A/N: Ok, so even though this chapter features Hermione as the main character, we won't be seeing her form just yet, OK? We see her husband's form

Hermione Weasley threw down her quill and leaned on her desk in exasperation. She hated drafting creature-rights laws. They never seemed to please anyone.

The doorbell rang, startling her out of her thoughts. That's funny, no one ever rings the bell, she thought, at least, no one we know.

She opened the door, "May I help yo-?" she trailed off as she realized she was speaking to the air. Craning her neck, she looked down both sides of the street for any retreating back or apparating figure. A small yip drew her attention to her feet, where a small, reddish terrier sat with its tail wagging happily.

"Awww!" Hermione cooed. She knelt to pick it up. It regarded her with familiar brown eyes and scampered up in her arms. She took him back to her study, kicking the door shut behind her. Checking for the dog's gender, she found out it was a male. Strangely, he gave no protest at being manhandled. Sitting back she looked at him.

"Do you want something to eat? Merlin knows when you last had a good meal. Your much too small." Hermione felt as though the dog was laughing at her. He skidded off the desk, his toenails clicking against the wood, landing with a thump on the carpeted floor. He reached the door and scratched at it, looking at her beseechingly. She laughed and opened it, following the overexcited terrier to her kitchen.

"How did you know were it was?" Hermione asked him, not really expecting an answer, but was surprised when he awkwardly batted his nose with his forepaws.

"Your nose?"

The dog nodded. She was beginning to doubt that this little furball was an ordinary terrier. For one, its intelligence was above average for a dog, and his fur was the same color as…Ron's hair. Oh.

Smirking to herself, she pulled last night's leftover Shepherd's Pie from the refrigerator, and set it in front of him. He attacked it with gusto. Yep, definitely Ron.

When he was done, she picked him up again, "I suppose I'll have to come up with a name for you. Can't always call you, you. How about Ron?"

With a shriek, she tumbled to the floor under the weight of the newly-transformed Ron. "Ron's fine with me. Surprised?" he whispered, face close to hers. "I see you figured it out."

"Yes." She breathed. He brought his face down and kissed her. The two were so distracted entwined on the floor, that they did not realize that the fire had flared up and turned green in the grate.

"I'll come back later." Said a red-faced Harry.

By: Frogs.

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