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As much as he hated to admit it, he really was getting too old for this. The New York Office was at least a decade younger than him and whereas at home there after work drinks lasted one round, when he was in the city he inevitably stayed up half the night.
Which so happened to be the case one October evening as Ron stumbled into his accommodation, suffering as much from exhaustion as the weaning effects of alcohol.
“Ron?”
He spun around, terrified as he searched for the source of the voice.
“Ron?”
At last his eyes landed on the mirror he’d left on his bedside table before going out for the evening. His fingers fumbled for the mirror and he held it up to his face in the dim light of the dying fire.
“Hey,” he said, ignoring the gruff of his voice. “Everything alright?”
Hermione’s smile filled the whole frame and when she pulled back he could see she was standing in their kitchen, morning light pouring over her. “Fine, just got out of bed. Wishing you were here to bring me my morning tea.”
As his eyes took her in, blinking against the brightness of their windows he couldn’t help but smile. “Now where’s the independent woman I married?”
She let out a little laugh. “I didn’t know you had another wife. This co-dependent one rather likes waking up to your face.”
“My face or the tea service?” he teased and she shook her head at him. He didn’t say anything, watching as she went about their kitchen. Mug in hand she turned her attention back to him.
“I wasn’t sure you’d still be up,” Hermione commented, settling down in a chair and propping the mirror against something. Now he could see both of her hands, the way they wrapped around her favorite blue mug, the one she refused to get rid of even though there was a sizable chip missing from the lip of it. She frowned. “Why are you up so late?”
“The kids wanted to go out for drinks,” Ron answered.
“Kids?” Hermione chuckled. “You talk like we’re ancient.”
“I feel ancient,” Ron groaned, kicking off his shoes and falling into bed. “I had to see them all home because they didn’t have two functioning brain cells between them, last thing they need is to get into something they can’t get out of.”
“Can’t stop them from making mistakes forever,” Hermione commented.
“Yeah, well, I had this nagging voice in my ear that stopped me from doing anything too reckless.” Ron said, “These kids aren’t so lucky as to marry theirs.”
“You’re a good man, Ron Granger-Potter,” she said sincerely, a warm smile on her face.
He blinked sleepily at her, propping her up against a pillow so he could stare at her face as his head sunk into the pillow.
“Isn’t it almost two-thirty there?” Hermione asked, “You’re in for a rough morning.”
He grunted noncommittally. “Shouldn’t be too bad,” Ron lied, “We finished most everything yesterday, just waiting to confirm the vendors and we’ll be all finished.”
“Does that mean you’ll be able to come home tomorrow?” she asked brightly.
“Not in time to catch you I’m afraid,” Ron replied. “But if I can get a portkey home I will.”
“Let me know, we’ll save something for you.” Said Hermione, still smiling at him. “Harry has essays to grade so we’ll be staying in.”
“Sounds lovely,” he told her with a yawn.
“Be better if you were here,” she replied and they looked happily at one another. “Get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Love you,” he murmured.
“Love you,” she echoed softly, blowing a kiss and it was the last thing Ron saw as his eyes drifted shut.