A/N: Hello! I'm wazlib88 and this is my first published story since I stopped writing fanfiction about five years ago. I've been working on a chaptered story that I will publish at a later date, but I have been wanting to get some of my writing out there to see whether or not I'm terrible at it. :) Since today is Hermione's birthday, I thought this might be a nice opportunity! I suppose for many it's not the 19th anymore, but I've still got about an hour where I live. I've written this in three hours instead of getting ready for my Spanish composition tomorrow, and I feel like it's been a much more productive use of my time.

Warning: This is quite a bit of fluff. I thought it would just be rude to put poor Hermione through any angst or drama on her birthday. ;)

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns these beloved characters and alas, I am not she.

19 September 2004

Almost everyone that knew him would readily say that Ron Weasley was not a morning person. Ron, however, had always begged to differ. It wasn't that he really had difficulty waking up; it was just that it normally took him awhile to become completely aware of his surroundings. For example, on one particular autumn morning, Ron yawned widely and blinked his eyes at six-thirty on the dot, unable even on weekends to deviate from the strict work schedule of the Aurors. In the haze that accompanied his shift into the real world, he registered that he was exhausted, that it was Sunday, therefore meaning he didn't actually need to leave his bed, and that a chilly breeze was making its way in from the cracked window. Despite this, the right side of his body was quite warm…fluttering his eyes open somewhat reluctantly to investigate, he couldn't help but smile as he connected the dots and realized that the source of the warmth was Hermione.

Better yet, it was naked Hermione. Naked Hermione was Ron's favorite Hermione. Really, she was right up there with happy Hermione, angry Hermione, passionate Hermione, and bossy Hermione. Ron smiled, lightly tracing patterns on her back, as memories of the previous night came back to him. It was no wonder he was exhausted, really. While it had become a tradition of theirs to spend Saturday nights focused solely on each other, especially given the limited amount of time and energy they had during the week, last night had really been one for the record books. Three times in one night, he counted. If he and Harry were at all comfortable talking about their sex lives, this would have been something to brag about. Such a variety for one night too…it wasn't often that Hermione said yes to shower sex; she'd normally come up with some barmy excuse about not wanting to get a concussion. Yeah, Ron thought, grinning wider, it had been a fantastic night.

Ron briefly considered getting up, but soon realized it was highly unlikely that he could do so without waking Hermione. She needed the extra sleep; he was convinced that she was working herself too hard. He knew better than to nag her about it though, because he knew exactly what her response would be. Two years ago she'd transferred into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and had since quickly climbed her way to the upper ranks of the department. Recently, she'd been promoted to third in the overall chain of command, which was really a huge accomplishment for someone as young as she was. Not that Ron had really expected anything less, to be honest. However, this meant that she was working even more than she had been. There were many weeknights that she would stay up well past midnight examining case studies, and occasionally she was required to pop into the office on weekends as well. But today, they had nowhere to be until lunch at the Burrow, and Ron was going to let Hermione sleep as long as she needed. He didn't particularly mind—he was naked in bed with his wife, after all, and life really couldn't get much better than that.

Nearly two hours later, Hermione shifted slightly, now resting further on top of Ron's side. She lifted a hand to rub her eyes, hitting Ron's hand, which had been stroking her hair, in the process. "Oh, sorry," she said sleepily. She came into consciousness much quicker than Ron had, and upon noticing their nakedness, glanced down at him rather shyly. "Hi," she said, blushing slightly.

Ron grinned. How, after over a year of marriage and nearly five of being sexually intimate, he could still make her blush, he would never know. "Happy birthday, love," he replied, leaning up to peck her lips.

"Oh yes, I suppose it is," she said, absentmindedly drawing patterns on his chest as he had on her back just moments earlier. She leaned down to meet him, returning his kiss in what was certainly a bit more than just a peck, leaving Ron thinking that it didn't matter how wild they'd been the night before or how sore they'd be later, he was certainly ready for a repeat performance…but Hermione snapped him out of his thoughts before he got too far: "So how does it feel to be married to such an old woman?"

He snickered. "You're twenty-five. That's hardly old."

"Older than you," she responded, burying her face into his neck and planting a kiss there. "Last night was amazing, you know."

"I know, I was there," he said. "You're amazing, even if you are getting too old for me."

"You'll be the same age in a few months. We can have a repeat performance then, yeah?" she said in a voice that really shouldn't have been quite as seductive as it was.

"I was kind of hoping we wouldn't have to wait until March for a repeat," he replied, tugging lightly on one of her curls to get her to lift her head so he could once again capture her lips with his own. This kiss was far more passionate than the last; Hermione slipped her tongue into his mouth and Ron allowed one of his hands to slide down to her bum. When they finally broke for air, Ron rasped, "I don't s'pose you've got enough energy for another go now?"

Hermione bit her lip in a way that Ron supposed wasn't meant to be sexy (but completely was) as she glanced at the clock beside their bed. "I don't think we've got time to do it properly right now," she said. She turned back to see the brief flash of disappointment in Ron's eyes, and appeased him with a feather light kiss. "I suppose we could duck out of lunch early though—we've got to head over to my parents', after all."

"I thought we haven't got to be there 'til seven?" Ron muttered, trying in vain to kiss her again in order to change her mind, but she moved, causing him to miss her mouth and instead smatter kisses over her face and neck.

"We haven't," Hermione said, at last extracting herself from Ron's embrace, "but your family doesn't need to know that, and we can stop back here for a few hours instead."

"Sounds brilliant," Ron replied, unable to stop himself from watching his wife walk across the room to grab her dressing gown.

"Good," Hermione said, turning around to throw him a cheeky grin. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Oi, what kind of husband would I be if I let you make your own breakfast on your birthday?" Ron replied indignantly, throwing the covers back and hopping out of bed, quickly throwing on a pair of boxers and pajama bottoms that had been discarded on the floor during their haste the previous night.

"I don't mind, Ron, really—" Hermione protested, but he would not hear it. Twenty minutes later, Hermione sat at their kitchen table as Ron served her a small breakfast of eggs and toast. She looked up from the Sunday Prophet and smiled in appreciation as he took the seat opposite her, sliding his feet around one of hers. They ate their breakfast in contented silence, just as they did almost every other morning. This morning, however, Ron had a grin stuck to his face as he watched his wife read the paper. Every now and then, Ron would be struck by just how lucky he really was to be married to his best friend and the woman he'd been in love with since he was fifteen. This morning was certainly one of those times. His happiness was elevated by the thought of his gift to her, waiting in the briefcase that Hermione had meant him to use for work, and when he thought of what the gift could mean…

"Dinner last night was lovely too, you know," Hermione remarked, cutting through his thoughts. She was folding up the paper neatly and flashing Ron a beautiful smile, the kind that never failed to make his insides do somersaults. "You really didn't have to go to all that trouble to get reservations."

"It's your favorite," Ron replied simply as he stood up to take their dishes over to the sink. Truth be told, he wasn't a huge fan of the restaurant they'd gone to last night, and it was rather expensive, but he was content with suffering through the experience once a year to appease Hermione. Food was food, after all, regardless of how overpriced it was given the relative quality.

"Still, it was nice," she said, getting up and crossing the kitchen to wrap her arms around his middle. He immediately hugged her back and lightly rested his chin on top of her head.

"I love you," he said sincerely, squeezing her quickly before loosening his embrace to kiss her softly.

"I love you too," she replied, kissing him back once before stepping away to charm the dishes in the sink to clean themselves.

Ron, meanwhile, walked into the entryway, retrieving his briefcase and bringing it in to the kitchen.

"What've you got that for? I thought you finished all your paperwork for tomorrow," Hermione asked absently as she bustled around the kitchen, organizing the various ingredients of their breakfast and ensuring that everything was placed in exactly the proper spot.

"I did," Ron said hesitantly. He waited another moment before continuing. "I got you something."

Hermione turned from her work in surprise, frowning a little. "You didn't need to do that. I thought we'd decided we wouldn't bother with actual birthday gifts anymore."

"We did," he said slowly, "but I just thought it was about time I got this for you."

Hermione did a very poor job of masking her piqued curiosity. "Still," she said reluctantly, "you didn't have to."

"I wanted to," Ron insisted, a little irritated now. He was already a bit anxious about the gift, and she certainly wasn't helping matters. "I'm allowed to do nice things for you, aren't I?"

"Of course," she said quickly as she sat down at the table. One of the best parts of marrying your best friend of fifteen years was that they could read each other's moods fairly easily, and luckily she seemed to pick up on his nervous air. "Can I see it then?"

Ron took a deep breath before opening his briefcase and handing her a package wrapped in a brown paper bag. "I would've gotten nice paper, but I forgot to run to Diagon Alley yesterday," he said sheepishly.

"It's alright," she said softly as she carefully tore the paper open to reveal a tiny sky blue onesie. "Are you trying to tell me that you're pregnant?" she asked weakly, attempting to make a joke in order to cover up the shock that was evident on her face.

Ron couldn't manage to crack a smile as he knelt next to her, covering one of her hands with his own. "That was one of mine. Mum kept a couple of each of ours, to pass on to our own kids. And I know we said we'd wait 'til we got more settled into our careers before we talked about it, but I've just been thinking lately—I want that, you know? I want to be a dad. I want you to be a mum. You'd be an amazing mum. I think we should be parents. Sooner rather than later." He said this all in one breath, reminding himself ironically of how Hermione would talk when she got excited about something. Indeed, she certainly seemed to be rubbing off on him.

Hermione was quiet for a moment following his speech, staring at their joined hands. Ron had to keep himself from tapping his fingers nervously. "Do you think so?" she finally asked softly.

"Do I think what, specifically?"

"Do you think we'd be good at this? I've been thinking about it too, you know, especially after seeing Harry and Ginny with James…I mean, we thought they were crazy when they told us they'd gotten pregnant. But now I really don't think they are, you know?" As Hermione finished, she finally met his eyes. She looked more uncertain than Ron had seen her in ages.

"Yeah, I do. And I really think we'd be great at it. I might need a bit of help with some of the practical bits, but you'll read so many books about it that you could easily teach me. And I'm sure as hell not going to like changing nappies, but shite, Hermione, I really want this for us. If you do, of course."

A smile spread across her face as she replied shrewdly, "You'd have to learn to watch your language around the kids."

"Kids? That's plural, that is," Ron said teasingly. "I thought we might go one at a time if that's alright with you."

"Of course," Hermione said matter-of-factly, "but I was hoping we'd have two or three eventually. At least one of each, so I know what it's like to have both. I've always been sort of curious about what it's like to raise a son. Obviously I didn't have any brothers, so it's a new phenomenon. We'll have to get books on the psychological differences between boys and girls as well, and do you suppose there are some about raising magical children specifically? I could always ask Fleur and Ginny and your mum, but it might be nice to get an expert opinion—"

"Hermione. They're kids, not a research project. I'm sure my mum would tell you what she told Ginny: you learn as you go," Ron said, in an exasperated but mostly amused tone. She scrunched up her nose as a means of reprimand, but he simply tapped it with his pointer finger, making her giggle. "So you want to do this then? You want to start trying?"

Hermione bit her lip, a smile spreading across her face. "Yeah, I reckon I do."

"Brilliant!" Ron exclaimed, pulling her up from the chair to pick her up and spin her around.

"It is brilliant," she agreed once he'd set her down. "I suppose I will miss our Saturday nights though. We'll have to be more creative," she said thoughtfully.

"Ah, but that's the advantage of being born with so many siblings. Never a shortage of possible babysitters," Ron reminded her. "I can't say I'd be too upset about getting creative, though," he added as an afterthought.

"We aren't going to force your family members to take our children," Hermione said primly, but Ron could tell she was holding back a laugh.

"You know they've done the same to us," he replied, then he paused a moment. "Our children, yeah?"

"Our children," she agreed, and with that she leaned in to kiss him more passionately than she had yet that morning. They soon lost track of time and were quite late to Hermione's own birthday lunch at the Burrow, but the promise of making a family was quite worth enduring the fussing of Mrs. Weasley and the teasing of George and Ginny. That night, Hermione would remark to Ron that it had been the best birthday she'd had. She couldn't know that one year later, that title would be taken forever by the celebration of another birth: the birth of a little girl called Rose Weasley.

A/N: I realize the last line was a tad cheesy, but it did happen to a cousin of mine in real life so I figured it wasn't too unrealistic! Let me know if it was fantastic, good, terrible, atrocious, or somewhere in between (but do try to be gentle), and a happy 33rd birthday to Hermione Jean Granger Weasley. :)