You Read My Mind
Author's Note: Originally published on June 26, 2010
The tiny, spidery script on the ancient parchment in front of her began to blur as Hermione's eyelids drooped to a close. After a moment of blissful escape, she shook herself awake and blinked rapidly, trying to fight off the sudden and overwhelming urge to take a quick nap in her office.
"It must be the after effects of all the sweets," she said to the empty room as she stifled a yawn. She glanced over at the framed photo on her desk and smiled amusedly at the antics of her little family. She watched as her husband and children pulled faces, waved, and blew kisses at her.
She'd been rather surprised this morning when Ron, Rose, and Hugo had presented her with a special birthday breakfast. Of course, with Ron in charge and the children both sharing their father's sweet tooth—much to the chagrin of her parents—what they'd put together for the meal wasn't exactly nutritious. Regardless, she couldn't think of a better way to start the day. Ron had even insisted that she head to the Ministry while he cleaned up their two bundles of energy and dropped them off at the Burrow.
Her life was as busy as could be, with a burgeoning career and two young children. Some of her recent cases had required long hours and loads of pressure, and, though she loved her family with every ounce of her being, they could be a handful. Just two nights ago, Rose and Hugo had been fighting, which had led to a burst of accidental magic, tears, apologies, and clean up. Not exactly the kind of evening she wanted after spending the day researching archaic pureblood decrees in an attempt to eradicate them.
She yawned widely as exhaustion set in again, causing her to rub her throbbing temples. She knew the work she was doing was important and she hated spending time away from her children, but at that moment, she would've given anything to lie on a quiet beach, reading and relaxing.
Guilt set in at such a thought, but she couldn't help it—she was in dire need of a break from the day-to-day stresses of life, despite the impossibility of just dropping everything and taking a vacation.
A sudden crackle from her office fireplace brought her out of her dreams of sun-soaked sand and leisure. She reflexively grabbed her wand, even though she knew only Ron, Harry, and Ginny could access her private Floo.
Ron stumbled into the room, wide-eyed and harried. His shirt was torn at the collar and he had a tight grip on two items, one in each hand; her charmed beaded bag and a dented spoon.
"Goodness, Ron! Is everything alright? The children..."
"Relax, love, everyone's fine." He took a deep breath of relief and grinned. "Blimey, I was afraid we'd miss it."
"Miss what?"
"Portkey," he said, nodding towards the spoon.
Hermione was thoroughly confused. "Portkey?"
"Rosie and Hugo will be staying at the Burrow for a few days, and then at your parents until we get back."
She stamped her foot in frustration. "Get back? Where—"
"Do you remember where we went for our wedding trip? That small cottage on the water?"
A smile began to grow on Hermione's face as she noted his words and the gleam in his eyes. "You don't mean?"
He nodded. "You and me, the French coast, one week. Happy birthday, sweetheart."
Her heart melted at his sweet gesture, but at the same time, her face fell. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around his midriff. "Ron, I can't."
"Why not?"
"I have active cases; I cannot just abandon them for a week."
"What if your boss gave you permission?"
"She'd never, not right now."
Ron dropped the bag and cupped her chin, tilting her head up. He leaned down and gave her a soft kiss.
"It's already taken care of. I've made all the arrangements: our work obligations, the children, and all responsibilities. I don't want you to have any worries while we're gone. I want us to relax and just enjoy ourselves." He smiled warmly and winked. "I even brought some of your favourite books."
Tears pricked her eyes as she snuggled into his chest. "You're too much, Ron. I love you."
"I love you."
They stood locked in a tight embrace, until Hermione pulled back and examined his ripped shirt.
"What happened?"
Ron chuckled loudly. "That son of ours is what happened. He clung a little too tightly to my neck when I told him he'd be staying with his grandparents for a few days. That's why I was in a rush to get here."
Hermione frowned. "Maybe I should pop in and check on him."
Ron waved his hand nonchalantly. "I bribed him with some chocolate frogs and he was fine. Besides, there's no time—the portkey is going to activate any second. Don't worry, I told them both that we love them and we'll miss them."
"Good. Oh, I'll miss them so."
"I know, I will, too. But, this is going to be brilliant."
"It will be, Ron. Thank you for this."
"Of course."
Ron quickly snatched up the beaded bag as the spoon began to slowly glow a bright blue.
"Guess I'll repair my shirt after we arrive."
Hermione flashed a hungry look as she placed her hand on the pulsing object.
"No need, Ron. I have a feeling that shirt is coming off very, very soon."