Prompt: "Women have a wonderful instinct about things. They can discover everything except the obvious." -Oscar Wilde
There were explosions, fire, and funny-coloured smoke. There were betrayals, deaths, and heart-stopping screams. There were curses, confusion, and tortured deaths. The Final Battle brought out hidden courage and valour. Strength overcame weakness and in the end, good defeated evil, and Voldemort fell.
The aftermath was worse than the battle. The Order of the Phoenix had almost a hundred witches and wizards fighting on their side. They outnumbered the Death Eaters, but the fight still lasted for hours. The Death Eaters seemed willing to sacrifice themselves for the Dark Lord and fought with a mad intensity the Order had never seen before. With fierce looks on their faces, they called out spells that hadn't been used in a thousand years. They invoked Old powers and the Darkest magic. But the Order was stronger. The Death Eaters had a new power, but they lacked the passion, the will, the reason the Order had. The Order had family members, boyfriends, girlfriends, lovers, friends – all who were Muggle, Muggle-born, or blood traitors. These people were the ones the Death Eaters were after and the Order had a reason to protect them: Love.
Ron imagined he fought harder than anyone else. He fought for his family, for his friends, for Harry, and especially for Hermione. Curses flew over his head and he ducked, fell, and rolled over – anything to not get hit. He watched as Death Eaters and Order members alike were hit with curses and died. Bodies were strewn out over the outside lawn of Godric's Hollow, but Ron's eyes tried to focus on Hermione. She was several yards ahead of him, taking on two Death Eaters at once. He ran towards her, bulldozing over Death Eaters who got in his way. A jet of red light flew out from the end of his wand and hit one of the wizards Hermione was battling with, knocking him down. Unable to regain his bearings after sending that curse, Ron was unable to cast a successful Shield Charm and a curse hit him.
Unbearable, searing pain swept through his body. His eyes blurred and rolled up into the back of his head. He felt himself shake and gasp for air. At that moment, he wasn't sure it wouldn't be better to just die. But he couldn't! He had to keep hold on to the earth, on to life. The pain suddenly fell away and Ron saw nothing but black.
When he woke up, he saw the bodies. He saw blood and death and broken wands. Part of the castle was crumbling and everywhere people were crying. He tried to stand, but he couldn't. His legs didn't work. The pain he felt before seemed to linger inside his bones every time he wanted to move.
He sat up, taking in deep breaths, but every time he inhaled his lungs felt on fire. The hills surrounding Hogwarts tilted back and forth; everything felt as though it was going to start spinning 'round and 'round at any moment. It made Ron feel sick. The bile flew up into the back of his throat, burning it. He couldn't help it and vomited all over the grass next to him. Every heave sent sharp pangs throughout his stomach and chest.
Once the sickness eased inside him, he looked through blurry, tear-filled eyes for any sign of Harry or Hermione. He knew he should be looking for Harry, to try and figure out who won the war, but his eyes were trying to find a head of bushy brown hair instead. Where was she? If she didn't survive – Ron shook his head to try and stop thinking about that, but moving his head so quickly only gave him a swimming, head-under-water feeling.
Without warning, Ron heard screaming and shouting, whoops and hollering. It sounded joyful, jubilant even. Ron tried to focus on the noise to see where it was coming from. The first person he was able to make out was Professor Lupin who was hugging a small witch with electric-blue hair.
Ron knew they had won. Momentary relief flooded his body and the burning sensation when he breathed was almost forgotten. Then, he remembered about Hermione – and Harry. He was growing tired, though, and everything was starting to go hazy. Blackness was trying to pull him under, but before he passed out again, he saw Hermione, alive but with a thick stream of tears falling down her cheeks, dripping off her chin and jaw. She saw him and started to run towards him. He wanted to go to her, to hug her, stroke her hair, but before she got to him he stopped wanting anything and the world stopped existing.
Hermione stomped into the kitchen at The Burrow. The door slammed behind her with a loud bang. Ron grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest. Twenty or thirty feet above him, Harry threw an old beat-up Quaffle at him.
'What was that for, you lousy git?' Ron yelled, looking up into the sky.
Harry and Ginny descended, making their way towards the back garden. They both landed neatly. Ron threw the ball back at Harry with great force.
'Calm down, mate. What's the matter?'
'Hermione and I can't decide on a bloody house.'
Ron and Hermione had spent the better part of the day looking at houses all over England – some owned by Muggles, others by witches or wizards – using the Floo Network to get from one town to the next. It had been exhausting for both of them, especially since this was the fourth weekend in a row they'd been looking without getting closer to a decision.
'You better choose one soon,' said Ginny, taking her hair out of its band and shaking her head. 'There's only a few more months left before she pops.'
Ron's eyes widened in horror. 'Pops?' he cried.
Ginny laughed. Handing her broom to Harry she said, 'Pops, gives birth, you know. Put that in the shed for me, would you? I'm going to go see how Hermione's doing.'
'Good luck,' said Ron. 'Been biting my bloody head off all day.'
Harry watched Ginny saunter into the house.
'Don't look at my sister like that.'
'Oh, like I haven't been looking at her like that for five years now anyway.'
'Are you still holding out for that one house in Godric's Hollow?' asked Harry.
Ron shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. 'Er, dunno.'
'You are, aren't you?'
'It's just a house ...'
'If it's just a house why don't you buy the one Hermione wants?'
'Why the bloody hell can't she see that I need that house?' whinged Ron. 'I made it so obvious that that's the one I wanted.'
'You know how they are,' said Harry with a shrug. 'Women have a wonderful instinct about things. They can discover everything except the obvious.'
'No, really, it's true. Take Hermione for example. She's so observant. She knew right away that I fancied Cho and exactly how I was feeling about Cedric and Sirius, but when I didn't want to talk about it she kept on and on, trying to get me to "open up." Never quite got the hint that I hadn't an interest in talking about shite like that.'
'That's true. She only shut it because I told her to lay off.'
'Right,' said Harry. 'See what I mean? Tell her that's the only house you want. Why doesn't she like it?'
'She likes it fine. She's just got her knickers in a twist because I hate every house she points out.'
'Ah,' said Harry. 'Do you really?'
'I don't hate them, but they're not as good as the house in Godric's Hollow. She likes the house, not the town.'
'What's she got against Godric's Hollow?' Harry demanded, clutching Ginny's and his broomsticks so tightly his knuckles turned white.
'Doesn't want to live near me, then?'
'I don't think that's it.'
'So go talk to her. I heard that another wizarding family – the Morans or something – were interested in that house.'
'Yeah. You best go figure out what you're going to do with Hermione.'
Hermione sat down on the sofa and rubbed her swollen stomach. It had been over six years since the fall of Voldemort, five years since Harry and Ginny got back together, two years since she and Ron married, and six months since she found out she was pregnant. The two-bedroom flat she shared with Ron was small, but cosy. It didn't take long for them to realise that there wasn't enough room for all their stuff and a baby – not to mention enough room if in the future they wanted to add a second baby, or in Ron's case, a fourth or fifth.
'Are you all right?'
Hermione turned around. 'Oh, hey, Gin.' She lifted her legs and rested them atop the coffee table. 'My legs are a bit sore, but I'm all right. I feel huge, though.'
Ginny sat down on the cushion next to Hermione and reached out to touch her stomach. 'I love feeling him—'
'—kick. Those are some strong legs.'
Hermione smiled. Ginny and Ron both loved to touch her stomach, but they had no idea what it felt like to have the baby kick her from the inside. Ron, her dear sweet Ron, was worried the baby would be born not knowing who he, Ron, was so he had taken to saying goodnight to him – or her – every evening and good morning when he woke up.
'Nothing,' said Hermione. 'Everything. Ron isn't interested in any houses we look at. He doesn't like the Muggle ones; he doesn't like the wizarding ones. It's rather frustrating.'
'There isn't one house he likes?'
'There's one and only one.'
'Oh.' Ginny clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. 'What's wrong with it?'
'What's it look like?'
'It's bigger on the inside than it is on the outside. Four bedrooms, three toilets. There's a sitting room with three walls of nothing but bookshelves.'
'Sounds perfect. What's wrong with it?' Ginny asked again.
'It's in Godric's Hollow.'
'I don't know how Harry can live there so close to where his parents died and where the Final Battle occurred. It seems as though it would be too many memories.'
'But if it's the perfect house ... and Harry's there. I always imagined you and Ron would end up somewhere close to Harry. You've been through too much to ever get too far apart.'
Hermione smiled. 'That's true. I think that as well. But you've been through almost as much as us. I mean – the Department of Mysteries, fighting Death Eaters in Hogwarts, the Final Battle in Godric's Hollow—'
'You don't have to list everything,' said Ginny, 'and I'll be living in Godric's Hollow soon enough anyway.'
Ginny smiled shyly.
'Oh my goodness!' Hermione cried. 'Did he ask—?'
'Not yet, but we've been discussing it more and more. It's going to happen soon. Personally, I think he's waiting until Dad gets back from visiting Charlie to ask him for permission.'
'Yes, it is. So, you'd have me and Harry both right around the corner. And you wouldn't have to use magical transportation to see us either. I only say that because we both know how much Harry hates Floo'ing and Portkeys and everything.'
'Right. And Ron never did get his Apparation License.'
Ginny giggled for a moment. 'Poor Ron. I think he and Harry want to live closer to one another than they're willing to admit.'
Hermione couldn't help but laugh. 'That's so true.'
'Don't ever let Harry near your baby with a broomstick. He's already told Ron how they're going to teach him—'
'—Quidditch at a young age so he—'
'—can make the Gryffindor House team.'
'Let's hope he or she makes Gryffindor.'
'You should probably think about buying a house to live in before you think about what House your baby's going to get Sorted into.'
Hermione sighed. 'I know. I just don't think I want to be in the same town as ... where all the fighting happened.'
'If it doesn't bother Harry or Ron, why does it bother you?'
'I don't know. I don't think I would mind living there, really, but Ron – he was so hurt and he went through so much, I'm worried that one day he'll say living there is too much for him, that he can't handle it.'
'Ron's stronger than we give him credit for,' said Ginny. 'He wouldn't want to live in that house if he didn't think he could handle living near the ... battlefield.'
'Maybe you're right,' Hermione admitted. 'It is a lovely house. White with red shutters and a red door. The lawn is perfect; there must be a charm on the grass to keep it exactly an inch or so high. I think the back garden has some gnomes but that's what the kids'll be good for.'
'Maybe I should rethink things. The house could be perfect for us. They're not selling to any Muggles, since it's bigger on the inside than it is on the outside, but I think there might be another wizarding family interested.' Hermione took in a deep breath. 'Perhaps I should go talk to Ron.'
Ginny nodded. 'I think that would be a good idea.'
'Thanks for talking to me. And I think you're right – Ron's stronger than I give him credit for. He came back after the Final Battle more quickly than any of us thought he would.'
'You two are going to have an amazing family.' Ginny stood up. 'I'll go get Ron.'
From the outside, the house looked like a small cottage, no more than a few rooms. The name on the mailbox had been magically altered from Jones to Granger-Weasley. The moment they moved all their belongings in, Hermione hit her nesting period. She fixed up all the rooms, changed the colour of the carpets with a wave of her wand, and put all her books in alphabetical order. One of the bedrooms was left undone – with a single bed and bedside table. It would be waiting for the next baby they had ('In at least three or four years, Ron,' Hermione had said).
The house was beautiful on the inside and out. Ginny exclaimed over and over again how much she adored it every time she visited, which was often. Harry's house, the one that they'd found out his parents had hid in so many years ago, was only about half a mile from the new Granger-Weasley home.
They'd been in the house for barely a month when Hermione woke up, announcing it was time, and went with Ron to St Mungo's via the Floo Network where a Healer helped to deliver their first baby, a girl with ginger hair ('Did you really think it would be something other than red?' Ron said). The new addition to their family lived in a room of soft green colours and big brown teddy bears. Her name was Abigail – they both wanted something traditional – and she was small, born at six pounds even and was only seventeen pounds by the time she was a year old.
It would seem that everything was perfect. The Muggle neighbours never suspected anything was strange about the house; they never went further inside than the ground floor. Upstairs was where magic took liberties and made the house much bigger than it was supposed to be. The front and back gardens were perfect, like from a child's fairy tale. Harry and Ginny came over to eat supper at least twice a week and while Ron or Harry were usually the ones to cook, everyone enjoyed themselves.
At night, though, Hermione would wake up and Ron would be gone. She'd get up, put on her dressing robe, check on Abigail, and go downstairs. Sometimes it was as simple as Ron having a cup of tea and flipping through files from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, reading about Dark wizards and illegal goings-on. Those times Hermione would slip back upstairs without him seeing her. She didn't want to disrupt him when he was doing his Auror-work. Other times, though, Ron simply would not be in the house. It happened once or twice a month, but Hermione never knew where he went.
Ron seemed perfectly happy otherwise. His favourite pastimes went from playing Quidditch and chess to playing with Abigail and cooking dinner for his family, and oftentimes Harry and Ginny as well. It was during one of those times that Hermione finally found out where Ron went off to.
'You're going to burn it!' snapped Ginny.
'This isn't your bloody kitchen, so piss off,' said Ron, turning his back on Ginny and returning his attention to the uncooked chicken in front of him.
'But Mum never uses that spell to cook a—'
'Ginny, I swear to Merlin if you don't get out of my kitchen I'm going to—'
Ron groaned and turned around. Light footsteps padded down the stairs and Hermione appeared, clutching a bathrobe to her body. Water dripped from her body, creating small puddles by her feet as she stood in the kitchen doorway.
'What's wrong?' asked Ron. 'You said you were going to be done with your bath and ready to eat – dinner's almost done.'
'It won't be,' Ginny muttered, 'if you don't do the cooking spell right.'
'Ginny – shut it.'
'The drain in the bathtub isn't working ... I think the Muggle plumbing is broken again. I tried my wand, but it didn't work. ... Ron, you're so much better than I am with those types of spells.'
'This isn't a Muggle house,' said Ginny.
'It was originally,' answered Hermione, 'back in the early 1920s. Only for a bit's time, then a wizard bought it and changed the upstairs and, well, changed loads of things. But, Ron, could you—'
'Not now, you wanted me to make dinner for the four of us and Abigail.'
'I know, but the water is just sitting in the tub and—'
'I can't do twenty bloody things at once.' Ron felt the heat rise up his neck. He gripped the wand in his hand more tightly as he tried to get control of his frustration.
'Hey, Ron?' called Harry, entering the kitchen from the backdoor. He came into the house, covered in mud, holding a laughing Abigail. 'We were racing.'
'I win! I win!' Abigail exclaimed.
'Yeah, you won,' laughed Harry.
'So why is she so muddy, then?' asked Ron.
'Fell in pond, Daddy.'
'She fell in the pond?' cried Ron.
'Oh, Ron,' said Hermione, 'it's all right. You know it's not so much a pond as a large, shallow puddle.'
'Can one of you do a cleaning charm on us? I think my wand's in my jacket in the living room. ...'
'I left mine at home,' said Ginny, looking at Harry. 'It's on our kitchen table, actually.'
'Da-ddy,' said Abigail. 'I got mud in my earses.'
'Ears,' corrected Hermione. 'Ron, can't you cast Scourgify on her for me?'
'Oh, I suppose you don't have your wand either.'
Ron interrupted her by pointing his wand at Abigail, waving it, and saying, 'Scourgify!' Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Ron cut him off by using Scourgify on him as well. 'Will you lot clear out so I can finish dinner? You're driving me mad.'
Harry looked at his hands. 'I think there's still mud underneath my fingernails.'
Ron turned his back and went back to the chicken. All it needed was to have a strong warming charm to cook it. A stack of vegetables – carrots, broccoli, and cauliflower – sat on the counter next to the cooker. Ron took the carrots and placed them lengthways next to each other. He used his wand and a severing charm to cut them into small pieces. He levitated the pieces into a large pot filled with water. Tapping his wand against the pot, he heated the water up to a boil.
'That's not how Mum did it,' said Ginny.
'This is how Mum taught me,' said Ron, keeping his back to Ginny. With everyone talking to him, he was getting extremely agitated. He'd made dinner for everyone before, but tonight was different. Tonight was supposed to be perfect; he had an announcement to make. A huge announcement. And yet everyone was talking to him, distracting him.
'You're going to muck it up.'
'Piss off, Ginny.'
'Ron!' cried Hermione. 'Not in front of Abigail!'
Ron took in a deep breath. 'Look. I just want to finish dinner. Can't you lot leave me alone for ten minutes so I can do that? Please?'
'Come here, love,' Hermione said to Abigail. 'Let's wash your hands before dinner.'
Abigail padded over to her mother. Her legs were short and chubby, her face bright, and her hair the exact same ginger colour as Ron's. Hermione turned towards the stairs, holding her hand out for Abigail to take.
Ron turned and looked down at his daughter. 'You can have one when it's time to eat.'
Abigail reached out her hand. 'No potatoes?'
Hermione let out a loud yelp and launched at Ron. She flung him out of the way just in time. Without meaning to, Abigail had Summoned all of the vegetables and potatoes from the counter, fridge, and back garden to her. Through the open window above the sink, several dirty vegetables had uprooted themselves and flew into the kitchen, hitting the wall behind Abigail. The two-year-old let out a cry and tears streamed down her face.
Ron pushed his frustration further down inside him and went to his daughter, gathering her up in his arms, and brushing the hair away from her face.
'Why are you crying?'
'I didn't mean it! I sorry, I sorry, Daddy.'
'You have to remember what your mum and I taught you – try to control your magic.'
'I didn't mean it!'
'I know you didn't. You don't have to cry.'
Abigail gulped and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Ron turned and handed her to Hermione, saying, 'Please, just take her upstairs. I'll deal with all this. Just – ten minutes, okay? Ten minutes without anyone in the kitchen.'
Hermione smiled and nodded. 'Yes, of course.'
Ron didn't want to hear oops. Oops couldn't possibly mean anything good. He whirled around and looked at Ginny.
'What did you do?' he demanded.
'Well, I picked up your wand,' she said, 'to get the dirt off the chicken. Some of the vegetables from the garden landed on it ...'
'Where does the oops come in, Ginny?' asked Ron, refusing to allow himself to look at the chicken.
'I sort of ... made the chicken disappear.'
Ron looked at the cooker. The chicken was no more. He snatched his wand away from Ginny, stuffed it in his jeans pocket, and walked out of the backdoor, closing it with a bang.
'I'm sorry!' Ginny cried; her face mimicked Abigail's with large tears rolling down her cheeks. 'I've ruined dinner.'
Harry went over to Ginny, his wife, and hugged her. 'Ron's been in a mood all day. It's all right.'
Hermione took in a deep breath. 'Here, will you watch Abigail for me? I'm going to throw on some real clothes and go find him. Although, I've no idea where to look.'
Harry took Abigail from Hermione's arms. 'Ron might kill me for telling you this, but ... try looking at the old battlefield.'
Harry shrugged. 'It's just a hunch, but that's where I'd look. It's not too far from here, so by the time you change and Apparate there, Ron'll have just got there.'
Hermione was confused, but she nodded and dashed up the stairs. She pulled on a pair of trousers and a t-shirt. Using a thick hair tie, she pulled back her still-damp hair and shoved her feet into a pair of trainers. She didn't bother tying the laces as she grabbed her wand, closed her eyes, and Disapparated.
Ron heard the crack. He didn't have to turn around to know his wife had somehow figured out where he always came. The old battlefield was nothing more than a normal meadow with overgrown grass and weeds. It held memories, though, and Ron always came here when life felt overwhelming.
The first week after he and Hermione brought Abigail home he escaped during the middle of the night. He didn't stay gone very long – thirty minutes at most – in case Abigail woke up and Hermione needed him to help her. But that first week ... every two hours the baby woke up crying and hungry and as a dutiful husband and loving father, Ron got up to fetch and change her. Then, he'd give Abigail to Hermione to nurse. He had to go to work exhausted and after seven days, he felt overwhelmed and had to take some time to himself to clear his head.
Since then, Ron returned a lot. He could remember exactly where he fought, exactly where he woke up, exactly where he saw Hermione running towards him after everything was over.
'How'd you know I was here?'
'Harry thought this might be where you were. He was right. What's going on? You've been in a mood all day long.'
'Ron, tell me.'
'I don't want to talk about it, Hermione!'
'Ron! You can't keep things bottled inside – it's not healthy!'
'Please ... I don't want to talk about it.'
'That's not fair. You can't leave the house in the middle of the night and never tell me where you've been. You can't keep doing this. Talk to me instead of running away! I need to know you trust me; I need to know you can talk to me.'
'No, Ron.' He heard her sniffle. 'Talk to me. Please. Please.'
Ron couldn't stand to hear her cry so he told her. 'I wanted dinner to be perfect. Cooking's my thing, y'know? Mum taught me and you're shite at it, no offence, and I had something I wanted to tell everyone tonight.'
Ron felt Hermione walk up behind him and put her arms around his waist, her cheek against his back. He reached down and covered her hands with his.
'What did you want to tell us?'
'I quit my job.'
He felt Hermione tense, so he quickly headed off a row by adding, 'But I have a new one.'
'I don't want to end up looking like Moody so I took a job as Junior Head of Magical Law Enforcement. I'm next in line for the job when Kingsley retires. Not too much of a pay rise, but enough that when you're ready to have another baby you won't have to worry about getting back to work right away. I know my mum loves watching Abigail now, but it wouldn't have to be like that with the next one. ... The house will be paid for soon so expenses will be less.'
'It sounds lovely, Ron. Really. I'm sorry your dinner was ruined.'
'You and your bathtub – Ginny and her nagging about my cooking – Harry and Abigail and the mud. And you and I did have that row this morning. I've just been on edge.'
Hermione let go of Ron and walked in front of him, looking up at him with her brown eyes. She cupped his cheek in her hand.
'Why here?' she asked.
Ron shrugged. 'Puts things in perspective.'
Ron looked at her and felt an overwhelming urge to hold her. He drew her to him, feeling her body flush against his. He breathed in, smelling her shampoo.
'I was knocked out, remember? And when I woke up I didn't know where you were or if you were dead and for a few minutes you weren't there and I thought what if you were dead?'
'But I wasn't.'
'That's not the point.' Ron pulled back and looked down into his wife's eyes. 'I have a really bad temper—'
'And when I'm at that point where I'm going to blow up if someone says anything to me – or when I'm frustrated or overwhelmed or whatever, I come here. Because for some reason here makes the memory of when I thought you might be dead more real. It doesn't matter what shite thing is going on in my life because once I remember what it felt like not knowing if I'd ever see you again ... it makes all the crap stuff not so crappy.'
Hermione swallowed and wet her lips.
'I'm really excited about this new job. The twins are rich ... Bill and Charlie have decent money – probably the same as Dad, only without seven kids. I never really thought I'd have a job where I wouldn't have to worry about paying for things. It's amazing, really, this feeling. Of knowing that not everything I own is rubbish. That's why I wanted things to go perfectly tonight.'
'You don't think things are perfect? I rather think our lives are almost perfect. I wouldn't want to change anything.'
Ron smiled. 'Thank you.'
'I don't mean to force you to talk about things. I know you don't like to talk, really. Communication is very important in keeping a good marriage.'
'We have a fine marriage.'
Hermione nodded. 'Yes, I know we do, but I want to keep it that way. I never want to stop being married to you. That's why it's so important for us to talk. For you to tell me what's going on instead of running away here.'
`This is good for me, though,' said Ron.
'Is this ... is this why you wanted to move to Godric's Hollow?'
Ron nodded. 'Yes. I feel so much better when I come here and look around. The memories – they're bad, but they make me see how perfect everything else is. I love you.'
'I love you, too.'
'I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing that.'
Hermione smiled as Ron bent his head down and kissed her on the mouth. Her lips were soft, her tongue warm. Several minutes passed before either of them pulled away. Hermione's smile widened.
'You're so bloody brilliant. Fantastic, even. Tell Ginny and Harry to baby-sit tonight. I want to ravish you.'
'Ron!' exclaimed Hermione with a laugh.
'I'm not joking. This is very serious. And "ravish" is a very serious word.'
Hermione continued to laugh.
'You're beautiful when you laugh.'
'Ron,' said Hermione, her cheeks turning red.
'You're always beautiful. Perfect. Thank you,' Ron said again.
'For what?' asked Hermione, tilting her head slightly to the side.
'Teaching me what it's like to have perfection.'
'Ron,' repeated Hermione, rather breathlessly.
'I won't come here anymore if you don't want me to. I don't want to row about it.'
'No, you can come. There's a reason this place is so important to you; you shouldn't give that up. But try and talk to me, too. All right?'
'Okay,' agreed Ron.
'Let's go home, shall we?'
Ron nodded and took Hermione's hand. They made their way down the road towards their perfect house, their perfect daughter, and their perfect friends. And Ron decided that was the best thing in the world: Having perfection.