Chapter 4

"Mum? Mum are you here?"

Even from her bedroom Molly wasn't fooled by her daughter's fake calm tone. As soon as ahe heard Ginny call out she was down in the kitchen, arms around her, and rubbing her back as she suddenly burst into tears on her shoulder.

"What happened, dear?" she asked. "Tell me what happened."

For a very long time Ginny didn't respond. They simply stood in the middle of the kitchen, Ginny crying into her mother like she was ten years old again. Molly didn't say anything; she knew Ginny would talk when she was ready.

"We… we had a fight." Her voice was barely a whisper, her tears wetting Molly's shoulder.

"You and Harry?" Molly guessed.

Ginny nodded. "Again."

This time, Molly pulled away, looking her only daughter up and down. "Again?" she questioned.

Sniffling and wiping away her tears, she said, "It's been happening a lot," she confessed. "Almost every day. And when we're not fighting, we're not talking to each other. It's… I'm scared."

For almost a year they'd been happily married. They'd laugh, they'd talk, and they'd constantly do things together. Then their work started to interfere. Harry was moving up the ranks in the Aurora department, meaning he was working longer hours, and odd hours. Ginny was away for a week at a time with her team, all over the world. Just before Ron and Hermione's wedding she'd been in Egypt, playing the Egyptian National Team. It had never occurred to either of them before that it just might not work for them.

"Sit down, dear, and tell me everything." Molly guided her to the large table in the kitchen and summoned to steaming cups of tea. Ginny wiped away her tears and forced a smile in her mother's direction.

"It started about a month ago," she began. "When Harry got promoted to second in charge. It's silly, most of the time. I snap, then he snaps, and then it blows up. It's always about our work… always." She took a sip of the tea, then cringed as the hot liquid scolded her tongue. "I just don't know what to do anymore."

There was silence as Molly thought. She had noticed tension at the wedding, though she doubted anyone else would have. They had been putting on a brave face, had danced together, had laughed; but Molly had seen the underlying hurt in their actions. At the time she had brushed it off as a one-off blue. It was rare for Ginny and Harry to fight – their problems were usually resolved by talking it over.

After another few moments, she looked up at her daughter, tapping her fingers against the tea cup as she spoke. "Well, dear," she began, "Perhaps the two of you need to have a long talk about what's important and what isn't."

"Our jobs are important!" Ginny exclaimed, almost out raged. Her mother had never been terribly supportive of her choice to become a professional Quidditch player, and knew she would much prefer her to have chosen a much less violent career, as Molly liked to put it.

"Of course they are!" Molly said quickly. "But, Ginny, it's obviously causing tension between the two of you, and that isn't good. When you came here just minutes ago, you were devastated – I could see it. You don't want to be like that, do you?"

Ginny shook her head, looking into the tea. "How do we stop fighting?" she wanted to know. "We both want to, but we can't stop it…." She wiped away a fresh wave of tears.

"Talking," Molly insisted, smiling at her. "Talk to him, dear. It'll help."

Ginny nodded, but she wasn't convinced. Oddly, she didn't know if Harry would want to listen.

…

The flat was bare compared to the Burrow. All that he really needed was a bed, a table and a bathroom. Other than that, not much else existed in that house.

No wonder they don't seem interested when I ask them to come and see me, he thought bitterly. He couldn't even house them properly.

It had been nice being back with his family and talking to everyone again. Victoire had grown so much since he'd last seen her, and Dominique hadn't even been born. She was now walking and talking and he'd fallen in love with both of his nieces the moment he'd laid eyes on them. It was a shame there were only two of them.

He'd loved the wedding. Ron had seemed so happy, and he really liked Hermione, too. He thought he might have met her once or twice before, but in truth, he had little memory. If he had, she had probably been very young and taken little interest in his little brother's friends. But she seemed to make him happy, so that was something at least.

"My two youngest siblings are married and happy," he said. "And here I am… alone in a foreign country."

He loved his job, of course, but… it just wasn't the same.

Not since he'd gotten a taste for being with family again. If they ever had kids for themselves, their kids would grow up being best friends. If he ever had children, they'd barely know their cousins.

"Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea going back," he said out loud. He could get acquainted or reacquainted with family members new and old, and could be closer to home. His mother would love it, he knew that, but no one else would care one way or the other. They were too busy leading their own lives to worry about a brother they hardly knew.

Looking once again around the bare flat, Charlie sighed. No, he had commitments here. He would just have to settle for more frequent holidays.

…

"Just think, this is the first time we can actually be alone together for real."

"What do you mean?" Hermione responded. "We're alone all the time. We live together, remember?"

"I know, but it's different now, isn't it? We're married."

"Hm." Hermione was thoughtful for a moment, then smiled. "It kind of does feel different, doesn't it? Even though nothing has really changed."

"Is that a good thing?"

Hermione grinned, drawing Ron's lips to hers. "It's definitely a good thing," she said. "A very good thing. I love you." She kissed him again, this time lingering just that little bit longer. Ron responded with an enthusiasm she'd only witnessed in the past day. Apparently, the idea of being married appealed to him a lot more than she had ever anticipated. Or, as he insisted, he just liked being married to her.

They'd decided on a resort in France for their honeymoon, suggested by Hermione's parents. It had been rather pricey, but as Harry had told them – how many honeymoons would they get. To add to the experience of the Muggle-themed wedding, they'd even travelled by plane – much to Ron's disgust.

He hadn't coped too well on the short journey, either, fidgeting and questioning Hermione about every little sound that came from the engine. He'd then stated rather loudly that a Portkey was much safer than a tin box, resulting in many odd looks from the fellow passengers.

"Mm, I love you, too," he said after a moment, breaking the kiss.

Hermione snuggled against him, peaceful and relaxed. To be honest, they hadn't done much in the day and a bit they'd been there. In fact, they hadn't really left their room. Even Hermione, who often said there was more to a reltionship than the physical part, hadn't objected once. She'd vaguely mentioned they should take a look around, but Ron reminded her they had plenty of time to do other things. She hadn't said anything afterwards.

"I don't ever want to leave this place," Hermione said after a moment. "Being able to do nothing but lie in bed all day is… very appealing."

Ron drew her closer to him. "It's because I'm here," he teased.

"That has something to do with it." She closed her eyes, smiling to herself. "Though, I have a wedding present for when we get back."

Ron was suddenly curious. "But I thought we weren't doing anything like that. You told me we weren't!"

Hermione laughed, propping herself onto her elbow. "It's okay," she said. "It's kind of from both of us to each other. But it's important. You'll like it."

Ron frowned.

"Don't worry about it now," Hermione said. "It can wait. Let's just enjoy our honeymoon." She leaned forward, placing a kiss on Ron's lips. He responded by wrapping his arms around her, pulling her closer to him.

But he still couldn't help but wonder what on earth Hermione had planned for when they returned. Truthfully, it worried him slightly. Hermione wasn't really one for surprises (giving them or receiving them) so for her to say that… it must have been important.

"Is it –?"

"Ron, just forget about it for now, okay?" Hermione mumbled, her eyes closed. "It's nothing to worry about, I promise."

"But –"

"Trust me, it can wait." She snuggled up right against him. "I shouldn't have told you."

"Have I mentioned how much I love you?"

Hermione smiled up at him. "You can tell me as many times as you want," she said.

Ron kissed the top of her head. "Well, I love you."

I've had this beta'd for almost a week and kept forgetting to update. My bad. But I have now.

Thank you to Liza for betaing it for me. Much appreciated, Lizy!