They moved around their small Hogsmeade townhome in a way that was familiar and comfortable. A dance they had been doing for years. Each time she would pass Ron, he would find some way to show her affection. A kiss on the cheek. On the lips. An arm around her waist, pulling her in so he could admire her up close. A little tap here and there. His love language was touch, and Hermione didn’t mind that at all. 