"Right there is fine, love."

"No, it's not quite right," Hermione answered Ron. With another flourish of her wand, she levitated the sofa a bit to the right.

"How about that?" she said, more to herself than to Ron.

"It has a nice view out the window there," Ron responded tiredly. "As did the previous seven spots."

Hermione flopped down onto the sofa and curled up in her favorite reading position.

"No. It'll feel right. It still doesn't. Let me just try a few more…" she jumped up frantically and waved her wand again.

Ron sighed and made his way into the kitchen. He busied himself with making a sandwich as several more thumps echoed through the flat and his lovely, but slightly insane girlfriend continued to move their new sofa. He glanced at the clock, wondering how long it would take for Hermione to be happy with their furniture arrangement.

"Ron! I've got it! Come look!"

Ron entered the living room to see Hermione beaming proudly at the sofa, which was stationed in the exact spot he had first settled it in, over an hour ago when they brought it up to the flat. He stifled a laugh and smiled.

"It's absolutely perfect, love."

—-

Hermione giggled as Ron trailed kisses down her neck and pulled her closer. She responded by pushing Ron down onto the sofa and climbing on top of him, ruffling his hair a bit as they kissed. She was flushed and full of energy and excitement and promise of the future.

Even as they kissed, she kept sneaking glances at the gorgeous new ring on her left hand.

She was still in a bit of shock that he proposed. Sometimes it still felt like a dream—that the war was over, Ron had chosen her, they were living together…it was surreal.

"Ron?" she pulled back for a moment and touched his cheek. "Are you sure we're not rushing into this? We've only been together a year."

Ron frowned. "Rushing into this? Are you kidding? I wasted half my life not dating you when I could have been. I should have done this a long time ago." He held her face in his hands. "It's always been you. It'll never be anyone else."

She responded with another kiss, gentler this time. "I love you, Ron Weasley."

"I love you, too. Happy New Year, Hermione."

Hermione was curled up on the sofa, a sleeping Rose in her arms. The baby murmured and sighed a little in her sleep and Hermione thought it was probably the loveliest sound in the entire world. She brushed Rose's red hair with gentle fingers, unable to resist. When she had first seen her baby with that beautiful Weasley hair, she had thought her heart would explode with pride.

Ron came in then, trying very hard not to make too much noise. He was so incredibly knackered that he struggled to lift his feet and move himself across the room. But he didn't care. He couldn't get enough of Rose, of this little baby that was his. He would jump through fire for this little girl. He never thought he could love someone this much.

He adjusted a few pillows for Hermione so she would be more comfortable and sat down carefully next to her. He looked to the window, and noticed that snow had begun to fall heavily now.

"Look," he whispered. "The first snow of the season."

Hermione looked to the window and sighed. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

They both looked away from the window and down at Rose. "Yes, it sure is."

"Otter, get off!" Hermione tried to yank the pillow out of the dog's mouth. "Bad dog!"

"Mum!" shrieked Rose from the kitchen. "Hugo ate the last biscuit!"

They both came charging in, still arguing. Ron groaned and hid behind his newspaper. "Come on, kids, it's almost dinner anyway. You shouldn't be eating any biscuits."

"You're such a pig!" Rose flopped dramatically on the sofa, her arms crossed angrily. "I can't wait to go back to Hogwarts."

"Don't call names," Hermione scolded wearily. "And please, inside voices. Mum is tired."

Otter finally leaped off the sofa with a loud bark as Hugo threw a pillow at Rose and missed. Rose stuck out her tongue at her brother and stomped off to her room. Hugo followed, with Otter trailing behind, still barking. The door slammed loudly, and the noise was finally muted. Hermione stood still, the tattered pillow still in her hand.

"My poor sofa," Hermione sighed. "It might be nearing the end of its days."

"We can't get rid of it," Ron stood and moved to hug her. "We've had it since we moved in."

"I know. It has so many memories." They stood quietly for a moment, Hermione still clutching the pillow to her chest.

"Love you, Ron."

"Love you too, Hermione."