I wish I owned these characters, but I am grateful JKR allows us to play with them.

Ron dusted the soot from his orange shirt as he stepped through the floo into the living room. He still wasn't used to how quiet their home was now that both Rose and Hugo were at Hogwarts. It had been weird when Rose left for school, but Hugo was such a whirlwind of energy that the house couldn't feel empty with him in it. Now with them both gone, it was just strange to be in the quiet. Parents are forced to learn to distrust silence when the children are young.

He'd learned the silence problem the hard way years ago. He and Hermione had been watching Al while Harry and Ginny were home with a sick James. Rose and Al had to have been only 2 or 3, and he and Hermione were smugly congratulating themselves about watching the two children without total chaos erupting in their home as it always seemed to at the Potters. The kids were quietly playing in the other room while the two adults ate dinner, and every now and then they would pop back in asking for more milk. Finally, thinking she was being cute, Hermione asked, "where are you two putting all of this milk? You two will have such strong bones!" When Rose innocently answered, "we're not spitting it in your room, don't worry!" he and Hermione had flown into the living room to discover their entire house was covered in spit up milk. And, true to Rose's word, they hadn't reached the master bedroom yet. But, the rest of the evening was spent sourgifying milk off of every surface in the house from carpets to books to sofas. And, despite the power of magic, there had been a lingering sour milk smell for weeks. Ever since, then, Ron had learned to feel distrustful of silence at home.

But now he was trying to learn to love it again. To see at as a place where he and Hermione got to start a new chapter of their lives. He missed the kids terribly, but for years their lives had been nothing but chasing chaos. Between his job as an auror, Hermione's high level position at the ministry, having two kids and the never ending pestering from the press to check up on the war heroes who fell in love, their life was a bit of a hamster chase. Having grown up at The Burrow, chaos was familiar. But, he finally felt like he and Hermione were getting a chance to do things they had always wanted to do, as well as just enjoy each other again.

He'd retired from the aurors in August. It was time, and this allowed them to take a long family vacation before the kids went to school in September. He'd finally taken George up on the offer to be a partner at WWW. While he'd helped George get the shop open just after the way, and pitched in over the years – especially helping with the security line of products they'd come up with, he'd never been as involved as he was now. And, Merlin, was he having fun. He'd forgotten how fun work could be. It reminded him of his early days on the force when he and Harry were partners. They had a great time chasing down escaped Death Eaters and solving crimes. But, over the years, he'd become disgruntled by the ever-growing mounds of paper world and regulations that seemed to dominate the work. That combined with the fact that his body just didn't respond the way now that it had done 20 years ago when he'd been a young auror. It was harder to sprint after a suspect or dodge curses like he once had. Harry had faced the same issue, but had risen up the ranks at the MLE. Ron could have done the same, or even taught at the academy, but he was bored and ready for a different challenge. It was time to meet new people and solve some new problems.

Having this new career at the same time as a newly child-free house had been strange, and they were both still getting used to it. It was only mid-October, and Hugo had only left for his first year of Hogwarts about 6 weeks ago. Hermione had cried for an entire day after they dropped the children off at Kings Cross. She'd said she had a migraine and couldn't go to work the next day, but Ron knew she hadn't had a migraine. She wasn't squinting her right eye like she did when she really had one. No, that September 2nd she had simply pulled the covers up over her head and not gotten out of bed.

Ron was a bit worried about her, actually. And, to be honest, he was a bit surprised at Hermione's reaction to their newly-emptied nest. Not that she wasn't an amazing mum – she was. But, she was never one of those mum's whose identity seemed to be wrapped up in their children. Unlike his own mum, Hermione had challenging job outside of the home as well. She had never learned to cook, so she didn't spend the afternoon preparing food as a way to shower her kids with love. And, she had never been one of those super-affectionate mums. She never seemed comfortable playing pretend with the kids, or living in the total chaos of plastic toys that happens when there is someone under the age of ten living in the house. She got frustrated stepping on legos in the middle of the night and was totally unraveled when some last minute kid catastrophe forced a change in her well thought out plans.

But she did love her children fiercely. Like a mama lion or something. She was so fascinated by who her own kids were and were becoming. She wanted them to see and experience all sorts of things, to hear what they thought about events in the world – both muggle and magical, and she wanted them to be comfortable in their own skin. Ron had thought this type of mothering would translate well to the distance between home and Hogwarts, but now he wasn't sure.

Hermione also seemed aggravated with work. She had a high level position, and had to work long hours, but he never saw her passionate about it anymore. She didn't bring papers home to work on late into the night. And she didn't talk much about the various injustices she had discovered and was trying to right. But the thing that seemed like the biggest red flag was that she didn't seem to be reading books anymore. For a while he'd assumed that she'd gotten a muggle electronic reading device and that's why there was a shortage of books. But then he realized that she hadn't. All she was doing her that electronic rectangle was chatting with her parents. He hadn't really been too concerned until he found her flipping through a stack of magazines she never would have been caught dead with before – the terrible magazines sold in grocery stores that used to feature their pictures with ridiculous headlines like "They may have started as a Trio, but Cupid's Arrow Only Hit These Two!" or "Golden Couple's Wedding: The Caterer's Inside Scoop".

He kicked his shoes off by the fireplace, and called out for Hermione, but got no response.

"Love, I'm home!" he called as he headed up the stairs to change out of his WWW garish orange shirt.

It was quiet upstairs as well, but he could see Hermione's work robes were hung up and her shoes placed neatly back on the rack in their closet. He threw on a clean shirt and headed out of their bedroom. Poking his head in both of the kids' empty bedrooms to be sure she wasn't laying down on one of their beds like he had found her doing the week after they left, he headed back downstairs. He poked his head into the library, but it was empty, and then went to the kitchen to make some tea figuring she must have run out to do some errands after work.

As he filled the kettle, he finally saw her hair through the window. She was sitting out on their screened in porch on an old rocking chair, wrapped up in his old Chudley Cannons blanket just watching the backyard. He made two cups of tea, and headed out to join her.

"Hi," he said quietly as he stepped out on the porch. "How was your day?" he asked as he kissed the top of her head and handed her the tea.

"Hi," she said quietly. "It was alright I suppose. How was the shop?"

"It was good. Not too many customers today, but I got to do a lot of work on the security contracts we're proposing, so that was good."

They sat quietly for a while and just drank their tea. It was a comfortable silence, the kind that takes decades to develop. She finally sighed and put her mug back on the table, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

"Are you alright, love?" Ron asked. "You haven't seemed yourself lately, and I just, well, I worry about you I suppose."

Hermione didn't speak for a bit, but watching the way she chewed her bottom lip, he knew she wasn't ok. And even before her eyes turned wet and red, he knew she was on the verge of tears.

After a few minutes of silence, Hermione finally took a deep breath and asked, "Do you remember the birds' nest we found on this porch last spring?"

Caught slightly off guard by her response, Ron simply cocked his head and said, "The wrens who built the nest in the watering can on the porch?"

"Those are the ones," she replied.

Ron recalled how excited Rose had been when she discovered the wrens building the nest over the Easter holiday. The adult wrens snuck under this small crack between the screen door and the ground. Even something the size of a robin couldn't have fit there. Those tiny birds spent weeks stuffing this watering can full of leaves, straw, fluff, twigs and everything else they could find to make this nest. It was a brilliant location, actually. It was totally protected from the rain, from wind and from the neighbors' cats. Then the birds had hatched, and they'd watched the little birds leave the nest and learn to fly before disappearing into the back yard. Unsure of where Hermione was going with this, he simply sipped his tea and waited for her to continue.

"I remember the day the baby birds came out of the watering can. They were learning to fly, and they kept flopping around the porch flying from screen to screen. Four of them figured out how to follow their parents under the door and get out, but the one little bird couldn't seem to figure it out. I watched that bird for hours. She flew from screen to screen, frantically trying to figure out how to do what the others had done. I felt so badly for her, you know. It must have been terrifying at first – feeling like you'd been abandoned. Or maybe she felt like she wasn't smart enough to figure it out. Here this little bird had done everything she thought she should do, but somehow the world she could see – the world her family was in – she just couldn't get there. It went on for hours, you know. I realized I wanted to go out on the porch and leave a little trail of bugs and seeds just so she could follow it to the door. Her poor mum kept flying back in and out to show her what to do and bring her bits of food. She got so frazzled, you know. Unsure of how to get out, she kept trying to smash her way through the screen. Which obviously did nothing but cause bits of down to flutter everywhere. She knew there was a way out, but she couldn't figure it out."

Ron watched a small tear flow down the side of her cheek. It was clear to him Hermione wanted out of something, but he wasn't sure what. He placed his tea down and took her right hand with his left, softly caressing her knuckles with his thumb.

She looked at him, and pulled his hand up to kiss it.

"I know I'm not making any sense," she sighed.

"Love, I've spent years not understanding much of what you say only to later discover how exactly right you were. So I am used to it by now. But I might be of more help if you could be just a bit clearer."

She smiled at him. "I just feel flat. Not happy. Not sad. Just flat. And I'm stuck there. I've always had something I was working towards, you know? First it was learning magic, then taking down Riddle, then figuring us out, building our careers, getting married, elf rights, trying so hard to have a family, raising the kids – it's always been something. And – it's really not just about the kids moving out. It's not. But, I think having the kids home let me ignore how bored I was with other parts of my life because they took so much energy. And now that they are off at school most of the time, I have to face the fact that I am stuck."

Ron just looked at her hesitantly. His old insecurities that had been long defeated came roaring back to life in his chest. He almost couldn't breathe. Was she saying she felt stuck with him? Was she bored of him? He'd always felt the day would come when his brilliant wife would realize she had chosen poorly when she picked him. And now he wasn't even an exciting auror, he was only a lowly shop keeper. He gulped again and forced himself to take a deep breath letting it out slowly.

"Hermione," he said unsteadily, "are you saying you feel stuck with me?"

She snapped her head to face him, crying out "NO! Merlin, no! Oh, Ron, I'm sorry – no – I didn't mean it that way at all. You are the one solid thing in my life." She leaned over and kissed a visibly relieved Ron. "Don't ever think that, ok? Never!"

"OK – I just – well, I wasn't sure what you are getting at? What are you stuck with?"

"That's part of it – I don't really even know to be honest. But, I'm at a point in my career where I feel like I should be effecting real change, but somehow I feel like I've lost all the wind in my sail. It's not just that I'm not make a difference – I don't even know if I care anymore. And that doesn't feel like me either. I've been at the ministry for almost twenty years now. To do something else – it just feels too late for me somehow. I know you have made this incredible move, and I am a little jealous in a way. Not that I want to work with George – that is most assuredly not the point. I just. Ugh. Well, I know I did a lot of brave things in our younger days. But – well – maybe I just used up all of my brave early on. Maybe you only get so much and I used it all up then. And at the time it didn't even feel brave. It just felt like I was doing what I knew I needed to do. There had been no doubt whatsoever. Whether that was going off to Hogwarts to learn magic, sending my parents to Australia, facing Bellatrix, going back to Hogwarts without you and Harry – looking back it was all quite brave. But now, now I don't feel like I have any left. And I don't even know what to do – let alone feel brave enough to do it. So, instead, I feel like that little bird. And I am just thrashing about, using up all my energy, getting hurt a little and getting no closer to being where I need to be."

Ron squeezed her hand for a moment.

"First of all – you are the bravest person I know. Secondly, I had no idea you were this unhappy, love. I knew you hadn't been quite yourself since the kids went to school, but I really had no clue it was this bad. Why didn't you say something?"

"What could I say, Ron?" she cried in an almost exasperated way. "I am miserable and don't know why? I lost my way? I am terribly busy and bored to tears?"

"Well, any one of those would have been helpful," Ron retorted. "But, the point isn't really about why I didn't know. The point is what are we going to do about it?"

"But I don't even know what 'it' is!"

"Well, that may be true. But, do you know the difference between that little bird and you?"

She shook her head.

"It's a big difference, actually. That little bird didn't have the love of her life at her side. You have me. And I will get you unstuck and off of this porch if I have to carry you myself."

She smiled, now. "You are sweet, Ron. I love you so much. But I don't know how to fix this."

"Well, it sounds like you should quit your job for starters."

"Quit my job? I can't quit my job. What would everyone say? What about the bill I am working on with the centaurs, someone has to do that. And, I know we have a lot of savings, but we aren't in a place to just go down to one income!"

"Hermione, you and I each make more than my parents ever made. I know I've never wanted to be as poor as they were, but let's face it, we don't have seven children. And we've both worked for twenty years. We would be ok. We might have to sell this house and live somewhere smaller, but I don't care. We could live on the top floor at Grimmauld place for all I care. But, we have decades of life ahead of us, and that is way to long for you to be stuck and miserable."

"I appreciate that, but I am not ready to quit quite yet. I am not even sure that is the problem. For right now, I think the problem is I am bored and need to find something to be excited about again. Something to work on – whether that's at work or outside of work, I have no idea. I see how energized you are coming home from work now. It's like whole new parts of your brain are firing that you haven't had to use in years with your other career. I want something like that. I want to be excited to get up in the mornings. And right now, I am not excited to get up in the mornings. All I want to do is roll over and snuggle into you and stay there all day."

"Well, I am always in favor of that, you know."

She smacked him playfully and laughed. Seeing laughter in her eyes, even if only for a moment relieved Ron greatly.

"Well, so maybe don't quit tomorrow. But, I think you should not go to work tomorrow or Friday. Take a few days and the weekend to figure some things out. Find a good book about something, walk the trail in the woods where you go to reflect on things. Write in your journal. Go to a muggle library and get lost there for a while. Research clubs to join or causes to get behind. Find something to spark that joy again."

"What if I can't figure it out?"

"Well, I have never known a problem you couldn't figure out. I just haven't. So, I have full faith that you will find something to get excited about again. You might not find it this weekend, but that's ok. Give yourself a little credit, love. You've done a hell of a lot for the world in the past few decades. If you want to stay home and garden for a while, I think the world owes you that."

"Oh how terrible would I be as a professional gardener?" laughed Hermione.

"Well, you could grow mushrooms," joked Ron.

"Oh heavens. Definitely not the solution I am seeking."

"Don't rush it. It took us seven years to figure out we were secretly in love with each other. You'll figure it out, We have many more exciting chapters ahead of us. I have absolutely no doubt about that at all."

"I never thought I would be one for a midlife crisis, you know? I thought that with having loved my work at the ministry and my work as a mum that I would be fine with they went to school. I could never really figure out how to rough house around with them anyway. I thought this latter part of childhood would be where I was better at the mum thing. So why am I struggling now?"

"You are an amazing mum. And our kids are so lucky to have you. With their Uncle George in their lives they have more than enough joking around to last for a lifetime. You show them how to love, and how to learn. You teach them to believe in themselves and to be true to themselves. You teach me those things every day. Lack of tea parties with dollies will not permanently harm anyone."

"I love you Ron."

"I love you too. Now, I am going to send an owl to your boss and tell her you are quite under the weather and probably won't be in until Monday. Then I am going to order Chinese take-away, and I am going to get extra fortune cookies and we will sit here and crack them open until we find a good one. You know I much prefer fortune cookies to crystal balls. Much tastier, and just about as accurate!"

It was several hours later and the two of them were camped in front of the fireplace cracking open fortune cookie after fortune cookie.

"Do you think they get Trelawney to write this rubbish?" Hermione laughed as she threw away a piece of paper suggesting luck would come with certain lottery numbers.

"Nah. Trelawney's fortunes were all too gruesome to put on cookies. Oooh – what about this one? It says that you should embrace wisdom in all forms."

"Think that includes fortune cookie wisdom?"

"Or this one, it says your true friends will always remind you of your faults."

"Really? It says that? That's terrible!"

"Like you've found better ones."

"Hmm. What about this one? It says I will never get ahead on a circular path."

"Definitely a sign you should quit your job," he said as he popped crumbled fortune cookie bits into his mouth.

"Ooohh…Ron...this is a good one. Really. It says the strongest trees in the forest are the ones that bend the most."

"What does that even mean?"

"I think it means I have to adapt. Well – adapt or snap into bits before being turned into firewood."

"Seriously? You get that from bendy trees?"

"Well, yes. I do. But I am also sick of fortune cookies. We have to have opened twenty of them. And I was already full from the egg rolls anyway. But you know what I really take from this?"

"We could make a living writing fortune cookie fortunes?"

"That. And, it doesn't matter what they all say. You are my rock. My roots. You hold me firm. I could walk in circular paths. Or be insulted by true friends. Or be the bendiest tree in the woods. But you ground me. And I wouldn't have it any other way."