Disclaimer: JKR owns everything and I don't make any money with this story.
a/n: Just wrote a short ficlet while I was waiting for my lunch to be done. It's pure fluff...mixed with Shakespeare. I have no idea what brought this on.
I think my love as rare
"Hermione wait," Ron bellowed after his wife of two years when he stumbled out of their fireplace. But she didn't listen, turning the corner and leaving the living room with billowing robes instead. Ron jogged after her.
My mistress's eyes are nothing like the sun;
They had just come from Fleur's birthday party, where Ron had had a good time talking to some of Fleur's French cousins. At least until Harry had taken him aside and asked what was wrong with Hermione. Perplexed Ron had looked around for his wife to find her scrambling into her cloak, tears streaming down her face.
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
Immediately Ron had gone over to her and asked what had happened, ready to hex the idiot that had made his wife cry. Only to learn that he was the idiot.
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
Hermione had gone for the Floo before he could demand any further explanations and, although Ron had immediately followed, he was not quick enough. He had almost reached Hermione when she threw their bedroom door shut. Right in his face.
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
"Oh come on, Hermione. At least tell me what I've done."
"You very well knew what you did," his wife screeched from inside their bedroom.
"No, I really don't," Ron shouted back, "Just tell me what I did wrong this time, so I can apologize."
"You can't apologize for this."
"Of course not, I don't know what this is."
I've seen roses damask'd, red and white,
"You cheated on me." Hermione accused through the bedroom door.
"No, I did not." Ron screamed back bewildered.
"Yes you did."
"Hermione, are you drunk? You know I'd never cheat on you."
"I'll have you know that I only drank water tonight."
"Well alright, then you're only bloody INSANE. I did not cheat."
"Maybe you haven't yet. But you will." Hermione relented.
"What? I'll stick with my earlier statement: You are crazy!" Ron shouted.
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
"Just leave me the hell alone."
"No I won't. Let me in, so we can talk about this."
And in some perfumes is there more delight
But Hermione refused to answer, let alone unlock the door. Sighing Ron sat down on the floor his back leaning against the door. There was no point trying to unlock the door, even by magic. One of the drawbacks of living with the smartest witch his age had been that it was completely impossible to open any of her locks. Sneaking an early peak at his Christmas presents was completely out of the question. As was entering their bedroom when she didn't want him to.
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
Therefore, Ron tried to get as comfortable as possible in the hallway. He had once camped out there for almost three days, when Hermione had found out that he had given his brothers a detailed account of their bedroom endeavours. Harry had to bring him food so he wouldn't starve. Ron still thought she had overreacted; after all he had only had good things to report to his brothers.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
"Hermione, please, just let me in. I don't know what gave you the idea I cheated, but I really didn't."
Hermione didn't answer, but Ron could hear her crying through the door.
"Please, Hermione," he begged, hating to see or hear his wife cry.
He heard the silent click of the bolt when the door unlocked and quickly scrambled to his feet. Carefully entering the bedroom he found Hermione lying on their bed, her unruly hair covering most of her face and her wand lying beside her.
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
"Hermione?" Ron asked tentatively, kneeling besides the bed and touching her shoulder lightly.
"I'm ugly," she mumbled into the pillows, so soft Ron could barely understand her. "I don't even know why you'd want to be with me."
"What are you talking about? You're beautiful. And I love you; of course I want to be with you."
I grand I never saw a goddess go;
"Would you still love me when I look like a whale?
"What the…? Hermione you're skinny."
"Would you?"
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground;
Ron tugged her locks behind her ear so he could look at her face, "Hermione, please believe me, I love you, only you and I'd never want to be with another witch no matter what."
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
"Okay," Hermione whispered.
As any she belied with false compare.
"Okay then," Ron echoed, still unsure as to what exactly had brought this crisis on, but glad it was averted all the same. Relieved he lay besides her on the bed. Hermione scooted closer, her head coming to rest on his chest.
"I still hope the baby is going to have your red hair," she mumbled.
"Huh?"
end
a/n: There you go. Nothing but fluff, but I did warn you. ;)
The lyrics are from sonnet cxxx by Shakespeare. One of my favourites.