Hermione Granger knows she isn't pretty. She's plain, average at best. But no one has seen the way he looks at her. With his crazy hair tousled by her, her, fingers. When he had this light in his eyes and a crooked smile that folded the corners of those amazing blues.
He would watch her when he thought she was asleep. And she would lie there and watch him and feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. He would have this light that seemed like it came from his very soul. It made his eyes glow. Maybe it was love or a trick of a light or his own inner glow, but whatever it was, it was hers and hers alone.
So, no, Hermione would never be pretty to the rest of the world, but he thought she was and that's good enough.
Most people don't think she's pretty. But they've never seen her like Ron Weasley has. With that insane hair spread across his, his, pillow. A bright sparkle in her eyes and a light smile crinkling the corners of those beautiful brown orbs.
When she lies there curled into his body, that's when she's the most gorgeous. But it isn't pretty or beautiful or gorgeous in the normal sense. No, she looks like a goddess. Not a cliched one like love or beauty. Not even wisdom, though it would fit her. No, in those late night moments when he has her all to himself, she looks like a goddess of light. She shines to him.
So she may never be pretty or gorgeous or beautiful to everyone else, but to him she's a goddess and that's good enough.