Upon returning to the Burrow, Ron sent out a message to his father at the ministry to inform him of what they had encountered at Hermione's parents's house. They were in his room on the attic when Pig returned not an hour later. Excited as always to deliver a letter, he buzzed around them frantically. It was not until Hermione had coaxed him down with some owl treats that they were able to extract his father's lengthy reply.

Dear Ron and Hermione,

Let me begin by expressing my relief that you are both alright! Judging from your description, you were very lucky to keep Hermione from falling into that pit. You showed a keen insight by performing those counter-curses, which have probably saved your life.

Nevertheless, I feel the need to tell you that you took a very significant risk today. Not informing us of your plans could have led to disastrous results! What if, for example, you had fallen into that pit, and were unable to get out and communicate with us. It might have taken us a long time to locate you at Hermione's parents's house. Had you touched the cursed picture frames, things would have been far worse. I need not remind you of Katie Bell's lengthy stay at St. Mungo's…

I can assure you that the ministry is right on top of this situation. Your names are known throughout all of wizarding Britain, and the mere mention that Hermione's parents's house was ransacked by the Death Eaters led to a flood of volunteers. We have already dispatched a team of specialized ministry officials. They are led by an auror I personally advised for the job, and which I know can be trusted. The kitchen floor will be restored to its original state before the day is over, and I'm sure they will check and double check every item that remains in the house for dark magic.

Again, I am very relieved that you are both okay. I think it is safe to say that you have saved your parents's life, Hermione, by sending them off. I am not sure if sending your parents to a safe location or placing the Fidelius charm on the house would have been enough. Judging by the amount of effort they have put into it, I think the Death Eaters would have certainly found out about the house.

Ps: Hermione, please wait until after I return from work to collect any clothing you need for the trip. Molly will accompany you. Ron, I am very proud of you, son.

Dad.

Hermione was visibly relieved to read that the damage to the kitchen would be fixed. She had been worried about her parents returning to find their house half-destroyed. His father's opinion about how Hermione's charm had kept her parents alive was also received well. Hermione had stood beside him as they read the letter, her left side brushing against his right side. She read through the letter in half the time he needed. Resting her head against his shoulder, she exhaled deeply.

'All this time, up to today, I wondered if my decision to modify my parents's memory was right,' she said. 'I kept wondering if I should not have done something else, like asking them to go into hiding at a friend's house, or even here, at the Burrow.'

'You saved their lives, Hermione,' Ron said, his arm wrapping around her shoulder and pulling her close, 'You saved them.'

An hour later, Hermione had laid out all of his new clothes on the bed. Then, she had proceeded to clean out his wardrobe. He had been shocked to see just how many of his clothes were too small or too frayed to be worn. At least four big bags of clothes (some containing clothes from his first year at Hogwarts) were removed. None of the Weasley sweaters were going to be tossed out though, and when asked, Hermione merely said that she felt it would be like throwing away a bit of Ron himself. He had no idea what she meant by it.

After clearing out the wardrobe, and hanging out the remainder of his clothes, she perched down on the edge of Ron's bed. They surveyed the damage; four large bags of discarded clothes, and a half-filled wardrobe. He now had less clothes than he'd had with him last year. Everything lay in neatly ordered stacks. None of those were very large, save for the stack of Weasley sweaters. He took out one of them. Judging by the size of them, it was from his fifth year. He handed it to her.

'I want you to have this one,' he said, 'I think it would look nice on you.'

'A- A weasley sweater?' she said, 'Are you sure?'

'Yes,' he said, 'It certainly won't fit me, and I think you deserve to have one as much as Harry does.'

Held it out in front of her, appraising the size of it. Then, she ran the fabric through her slender fingers, rolling the end of one of the sleeves between her thumb and index finger. Taking off the blouse she had been wearing all day, Ron gulped. He wondered if it would ever feel normal to see her shedding clothes. Hermione stuck her arms through the sleeves, then pulled the shirt over her head. It was only four sizes too large for her. Her hands were half covered by the ends of the sleeves, though the shirt fit snugly around her body. It ended just above her knees. Seeing her wearing a shirt with his initial on it felt oddly like he had claimed her in some way. He could tell she liked the present.

'I love it, Ron,' she said. She got up from the bed and walked up to him. She kissed him on the lips, standing on tip-toes to reach them.

Kissing her still felt strange and exciting to Ron. They had been friends for seven years, and he had been in love with her for at least three of those. Kissing her was surreal, like he was in an alternate universe. They had been together for just a few weeks, and though they had kissed on numerous occasions by now, there was always a nagging thought in his head making him think: 'This is Hermione Granger. You are kissing Hermione Granger!'

He felt her arms wrap curve around his back, sliding up to his shoulders. Ron placed his hands on the small of her back, pulling her in against himself. He relished the feel of her body against his, of her warmth, and of her smell. On a whim, he let his hands slide down slowly. Clearing her lower back, he felt the transition from the harder tissue of her holy bone, to the softer slopes of her ass. Hermione didn't seem to mind. Quite the contrary: one of her hands snaked up to his neck and pulled him down further, her tongue eagerly exploring his mouth.

They stood like that for a minute, until Ron's back and neck started protesting. Ron moved to sit on the edge of the bed, and Hermione followed him, their lips not breaking from each other. Ron sat down slowly, pulling Hermione onto his lap. Seated like this, Hermione was face-to-face with him, and kissing her felt more relaxed. Her arms circled around his neck, as if she was afraid that Ron would slip away. Ron, meanwhile, pulled her up closer to his body, one hand placed onto her ass while another rubbed the side of her waist.

They spent fifteen minutes kissing like that. For fifteen minutes, Ron was able to hold her close against him. Their tongues did not break apart for more than a minute at a time, sometimes to whisper sweet nothings to each other, sometimes to nibble an earlobe or to just look into each other's eyes. Then, his mother called from below, ordering everybody down for dinner.

Hermione and Ron reluctantly departed his room. When they arrived downstairs Ron saw that the entire family was already present. George looked up from his plate, and an evil smirk spread on his face. Ron knew only trouble could come from that.

'So Hermione,' he said with a raised voice, instantly silencing everyone else, 'What does the R stand for?' Everyone turned to face Hermione. Without waiting for an answer, George started to submit suggestions. 'Romance? Ready?' He wiggled his eyebrows. 'Raunchy?'

'That will be more than enough from you, George,' his mother said loudly, 'Hermione dear, please sit down.' Before she did, she turned to George.

'Ron,' she said simply, and then pulled her chair back and sat down smartly. George eyed her in surprise for a moment, then switched his gaze to Ron. He raised an eyebrow.

'I wouldn't raise that eyebrow too high, brother,' Ron said coolly, drawing the chair next to Hermione's back, 'Your face is lopsided enough as it is.'

Dinner continued as it always did at the Burrow. George turned to look at Hermione imploringly every time a noun with starting with an R was spoken. Hermione soon stopped reacting to it, even though Harry and Ginny were deliberately dropping more and more ambiguous ones as time progressed. Harry had just commented on how he felt the pudding was 'ravashingly delicious' (George instantly craned his face to Hermione, who silently ate a small bite of yoghurt) when his father cleared his throat.

'Hermione,' he said gravely, 'Peakes from the Auror office has informed me that the team investigating your parents's house are finished. They were able to repair the damaged kitchen, though they had to install new floorboards. The old ones had been destroyed. They also checked for dark magic, but could not find anything new. They are quite confident that the place is safe, and they have added a few protective enchantments on the house for good measure.'

'Thank you, mister Weasley,' Hermione responded.

'I would like to suggest that you head over there this evening to get the last of your stuff from your room. Molly will accompany you. Should there be any sort of trouble, you won't have to face it alone.'

'I could join her,' Ron said, feeling a bit hurt, 'I'm more than capable of protecting her.'

'No Ron,' his father said, 'Your plane will depart early in the morning. Am I right in assuming you have not yet bothered to pack your backpack?' Ron muttered something non-committal. 'I want you to start packing right after dinner. You two have to get up really early tomorrow, and I won't have the usual pre-Hogwarts mayhem we usually have with you lot.'

'Thank you, mister Weasley,' Hermione said, 'for all of the trouble you went through.'

'If you are going to be walking around in a Weasley sweater, Hermione, at least start calling me Arthur.'

Ron did as he was told. After Hermione had left with his mother, he raced up the stairs to go and fill up his backpack. Like Hermione's beaded bag, it too was enlarged. He had done it himself, and though his spell had been a lot less effective as hers had been, it still made a bit more room for a couple of items one normally didn't carry around in a backpack. Hermione had already set aside many of the items that they would need for the trip, starting with his brother's tent, a set of books about Australia, and a large pile of clothes. Ron took out his wand and gave it an absent twirl. The tent flew up into the air and fitted itself nicely into the bottom of his backpack. He did the same for several other items.

After a few minutes, Ron picked up the bag, guessing it's weight. It was already quite heavy, though it hardly compared to what it had weighed a few months before. Ron suddenly felt a bit melancholic. He set the bag back down onto the ground and pointed his wand towards his wardrobe. He didn't really need that many clothes (he expected they would be done in less than a week), but packed them none the less. It felt oddly the same as a year before. Hermione had packed their stuff right before the wedding, which was naturally a brilliant move. Though she had packed a couple of his older pants, she had done an incredible job preparing for their trip. He wondered if she had been standing like he had, going through his clothes, judging if they would be needed for the trip.

Then, under the influence of the locket, he had left them. He had taken his backpack, but it hardly contained half his stuff. Not that he owned anything useful other than clothing, he thought bitterly. Ron had crashed at Shell Cottage, spending his time locked in his room, thinking of how he would ever be able to join them. Wondering if he would even be able to join them again.

He had gone over it a hundred times, checking to see if everything he needed was there. He kept his bag packed, even though he had an empty wardrobe in his room. Every time he lost hope in re-joining Harry and Hermione, something had kept him from emptying it out. It was the memory of Hermione, telling them she had already packed everything in that ruddy brilliant beaded bag of hers. That memory had caused his hope to rekindle on more than one occasion. It made him dump the contents of his bag on his bed. He would refold every bit of clothing. He would count the number of socks. He would run his hands over the small foldable trowel he had nicked from Fleur's garden when she wasn't looking. Then, he would proceed to pack everything again, carefully arranging everything as he had done before.

Hearing Hermione speak his name had been nothing short of incredible. He had hardly felt in the mood to join the Christmas celebrations downstairs, and so had spent most of his time holed up in his room feeling gloomy and depressed. Like so many mornings after his departure, Ron had awoken at the crack of dawn. He didn't know why, but it gave him the opportunity to tune into the wizarding news very early on, and that was exactly what he was doing when he heard her.

He had let the radio drop from his hands, and had turned to face the door, half-expecting to see her there. Then, he heard it again, clearly coming from the deluminator in his pocket. If the memory of Hermione telling him of her preparations had relit his hope, this had filled his heart with a blazing fire! He had scribbled a hasty note to Bill and Fleur, explaining his sudden absence, and flew out of the door within a minute, confident that everything he needed was safely in his backpack.

Harry stopped by just after Ron finished filling the backpack. There was enough room left for Hermione to add several complete outfits if she wanted to.

'So,' Harry said, 'Looking forward to the next big adventure?'

Ron smiled, but assured him it would hardly be much of an adventure. 'We will be flying in an airplane almost twenty-four hours,' Ron said, 'Have you ever seen me sit still for just twenty-four minutes?' Harry gave an honest chuckle.

'Listen,' Harry said, 'I know I haven't really been around a lot lately. I don't want you two to think I'm doing that on purpose. If Hermione wants me to come with, I'll do that, but I'd rather stay here for a while.'

'Harry, you don't have to-' Ron said, but Harry just continued, his hands fidgeting with the edge of his bedspread.

'I just need some space, you know? I need some time to go over what happened these past few years. I need to find myself.'

'Harry,' Ron tried again.

'You understand, right? I'm sure Hermione would too-'

'HARRY!' Ron said, lifting the volume of his voice up to something close to shouting, 'We understand.' Harry looked at him a bit doubtful. 'We understand that you don't want to be around us right now. You've been around us for an entire year, mate. I think we can make do without you for a little while.'

Harry got up and smiled at him, then pulled him into a brotherly hug. It was rather uncharacteristic for Harry to display such an overt sign of friendship; he had always been more reserved. Ron returned the hug, patting him on the back, and feeling a bit awkward. They talked for a while, and Harry told Ron that he had felt a bit guilty for not hanging out with them more. He spent most of his time with Ginny.

'You wouldn't believe how long it takes to get through all the things that happened last year,' Harry said, 'I've only just started with everything that's happened after getting the locket at the ministry.'

'Wow,' Ron said, 'You've been talking to her for three weeks, and you haven't even gotten close to the end.'

'Well,' said Harry, 'We don't spend our time together just talking. And don't forget that I also had to explain about the prophesy and the Horcruxes. About my connection with Voldemort, everything that happened in our sixth year. It's not something you can explain in a couple of minutes, mate.'

Ron nodded, but made no comment. He thought about how Ginny didn't know most of the things Ron had taken for granted. Harry had only confided these things to Hermione and him, and it was easy to forget that nearly nobody else knew what exactly had happened.

Hermione arrived back from her parents's house a little over an hour after she had left. Ron had wandered around the house a little with Harry, checking to see if he could find anything useful to take with him to Australia. They had added a first aid kit and some packs of crisps, just in case they had a minor accident or couldn't find something to eat. Harry had pointed out that Australia also had supermarkets and restaurants, but Ron packed them anyways.

Hermione had come back to the Burrow with a couple of shirts, pants and sweaters, and a small plastic bag containing what Ron assumed were knickers and bras. Together, they went up to his room, where she neatly packed them into the backpack, then turned to face Ron. She took out her wand and closed the door.

'You were doing magic,' she whispered, 'I could listen in.'

'All the way from Cambridge? That's over a hundred miles from here.'

'Yes,' she said, 'And it felt the same way it always feels. You were going through quite a range of emotions.'

Ron thought back at what he had been thinking of when he had been using magic this evening. Most of it had been about his time away from Harry and Hermione last winter. 'Packing this backpack just brought me back down memory lane. I'm sorry if I made you feel sad too.'

'That's all right,' she said, resting her hand on his chest, 'We'll have to get used to listening in on each other's feelings. I think your mum thought I was just emotional with going back into my parents's house.'

'How was it?' Ron asked, remembering chapter nine of "Twelve Failsafe Ways to Charm Witches", called "Be interested!".

'It would have been fine, had I not had the occasional upwelling of melloncolly or guilt,' she said, a bit of a smile playing on her lips.

'Yeah, sorry about that.'

'Don't be. I told you, we're going to have to get used to it. Besides, you told me often enough that you felt really bad about leaving us back then, but listening in your emotions… it really says a lot more than words ever could.'