A/N: Sooo…I guess it's been more than a month since the last time I updated this story. Sorry about that. I suppose since it's more of a collection of somewhat related one-shots than anything else, I'm forgiven, yes? I hope so. Anyway, thank you for reading :) For reference, this chapter is set about a month after the last. Also, this story will have two more chapters after this one. Oh, and this chapter has about 37,000 sexual references but it's nothing you couldn't see on primetime television, save a few swears.

Disclaimer: Insert clever way of saying J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter here.

It was a small miracle that Ron found himself leaving the office before three on a Thursday. Although he rarely went out on raids anymore, he still found himself spending egregious amounts of time dealing with the fallout. But today, the office had been quiet, his paperwork was done, and he'd managed to slip out early. He knew neither Hermione nor Rose would be home til after five, so he stopped for groceries on the way home, intent on cooking a surprise dinner for his family.

What with three members of the household employed full-time at the Ministry of Magic, and the last under the impression that snogging his girlfriend was meant to be a full-time job, the Weasleys didn't often get the chance to spend much time together other than over dinner - and even then, it was often hit or miss; one of them might be working late, or Hugo might be at a friend's house. But tonight, they were all set to be home, and Ron was looking forward to having a couple of hours in the evening to simply be with his family.

When he arrived at home a little after four, the fixings for chicken korma in tow, Ron was pleased to notice Hugo's shoes on the mat, indicating that he was already in for the evening. "Hugh!" Ron called up the stairs. "Hugo, I'm home!"

He didn't get a response straight away, but he didn't dwell much on it either: if Hugo was in his room at the end of the upstairs hallway, he wouldn't have been able to hear his call very well. So, Ron first put away the groceries, then arranged his shoes and traveling cloak in the proper places before trudging upstairs to change into something he wouldn't mind cooking in. After fixing on a pair of pajama bottoms and a comfortable cotton t-shirt, he padded down the hallway to check on his son. He didn't bother knocking before he budged the door open - something he would come to regret for a very, very long time.

"Hey, Hugh? I'm home early; thought I'd start on din - oh, BUGGERING, FUCKING…SHIT!" Ron whirled around and slammed the door behind him before Hugo could so much as shout in protest. Ron screwed his eyes shut, but the images of what he'd seen didn't fade - and as much as he'd like to think he'd misunderstood, there were very few explanations for why his son appeared to be quite naked in his bed, hovering on top of somebody that looked very much like Maggie Laven.

"Just make yourselves decent!" Ron barked through the wood of Hugo's door, unwilling to reenter as his son shouted out babbling apologies. "Hugo, we'll talk about this later!"

And with that, he stormed back down the hallway and shut himself in his room, determinedly not thinking about what he had definitely not just walked in on. A few moments later, he heard anxious voices and hurried footsteps making their way down the hallway outside, but he couldn't bring himself to care too much. He sat on the bed, but not before grabbing a framed photograph from the bedside table; incidentally, it was a picture of his family that had been taken just before Hugo's first ride aboard the Hogwarts Express. Ron was trying as hard as he could to focus on the image in front of him rather than on the glimpse of what he had seen in his son's bedroom. All the while, his thoughts were jumbled; he couldn't be entirely sure what he was thinking. He didn't move from the spot for some time, and Hugo certainly didn't make any effort to come find him.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, perched on the edge of his bed with a forcedly clear mind, before he heard the front door open downstairs. A few minutes later, Hermione came into their bedroom, a worried crease between her eyebrows.

"Hugo's making dinner," she said by way of greeting as she crossed the room and immediately began to strip out of her work robes. "What's wrong?"

"How did you know something was wrong?" Ron asked wryly, putting the photograph back in its place and turning toward her. Though she was clad in nothing but her underwear, she certainly didn't seem to mind; if he didn't know any better, he'd think that was a smirk playing across her lips.

"Hugo's making dinner," Hermione repeated knowingly, retrieving a pair of trousers and a jumper from her wardrobe and pulling them on. "Now, what's happened?"

"Remember our first time?" Ron asked abruptly.

"Yes," Hermione said, turning toward the mirror and pulling her messily plaited hair out from underneath the collar of her jumper to adjust it. "Obviously."

"Remember how we were right-minded, consenting adults in a loving and serious relationship?" Ron continued with a sigh.

The crease in Hermione's forehead deepened. "What's this about?" she asked, crossing the room again and sitting next to him on their bed.

"I came home early from work today," Ron began slowly, rubbing at his eyes as he spoke. "I went to check in on Hugo, but he had company... And he was starkers. So was she, I assume, though thank Merlin I couldn't see as much, and I just…what's the chance they were just cuddling for body heat?"

"Given that it's August, not very high," Hermione replied faintly; her face had gone a bit pale. "I see. And what did you do after you saw?"

"Slammed the door shut, mindlessly shouted something, and came in here to try to burn the image from my retinas," Ron replied promptly. "Figure maybe if I will it hard enough, it won't have happened."

"They're being careful, aren't they?" Hermione interrupted anxiously. "Oh, I do hope they are…"

"Well I didn't bloody ask, did I? I told him I'd talk to him later," Ron replied incredulously. "I just…fucking hell, Hermione, he was having sex. With a girl."

"Yes, well, be sure you ask him about protection, please," Hermione requested, a bit of color returning to her face now as she began to process what she'd been told. "I'm not yet old enough to be a grandmum, and given that Hugo's downstairs burning dinner to a crisp, I don't think he's quite ready to be a father, either. And do make sure he's giving her the respect she deserves, too; I've got no doubt he is, of course, but there's no harm reminding him."

"Doesn't this bother you?" Ron cut in disbelievingly.

"Well, a little," Hermione replied honestly. "It's strange, you know, but to be quite honest I had an inkling this would happen sooner rather than later, and once I know they're making good choices about it, I'm quite content to largely be left in the dark about it all."

"But they're sixteen!" Ron bellowed. "They're not even of age yet! I mean, Merlin, Hermione, what if I'd shagged the girl I was with when I was sixteen? I'd have always regretted it, I know I would have!"

"Well, first of all, the legal age of consent is sixteen," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "And you have to admit, Ron, their relationship is quite a bit different than the prolonged duel of tongues that was your sixth year. They've been together two years now, for starters."

"That doesn't mean they're in the right frame of mind to know what it is they're doing!" Ron argued.

"I don't like thinking about it anymore than you do, but it really is their decision," Hermione replied calmly. "I just want to know that they're using the charm or the potion. Or both, really, would be best, though I don't suppose they can use the charm when they're not in school…of course, they could probably do so under our roof without being detected, but surely they wouldn't-"

"That's not the point!" Ron pressed on, but Hermione just sighed.

"Think of it this way," she said patiently. "Suppose we'd got together earlier, say at the Yule Ball. Wouldn't you have perhaps wanted to explore the physical side of our relationship a bit earlier? Say, right around the time we were sixteen?"

"Yeah…well…that's different!" Ron sputtered.

"Is it, though?" Hermione insisted.

"I've been properly in love with you since I was fifteen, so yeah!" Ron argued pointedly, but Hermione wasn't having it.

"I have to say, Ron, I imagine we'd have been much the same way if we'd been able to get our act together in a reasonable amount of time," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "So I can't blame him, really, as long as he's being smart about it all. Don't be hypocritical, love, it's not like we waited til we were married."

"We were nineteen, though, and we're us," Ron grumbled, but he could tell he was fighting a losing battle. It wasn't that he was a prude, and of course he knew what most sixteen and seventeen year olds tended to get up to…but most sixteen and seventeen year olds weren't his son.

"Just…promise me you'll listen to him when you have your talk," Hermione requested with a small sigh.

"Dunno how you're being so calm about it," Ron muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Yes, well, I knew it was going to happen sooner rather than later," Hermione reasoned. "I would have thought you'd have known it, too."

Ron was quiet for a moment, considering. "Well, I did. I mean, they've been together awhile, but I guess…" he said slowly, "I guess I was always taught to wait, when I was a kid. Not til I was married, necessarily, but til I was, y'know, of age and with somebody special."

"Your parents taught you that?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Well, yeah. And we all followed their advice, to the best of my knowledge. Not that I've asked, but it was just one of those things that…we're a bit of a conservative family, aren't we?" Ron replied with a hollow laugh. "I just…it's Hugh; seems like just yesterday I was teaching him to ride around on that toy broomstick you hated."

Hermione laughed lightly. "They grow up fast, but we knew they would."

"Still…I'm not ready to have this conversation with him," Ron admitted.

"Well, I can understand that," Hermione replied briskly. "But he's ready, Ron, and we have to respect that he's old enough to make his own choices."

"Sure you don't wanna talk with him?" Ron asked dubiously.

"I think he needs to hear it from his father," Hermione said firmly. "You ought to tell him, you know, about why you want to be sure he's making a good decision."

"I doubt he wants to hear it from me," Ron replied.

"But you, like him, were once a randy sixteen-year-old," Hermione pointed out with a smirk.

"What, and you weren't?" Ron challenged, raising an eyebrow.

"A randy sixteen-year-old boy," Hermione corrected herself, leaning in and kissing Ron quickly on the cheek. "Have faith in him, dear. He is your son, after all; if he's turned out anything like you, everything will be just fine."

Despite Hermione's reassurances, dinner was an awkward affair. Hugo, who had managed to successfully avoid burning dinner (though it was still a bit crispy in parts), was determinedly avoiding everyone's eyes, while Hermione made unnaturally pleasant conversation with Ron about their days at the office. Rose, meanwhile, was darting her eyes between her parents and her brother with clearly piqued curiosity, oblivious to what exactly had taken place earlier in the afternoon.

"Let's do the dishes, Rosie," Hermione said as soon as they'd finished eating, cutting across the query that was surely about to spill from their daughter's mouth.

"Erm…wanna step outside for a bit, Hugo?" Ron asked awkwardly once Hermione had ushered Rose out of the room. Both Ron and Hugo were still determined not to look at each other.

"S'pose so," Hugo replied, and they moved wordlessly through the kitchen and out the back door, walking aimlessly until they reached a bench by the garden a safe distance from the house. They sat side by side, with as much distance between them as the bench would allow, each focusing his gaze elsewhere.

"Your mother wants to know if you're being careful," Ron began in an unnaturally high-pitched voice.

"Dad-"

"And so do I," Ron continued, more firmly this time. "Just…I know it's weird, Hugo, but I've got to know that you're-"

"We know the charm. You taught me the charm, and nobody knows we've done magic underage if we're in our houses," Hugo mumbled. Ron chanced a glance in his direction; his cheeks were bright red.

"Good. Well, not the underage magic part, I guess, but there are other…erm…your mum would want me to mention…there's a potion, too, that she…that Maggie could take, and it's a bit safer than the charm, bit less illegal, mind you, when you're not at Hogwarts…but both is good, y'know, just in case…" Ron trailed off, gesturing meaninglessly.

"Yeah, I know. She's gone on it," Hugo replied uncomfortably.

"Oh. Okay. Good," Ron let out a sigh of relief. "Okay. And your mum…well, we…we want to make sure you're…y'know, treating her right, with respect and all-"

"I'd never make her do something she didn't want to," Hugo cut in fiercely, a bit of hurt in his tone.

"Of course," Ron said hurriedly. "I didn't think you would, of course, but…I'm your dad, y'know, I want to make sure you're respecting her wishes and all that."

"Well, I am," Hugo said shortly. They fell into a deeply uncomfortable silence then, still refusing to look at each other but not moving from the spot.

"I know this is weird," Ron began eventually, when he simply couldn't take the quiet anymore. "I mean, when I was your age I never would have wanted….but like I said, as your dad, I want to make sure you know what you're doing."

"It's pretty straightforward," Hugo quipped, but Ron frowned.

"That's not what I mean and you know it. It's just…okay, obviously girls are brilliant, Hugh. I know what it's like to be sixteen, and I know it's…well, there's a lot going on, and I just want to make sure you don't make any decisions you'll regret later."

"Why would I regret it?" Hugo asked. Though he wasn't one to raise his voice, Ron could detect a bit of anger in his tone.

"I don't know. A lot of reasons, but you might," Ron shot back. "You're sixteen. People do stupid shit when they're sixteen, and I would know!"

"What do you mean?" Hugo retorted guardedly.

Ron heaved a great sigh. "Look, you know your mum's not the only woman I ever went out with, but she is the only woman I've ever been with…in that way," he finished delicately. "And I just…I know I'd have regretted it if I'd slept with somebody else."

"But not everybody's like you and Mum! And besides, how do you know I won't end up with Maggie?" Hugo replied. "What if you and Mum had been dating when you were sixteen?"

"She asked me the same thing," Ron replied with a small chuckle. "You two really are quite alike, you know that?"

"What's your point, Dad?" Hugo insisted.

Ron was silent for a moment, weighing how best to express what he was trying to say. "Look, I know Maggie's special. It's plain as day that the two of you are mad for each other. But the girl I was dating when I was your age…it wasn't like that with us. We barely went out for six months, and by the time she wanted to do anything…more, I'd realized she wasn't the one I wanted to be with. When I think about how stupid I was when I was sixteen…I just don't want you to come to regret anything you've done."

"I really do love her," Hugo cut in. "Even if we don't, y'know…get married, or whatever…I wouldn't regret anything about it."

Finally, Ron turned to look at him, and though Hugo appeared quite embarrassed, Ron was almost surprised by the sincerity in his eyes. He thought, not for the first time, how grateful he was that his son had inherited Hermione's sense of maturity. "Good," he said carefully. "Good. I just…I dunno, I don't want you to be rushing into anything. I know you don't want to hear details, Hugh, but I didn't lose mine til I was nineteen. And it's a good job I waited, because I wasn't really ready before then, regardless of what certain bits of me might have thought."

"Well, I think I'm ready," Hugo replied, valiantly ignoring the last part of his father's remarks. "I mean, I know I am. And so's Maggie."

"Well, it's your decision," Ron said fairly, making a mental note to tell Hermione just how civil he was being. "I was a bit shocked to walk in on it; that's all. Just use protection and make sure you respect her. I'm probably never going to like it, but I've known you since the minute your mum gave birth to you, so I'd rather you and Rose remained celibate for the rest of your lives, if I'm being honest with myself."

Hugo snorted. "And what about your future grandkids, then? Brought by woodland fairies, is that it?"

"That's what I tell myself about James, Al, and Lily every day. Sometimes it's for the best to be purposefully ignorant," Ron replied solemnly. "Which reminds me - you don't need to use magic to lock your door, mate."

Hugo's cheeks flushed even darker than before. "You could always try knocking!"

"Wouldn't matter if you'd lock your door," Ron retorted in a sing-song voice. "Seriously, that was the first thing Bill told me when he gave me the talk."

"Uncle Bill gave you the talk?" Hugo asked incredulously.

"Well, my dad did it first. But Bill…well, he explained some of the…finer details, if you will," Ron replied with a bit of a fond smile.

"Like?" Hugo pressed, looking far more interested than Ron would have liked him to be.

"Like locking my door," Ron said pointedly. "And, well, some practical advice as well, not that I really remembered much by the time I actually got roundto using…"

"You don't remember?" Hugo asked, clearly a little disappointed. At Ron's affronted glance, he added: "What? He did marry a Veela, you know!"

"Well, it's not like it's really something you can teach. You sort of learn as you go," Ron replied uncomfortably. "And it'll take awhile, before you really get the hang of…you know what, Hugh, let's not go there."

"Well, I don't want details," Hugo said defensively. "I just…I dunno, it's not like any of my mates can give me pointers, seeing as none of them has even got a girlfriend-"

"And at what point in this conversation did it seem like I was eager to give you pointers?" Ron groaned, hanging his head in his hands exasperatedly.

"Well, that's not what I want, exactly," Hugo said hurriedly.

"Look, I'll tell you this much," Ron cut in, eager to end this conversation for the time being. "You love Maggie. Maggie loves you. So yeah, it'll be kind of awkward and embarrassing for awhile, but you'll figure it out. You don't really need anybody's advice as long as you trust each other and are willing to…I dunno…figure it out," he finished, a bit lamely.

"Okay," Hugo said, clearly willing to accept those words of advice with no further complaint. "Thanks, Dad."

"No problem," Ron replied, though he honestly could not remember a more uncomfortable quarter-hour in nearly all his life. "Look, Hugo, just…you're a good kid, you know that?"

"Thanks," Hugo said, his cheeks still flushed with embarrassment. "And you're…I mean…thanks for not flipping out, you know?"

"I locked myself in my bedroom for what must've been an hour. What part of that makes you think I took it well?" Ron joked. "You're my kid; it was always gonna be tough to watch you grow up. Just…imagine how weird it is for you, to think about me and Mum like that, and then imagine you'd known us since we were in nappies."

"I'd rather not, thanks," Hugo replied, wrinkling his nose in evident disgust.

"Exactly," Ron said emphatically. "Let's go inside, shall we? I've had about enough of this for one day, and we never had pudding."

"Sorted," Hugo agreed, and without further ado, they wandered back inside in search of biscuits.

Several hours later, Ron clambered into bed with a great yawn, and Hermione, who had been reading for the better part of the evening, placed a marker in her book and rolled over on her side to face him. "Are you alright with everything?" she asked knowingly.

"Yeah. They really love each other, apparently," Ron replied with a wry smile.

"I thought as much," Hermione said wisely. "That's why I wasn't really surprised, you know."

"Maybe I was just in denial, then," Ron chuckled with a bit of an eye-roll.

"It may just be a mother's intuition. Your mum wasn't surprised when I told her about us, either," Hermione reasoned.

"When you did what?" Ron nearly shot up in bed in shock.

"Oh, honestly. Why does it matter now? We've got two kids; clearly we've lost our virginities somewhere along the line!" Hermione laughed.

"You told my mum about us?" Ron repeated. "Voluntarily?"

"Well, you know how she is! It's hard to hide anything from her; it's like she's going to know if you're lying," Hermione replied defensively. "I told her the day after we'd done it, because I thought I was going to explode otherwise."

Ron laughed in disbelief. "Wow. Y'know, weirdly enough, my thoughts after our first time weren't remotely along the lines of 'I can't wait to tell my mum about this!'"

"Neither were mine," Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly and nudged his arm so that he would wrap it around her shoulders. "But like I said, I think mothers generally know these sorts of things."

"Hmm. S'pose so," Ron admitted. "Oh, did you know Hugo actually asked me for advice after it all?"

"Advice?" Ron could feel Hermione cringe.

"Well, not anything specific. But you remember how awkward it was at first," Ron said reasonably. "Reckon he just wanted to be sure that was normal."

Hermione laughed again. "There was a bit of a learning curve for awhile, wasn't there? You were a bit lost down there, the first couple of times."

"Oi! At least I wasn't taking notes out of Cosmopolitan Witch in my spare time," Ron teased.

"You can't deny that those were helpful!" Hermione protested, swatting at the arm that wasn't embracing her.

"They bloody well were not! The ideas you got out of that rag were by far the most uncomfortable, embarrassing things we could have tried, and it was only worse that early on, considering we didn't have a clue what we were doing anyway," Ron argued, though he could hardly keep from laughing himself.

"So we figured out very quickly what didn't work," Hermione insisted fairly.

"Process of elimination, if you will," Ron quipped.

"Exactly," Hermione replied in a tone that was far more dignified than what the contents of their conversation would generally allow.

"Reckon it's a damn good thing we've only ever been with each other," Ron laughed. "That awkward phase would've been hell with anybody else."

"Mmm, I agree," Hermione replied, leaning upward to kiss him softly on the mouth before settling further into his embrace. "It helps that you're dead sexy, too."

"I always knew you were using me for my body," Ron teased as he dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

"Yes, well, now that it's been a quarter of a century, I figured it was about time I came clean," Hermione replied playfully.

"You're mad," Ron said appreciatively. "Barking mad."

"Yes, well, you love me anyway, which I suppose makes you a bit barking, yourself," Hermione dismissed.

"And you love me, so the cycle continues," Ron murmured back with a satisfied yawn.

"Stuck with each other," Hermione yawned cheerfully.

"And couldn't be happier about it," Ron finished quietly, a grin spreading across his face as he allowed his eyes to slide shut. His last thought before he drifted off to sleep was that, perhaps, he ought to have mentioned to Hugo that as brilliant as shagging was, the act of literally sleeping with somebody could be nearly just as good - and that the ability to do both with the same person for the rest of your life was a sure sign that you'd got it right.

A/N: I WILL NEVER STOP WITH THE DISGUSTINGLY-CHEESY-TO-THE-POINT-OF-BEING-BORDERLI NE-TERRIBLE FLUFF. SORRY NOT SORRY. When it comes to Ron and Hermione I will always sacrifice quality writing for more snuggle-time and cuteness. Embrace it. They fought a bloody war to get there, after all. Anyway, thank you for reading! Hope it was worth your time. :)