"What? Ron!" Harry protested and Ron shrugged. Feet up on the dining room table – if his mother saw she’d kill him – and a glass of Muggle beer in hand, Ron looked hard and lean and grown up. A man. A battle-proven wizard, not at all the gangling youth he had been not much more than a few short – no, long – months ago. Hermione stared at him. At his brightest blue eyes that were so keen and sharp he cut the air with them as he stared Harry down.