Here's a little drabble that came to me out of the blue. Enjoy!
"Ron, honey, have you seen my book?"
Used to such questions, he merely flipped the page on his newspaper and replied, "That depends on what you're reading."
She strode into the room, but Ron did not look up, knowing she would speak with or without eye contact.
"I don't remember exactly," she said. "It's about Herbology. Neville recommended it."
"'Course he did," Ron said. "I don't suppose he—Whoa."
After looking up for the first time, Ron's mind went blank. His wife, her hair frizzier than ever, stood before him in an old red nightie he had not seen since the early days of their marriage. Hermione had put on a few pounds since then, but she still had a similar figure. The nightie cut just above her breasts and ended just under her bottom, but Hermione had paired it with some fleece pants patterned with broomsticks.
They had been married for nineteen years and had two kids at Hogwarts, but Ron had never seen her look so beautiful.
"What?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms as she frowned at him.
Ron stood, tossing the paper aside. "Nothing," he replied. "You look lovely, that's all."
"Honestly." She swatted away his outstretched arms. "I'm looking for my book, Ronald, not you."
"Your book can't wait?" Ron ducked around her shooing hands, wrapping his arms around her. "I think this is a more pressing matter."
Hermione shrugged him off, scowling as she said, "You're daft. Save the romantics for our twentieth."
"No." Ron puffed out his chest and said, "I do believe this was a long term investment." At her raised brow, he continued, "We dated for years, and then married. As you just said, we've been tied almost twenty years. I would say a venture this long in the making gives me the right to a booty call now and then."
She giggled at his childish language. "Ron."
He returned his arms to their resting place around her waist.
"Ron!"
"What?" He did not move.
"You're lucky we don't have any children at home this time of year."