Ron, meanwhile, felt his anger rise again, but did not say anything. He simply got up and walked around the table, sitting down in his father's seat. George, who had just gotten down from his room took in the situation and a sly smile of anticipation spread on his face.

'Ronald,' his mother said in a restrained voice, 'You know that is your father's seat. Please sit down in your own seat.'

'Mother,' Ron said, his temper barely under control, 'If Hermione isn't seated in her usual place between me and Ginny, why should I take my own seat?'

Just as his mother was about to reply, the fireplace roared in green flames. His father stepped out gingerly, brushing off soot carefully to keep it from getting onto the food. He surveyed the situation. It was clear that he realized something was wrong. His eyes darted across the room, and the fact that Ron was seated in his usual chair did not evade him. There was a moment of silence before he spoke.

'Dinner looks lovely, Molly,' he said, walking up to Ron's usual seat and sitting down there. 'Did you finally clean your room, Ginny?' he asked, as he reached for the potatoes. 'Pass the gravy bowl please, Harry.'

This diffused what could have become an ugly situation, but did little to help relieve the awkwardness between the family members. Ron and his mother, now seated next to each other, chose to adamantly ignore each other. Bill sat eating in silence, his eyes darting from one family member to the next. Harry and Ginny seemed to be trying to make themselves unnoticed. Ginny had not spoken more than three words all through dinner. George was clearly enjoying himself. He was joking under his breath. Harry, who say nearest to him, had been stifling his laughter desperately. His father was making small talk, but it became more and more forced as time progressed. Ron had just filled his plate with a second helping when his father broke the silence once again.

'So Ron,' his father said, 'You and Hermione went to visit mister Ollivander today, no?'

'Yes,' Ron said, feeling his mother tense next to him, 'He insisted that we would be the first people to get a wand from him after the battle.' His father seemed genuinely interested, so Ron continued, 'His store was rather beat up. Death Eaters had tried to torch the place in his absence. Half the boxes were charred or singed, and the other half was soggy.'

His father nodded. 'Oh well,' he said soberly, 'At least he still has his inventory. Wands don't come cheap, and he has quite a few of them. Thieves and vandals are always on the lookout for weaknesses in a wand shop. Did you both find a suitable wand?'

'Yes,' Hermione said. She had been quiet and inconspicuous all through dinner, not speaking unless directly addressed. Ron had taken her hand in his, and though that made eating with only a fork in his wrong hand a rather difficult affair, it was completely worth it; his mother had hissed in repressed fury. 'Mister Ollivander first tried to find a wand for Ron, but after about half an hour, he decided to find one for me too.'

'He tried to find a wand for both of you at the same time?' his father asked, 'Doesn't that make it needlessly more complex?'

'He went to a shelve in the back, and got a lot of boxes, each containing two wands,' Hermione said, 'He said they were wands made of the same materials.'

This seemed to cause a bit of a stir. Bill turned in his seat, his eyes wide. His father's mouth opened once, twice, without producing a sound.

'He tried to fix you with bonded wands?' his mother said, apparently all animosity forgotten.

'I'm not sure if he actually called them that,' Ron said, 'But he did mention something about them sharing the same materials and them having a connection.'

'And did Ollivander find you a pair of bonded wands that suited?' she asked, in a tone that did little to betray her doubt of it.

'Yes, he did,' Ron said, as he took out his new wand. Hermione followed suit. They put them together on the table, between the salad and a plate of sausages. 'Spruce wood with Veela hair core. Mine is just short of fourteen inches, and hers is just over ten and a half.'

'He sold you a pair of bonded wands?' his father said, 'You two?'

'Yes,' Ron said, not really understanding what the fuss was about. His father glanced to his mother, exchanging a wild look not so much of concern as of uncertainty. Bill, who seemed to sense his brother's confusion, leaned in to examine the wands.

'A bonded wand is different from a regular one,' he said, 'In that the owners have to share a deep connection as well. Harry's wand had a connection to Voldemort's wand, because of the tail feather core. They were not actually bonded wands, because the wood was different, but even then, their magic was– unexpected . From what I've heard about what happened at the graveyard a couple years back, some very strange things happened when the wands were forced to duel.'

'The same thing happens with bonded wands. They are both parts of a whole. If I were to snap this one in half,' he said fingering Ron's wand (Ron had to suppress the urge to snatch it from him), 'the other would also start to malfunction. Bonded wands are not unique or rare, you can get them at any wand shop. What is rare is that you two have them at such a young age. If I recall correctly, these wands are mostly bought by wizards that have spent a large part of their lives together.'

'True,' his father said, 'Bonded wands are almost exclusively sold to witches and wizards that have been in a relationship for decades. I think Molly and I would be able to use them, but I doubt even Bill and Fleur could.'

'And even then,' his mother said, now in a strangely different voice, 'You might not even wish to have them. From what I've heard, using a bonded wand is like having a connection open between yourself and the other. Muriel once told me she knew a couple that had bonded wands. Turned out they developed certainabilities. I believe he could sense where his wife was regardless of their proximity, and she could feel if her husband was hungry. It's not uncommon.'

Bloody hell! Ron thought, Hermione will be going mental if she can feel every time I'm hungry. His reservation must have shown on his face, because George muttered 'Let's pray she won't have to share all of his appetites with him.' Harry snorted with laughter. George got an earful from his mother before she turned on them.

'Just remember, Hermione, Ron,' she said, 'You can always exchange the wands with mister Ollivander. I'm sure he won't mind.'

It took Ron a moment to process his mother's comment. Sure, Ollivander would not mind if they exchanged the wands back to regular, un-bonded wands. Those were cheaper anyways, so he would not mind at all. But something about the casual dismissal of his wand rubbed him the wrong way. Was his mother afraid they could not handle a pair of bonded wands? Did his mother not expect them to last?

Before he could reply, Hermione took her own wand and made a complicated gesture. The lights in the house all went out, even that of the fireplace. At the same time, two golden stars appeared above the dinner table, rotating around each other lazily. The remaining sausages zoomed through the air, even the one George had been meaning to take a bit out of (Hey, I was eating that!). Soon, potatoes and gravy were joining a complicated dance in the air. Ron had also taken out his wand. He felt a fierce determination quite unlike what he had ever felt before. The feeling was rather alien to him. None the less, he added the plates to the mix, and soon, all of the items on the table were zooming this way and that, never touching one another but moving at great speed. The twin stars had fused into one larger star.

With a splat, all of the food and dishes fell back onto the table. Cold gravy sloshed in Harry and George's faces, and Ron couldn't help but feel a strange satisfaction in that. The lights turned back on.

'We're very happy with our wands,' Hermione said, 'And I'm sure if anything unexpected happens, we'll be able to manage it.'

Dinner was over after their magic, and the subject of their wands was not discussed afterwards. Most of the house was now cleaned and in proper order, so Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny retreated upstairs to Ron's room. Ron was playing gobstones with Harry. Ginny was on Ron's bed, in a pose that was halfway between laying down and sitting. She was watching Harry, Ron thought irritably, though he kept his mouth shut. Hermione was seated on the windowsill, the window completely open to let in the cool evening air. She was toying with her wand. Ron enjoyed watching her. Her feet were propped up, and her knees almost reached her chin. What little wind was present gently toyed with her hair. She was chewing her lip, her eyes focussed on somewhere far off.

'So Hermione,' Ginny asked when Harry made a bad move and Ron was able to take two of his pieces, 'What does your new wand feel like?'

Hermione seemed to startle out of her revelry. She blinked, and the far-away look her eyes had made way for her usual, critical observing gaze. She seemed hesitant.

'I – I'm not sure. It's great, mind you. It already feels just as comfortable and dependant as my old wand did. It's just – I am not used to it yet. I feel like there is something different about this wand. Something I can't put my thoughts around yet.'

The way she had said 'thoughts' caught his attention. She had looked straight at him, and Ron couldn't shake the feeling that Hermione was trying to subtly tell him something without letting Ginny and Harry notice. If so, it had worked.

'What do you mean, it feels differently?' Harry asked, his attention now shifting as Ron was clearly going to win after Harry's botched move, 'Different in what way?'

Hermione didn't immediately respond, but took a moment to formulate her reply. Ron had the distinct idea that she was carefully wording what she was going to say.

'The magic is the same,' she said slowly, 'but the emotions behind them aren't.'

'Isn't that normal?' Ginny asked Harry, 'For another wand to feel different?'

'Yes,' Harry said, 'Using Hermione's wand always felt a little wrong for me, and using the Elder wand gave me a feeling like anything was possible. My old wand still remains my favourite.'

'I guess we're just going to have to learn to live with the knowledge that our old wands aren't going to come back.'

Harry lost two more games of gobstones from Ron before he tired of the game. Ginny kept blowing him kisses whenever she thought Ron wasn't looking, a seductive smile playing on her lips. It wasn't long after that when Harry suddenly asked Ginny if he could see her collection of 'Quidditch Monthly'. When they left, Hermione turned to look at him.

'The git probably thinks I didn't see through that lie,' he said as he carefully packed the game up, 'I know he's only going down to her room for a snog.'

'Perhaps they didn't want to rub it in your face,' Hermione said as she untangled herself from the windowsill, 'They know you are not an idiot. Maybe they didn't want you to – overreact.'

'Overreact? Me?' he joked, knowing his many complaints about their open displays of affection had always fallen on deaf ears, 'Never!'

Ron got up from the floor after pushing the box of gobstones back under his bed. Hermione had sat down on the edge of his bed. She patted on the matrass next to herself. Ron sat down nervously. His heart was racing, and his throat was dry. He had kissed Hermione a couple of times now, but it still made him nervous to sit this close to her. He wanted to lean in and try to kiss her again when she asked 'Could you hold your wand out?'

Ron did as he was told. Hermione also took her wand in her hand. He wasn't quite sure what she wanted to do with them, but his curiosity was quickly replaced by the same feeling of nervousness he had felt before. It was Hermione's close proximity. The way he could smell her hair, and see each individual strand made him remember their kiss in the field this afternoon. The tip of her wand came to light. He did the same.

'Are you feeling nervous?' Hermione asked in a small voice.

'Yes.'

'Do you feel anything else?'

Ron wasn't sure what she meant until he felt it. Another emotion, faintly present in the back of his mind, and deep down in his gut. It was a feeling of lust. He was about to say so, when he realized it felt alien, like the determination he had felt at dinner.

'You feel it too?' she asked, 'Whenever I use my wand, I feel these emotions I can't place. During dinner, I felt a wave of anger over something your mother said. Much more anger than I felt I should have. But it felt – odd.'

'Alien.'

'Yes!' Hermione said, 'That was the word I was looking for. It felt alien.'

'I was angry at my mother for suggesting we would not last,' Ron admitted with a bit of shame.

'I hadn't thought of her words like that,' Hermione said, 'Perhaps I reacted subconsciously. Maybe the wands allow us to feel our own subconscious thoughts better.'

Ron shrugged. 'I'm pretty sure what I'm feeling right now is not subconscious.' Hermione looked up in his eyes and smiled shyly. He bent down and kissed her lips. He could feel her warm breath on his face, and he tasted the chocolate frog she had eaten a few minutes before. Ron settled back onto his bed, hoping Hermione would lie down next to him. She did, though she remained as far on the side of the bed as she could. Ron lay on the other side of the bed, and looked at her.

Hermione had a beautiful figure. She had grown a bit skinny over the course of last year, but it had only exaggerated one of the parts of her body he absolutely loved; her waist. She had a gorgeous natural wasp's waist, and he loved how it fanned out to her hips. She was currently wearing a simple pink cotton shirt that clung to her body. It hugged her form sweetly. She was also wearing a pair of faded jeans. He had seen her wearing them almost half the time they were on the road. Hermione had only packed two pairs of jeans at the time they had to depart number 12 Grimmauld Place.

'What are you thinking?' she asked, her head propped up on her arm. Her hair hung down to below her shoulder blades.

'You hair is long,' he said. He reached out and took a lock of it in his hand and fingered it, 'I like it.'

'It's only grown something like four inches,' she said, taking a handful and smelling it, 'I think it was longer in our fourth year.'

'I liked it then, too,' he said, knowing she would feel flattered. Hermione scooted a little closer.

'Your hair is longer too,' she said, 'but you should really ask your mum to cut it.'

'You don't like it long?' he asked, with mock indignation.

'I like it,' she said, 'but I like it better short. It suits you better.' Ron closed the distance between them further. He was starting to like this little game.

'Anything else I should change?' he asked, his free hand playing with a fold in the matrass. Hermione gave him a look over, and he saw a blush creep up on her cheeks.

'Well,' she drawled, 'Now that you asked me on the spot, perhaps we could go shopping together in a few days. I want you to have some clothes that actually fit.'

Ron felt his own cheeks redden now. Money was still a bit of a sore point, even though things had been easier for his parents now Bill, Charley, and Percy had all moved out. He had not grown much in the past year, so he hoped that his clothes would actually still fit a year from now. He was currently wearing a pair of pants from Christmas last year, and they were at least three inches short.

'We'll go shopping in a muggle shopping centre,' Hermione said, 'Nothing posh, and I insist on buying you at least two pairs of pants. And a shirt. And maybe some socks.'

'Can I keep my trunks?' he asked, 'Or do you want to get me a set of those too?'

'Having washed them for half a year, I'm pretty sure those will need to be replaced soon, yes.'

Ron closed the distance again, but only fractionally. Hermione seemed amused.

'What about you?' she asked, 'I'm sure you can find a point or two that could be improved.'

Ron let his eyes scan her once again. He greedily took in her form, wallowing in pride of being allowed to do so. 'I'll buy you a new bag,' he said, 'Because that is the only thing I can see that really needs improvement.'

Hermione scooted towards him. It wasn't a tiny move in his direction, or even a liberal move. Instead, she closed the distance completely, pressing herself against him tightly and kissing his lips. Ron was taken by surprise, but recovered quickly, dropping his arm around her waist and pulling her in tightly. They kissed for what felt like ages before they broke apart. Hermione was breathing heavily, and could feel the blood pounding in his veins.

'What did I earn that for?' he asked, as he looked into her eyes. Hermione stared back, a content smile on her face.

'Oh, you know how girls love bags,' she said, placing a kiss on his cheek. It was followed by another kiss, closer to his mouth, which was followed by yet another kiss, which was somewhere between his lips and his cheek. Ron pulled her close again, kissing her fervently.

Kissing Hermione had a profound effect on his pants. Feeling her soft lips, smelling her perfume, and having his hand grasp her closely to him was giving him a raging boner. It fought for space in his pants, and he shifted his pelvis a little to allow it. Hermione seemed to have noticed, because she broke the kiss off and looked down to his pants.

'It's really struggling to break free, isn't it?' she said, a bashful smile on her lips.

'It does this every time you kiss me,' he replied in what he hoped at least sounded nonchalantly, 'If you want – I mean, if you feel like it, you can – you, you know – free it.'

Hermione looked up at Ron, but her smile had dropped. 'I'm not sure if I'm ready for that, Ron.'

He felt a little bit disappointed. Not in her, for not being ready yet. He had hardly believed she would accept. But for the slightest moment, he had hoped she might. His disappointment must have shown, because apologised, and started to explain why she felt she wasn't ready. He silenced her with a kiss.

'We'll leave it in its cage for now,' he said, after he had managed to pull his lips away from hers again, 'I don't want you to feel pressured. We have all the time in the world.'

'We do, don't we?' she said, clearly relieved. She shifted to her back, nuzzling her head to his chest. 'I still can't believe that it is over.'

'Neither can I, love', Ron said, without thinking. He thought his little affection at the end sounded nice, and after feeling Hermione tense for a moment, he was rewarded with a quick peck on his neck, followed by a long hug. Ron felt content. Drowsy from a big meal, the warm summer air, and Hermione's lovely body pressed against his, he slowly drifted off to sleep.

Ron awoke around ten 'o clock. He was still very tired, and would have just fallen back asleep if Harry hadn't been shaking his shoulder.

'Ron!' he said, panic in his voice, 'Oi! Ron! Wake up!'

'What's wrong?' Ron reached for his wand, but something in Harry's voice told him it wasn't Death Eaters that were stomping up the stairs.

'She's almost here!' Harry said, 'Do you want her to find you two like this?'

Ron looked at Hermione. She was waking up too, and he had seldom seen such a wonderful sight. They had never slept like this before, against each other. It had not been a sexual thing, nor even something romantic. Ron and Hermione, tired from their ordeals and all the worries they had gone through all year long, had simply rested in the comfort of each other's embrace. Eyes closed, he had felt himself relax in what felt like the first time in months. Hermione had been snuggled closely against his chest, and the imprint of his sweater was visible on her cheek. She looked around in a daze.

The door flew open, and Ron wondered if his mother had decided to kick it in. He was slightly disappointed that it had not been blown off its hinges. Molly Weasley stood in the doorway, glaring at the two culprits on the bed. Harry had backed away, and seemed to be trying to make himself invisible.

'You!' she said, pointing at Hermione, 'Ginny's room. Now.'

Hermione was still a little dazed, but obediently followed orders.

'You!' she said, pointing at Harry, 'The kitchen. We will talk after I'm done here.'

Harry's reaction was, in retrospect, quite hilarious. Unused to strict parenting (the Dursleys didn't actually parent Harry in so much as kept him as a pet), Harry's eyes widened, and he scrambled away hastily.

His mother closed the door, and sat down on his bed. She was looking at him in a way that seemed to convey a sense of "I'm not angry, just very disappointed". Ron was unused to it, but had learned long ago not to break eye contact first. He broke it none the less, unable to keep his eyes on her anymore.

'You were always such a sweet boy,' his mother said with more than a hint of nostalgia in her voice, 'Always so friendly and helping out.'

Ron's brow furrowed. Where was she taking this? She kept looking at him though, and Ron was unsure what would come next.

'I will not have you sleeping with her in our house,' she said, sternly but without anger, 'Not in this bed, nor any other place.'

'Why?'

'Because I can't make that decision for her parents, dear.'

'For her – What?'

'Hermione's parents are still in Australia, and they don't know about you two. I'm pretty sure they will agree that you make a lovely couple, because you do, but I can't make that decision for them. I won't have you two rolling around each other every other second while her parents are still out there.'

'But mom,' Ron said, 'They know us. They know me. You know how desperately Hermione wants to go out and find them. She only agreed to stay here because she knows she needs to build up on reserves. She would have flown to Australia days ago if she wasn't still weakened from everything.'

It had been true. Hermione had told him in private that she would have left the day Voldemort had been defeated if she had not passed out around noon. She had never been big, and the year on the road had taken its toll on her body. Whatever fat and muscle she had started out with was long gone. Ron had felt a bit ashamed when she told madam Pomfrey she had also been taking smaller portions than the two of them to keep their strength up. Her pants were wide, and her shirts were baggy.

'I know, Ron,' his mother said, 'I'm pretty sure they would have no objections against the two of you, and I know Hermione would rather be in Australia right now. But that doesn't change the fact that you will both have to keep from what clearly just happened.'

'But mom, you have to believe me,' Ron said in a weak voice filled with embarrassment, 'Nothing actually happened. We kissed, and then we fell asleep on the bed. We didn't –'

Thankfully, his mother saved him from having to finish that sentence. She told him she believed every word he had said, and that she was very happy for the both of them.

'But as long as Hermione's parents are not back, as long as they remember neither you nor their own daughter, I want you to promise me that won't happen.'

Ron hated his mother for putting him in this position. He understood why she wanted him to promise her this, but knew it would be nearly impossible for them to keep. Hermione might not be ready for certain things now, but who knew how long that would last. Perhaps in a few months or even a few weeks, she would be more open to the physical aspect of their relationship.

'I can't promise you it won't happen,' he said, 'Because I can't speak for Hermione in this. But I promise we will try.'

His mother sighed, 'I guess I can't expect more from you. I'm very proud of you, son.'

Ron awoke for the second time that night. Harry was asleep in the camping bed his parents had always set out for him when he visited. He had returned from the kitchen with murder in his eyes, and had glumly crawled into bed. He was obviously unused to facing a stern mother. He had not said a word. When Ron had gone downstairs to brush his teeth, Hermione (who he met leaving the bathroom after doing just that) had told him his mother had walked in on a heated snog between Ginny and Harry. He quickly informed her of the promise he had made to his mother. When he was done explaining it, she gave him a soft kiss on his cheek.

'That was very sweet of you, Ron,' she said, 'Let's see how long we last.'

And with that, she left.