A/N: I just had to write something up for Ron's birthday. It's still March 1st where I am, so I'm going to count myself as on time! This is complete and total fluff without a plot, but I couldn't let my favorite character in all of literature turn thirty-three without doing something, and this is what I came up with. I wrote and edited it in just over two hours, so please don't judge me too harshly. :) This doesn't have any direct connections to my other fics, but it fits in the same world as FAL and my one-shots.
Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling and I do not own Harry Potter, but I would sure like to meet her—though I'd probably end up being a sobbing mess.
1 March 2013
One of the worst things about getting older, other than the inevitable wrinkles and maybe even a gray hair or two, is that birthdays aren't all that special anymore—unless it's a milestone, of course. It wasn't until he turned twenty-six that Ron Weasley truly realized this. It wasn't that every one of his birthdays before then had been perfect—he'd been poisoned on his seventeenth, after all. And it wasn't like he was entirely selfish, either. On his eighteenth he'd known that the world wasn't going to stop just because he'd, by some miracle, survived another year. But even then, Harry and Hermione had gone to the extra trouble of getting something a bit more edible for dinner that night. Of course, that was mostly Hermione. She always liked to do something special on Ron's birthday, and looking back, her birthday "surprises" for him had always been very agreeable.
Then, just after Hermione's twenty-sixth birthday, they became parents. Naturally, everything changed. They spent the evening of Ron's twenty-sixth playing with Rose before collapsing in bed, exhausted, no later than nine o'clock. It had been a nice day, really, but it wasn't much different from any other. Maybe this was a good thing, that every day was a nice day, but losing the novelty of his birthday made Ron feel just a bit wistful.
But regardless of his nostalgia, his birthdays became beautifully ordinary, and his thirty-third was no exception. He and Hermione woke up at six o'clock, as was their custom, so they would have time to shower and get dressed before waking Rose and Hugo, which was an event within itself. Hugo would wake up just fine and would immediately become the loudest occupant of the house, shrieking and babbling a thousand words a minute. Rose, on the other hand, would take her sweet time getting out of bed and was often grumpy for at least an hour afterward. Ron normally took Rose—as entertaining as Hugo was in the morning, Ron could never quite handle that much stimulation before eight o'clock. He kindly left that task to Hermione.
After wrestling their charges into getting ready, Ron and Hermione would sit them down for breakfast. On this particular morning, Hermione was serving bacon and eggs as a special treat for Ron. Hugo was occupying himself by chatting about the crafts his muggle primary school teacher had promised they'd get to make today, and Rose was screeching irritably at him while poking him incessantly.
"Rose! Hugo! Remember your table manners," Hermione snapped as she brought Ron a second plate of breakfast, which he thanked her for with a brief kiss on the cheek.
"Ewwww, kissing!" Hugo squealed.
"Give it another decade, kid," Ron said, mussing his son's hair affectionately.
"No. Boys are gross and stupid. Why couldn't I have a little sister?" Rose complained, now poking her eggs quite violently with her fork.
"I've got one of those, sweetheart. They're not all they're cracked up to be," Ron quipped, ignoring Hermione's pointed look in his direction.
"Yeah Rose, cracked!" Hugo said, overemphasizing the repeated word. Rose was just about to start poking Hugo again when Hermione intervened.
"Remember, today is a very special day for Daddy," she said carefully as she pried Rose's hands off of Hugo, "and if we're all on our very best behavior, perhaps we'll get to share his present later."
"Happy birthday, Daddy!" Hugo said emphatically as he bounced in his seat, pleased to have just remembered why today was a special day.
"What's this about sharing presents?" Ron asked, raising his eyebrow and smirking at his wife as he finished his food and began collecting plates to take to the kitchen sink.
"We've got plenty of chocolate cake for everyone," Hermione said diplomatically, coming nearer to drop another plate onto his stack.
"I would hope that's not my only present," Ron said in a low voice as he looked at her meaningfully. He grinned widely as her cheeks began to redden.
"Quiet, you," she muttered back, swatting his bum quickly. But of course, they should have known not to try to pull one over on Rose—even at the age of seven, she was already scarily astute.
"Mummy, you can't touch Daddy on his private—"
Smirking a bit, Ron walked toward the kitchen, leaving Hermione to deal with the ramifications of that particular action. It was his birthday, after all—not that he would have done differently on any other day, but at least today he could get away with it.
Twenty minutes later, breakfast was cleared and the kids were in the car, ready for Hermione to drive them to their primary school. Though he'd at first questioned why they needed to go in the first place, Hermione had insisted that the experience would do them worlds of good, and Ron figured that it would be worth it if his kids turned out to be as brilliant as his wife. Hermione had even worked out a modified version of the Fidelius Charm that ensured neither of them would accidentally let slip that they came from a family of witches and wizards.
So the matter of the children's primary schooling was settled. Hermione was simply pleased that they had an excuse to introduce them to muggle customs and technology. Ron admittedly didn't have much interest in such customs beyond television and cars. In fact, he had offered to drive the kids to school almost every morning since they'd got the car, but Hermione had always vehemently refused. "You haven't even learned how!" she'd say. Of course, she refused to teach him, but he'd learned long ago not to bring that up.
"What time will you be home tonight?" Hermione asked as she put her briefcase in the passenger seat of the car. She parked it every morning on a side street near the school and would apparate to the Ministry from there.
"I'm hoping to duck out a bit early and be back around five," Ron answered. Though his hours had become considerably more regular after taking a position as a trainer in the Auror office, he was still liable to be called out in extreme circumstances.
"I wish you could do lunch," Hermione lamented, shutting the car door and turning around to hug her husband tightly.
"So do I," Ron answered, frowning slightly, "but those damn evaluations are always an all-day ordeal."
"No matter, we'll make up for it tonight," Hermione said in an exaggeratedly cheery voice, pulling back to look at him.
Ron smiled broadly. "I can't wait," he said sincerely before leaning in to give his wife a lingering kiss, which was still entirely too short.
"Happy birthday, love," she whispered, pecking him on the lips once more before moving to the driver's side and getting in the car. Ron waved enthusiastically as they pulled out of the driveway. This was the good life, he thought to himself as he walked back to the house to collect his things for work. It was a bit routine from time to time and his kids were really nothing short of crazy, but he wouldn't trade this life with Hermione and their family for anything. Both of them knew that they'd be lucky to get one good shag in tonight, but that was okay. Soon enough Rose and Hugo would be begging to spend a weekend at Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny's, and then they'd have plenty of time to make up for it.
Ten minutes later, Ron was walking through the doors into the Auror department, greeting his colleagues as he made his way to his office. The day that he'd been given his own office rather than just one of the desks in the main room had been one of the proudest days of his existence—right up there with marrying Hermione, seeing the birth of his children, and getting his very own chocolate frog card.
Today when he entered his office, it was already occupied. "Oi, you need permission to be in here!" Ron said loudly as he threw his cloak at the intruder's head.
"You know I'm technically your boss, don't you?" Harry asked casually, wrinkling his nose as he tossed the cloak in the corner.
"You're also my brother-in-law. It's all about perspective, mate," Ron said, prodding Harry out of his chair. "Whaddya want?"
"To say happy birthday, you git," Harry replied. "And to remind you that I need those evaluations by five."
"Just what I always wanted," Ron deadpanned, looking unenthusiastically at the mountain of paperwork that sat on his desk.
"I'll bring you some lunch later, on me," Harry offered as he made his way toward the door.
"That's more like it!" Ron called, waving his friend off as he took the first file off the top of the pile.
About a year after Rose was born, half of the senior members of the Auror department had decided to retire. Harry had been the instant choice for department head, and Ron had managed to score the head training position, which provided him with a fairly constant schedule and an impressive salary. Neither of them were called out on raids much anymore, which was a relief considering that they both had young children at home. Though they would occasionally miss the more exciting aspects of the job, they would duel each other in the training room over lunch break to make up for it, much to Hermione's chagrin.
But today was one of those days that would be characterized by severe boredom and never-ending paperwork. Always a man of his word, Harry stopped in at about noon with a couple of sandwiches, and they had a brief chat about the family dinner that would occur the following night. This was the only human contact Ron had all day. When he finally trudged into Harry's office with the completed reports at eight minutes after five, he looked and felt like hell, which his ever-helpful best mate made sure to tell him. The idea of birthday sex with Hermione was slowly disappearing—by the time they got the kids to bed, Ron wasn't sure if he'd have the energy for a proper snog. Perhaps she'd let him take a quick nap first…
He slowly put his office in some semblance of order and collected his things, sighing heavily. It had been a long day, but at least there wouldn't be any more evaluations for another six months. Operating mostly on auto-pilot, Ron walked to the lifts, waited in line to use the Floo, and finally stepped in to head home. His drooping eyes widened immediately, however, at the sight that greeted him—Hermione was sitting on their sofa. And unless he'd begun hallucinating, which was a very real possibility, she wasn't wearing anything but some very…exciting underwear.
"Happy Birthday, Ron," Hermione greeted him in what was nothing short of a purr.
Ron blinked rapidly as he stepped through the fireplace. "Am I dreaming?"
"The kids are with my parents for the night. I told them we'd have the chocolate cake at the Burrow tomorrow," she said as an answer as she stood from the couch and took a tentative step toward him. Even after ten years of marriage, she could still be a little timid beneath all her confidence, which was something he adored about her.
"Yeah, I'm definitely dreaming," Ron muttered as he closed the gap between them, their mouths colliding in a way that may have been sloppy if they hadn't had so much practice over the years.
They didn't make it out of the sitting room the first time. Then they'd ventured to the kitchen to have a bite to eat, after which they decided they were quite ready for round two. On the third try, they finally made it up to their bedroom.
"Have I ever mentioned that I love you?" Ron asked breathlessly, brushing her wild, sweaty hair out her eyes as she snuggled in to his side afterward.
"A few times in the last couple of hours," she panted back. The room was quiet for a few moments as they waited for their heart beats to return to normal.
"I love you too," she said finally, sighing deeply as she began to trace patterns on his stomach.
"Think we're getting too old for this?" he asked, turning to the side a little so he could look at her properly.
"Probably," she answered with a laugh, giving him one of those brilliant smiles that lit up her whole face and positively warmed his heart. "Shall we stop?"
"Never," he answered, kissing her quickly before pulling her closer to himself.
"Good answer," she whispered, wrapping her arms completely around him.
They lay in silence for awhile, enjoying the feeling of simply being together. They were both very nearly asleep; but before he could close his eyes, Ron began to feel inexplicably antsy. He sighed heavily, twitching a bit.
Hermione moved her head from its place on his chest to look at him. "Something the matter?" she asked drowsily.
After contemplating for a moment, Ron asked, "Does it seem too quiet to you?"
"Kids are gone," Hermione said sleepily," so yes, I suppose it does."
"Can't live with them, can't live without them," Ron quipped, feeling his eyes droop a little more.
"Indeed," Hermione agreed. No more words needed to pass between them on the subject; they understood each other completely. "Did you have a good birthday?"
"Brilliant," Ron answered truthfully. "Could have done without the paperwork, but Harry wasn't having my excuses."
Hermione laughed quietly. "I should hope not. Those evaluations are really quite important, you know."
"Please, no more work talk in bed," Ron protested, stroking her side lightly.
"Why not? I find my hard-working Auror to be incredibly sexy," Hermione replied mischieviously. Ron could feel himself swell with pride, as he always did when she complimented him in such a forward way.
"I love you," he repeated for the umpteenth time that night, "and our kids. And our house. Even our jobs."
"We've got quite lucky, haven't we?" Hermione asked softly.
"Nah. We fought for it. Completely worth it," Ron said shortly, knowing she'd understand exactly what he meant—she always did. He turned to kiss her soundly one more time before they drifted off to sleep. All was well.
A/N: This is the shortest thing I've ever written, and it's really quite rough, but I hope it was at least a bit enjoyable nonetheless. :) Also, this is the second time I've ended a fic with "all was well" in the past week so I take full responsibility for my lack of creativity. Let me know what you thought, if you'd like. And to Ronald Bilius Weasley, Gryffindor Knight and our King…happy birthday, and congrats on the sex. ;)