Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Lucky After All

The sand was coarse underneath his palms. He was seated on the beach with his hands propping his body up from behind. The first couple of days that they had spent at Bill and Fleur's, Ron had tried to keep the sand from getting everywhere, but by the third morning he had given up. Right now it was covering most of his pants, and it would probably somehow work its way into his hair by the time the day was over.

Lightning flashed in the distance across the water, and Ron counted the seconds of silence before the thunder hit. Fifteen seconds later, the thunder rolled across the open ocean into the bay, an angry shout from the heavens.

It had been like that this morning too. One simple comment, a moment of silence, and then an explosion of anger. For a moment Ron had been worried that Hermione might hex him, but instead she had stormed out of the room and disapparated, leaving him standing there dumbfounded.

That was how Harry had found him. Standing alone in Bill and Fleur's guest bedroom playing with the ring on his left hand. Harry had once told him when he had tried to teach him a muggle card game that Ron's "tell" was playing with his wedding band—and Ron had to admit that he'd caught himself toying with it more than once in the nine months since his wedding. With the volume of Hermione's exit and Ron's lost expression, it hadn't taken much of a logical leap for Harry to piece together the clues and figure out that something was wrong.

Ron had brushed off Harry's questions then, and gone to the beach for some peace and time to think. Since then, Bill had come out to see him, informing him that Fleur had found Hermione in Hogsmeade and the two had decided to make a day of it and visit the shops. There was a question in Bill's tone as he relayed the news, but Ron didn't give him anymore answers than he had given Harry.

Part of it was embarrassment. He didn't want to tell either man what he had said, especially not Harry. And the other part of it was simply out of confusion. Ron still wasn't sure why his lighthearted comment had set Hermione off so much. It seemed like he could never figure out what she wanted or how she would react to things he did. It seemed to him that he annoyed and frustrated her more than anything, and half the time he didn't understand why. She was like a riddle that he couldn't solve, and he was worried that he might need to find the solution soon.

Maybe he was just unlucky. Unlucky that the woman he loved was someone he would never be able to live up to or please. Unlucky that no matter how hard he tried, there would always be things about her that he never understood. Even unlucky that she loved him back, and might never find anyone that could make her truly happy. Another crash of lightning struck in the distance as if punctuating his thoughts.

"Oi, you planning on coming inside before the storm hits and blows you away?"

Ron looked up to see his best friend's messy dark hair bouncing up and down as he sauntered across the beach toward him, his trademark scar reflecting the oncoming weather. There was a smile on his face, and Ron didn't need to wonder why. Ginny was supposed to arrive that afternoon. It was evening now, and Ron supposed that she was up at the cottage already.

"I don't know," Ron replied nonchalantly. If he brushed Harry off then maybe he'd leave him alone.

"If the rain doesn't convince you then maybe this will: Ginny and I have just about convinced Bill to put a Quidditch pitch out here. We reckon that maybe you can push him over the edge before Fleur talks him down." Harry plopped down next to him, apparently unperturbed by the sand.

Ron grunted in response and managed to conjure up a weak smile, but Harry saw right through it.

"Still upset about this morning then? Look, mate. I'm sure Hermione has already forgotten about it. Bill said that she and Fleur would be back any minute. He usually gives me some sort of warning if he thinks Ginny's out for my blood, so I'm sure he would have mentioned it if Hermione was still angry." The eldest Weasley sibling had been a godsend for the two of them after the war. He had provided a place for them to live away from the commotion of the wizarding world in the months following Voldemort's defeat. Both of them had ended up having their weddings at Shell Cottage as well. Ron knew that Harry considered Bill to be something like the older brother he'd never had.

A few droplets of rain had begun falling from the sky, so Harry took out his wand and cast a charm to keep the two of them dry.

"I'm not upset," Ron mumbled after a long silence.

"What?" Harry asked, tucking his wand back into his robes.

"I said I'm not upset," Ron repeated. It was true, in a way. He wasn't upset about the fact that Hermione had yelled at him. He wasn't angry at her or worried about what she would say when she got back. He was upset about the fact that he didn't know why she had been angry. He was upset about the fact that he didn't understand her. He was upset about the fact that he wasn't a good husband.

"Ah," Harry said awkwardly, running a hand through his messy hair. Ron had known his friend long enough to know that that was Harry's "tell." Ron knew that Harry wasn't particularly comfortable when it came to talking about things like this—not that Ron was any better. Still, it made his friend's effort to help count for that much more.

"It's just..." Ron stopped, unsure of how to express himself. It didn't help that Harry had played a small role in this morning's fiasco, even if it was involuntary. Ron shoved aside a twinge of animosity for his friend that he had learned to ignore in their fourth year (not counting when he had a bloody horcrux around his neck) and tried his best to let Harry know what was on mind.

"It's just that sometimes I feel like Hermione and I aren't meant to be."

Harry quirked an eyebrow.

"I love her," Ron added hastily. "I didn't mean that I don't love her. Nothing could be more wrong. I meant that sometimes I feel like I have no idea what she's thinking."

Harry chuckled, much to Ron's annoyance.

"What?" he asked, punching Harry in the shoulder.

Harry rubbed his arm but didn't stop laughing except to speak. "You're insane, is what. You and Hermione are perfect for each other, and everyone has known it since our fourth year. Of course you don't know what she's thinking all the time. That's half the fun of being with someone. If you always knew what she was thinking, then what would be the point of your relationship? Why love someone if they don't challenge you? If they don't make you see things a different way? Love isn't about conformity or complete agreement. It's about two people growing together."

"You sound like Dumbledore," Ron grumbled.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Harry replied.

Ron supposed that it was one. The old headmaster had always been wise, and there was certainly wisdom in Harry's words. The rain had picked up now, soaking into the sand all around them. They sat silently for a moment, just listening to the striking of water on water as the rain poured down over the ocean.

"You and Ginny get along fine," Ron said.

Harry stared at him. "We're talking about me and Ginny here, right? Me and your sister Ginevra Weasley?"

Ron nodded.

"Have you seen me and Ginny in the same room together? Half the things she says are jabs at me," Harry said with a smile.

"Yeah, but they aren't serious, that's just the way she is," Ron said in defense of his sister.

"Yup." Harry nodded. "And that's just the way you and Hermione are."

"There's a difference between bickering and arguing."

"So you and Hermione argue? When she tells you that your socks don't go with your robes that's arguing? When you complain about her not understanding the Cannon's it's an argument? When's the last time you had a real fight?" Harry asked. "Not counting this morning," he added, seeing the look Ron was giving him.

There was a pause as Ron racked his brain. "I don't remember," he said finally.

"Exactly," Harry told him. "There's nothing wrong with you and Hermione, mate. You love each other."

"I think you know more about her than I do," Ron said, but even as he did he knew it was just his gloomy mood's dying throes. Harry had brought him around almost completely.

Harry chuckled again. "You know that look that she has when she's thinking hard about something?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, her nose scrunches up and she—" He stopped abruptly when he realized Harry was laughing at him again. "Knock it off!" he complained.

"Sorry, its just funny to me that you can tell your wife's mood by a look and you think you know nothing about her." He kept laughing as Ron looked at him and shook his head. Despite himself, Ron felt a smile beginning to creep onto his face at his friend's antics.

Pop!

Bill appeared beside them. A few years ago Ron and Harry might have jumped at his sudden arrival, but since going through Auror Training they had a bit of a different reaction.

"Hey there, Bill," Harry said, sheepishly returning the wand that had snapped into his hand to its holster on his wrist. Ron wore a similar expression as he lowered the handful of sand he had been preparing to toss in Bill's direction.

"Didn't mean to scare you lot, just thought I'd apparate to stay out of the deluge." Bill had raised his hands in a mock surrender, as this wasn't the first time this had happened to him.

"Didn't scare us," Harry said, getting to his feet and giving Ron a hand up. "I'm guessing that the girls are back."

"The women," Bill corrected, ever the gentleman. "They brought dinner back with them too. Thought all this fresh air might have made you hungry, Ron."

Ron rolled his eyes at the ribbing his eldest brother gave him and gestured toward the cottage. "You feel up to walking back, or are you going to need to apparate to keep your hair from getting frizzy?"

"I'll walk back so long as you keep the charm up. Don't want the missus to see my hair frizzy. Plus it will give me a moment of peace and quiet before Victoire starts making a mess of her meal and Fleur gets mad at me for encouraging her," he confided.

Ron smiled at the thought of his young niece and then cast a quick Scourgify on himself to remove as much sand as he could. Despite his best efforts he knew that he'd find the stuff in the pockets of his robes for a month. He did every year when they stayed with Bill and Fleur. Harry simply opted to brush himself off with his hands. Ron reflected that it would certainly make for a funny photo in the Daily Prophet: the Boy Who Lived smacking sand off his rear.

The trio set off towards the cottage in the distance. Harry went back to trying to convince Bill to put in the Quidditch pitch, pointing out that the beach would make for a wicked arena. Ron kept quiet as he thought about what he would say to Hermione. He settled on apologizing. It would have to do for now. He could ask her about things after dinner, when they had more time to talk alone.

They reached the house quickly, and were greeted warmly by Fleur and Ginny, the latter of which gave Ron a hug before chiding him about missing her arrival. He rolled his eyes at her, knowing that she would have just ribbed him about something else if he had been there.

"We'll all be sitting down to dinner in just a moment," Fleur said. Her French accent was still present, but weaker than it had been when Ron had first met her years ago. It was funny to think of how infatuated he had been with her back then. He still thought that she was beautiful of course, but in his mind Hermione set a bar that couldn't be met. Apparently Veela powers didn't work so well on happily married men.

Bill, Harry, and Ginny moved into the kitchen, carrying on a discussion about what to do in the event that the Quaffle fell into the sea. Fleur narrowed her eyes at them, but Ron thought he saw a hint of a smile on her lips.

"''ermione is in your room," his sister-in-law told him. Even though her accent had faded, Ron still had yet to hear her pronounce an "H," much to his and Ginny's amusement.

Ron thanked his sister-in-law and then headed upstairs. The door to the guest room sat open in contrast to the one Harry and Ginny shared across the hall. In most cases an open door was an inviting gesture—the arms of a relative spread and waiting for a hug. Right now the door looked more like the gaping maw of a dragon. Although right now even a dragon might have been more inviting. Ron doubted that Harry had had as much trepidation before the first task of the Triwizard Tournament as he did now. Mustering up as much Gryffindor courage as he could, Ron walked through the door.

Hermione was standing with her back to him. Her trunk was propped open on the bed in front of her, and for a moment Ron had the horrible thought that she was packing to leave. Maybe he had underestimated her anger at him. Had he finally done irreparable damage to their relationship? His brief moment of panic passed as he realized that she was just transferring some books that she had purchased in Hogsmeade from a shopping bag to her trunk.

She didn't seem to realize he was there, and Ron took a moment to appreciate just how lucky he was. He didn't think he could see one thing in front of him that he didn't love. From the bushy mane of hair that fell halfway to her waist to the passion for literature that his wife couldn't hide if she wanted to. As usual, it seemed that she had bought the bookstore out of business. For every knut that Ron spent on Quidditch equipment, his wife matched him in magical tomes.

Seeing her finally reach the last of the books in her bag, Ron decided that it was now or never. He steeled himself and knocked shyly on the frame of the door to signal his presence.

Hermione's back straightened and she put the book she had been holding into her trunk slowly before shutting it. She sighed deeply and then turned to face him, her eyes meeting his own. There was something about the particular brown of her eyes that he had always found inviting. Far from making things more difficult, he found that meeting her gaze was putting him at ease. Of course she would accept his apology. Ron opened his mouth to launch into the speech he had cobbled together on the way up the stairs, but before he could say anything...

"I'm sorry," Hermione blurted out.

He hadn't been expecting that. "Beg pardon?" he said in an embarrassingly high voice.

"I said I'm sorry, Ronald," Hermione told him. She bit her lip nervously, and Ron saw a reflection of his own feelings on her face. "I'm sorry for the way I acted this morning."

"I—you—but," Ron stuttered. The sense that he would never understand what happened in his wife's head deepened, but this time Ron found himself feeling grateful for the surprise.

"I overreacted. It was silly of me," Hermione said. "What you said touched a nerve that I didn't expect, but it wasn't your fault. I shouldn't have run off like that, it was horribly unfair to leave you the way I did."

"It wasn't my fault?" Ron asked dumbly. Were he a Slytherin he might have made a mental note to bring this admission up in future arguments. As it was, he was simply happy that he wouldn't be sleeping on the couch for the next few days.

"Not unless you meant what you said this morning." Hermione took a few steps toward him, so that they were less than an arm's length apart. She had a look on her face that he hadn't seen since he dated Lavender Brown in their sixth year: a mixture of sorrow and regret that made his chest ache. "Did you?" She asked.

Ron scoffed before he could stop himself, and Hermione sent him a sharp look. He explained himself quickly. "Did I mean it when I said that you should have married Harry instead of me? No! It was a joke! You were talking about how you always have to eat breakfast with him when we stay with Bill and Fleur because I don't wake up early enough. I was just getting you back for that. Really, I was just kidding, Hermione, I swear." Ron was surprised that this was what had set her off.

"I'm sorry, Ron." She closed the distance between him and wrapped him in a hug. He held her tightly to let her know that there was nothing to forgive, and she leaned her head on his chest before speaking. "I only got upset because of what's happened before..." She trailed off, but Ron didn't need her to finish the thought. Memories of their fourth year and the hunt for Voldemort's horcruxes flooded his mind. Two of the worst times in his life when he had let jealousy come between him and his best friend.

Hermione pulled away a little so she could look him in the eyes, but she didn't break the embrace. "I need you to know that I love you," she said to him. There was a sort of ferocity in her eyes as she spoke. "Only you. Always you. I couldn't even think of marrying anyone else."

"I know," he assured her, patting her awkwardly on the back. He had never really mastered that comforting skill, but he did it anyway. "I love you too. Don't marry anyone else. That would be bad." It was a goofy thing to say, but it made her laugh and she gave him a quick kiss. Ron's stomach growled and she laughed again.

"Come on, let's go join the others."

They left the bedroom and headed down the stairs to the kitchen, where they were greeted warmly and loudly by a chorus of voices. Harry and Ginny were sitting in the breakfast nook smiling brightly. Fleur was busy levitating food into various dishes on the counter, and Bill was struggling to get his unruly daughter into her seat.

Ron looked around at his family, and a sort of light giddiness filled his stomach as he realized just how great it was to be surrounded by people you loved. He guessed that Dumbledore might have been onto something with his belief that love could overcome just about anything. Ron sat down at the table with his sister and his best friend. Looking at the two of them laugh together, and feeling the same happiness they were showing, Ron decided that he was pretty lucky after all.

(A/N) I wrote this because I think I'm terrible at writing romance. If you'd like to leave a review with your opinion of that part of the story I'd appreciate it (critiques welcome).

A final interesting note: This was written as kind of a challenge to myself (and another writer who never finished his or her story and shall remain unnamed). The only prompt for the story was four words (Rain, Riddle, Sea, and Blame for those wondering) with the caveat that they all must be included in the story somehow. This is what I came up with. Hope you enjoyed it!