Chapter 9

We don't own them. It's all JK Rowling's. We're just borrowing them for the moment.

Ron wandered into Harry's office and noticed Harry was finishing up the last of his paperwork. Shrugging mentally, he went to a small table where Harry generally kept containers full of items from Honeydukes. He helped himself to a Chocolate Frog and then went to a cooling cupboard where he pulled out a bottle of Butterbeer. Settling into one of Harry's chairs, he finished his snacks whilst waiting for Harry to complete his work.

"Hi, Ron," Harry said without looking up from his parchments. "Yes, you may have some Chocolate Frogs and Butterbeer. Make yourself comfortable."

Ron made a face at Harry. "Why does it seem like you're always busy and I'm always bored at work?" he asked.

Harry shrugged. "I'm never bored," he said. "There's always something to do." He eyed Ron very carefully. "You don't usually pop into my office on a late Friday afternoon. What's on your mind, mate?"

Ron took a deep swig of his Butterbeer and looked at Harry. "It's Hermione," he said.

Harry sat up straighter in his chair. He'd been too busy to check on her, and he had hoped she was not overworking herself. Occasionally, he received an update from Snape, but even then, he was generally not very forthcoming with news. He wondered if Hermione had told Ron anything about the lingering effects from Dolohov's curse or of the work she was doing with Snape.

Thinking of Hogwarts' Potions master made him snort quietly. That was quite the odd couple. He never thought Hermione and Snape would get along with each other, much less be able to spend more than a few minutes in the same room together. But then again, they were both intellectuals who could think of nothing better than to spend the day lying around with their noses in a book. They both loved research and were both well-versed in many different subjects.

Harry cleared his throat and focussed his attention on Ron. He noticed with a pang the worried look in Ron's blue eyes and wondered how much he would be able to tell him. "What about Hermione?" he asked carefully.

"She is spending an awful lot of time at Hogwarts," Ron said. "I know she has all her classes to teach, and she is always taking home essays to mark, and it just seems she doesn't have an awful lot of time for me. I know I shouldn't feel bad about that because I'm sure it's not easy to be a first-year teacher, but still, I'd like to think she would save a little bit of time for me. By the time she gets home, she's so tired; the only thing she wants to do is fall into the bed and sleep. At least she brings me nice food, but still." Ron looked at Harry with pleading eyes. "I just want my fiancée back, Harry. I miss her."

Harry sighed. "Listen, Ron, I know she is really busy, and of course you, of all people, should know that once she puts her attention on something, she'll put her entire heart and soul into it. I know the students love her, and she always makes time for her students to come to her if they need help."

"But is it supposed to take up nights and weekends also?" Ron complained. "She says she is spending a lot of time in the library in the evenings, and sometimes she goes back to Hogwarts on the weekends to do more research or for a place where she can spread out all her papers and mark them to her heart's content. But when do I get time to spend with her?"

He looked down and kicked Harry's desk. "Sometimes I wonder if she should have accepted the job in the first place."

Harry frowned at Ron and stood up. "You don't mean that, mate," he said with an edge of steel in his voice. "So what if she has a lot of work on her plate? She just wants to do extra research to ensure she will be the best teacher she can be. And besides, you remember all those essays we had to write? Just think how much time it must have taken for the professors to mark them. Don't be a selfish prat, Ron." Harry regarded Ron carefully. He thought it was rather obvious Hermione hadn't shared anything with him concerning her illness, as Ron hadn't even mentioned anything related to it. "Listen, Ron," he said, "I heard this is a Hogsmeade weekend. Why don't you ask her to go out with you and make a day of it?"

Ron scowled at Harry. "I'll bet she'll say no because she has to spend all that time in the library," he grumbled.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Ron, remember she's a teacher there. She has to be out, supervising. You should take advantage of that. You don't have to go to Madam Puddifoot's, but at least you can walk around town, pop into the shops, have a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, and say hello to Madam Rosmerta."

"I guess so," Ron said.

"Listen, Ron," Harry said, putting his arm around his lanky ginger-haired friend. "Why don't we just go home now? I know Ginny wants me home for dinner early today."

"What do I have to go home to?" Ron asked. "Hermione sent an owl to tell me she'll be home late today and not to wait for her. But she did say she'll ask the elves to prepare a Friday special for me."

Harry shook his head as he grabbed his cloak from underneath a stack of parchments. "You git," he said affectionately. "You're always thinking with your stomach. Come on, I'll race you to the Floo."

Ron laughed. "Nah. You'd think we'd grown up and knew better than that."

Harry held open the door and allowed Ron to pass through it before he sealed his office and put up some wards. "Now that's a shock, Ron," he said playfully. "When did you mature and grow up?"

Ron laughed. "You prat," he said, clapping him on the back as they headed out towards the fireplaces.

Hermione yawned as she Apparated just outside her flat on High Street. She had stopped at the kitchens and ordered a couple of sandwiches and some tarts to take home with her because she was hungry, and she and Severus hadn't stopped to eat that evening. She noticed how her clothes were looser on her, but whether that was a side effect of her illness or of all the work she had been doing, she didn't know.

Opening the door quietly so she didn't wake Ron, she entered the flat and removed her cloak. It was nearly November, and it was getting colder by the day. As she walked into the sitting room, she was surprised to see Ron still awake, fully engrossed in a Quidditch match on the wireless.

"I didn't think you'd still be up, Ron."

"Oh, hi, 'Mione, didn't hear you come in," he said. "It's the big Cannons match against the Beaters, and I'm hoping they'll win one for once." He stood up and kissed her. "Oh, sandwiches and tarts! You're brilliant, did you know that?"

He looked so eager that Hermione didn't have the heart to tell him she'd brought them for herself, having sent his dinner over with one of the house-elves earlier. Smiling, she said, "Well, I thought we could have a late night snack. I figured if you weren't still up, they would keep in the icebox. I think I'll go get changed and come back down. Can you pour us some Butterbeer?"

"Sure," Ron said. "Oh, thanks for the dinner earlier. Lenny popped in and brought over a roast, carrots and peas, mashed potatoes, and a trifle. And Ginny sent over a bowl full of creamed spinach just for us. She said she made extra and wanted us to have it, so that and her fish and chips are also in the icebox."

Hermione cringed internally at the thought of the spinach. Despite that, her stomach rumbled at the sound of the food. "Okay, I'll be down in a few minutes, and we can eat." She gave him a hug and a kiss and made her way upstairs, Crookshanks mewing at her feet to let her know that he had missed her. She rolled her eyes as she heard Ron's whoops and cheers in response to the Quidditch match.

Ron set the mugs of Butterbeer on the table and plated the sandwiches, fish, and chips. He also set the tarts on a plate and placed a mild Warming Charm on them. As he savoured the wonderful fruity aroma of the tarts, he noticed Hermione coming back down the stairs.

"Oh, 'Mione," Ron called out, "I've set the table. Let's eat."

Hermione entered the kitchen, dressed in her flannel pyjamas and a warm pair of socks. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a ponytail, curlier than usual due to the hairstyle she wore when she was at Hogwarts. "That smells wonderful," she said with a contented look on her face. She sat down and took a sandwich and a piece of fish. "So, tell me how your day went," she said before hungrily taking a bite.

"Oh, it was the same. You know, go out on a call, get the baddies, do the paperwork, sit around at my desk. Nothing much," Ron said vaguely. "And you?"

She had just taken another bite of sandwich when he stopped talking, so she had to take a moment to swallow. "Let's see. One of my seventh years is expressing an interest in becoming an Animagus. Pity I never learned that. It would be interesting to do, I think. Tomorrow's the first Hogsmeade weekend. Oh, and you are welcome to come to the Halloween banquet this year. It's a masquerade ball, so I'm going to have to figure out what I am going to wear."

Ron looked down at his plate. Remembering what Harry told him, he decided he had nothing to lose but to ask his question. "Well, erm, 'Mione," he started, "about tomorrow. I know you have to be out and about because of the students, but I was wondering if you'd want to go out with me and... well, you know, maybe go to Honeydukes and Fred and George's Hogsmeade shop, and maybe have a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, and..."

"Ron, hold on one minute. I had already planned to spend the day with you tomorrow. It just so happens this isn't my weekend to patrol Hogsmeade. I can give them an extra set of eyes, but it's on my own terms. Besides, how bad are the students going to behave with an Auror in their midst?" she asked, taking a couple of chips off the plate and eating one.

Ron's face brightened. "Oh, 'Mione, that's great!" he exclaimed. "And if a Slytherin were to make trouble, watch out! I can draw my wand faster than they could say 'Voldemort!'"

"Speaking of making trouble," Hermione said, remembering her birthday and, furthermore, remembering Severus' reaction to what the twins had done to her. "If your brothers even try bouncing me when we go in their shop tomorrow, I will have something to say about it."

Ron made a face at Hermione. "Aw, come on, 'Mione! Have a sense of humour about it. And besides," he said as he took a chip from her plate, "if they had wanted to bounce you, they would have had plenty of opportunity to do so the last three times we had Sunday dinner at Mum and Dad's."

"Well, knowing that, they might be trying to lure me into a false sense of security. And speaking of sense of humour, I don't recall you being very forgiving about it the last time they pranked you with that very real-looking spider. I don't remember laughing at you when you were terrified of it." Hermione bit into her food once again, more to try to calm herself down than out of hunger, glaring at Ron all the while.

Ron put his hands up in supplication. "Okay, okay, 'Mione! Honestly, it's all in fun. And besides, remember I'm a quick draw on the wand. If they as much as whisper a Levicorpus on you, they'll be slammed by a Protego so strong, they won't even know what hit them!"

Mentally shaking her head because Ron kept forgetting that particular levitation spell was supposed to be cast non-verbally, she looked at him as if to gauge his sincerity. "Okay. Otherwise, you will be sleeping on the settee." She sighed and sipped her Butterbeer.

Ron went down on one knee in front of her and placed one hand on her arm whilst lifting the other as if he were going to make an oath. "'Mione, I solemnly swear that I will be up to all good and no mischief."

Hermione rolled her eyes and snickered. "Mischief managed then, I suppose. All right, I believe you. So, what are you going to go as for the masquerade ball, do you think?"

Ron shrugged. "Oh, I dunno. What do you reckon?"

"Well, since we are always talking about Merlin, why don't we go as two characters from that time? I could go as Lady Guinevere, and you could go as Sir Lancelot. I know how much you love chess, and you were the knight on Minerva's giant chess board back in our first year."

"'Mione, you're bloody brilliant!" Ron exclaimed as he placed his head in her lap. He lifted it to look up at her and added, "You do know how bloody brilliant you are, right?"

Hermione laughed, and it felt good. "Yes, so I have been told." Crookshanks, interested by the smell of fish and Ron's voice, came to investigate. "I think we can spare a bit of fish for you, Crooksy." Hermione broke off a piece of fish and fed it to her familiar, who purred his thanks.

"What time do you have to be out there tomorrow, 'Mione?" Ron asked.

Hermione offered Crookshanks more fish. "I think I should be out by ten o'clock."

Ron watched as Crookshanks leapt up on Hermione's lap, curled up, and purred as she continued to stroke his orange-yellow fur. He shook his head as he took another swig from his Butterbeer. "You are a nuisance, you know that, you little animal?" he asked mockingly.

The half-Kneazle lifted his head and glared at Ron before he put his head back down again.

Ron rolled his eyes as he stood up and stretched. "Shall we go to bed now?"

Hermione raised her eyebrow at him. "You don't want to know what's going to happen with the Cannons?" she asked as she gently placed Crookshanks on the floor.

Ron took her hands in his. "I can always read about it in the Daily Prophet tomorrow," he said. "Sometimes, there are more important things than a Quidditch match on the wireless." He drew near and tenderly kissed Hermione. "Like you, for example," he whispered in her ear.

She smiled warmly as he helped her up. Well, she thought to herself. Ron Weasley has really grown up.

She followed him up the stairs until he didn't think she was going fast enough. He swept her up in his arms and carried her to their bed, laying her gently down. Nothing at that time seemed to be more important than being together.

A/N: Many thanks go to ladyinthecloak for the beta-reading.