A/N: yeah, it's fluffy. like really fluffy. i'd say i'm sorry, but, well, i'm not. please tell me what you think!

Hermione looked incredulously at the house. It was a ramshackle three-story farmhouse, fairly large but not particularly so, and it looked like the kind of place that would be filled with hidden nooks and secret passageways. It was entirely impractical, too expensive, and not at all what she had had in mind. Hermione loved it.

She and Ron had begun dating almost immediately after the final battle against Voldemort, after the funerals had ended and everything had calmed down a bit. It had been surprisingly anticlimactic, given their propensity for fighting.

Ron had proposed two years after they had gotten together, after she had graduated from Hogwarts and after he had completed Auror Training. He had worked with George for a while, helping him repair and run the shop, until George told him firmly that, while he appreciated Ron's help, he knew Ron would rather be with the Aurors. Hermione had gotten a job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and was working to promote house-elf rights. They began to live together after their engagement, and now that their wedding was approaching, had begun to think about a house.

They had looked and looked, until it seemed like they had looked at every wizarding house in Britain. Surprisingly, it was Ron who had insisted on the perfect house, and Hermione, though less than pleased with the amount of time and frustration his stubbornness involved, appreciated the sentiment behind it.

"Honestly, Ron! Is it going to take a century for you to pick a house you like?" She had half-screamed in frustration after he dismissed what felt like the millionth house over, of all things, the lack of space for books.

"Nope. I'll pick one when it's perfect," he replied, grinning infuriatingly (which only irritated her more, as she found his grin irresistible). Sobering, he added, "I love you, Hermione, and I want it to be right, you know? I want us to have everything we want, and I want you to be happy – which you will not be if you don't have enough space for your books."

She had, of course, found it impossible to restrain herself from kissing him after that speech.

After three months of searching, Ron had dropped in at her lunch break and convinced her to come out and look at "the perfect house." She, of course, was skeptical, but he was so adorably insistent that she couldn't resist.

"So what do you think?" he asked, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

"Ron, it's kind of… run down, don't you think?" Hermione replied.

"Well, yeah," Ron answered. "But it's actually not as bad as it looks. And once we fixed it up, it'd be perfect. There's room for a Quidditch pitch out back, and a pond, and there's lots of room, for kid - um, books."

"Sure of yourself, aren't you?" Hermione replied teasingly, not missing his hastily changed answer. Ron turned pink.

"Well, we are getting married and all," he mumbled, looking away, adorably embarrassed.

Hermione could see he was feeling uncertain about her meaning, and was not about to let that continue. She walked over close to him, throwing her arms around his neck and forcing him to look at her.

"Ron, you're being silly again," Hermione mock-sighed.

"Thought you liked it when I did that," he said, still pink. "'Sides, I don't want to push you into anything you don't want."

"Ron," Hermione replied in a long-suffering tone. "Of course I want kids. I'm marrying you, aren't I?"

Ron grinned. "Yes you are," he said, and bent down to kiss her.

Hermione scanned the house again, contently snuggling closer to Ron. Then she saw it.

"Ron, is that a tree in the gutter?" Hermione asked incredulously, pointing at the bit of green she saw poking cheerfully above the roof of the front porch.

"Er, of course not," Ron replied, less than convincingly. "That's, um, that's… only a sapling?"

"Ron. We are not buying a house that's going to fall down around our ears the second we walk in, no matter how perfect it might be once it's 'fixed up a bit,'" Hermione stated firmly.

"But Hermione, I swear it's only a little tree," Ron pleaded. "The rest of the house is fine."

"A little tree?" Hermione answered. "I fail to see how that helps your case at all. A tree is a tree, no matter how small."

"Look, Hermione, if it's that big of a problem, I'll just go pull the bloody thing out now," Ron said irritably.

"Language, Ronald," Hermione reprimanded, more out of force of habit that actual annoyance. "And besides, you can't go climbing all over the roof now! We haven't even bought it yet!"

Too late she realized her mistake. She crossed her fingers, hoping Ron wouldn't notice, but he pounced on her misstep with a grin.

"What was that, Hermione?" he asked, sensing victory. "I do believe you just agreed we're going to buy this place."

"That is not what I meant!" Hermione retorted. "I was just saying that, hypothetically, if we bought the house, you'd have to wait until then to pull that tree out!"

"No you weren't," Ron said confidently, his grin widening. "You love this house – you just don't want to admit it 'cause I found it first."

"Honestly, Ronald!" Hermione rejoined. "Of all the ridiculous reasons-"

Ron cut her off with a kiss. Pulling back, he rested his forehead against hers.

"You know I can't resist you when you say that," he said teasingly. "And anyway, I know you like the house. I caught that look in your eye."

Hermione sighed, knowing she was beaten – and yet, somehow not minding at all. Close proximity to Ron tended to do that to her, it seemed.

"Fine," she muttered. "You win. Let's go find the estate agent."

"Not until you admit that, not only was I right, but it was my devilish charm and amazing good looks that got you to love it," he said, blue eyes dancing.

"You're a prat," Hermione replied, giving him a mock dirty look, but unable to contain her smile.

"Your prat," he reminded her, looking at her in a way that was so affectionate, so full of love, so adorably Ron, that she was again forced to kiss him.

Pulling back some time later, Hermione sighed in happiness.

"Let's go find the estate agent," she said again.

"Let me just do one thing first," Ron said with a mischievous grin, and walked up to the front porch.

"Ron, you're not actually going to…" Hermione trailed off as she watched him nimbly scale the railing and reach up into the gutter.

"Got it!" he announced triumphantly, holding a small bit of green in his fist. Clambering down, he brought it to her so she could take a look.

"See, it's barely big enough to be called a sapling," Ron said righteously.

"Regardless of size, it was still growing on our future home," Hermione reminded him.

"Yes, and it's about to become the first thing we plant here," Ron declared, moving over to the side of the house.

"Where are you going to put it?" Hermione asked, happy to see him so animated.

"Right about… here," Ron answered, pointing to a spot about 5 meters away from the house. "That's the den in there, and in 30 years we can look out and see a lovely tree."

Hermione's heart swelled at the idea of spending 30 years – or more – married to Ron. Images of pets, children, family parties, and growing old with Ron flashed through her mind. This was what she wanted, where she was meant to be. This was what she'd fought for, all those years.

Watching Ron carefully plant the tree – their tree – Hermione was struck by a wave of love for him. He was so perfect – caring and kind and funny and always there to cheer her up – and it was at times like this that she was overcome with her love for him. She knew, more certainly than she knew anything else in the world, that he was the one for her.

Ron was also, as she watched him stand up, brush the dirt off of himself, and send a heart-stopping crooked grin in her direction, incredibly attractive.

"Uh oh," Ron said teasingly, his grin widening mischievously. "I know that look. Don't forget we've still got to tell the estate agent we want the place. I don't know if we've got time for what's crossing that brilliant mind of yours."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione replied loftily.

"Oh don't play dumb, woman," Ron answered, his grin turning slightly predatory as he moved toward her. "I know exactly what's going through your head."

"Oh shut up and kiss me already," Hermione replied as he drew her to him.

Fin