Author's Notes: Yeah, well, sorry for the delay with this last chapter, but you know when you have no time, no internet and no ideas? Well, that's exactly what happened to me. No time to write, no internet for a long time and no ideas for this last chapters.. Or better, I had too many ideas and didn't want to pick up any of them because somehow I didn't want to finish this story -- don't ask me why! I don't know! I hope that you'll like this chapter, I wrote it in about... let me think... thirty minutes? Yeah, something like that, between yesterday night and today afternoon. It's the LAST CHAPTER, so pleassee don't ask me for updates, since there won't be any! I'm looking forward to read your reviews, though, so go ahead!

I might be posting another story soon, but if I do it'll be in French. Why? Well, because I have a module of French Language due in September and I could do with some more practice. So, well, basically this is just an alert for French speakers out there.

I'm currently re-writing all the stories I've written so far (this one too will be written once again and beta-read), so stay tuned because if you have any of them in your favourite or in your alerts, I'll send you pms the day the nw versions will be uploaded. 'kay?

Anyway, it has been quite a while since I've been on this site and I've noticed a lovely new feature: "Polls", so well, I've decided to put a poll on my profile page, go and check it out, guys! (And vote, naturally!) Also.. I've a Facebook account, add me to your friends if you want, (just send me a message with the invitation and tell me who you are on this site..) I love friends! The link is in my profile page, like the links to all my accounts.

Two Years Later

Ron leaned against his bedroom door, a midnight blue tie loosely tied around his neck. He smiled softly as he followed his wife's hands going up and down her face, the white moisturizing cream all over her fingers, palms and backs.

Hermione glanced at Ron's reflection in the mirror. "What?" she asked as a soft smile appeared on her lips.

Ron shook his head and walked towards her. "Nothing," he said, bending next to her and kissing her cheek. He looked at her reflection next to his face and whispered, "Should there be a reason for me to watch my beautiful wife?"

Hermione smiled and lowered her eyes. "I'm not beautiful with moisturizing cream all over my face and a pony tail," she said.

"You know that I think that you're always beautiful," he replied, standing up and walking away. He loosened his tie even more until his neck could pass through it and, once he was finally free, he threw it on the bed. "The Hogwarts Express arrives tomorrow in the afternoon," he said softly, "you can't make it, right?"

"Sure I can," she answered softly, "I would never miss my son's arrival."

Ron stopped and looked at her. "Didn't you have a meeting in the afternoon?" he asked Hermione.

Hermione took a moment to answer. "Yes, I did," she said gingerly, freeing her hair from the pony tail and starting to brush it, "but it's okay, I can take a day off from work."

Ron unbuttoned his shirt and put it on the chair. "Hermione, you--"

Hermione's brush stood in midair as she raised her eyes to look at him. "Ron, don't…"

Ron stopped, he bit his bottom lip and looked away. He disrobed of his trousers, put them over the shirt and walked into the bathroom. Hermione heard the basin filling with water and then noises that let her know that her husband was brushing his teeth. Minutes later, when Ron emerged from the bathroom, he was drying his face in a green towel. "Listen, it's great that you want to come to pick up Hugo, really," he said to her, sitting on their bed in his underpants.

Hermione looked at him through the mirror. "But?"

Ron looked away. "But I took the day off to go there, you don't need to do that yourself, " he let her know.

Hermione smiled. "But I want to go there," she said, "yes, I have a meeting, but I can call it off."

"Hermione, you can't take another day off your job," Ron sighed.

"Why?" she asked lightly. "You always used to complain about me working all day and now that I'm finally relaxing, you're complaining about that too."

"You called two meeting off last week, and the week before you went to your office only in the morning and the week before that you--"

"Yes," she said, raising her voice and lowering her brush, "I'm tired and Healer Strout said that it's okay to relax a little about work and stuff."

"She also said not to stop working like you did last year," he replied.

"I'm not going to stop working," she cried, standing up and turning towards him. "I'm just tired."

"You're always tired," Ron informed her.

"I'm not always tired, Ron," she stated, "I'm just tired right now."

"Hermione, we've already talked about this, remember?" he asked sweetly. "You need to work, you need to keep your head busy, you need to go out. Remember when you locked yourself in the house? That wasn't good."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not going to lock myself in again, Ron," she said, unbuttoning her dressing gown and putting it on the chair next to her husband trousers. "I just need to slow down a little."

"What you don't need is to stop, though," he said.

Hermione looked away, for a moment her bottom lip trembled and her vision went out of focus. "I know," she whispered, hating the fact that her voice was shaking so much, "but I'd love to." She brought a hand to her face and hastily brushed the tears away, knowing that if she started to cry it could have taken a while before she stopped.

She heard Ron standing up but before she could even clear her sight to glance at him, he pressed his body against hers; his arms slid around her back as he hugged her, his hand brushed away her hair while he lowered his head and pressed his cheek against her head. "I know," he whispered back, "but you can't do that."

Hermione gripped her hands to his arms. "Ron…"

"I'm here, Hermione," he whispered.

Hermione brushed her eyes against his bare skin and took a while to answer as if she was waiting to calm down. "I miss her," she murmured, her voice steadier.

"I know, I miss her too," he murmured back, "but there's nothing we can do about that."

Hermione nodded against his chest, she sniffled softly and her hair tickled his skin.

"Do you want me to call Healer Strout for a session?"

Hermione backed a little and looked into Ron's blue eyes. "Do you think I should?" she asked unsurely.

"Only if you want to," he assured her.

She nodded. "Then no," she said.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, brushing away the remaining of the tears, "yes, I can manage this. I don't need to see a shrink, I'm fine. I'm not crazy."

"Never stated the contrary," he let her know.

Hermione smiled. "I know," she whispered. It hadn't been Ron the one that had insisted about her seeing a psychiatrist, on the contrary, he had been the one that had refused to take her there for the first two months, until she had started to feel better. She stood on tiptoes and kissed him. "Are you going to come to bed?"

Ron smiled. "I'm wearing my pyjamas and then I'm off to bed."

Hermione climbed on the bed and drew the sheets to her chest. "Are you going to collect Hugo by car, tomorrow?"

Ron smiled and lied next to her, her cold feet brushed his warm ones. "Yes, that was an option."

"You can pass by the Ministry once you've been to King's Cross," she suggested, "I missed him in these moths." She turned on the other side of the bed and leaned her back against Ron's chest. He sneaked an arm around her belly and held her tightly against him, leaning forward he breathed in the scent of her hair. Her locks have impregnated with all the smells of the evening that they have just spent, Hermione's parents house scented with flowers, tea and chocolate biscuits and the mint scented eau de toilette that she had spread over her skin after the shower.

"I've missed him too," he replied sleepily. There was a pause of silence in which their breaths came out slowly and softly, like caresses in the dark; then Ron said, "I almost forgot, Ginny and Harry had invited us all to their house for dinner in the weekend."

Their comfortable spooning broke as Hermione stiffened under his arm. "Really?" she said, her voice suddenly tight with concern.

"Yes, and this time we should really go," he whispered, his arm tightening around her belly as if he wanted to prevent her escape. "Remember that it was also part of your therapy? Healer Strout told you to talk to them again."

"I'm talking to them," she protested feebly.

"Christmas cards and job talks is not talking," he said sweetly.

"Healer Strout invited James at a session once, he didn't come," she murmured.

Another pause of silence followed Hermione's statement, and for a moment she had the foolish idea that her husband was going to let the subject fall and wish her good night. "It's James," he said instead.

Hermione's head turned a little towards him. "What?" she tried to say, but instead she found herself just mouthing that word. Her eyes wide in the dark room as she was trying to make out her husband's expression.

"It's James the one that wants to see you," he said softly against her cheek.

Hermione turned again and sank her head in the pillow. "I-I can't…"

"Of course you can, Hermione," Ron whispered to her as if she was a child, "I'll be there with you, we'll talk together. You are not alone."

For a moment Hermione considered crying again, then her hand covered Ron's and she enlaced her fingers with his. "I know," she whispered, her voice shaking, "I love you, Ron."

"Love you, too, Hermione," he replied softly. He hid his head in her neck cavity and kissed her. "Love you, too."

- The End -

Author's Notes2: Just a resumé of what I wrote above for those of you who doesn't read the AN on the header:

1. This is the last chapter,

2. Reviews are love,

3. Vote on my profile,

4. Add me to your friends on Facebook (link on my profile page!),

5. My future stories / re-writing of old stories,

6. Love my readers so far.