we had spaghetti with long-term memory sauce
"Huh," Ron said, examining the matching rings on her and Hermes' fingers. "Didn't realize I was into swots."
"You're a complete amnesiac at the moment, of course you didn't realize that. There wasn't anything to realize," Hermes said.
Temporary amnesiac, he reminded himself. Clinged to, really. Having her stare up at his face with a blank, awkward sort of puzzlement had been terrifying. Her politely asking, I'm sorry, who are you again? was worse. He had never heard that even tone from her before.
The Ron in the hospital bed after some probing analytic charms was more familiar.
"Ehh," she went, the way she did when she didn't have an actual point to argue but still wanted to push against him. Hermes barely stopped himself from beaming. "At least I picked a pretty fit swot. Oh, hey--what's my name, again?"
"...I don't think anyone told you it in the first place," he said.
She made a face. "Damn, you're all terrible at this. So what is it?"
"Ron Weasley."
"My parents named me Ron?" she said, sounding baffled.
She looked down at her own chest as if to quickly confirm she was a woman. Her breasts were definitely still there.
"Sorry, Ron's your nickname, everyone uses it. Your full name is Rhiannon Weasley."
"Hell of a lot of syllables," she said. "Can see why we shortened it."
Hermes couldn't help it, he laughed. Yeah, that was still Ron.