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They found a new way to solve problems. Where Hermione couldn't reach for her spells and Ron couldn't storm off. Where they were forced to sit in one place and actually talk. The others didn't understand of course. Or maybe they did. Harry certainly did to an extent. But it didn't help him much with Ginny. Their driver had to be obliviated. And they got divorced pretty early on. So, Hermione didn't consider them the best option to assess the success of this method of resolving marital and domestic scuffles.
They discovered this way by chance as most things are — when they began an argument of sorts in a cab while returning from King's Cross.
“Scorpius Malfoy. What a pretentious name. Malfoy found a name for his son longer than his—” Hermione interrupted him before he could derive the satisfaction of completing his sentence.
“Don't be crass, Ron.” Hermione said. She pulled her handbag close and began rummaging into it.
“Did you see that kid? Albus seemed pretty chummy with him. I don't like this.” Ron huffed. He folded his arms and looked out the window, at the buildings that ran past them.
“There's no reason for you to have any opinion on a child.” Hermione licked her lips once before she carefully began to apply her lipstick. They were on their way to the Ministry. Ron would go on to Diagon Alley from there.
“He's the kid of a Death–” Again he was interrupted by Hermione, this time with a meaning filled glare that flicked from him to their cab driver who seemed more interested in their conversation than the road ahead of him. The cab driver seemed to realise the lull in their talk seemed to be caused by him and grinned with red stained teeth at Ron, meeting his eyes in the mirror.
“Look ahead mate, and keep your eyes there. Your ears too. This isn't your entertainment.” Ron let an edge of danger into his tone. Hermione would have confunded the man, but sometimes a few harsh words did the job far better.
The man laughed, a gurgling sound that echoed in the suffocating space. Hermione winced and immediately peeled open the window. “Fix this,” she hissed.
Before Ron could do anything however, the driver spoke, his voice rough and gravelly. “Ain't nothing to me mate. Long ways on the road, conversations like the ones with your,” he jerked his head to Hermione, “Are the only thing to keep me awake. Me wife enjoys the stories too.”
Ron couldn't find an answer to that. The man openly admitted he was eavesdropping. He looked to Hermione who mirrored his expression. She fingered her wand ensconced safely in her pocket. He set his hand on hers. Trigger happy. That's what she'd become. But somehow, Ron felt that wasn't necessary… not here.
“Y'all can continue. I ain't gonna distract. Sometimes, man and wife or mistress,” the man chuckled, “find the solutions to their problems in cabs. People even ask me for help sometimes. Those are the best times.” The cab lurched to a stop next to the red telephone booth, chipped glass refracting light into rainbows.
“We'll both get down here.” Ron gripped his wife hard and pulled her out through his door. He flung a few notes through the man's window. Hermione looked thunderous, her wand half out already.
“Think about it. Me and the wife have tried this too. Solved a lot of problems this way.” His elbow fell out of the window, tapping a merry tune on the hood of the car. “Well, good day mate.” He waved, flashed a red grin and swerved his way into traffic. Some other couple, standing in the distance, hailed the cab and the journey continued.
And that day, neither of them spoke about it.
But that night, Hermione turned to her husband, lowering her reading glasses. “Do you think that made sense?”
Ron, lost in his own thoughts, didn't hear her. “Maybe.” He murmured.
“I mean, it makes sense. Especially for us. No magic, no getting out easily.” She shifted again, turning to face the ceiling. “Shall we try it next time?”
“Whatever you say dear.” Ron closed his eyes, letting sleep overcome his consciousness.
They almost never fought. Not really. So Hermione had to wait nearly a year until tensions between them rose to the point where neither could control their emotions and tempers.
“...how can she even—” Hermione stopped. “We should get a taxi.” Her wand was already in her hand. Ron had one foot out the door, caught in the process of slipping his coat on. His face was covered with angry red splotches of colour, highlighting his freckles in colour.
“What?” His voice rose. “You want to talk to Mum, don't you? Confront her finally?” He walked out entirely.
“Don't be absurd, Ron. It's to test the theory. Of the cab driver.”
They tested it that day. Hermione grabbed Ron, pulled him to the taxi stand. They were a strange sight. A woman in her nightgown and a man with an overcoat that barely covered his pyjama covered legs. Hermione’s hair was curled too, the rollers standing straight.
They found a cab driver. And let loose all their frustration.
And it worked. And then, two months later, it worked again. The third time, Hermione was convinced she found a new method after all. Never mind that the cab driver had said others did this too. She was the first one to document this after all. The Daily Prophet made an article outlining this curious phenomena. The Chosen Trio’s New Method of Improving Relations. It didn’t matter that it was only the Duo. It didn't work for Harry after all. But it was the principle of the thing.
Some particularly enthusiastic couples in a bid to display their superior intelligence, summoned the Knight bus to be their playground. But they promptly got ousted and subsequently banned by Ern. You could do magic in a magical space. And when tempers rose…
Couples were banned from entering the Knight Bus together after that.
But Hermione’s method only gained momentum. It benefited both parties. The cab drivers of London City and the unhappy couples of the wizarding world. St Mungo's lost a significant portion of its clientele, especially on days like Valentine's. And those poor overworked Healers only rejoiced.
Strange how one cab driver’s words saved multiple marriages. Only in the Wizarding World would such a bizarre happenstance be completely accepted at its face value.