Hermione had written as intimate a letter as she dared, just in case he was in the middle of practice, or dinner at the Burrow, or with Leila. But just in case, she'd dimmed the lights and settled into bed in a simple nightgown, her hair loose about her shoulders.
The privacy shutters on the bedroom windows were cracked just enough for her to hear the faint buzz of a Vespa on a crossing street, and the sounds of people hurrying to dinner or to do a little shopping. She sighed and wondered if she had enough bread for breakfast when a faint crack sounded from the next room.
She drew her wand and padded to the doorway. "Ron? Is that you?"