Hugo's eyes are looking longingly at the garden, his small hands resting against the backdoor and his face pressed to the window.
The sight causes a warmth to spread through Hermoine's chest, manifesting itself in a smile. Her son looks adorable.
"He seems eager," Ron, her husband, observes. He lays a hand on her shoulder as he comes to stand next to her.
Hermoine turns her head to look at Ron. His eyes are on their son and his lips are pressed into a fond smile. As if he feels her looking at him, he turns his head as well to aim his smile on her. He leans forward, the smell of freshly mowed grass suddenly enveloping Hermoine and then he pecks her on her lips.
"Okay, then. Let's search them eggs," Ron exclaims. He lifts his arm from where he'd laid it around Hermoine's neck and turns to his son. "Are you ready?"
"Of course, dad. Been ready all morning," Hugo replies, an eager grin on his lips.
Ron walks to the door and opens it. The soft march breeze blows into the small kitchen as it's suddenly granted access. Both son and father step outside into the garden.
With a heart that feels too big for her chest, Hermoine follows her little family.
All morning, before Hugo had woken up, Ron and Hermoine had tried their best to hide the eggs as best as possible. Their son likes a challenge, eager to proof himself much like his mother. It had been fun, but Hugo finding the eggs is going to be even more fulfilling.
Ron is watching Hugo, arms crossed, and Hermoine joins him. Both pairs of eyes are on the small boy as he runs from bush to bush, collecting brightly colored eggs on the way.
A feeling of content seems to fill every crevice of Hermoine's body. Ron's arm wrapped around her waist feels nice, the warmth of his body feels like home.
"We should hide them better, next time," Ron mutters as his son finds the last egg. He holds it up in the sky, a triumphant grin on his small, dirty face. Streaks of dirt have painted his cheeks brown.
"They were pretty good hiding places. Hugo is just too good at finding them," Hermoine disagrees. She turns her head and with a fluttering heart, she kisses her husband on his cheek.
Hermoine didn't think she would ever feel this happy a few years ago. The years after the war, the scars had felt like they would never fade, that after all she'd been through, she and Ron would never really be happy.
But she had been wrong. There are still some things she will never forget, things that she will always carry with her, but they've become bearable. Ron and Hugo have made them bearable.