"That woman is a bloody lunatic sometimes," Ron Weasley mumbled quietly to the children, who were all seated around the circled kitchen table; including his godson and the other little Potters, who were visiting for the weekend. With their parents, of course.
Ginny simply scowled at Ron, unamused by the way her brother insulted his own wife. Whereas Harry and his daughter, six, and each of his sons, ten and nine, all let out a similar chuckle. The young boys, James and Albus, attempted to muffle the sound of their laughter by covering their mouths with their hands. Small hands, to be exact. And it wasn't working all that well. But unafraid of the married couple, Harry carelessly let that cheeky laugh roar; and Lily Luna was doing her best to copy the way he did so, glancing up at him every now and then, just to make sure she was copying him correctly.
Confused by all the giggles and the commotion, Ron looked at each and every one of them. Rose and Hugo Weasley were both looking directly past him; and that was all the man needed to understand the situation. "She's behind me, isn't she?" His mouth was full of food, as per usual, and his red-headed toddlers nodded eagerly. Wide smiles brightened their little faces, and not even a second later, Ron's body jerked forward as his wife whacked a rolled up newspaper over his head. His brows pulled together, complaining silently as he placed his disgustingly large sausage sandwich back on to it's plate. He waited a moment, looking back over his shoulder at the honey-like brunette, and then back to his guests. "I told you – bloody lunatic!"
"Honestly, Ronald! How many times do I have to tell you!" Hermione huffed cutely, "No swearing in front of the children."
Rolling his eyes, Ron took hold of his food once more; typically waiting until he'd taken a huge bite before speaking. "Sorry." He grumbled.
Him and Hermione had this argument several times a day, for the past ten years; ever since their first child was born. Although Ron strongly disagreed that 'bloody' was in fact a swear word, he tried his best to use it as little as possible. But, being as clumsy with his words as he was, it would slip up every now and again. Every now and again, meaning every damn sentence. Old habits die hard.
Hermione always forgave him, though. Always.
From behind, Ron felt her slim arms wrap lovingly around his neck, followed by a small peck to the tender area beneath his ear. "I know you are, I know." Hermione spoke softly. The woman would never admit it, but she was incredibly thankful that Ron had put up with her bossily confident, sometimes lunatic-like, high maintenance personality for so long. She knew she could be a little bit difficult; and it was important that she let him know how grateful she was... without letting him know that she agreed with his opinions. "And I bloody love you," Hermione whispered into his ear.
Her words brought a bright smile to Ron's lips, and without knowing what Hermione had said, the whole table looked at them with disgust.
"I don't even want to know." Harry groaned, scrunching up his nose before looking down at his daughter; who, of course, mimicked Harry's wrinkled expression.