Ron's hand rested lightly on his wife's knee. The snow drifted down around them. They had chosen to honeymoon in the Forest of Dean, in the hopes of making more pleasant memories than the last time they were there. The forest looked exactly the same as it had when they were there with Harry searching for Horcruxes; almost as though nothing had changed. But so much was different now.
A magical flame floated in an open jar, warming the pair. Ron's hand left Hermione's knee and found its way to her shoulder, caressing it lightly.
"You know, I've always loved these little flames you do." Ron's voice was husky in the dimming twilight.
"Yeah?" Hermione's reply was scarcely louder than a whisper.
"Yeah. I remember the first time you ever made one… First year, remember?" Ron pulled her closer, and she laid her head on his shoulder.
"I remember."
They were silent for a moment, each lost in their own memories of years past. Upon retreating into their tent, they discovered that the passion between them invoked far more heat than one of Hermione's little magic flames ever could.