He tried everyday to find the right words to describe her, but they never came. Beautiful, yes. But she wasn't just a pretty face. Smart? Of course. She was the smartest person he had ever met and proved it every single day over and over. Amazing? Fantastic? Supreme? Awesome? Well, of course. She was all those things. But they just didn't fit her.
To him, Hermione Jean Weasley ((née Granger), was a mystery. Even after all these years, he still couldn't figure her out exactly. Oh sure, he could tell when she was mad or sad or happy or lonely and things like that. But still. There was something about her that kept him guessing about her.
She was stubborn, he knew that well. Logical, sensible, intelligent, bossy, opinionated, confident, fearful, needing to prove herself, beautiful, kind, loving, funny, his angel. She was all these things. But...She was more. She was the woman who would bite the bottom of her lip when she got nervous, became flustered if dinner was late and she had mounds of paperwork to do, the girl who had saved his hide more times than he cared to remember, would smile at him across the table every morning, would often mention that they should get another cat, an amazing mother to Rose and Hugo, the love of his life.
All in all, he just couldn't find a way to describe her. But maybe that's because nothing could describe her. She, Hermione, his Mione, was so intirely remarkable in every way, shape, and form, that no words could even begin to make sense of her. No man was worthy of her, no thing too above her. She was perfect, an angel, without flaw.
She was his Hermione and Ron was grateful every single day that she remained his.
As he stared at her from across the kitchen, he realized what he already knew and spoke what he said every day.
"I love you."