39
Author's Note: Originally published on March 1, 2019
"Will you still love me when I'm bald?"
Ron was staring in the mirror, peering at his hairline, as if he'd be able to see it physically recede.
"Of course, dear." Hermione's muffled reply did little to reassure him.
He stared again, noting a few random white hairs in his ginger locks, and several dispersed throughout his beard. He rubbed at the facial hair and sighed.
"So you're saying I will be bald?"
"Your dad's hair is still thinning out, and he's nearly 70."
The bathroom door swung open and his wife entered, like clockwork. It was a Friday morning, after all, and work awaited.
He stared glumly at his profile, his hands rubbing over his still firm stomach, the imagined paunch causing him to frown.
"Will you still love me when I have a belly?"
"Genetics and diet say you'll probably always be tall and skinny. Again, look at your dad."
"That's not helping."
"Maybe this will." Hermione slid her hands up his chest and laced then around his neck pulling him down for a lengthy snog. "Happy birthday, love."
He couldn't help but grin. "Thank you, but you still haven't answered my question."
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'll love you regardless of shape. Haven't you done the same for me, after two kids?"
Ron reached down and gave her bum a quick squeeze. "I Iike your curves, love."
"And if you ever have them, I'll like yours, too."
A loud thump suddenly echoed from the kitchen.
"Sounds like Hugo is keeping up the tradition."
"I already remembered to take those Muggle pills you got me… the antacids. I think my stomach still hurts from his cooking last year."
The kids always made him breakfast on his birthday, though last year Hugo had been inspired by cooking programs on his grandparents' telly and had decided hot chili pancakes were ideal for Ron's birthday.
He suddenly frowned again.
"What's wrong?"
"This will be the last time. With Hugo going off to Hogwarts in September, they won't be around next year… when I turn 40."
"They'll miss my 40th as well, but we're wizards, you know we typically live longer than non-magic persons."
He looked embarrassed to admit it out loud. "You do realize we're nearly the same age as my parents were when we were at Hogwarts, don't you? They just seemed so old back then. Do you think the kids see as like that? I still feel like a bloody teenager sometimes."
Hermione's fingers ran patterns through the back of his hair, soothing him. "Kids will always think their parents are old, it's just how it works. What matters is how you feel."
Ron sighed dramatically for effect, even placing the back of his hand on his forehead. "I feel old."
"I hate to break it to you, but you're still the most handsome, sexiest man I've ever known."
He looked down at her and quirked an eyebrow. "Really?"
The corner of Hermione's lip twitched as her face approached his. "Yes, until I find a suitable younger man to replace you."
"Barmy witch, you can't get rid of me that easily."
"Good, I don't plan to."
After another lengthy snog, they heard Hugo's voice calling Ron down for breakfast.
As he turned to leave, Hermione gave him a playful smack on his rear.
"Go down and humour your son, oh so ancient one. After he takes the Floo to your parents, come back up to unwrap your present. We can be a bit late today." She winked at him.
He turned and gave her a once over. "Is it a new broom?"
She threw up her hands. "The gift is me!"
As he exited the room, he couldn't help himself. "So you'll be going for a broom ride, then?"
As his laughter rang out down the hall, Hermione couldn't help but shake her head. "39-years-old and he still makes horrible sex jokes. Honestly!"