Inwardly cursing his own laziness, Ron grabbed the next report. Instead of playing with his children, he had to deal with these stupid, unfortunately, overdue, reports. But, the faster he has his work done, the sooner he can turn to more agreeable things – right?!
"Guess, what I have here!" exclaimed an obviously very happy Hermione, as she "stormed" into their shared office.
Distracted, Ron looked up from his report: "Hmm?"
His wife beamed from ear to ear and waved a paper.
Her husband scratched his chin and replied absently: "A letter?"
She rolled her eyes: "10 points for Captain obvious! I'll give you a hint, it is an invitation!"
He leaned back in his chair and shrugged his shoulders: "Judging by your…" He made an air quotes: 'singing voice', Flourish and Blott organized again a sale?"
She gave him a slap on the shoulder: "Buffoon!" - He laughed: "What? Usually, if you're so happy about a letter, it's a sales letter from Flourish and Blott."
His wife narrowed her eyes: "I am pleased about each letter, except perhaps the bills. Besides, I don't have a singing voice." - "You did!" – "I have not." – Whereupon, Ron replied in an exaggerated singing voice: "You did!"
Hermione opened and closed her mouth.
Grinning, he asked innocently : "You wanted to say?"
She cleared her throat: "If you're so childish, maybe I should not tell you, that the Canons invite their fans to an open day."
Ron's eyes widened and he screeched in an embarrassing high-pitched voice: "What? Gimme the letter!" He reached for the letter, but his wife kept it out of his reach. Hermione doubled with laughter: "I may have a singing voice, but you, my dear, you screeches like a female opera singer."
Ron ears turning red: "You tricked me?" – She smiled devilishly and nodded: "Yes Sir!" – "You're worse than my sister" – She chuckled: "Thank you!"
"If you have finally calmed down, you could finally tell me from whom the invitation is!", he grumbled, slightly sour.
Hermione lifted her finger: "Wait a moment!" … and burst out laughing again. Sulkily, Ron tapped his fingers on the desk edge.
She nudged him: "We can count ourselves lucky, that the window glasses are not shattered." He could not suppress a grin and winked: "Sadly, I have to admit, it was a proper girlish scream!"
"Hey, what do you mean by that? I've never ..."
"Are you sure, my love, I seem to remember, Harry and I could hear you screaming like one of those crazy groupies."
"When should it have been?" She asked in disbelief
"You know, as you have received Lockhart's the get-well-card! " – Hermione blushed. - Thoughtful, Ron tapped his index finger on his chin: "It's kind of creepy how 12 year old girls are crazy ..."
Hermione cut him off and raised the letter in the air : "Back to the letter. The second clue is Hogwarts!"
He snapped his fingers and smirked: "I got it – it's Rosie Hogwarts letter."
His wife laughed: "Our daughter is four years old, a little bit too young for her letter, don't you think? No clue?"
"Nope!" He shook his head.
"It's an invitation to the school reunion for the graduation year from 1999!" She handed him the letter and glanced over his shoulder at the calendar: "Hmm, my parents are coming on the 15th July back from their cruise, the reunion is a week later, perfect, I don't need to worry about a babysitter."
"What about me?" Her husband asked, without looking up from the letter.
Her brow furrowed: "What about you?"
He put the invitation on the desk: "I could look after our children, you know."
Crushed, she sank into the corner of the desk: "You're not coming with me?"
He pulled her onto his lap: "I would love to come with you." As his wife opened her mouth, he laid a finger gently on her lips: "But since I'm not invited – which is perfectly fine, because I never finished the school – so, I'm available as a babysitter for our brood."
"Bullshit!" – Apparently shocked, Ron gasped: "Mrs. Weasley!" – She reached for the letter: "It reads here, wait, I will quote, blah, blah invites you, Hermione Jean Weasley plus one, blah, and all the rest of it."
He raised his eyebrows and repeated slowly: "Plus one?" – She nodded and smiled at him: "Plus one!". – He looked at her expectantly, until she understood: "Oh!" She grinned mischievously and freed herself from his embrace: "Alright, love, I don't want to disturb you any longer." Dumbfounded, he watched her, as she left the study with exhilarating steps.
He turned back to his report and grumbled to himself: "Seems, I'm not her plus one."
An hour later, the pitter-patter of little feet dragged him again away from his work.
"Daddy?"
He smiled and looked at her over the rim of his file: "Rosie-Posie?"
She grinned and approached his desk, her hands tucked behind her back: "Guess, what I have here?"
Internally Ron shook his head, girls and their 'guess what'-game. However, for his daughter's sake, he renounced a corresponding remark and played along: "Maybe a chocolate frog?"
All her mother's daughter, she scolded: "No chocolate before dinner, Daddy."
He tossed the report aside: "Oh, right, then a new picture for my office?"
She shook her head vigorously: "NO!"
"A self knitted hat?"
"You are silly Daddy, we don't need hats, it's summer!"
"Yeah, hmm, a book?"
Again she shook her head.
He throws his hands up in a surrendering gesture and cried: "I give up!"
Taking a deep breath, she stretched out her hands.
He took the envelope and asked curiously: "A letter? From you?"
"From Mummy!" She climbed on his lap.
He wrapped his arms around her and opened the envelope.
"It is an invi…" She stumbled over the last word and Ron helped her by mouthing: "I N V I.. -"Invitation." – "Very good, Rosie!" She beamed about his praise.
He squeezed her and turned back to the letter. Chuckling, he scanned his formal invitation, whereupon his daughter glanced up at him questioningly. He tapped his fingers on the colorful works of art, which were scattered throughout the paper: "I did not know, that Mummy can draw, and at that, so good."
His daughter proudly puffed her cheeks: "I did that!"
Ron whistled admiringly: "You painted this all by yourself?"
Rose nodded and pointed with her little finger at a large gray spot with three smaller splashes of color: "This is Uncle Hagrid's dog. Look, three heads."
"Yeah, I see, unmistakable Fluffy. And that is?". He pointed to a black lump.
"Of course 'The Sorting Hat'."
"Of course!" He bit his lip, to hold back a laugh.
A throat clearing lets father and daughter look up from the paper.
Ron grinned at his wife: "An official invitation, huh?"
She winked cheerfully: "And to be clear this time, I don't mean in the function as my friend."
"In that case…." He whispered his answer into Rose's ear, who hopped off her father's lap and rushed to her mother. "Guess what, Mummy." – Hermione knelt down to her daughter: "What, sweetie?" – "Daddy's answer is yes!"
Relaxed, Ginny sipped her tea as she watched, how her sister-in-law gave her mother for the umpteenth time instructions: "As long as Hugo has his stuffed owl, you will have no trouble and within minutes he falls asleep." – Jean Granger nodded and bounced her giggling grandson on her knee.
"Rose is a whole different story." Hermione sighed and glanced at her daughter.
That said little girl, who sat piggyback on the back of her grandfather, asked curiously: "What about me?" – Her mother gave her a stern look: "I just tell your grandma, that you are Miss Nosiness in person." Rose giggled: "My name is not Rose Nonsense." – David Granger laughed, while his daughter muttered: "However, this fits too." – Untouched Rose blew her mother a kiss: "Bye Mummy!" and embraced with both arms the neck of her grandfather and shouted: "Giddyap, my little dragon, take me to my room." Obey, David Granger trotted up the stairs, followed by the hyperactive family dog canon.
Mrs. Granger laughed: "I hope, he does not have to spit fire."
Her daughter repeated sternly: "Even if she begs, each evening only….."
"One story, I know. Honestly, Hermione, it's not the first time, that Rose stayed overnight with us." She winked: "Besides, I'm familiar with bookworms."
Ginny giggled into her tea and mumbled: "Like mother, like daughter."
Hermione glanced down at her watch: "All right, it's time." She turned to Ginny: "Can we go?" – Ginny placed her teacup on the table and asked innocently: "Are you sure?" – Confused, her sister-in-law frowned. – "That you really went through all emergency scenarios?"
Hermione rolled her eyes: "Hardy har har. I'm just like to prepare for all eventualities."
Jean Granger chuckled: "We know that, sweetie, but now off with you and have fun."
"Thank you, Mum. I know, it's asking a lot. The kids and moreover the dog."
"Pish posh, Hermione, we love our grandchildren and the dog! Now hurry up, so that your husbands are not faster, than you, at Hogwarts."
Harry shouldered his broom and looked toward the castle: "Do you think, we won?"
Ron snorted: "No chance, mate! One could almost believe, that Mum and our women are in cahoots together."
Harry stopped: "Shit, you are right! She intentionally delayed our flight departure. For this reason, we to stay and listen to Victoire's singing."
"And the song had a really long text – maybe 10 stanzas?"
"Felt more like 20!", growled Harry.
Chuckling, the two men went back on the path.
When they arrived at the front gate, Ron nudged his friend: "You know what, Harry, no matter, if we have lost our bet or not, the fly was fun, right?"
His friend laughed and opened the gate: "You can bet on it!"
According to the occasion, the entrance hall was adorned with photos of the graduating students of 1999.
Ron placed his broom against the wall and walked with a smile on the lips through the once so familiar hall, until his eyes fell on the memorial plaque. He approached the plaque and swallowed, 11 years later and the pain was still the same.
Suddenly someone clear their throat behind him and Ron turned around to a boy, who was wearing the school uniform of the house Hufflepuff. Smiling politely, the boy asked: "Sir, can I help you?" The badge on his arm identifies him as a member of the 'organizing committee'.
Ron forced a smile: "Thank you, Mister ...?"
"Carlson, Sir, Peter Carlson."
Ron nodded: "But this is not necessary, I look just a little around. I'm here for school reunion, which is probably obvious, hmm?"
Peter Carlson grinned: "Not necessarily, you could be one of the musicians."
"Given, that I'm completely unmusical, you would not consider this." Ron snickered.
"Ron!", Harry called and waved him over.
Peter's eyes widened and he whispered reverently: "Holy shit! This is Harry Potter, the Chosen One." He gulped and stuttered: "Then y…you are -"
"The plus one."
The young Hufflepuff looked at him puzzled.
Ron held his hand in front of the mouth and whispered: "We are incognito here." Whereupon Peter nodded quite seriously: "Understandable."
After Ron said goodbye to Peter, he hurried to Harry, who looked at him questioningly: "What's so funny?"
"I'll tell you later. Are our women already here?"
His friend grimaced: "About 20 minutes ago."
"Crap!"
Harry handed him a folder.
"What is that?"
"Not Homework – don't worry." Harry's eyes danced with mischief. "Therein you will find all information about the school reunion, such as the sequence of events, a plan of school grounds and other unimportant things. By the way, our rooms are located in the guest wing."
Ron nodded absently, as he flipped through the folder.
"Ginny and I are housed on the ground floor and your room room is on, wait-" Harry peered into his folder "the 1. floor. Let's go."
On their way in the guest wing of the castle, Ron murmured thoughtfully: "It's almost like yesterday, you and me on the way-"
"To to class or Quidditch practice!" Harry completed and wiped a nonexistent tear from the corner of his eye.
His friend laughed: "Yeah, I, a nervous wreck-" He suddenly stopped: "Shit, I forgot my broom in the hall."
Harry also stopped: "Should I wait here for you?"
"Come on, Harry, do you think, I can not find the way to my room without you?" Ron held the folder up: "And just in case, I have a pan of the school grounds."
Harry grinned: "Right! See you later before Hagrid's hut?" He glanced at his wristwatch: "Let us say in an hour?"
"Good idea, then I have enough time for a nap."
Shaking his head, Harry looked after his friend, who already hurried away.
As Ron arrived in the hall, he sighed in relief - his beloved broom stood untouched on the wall. Just as he grabbed his broom, someone addressed him from behind with the words: "Mr. Weasley, how fortunate, that I meet you here." Ron turned, surprised, around and was faced with Professor Slughorn. "Mr. Charles here-" Slughorn nodded his head to the side, where Peter Carlson stood, "claimed, that you have not arrived yet".
Ron raised his eyebrows: „Professor-", he pretended, as he has to consider, how his former potions professor was named: "Sorry, but my memory for names is not the best. What was your name again, Plughorn, Snailh…?"
Peter cleared his throat: "Professor Slughorn, Sir."
Ron snapped his fingers: "Right!" He smiled: "What can I do for you, Professor Slugborn?"
"Slughorn" Horace corrected him, a little offended. "This afternoon I will give a tea party for some of my former students, nothing great, but yet exclusive. " Horace watched expectantly Ron, who nodded, as a sign that the professor should continue.
"And I was wondering, if you like to join us?" asked the Professor.
His former students furrowed his brow thoughtfully: "Let me guess, a small circle of wizards and witches?"
"Exactly!", beamed the Professor and rubbed his hands in anticipation
"But does not take place at the same time-" Ron gripped his broom under his arm and cast a glance into the folder: "ah yes, here, 'The Interpretation of Dreams with Professor Trelawney'."
Slughorn's smile froze.
"You will understand, Professor Snailhorn, that I would not miss this under any circumstances."
"Slughorn." Horace corrected him automatically.
"However. Sorry, but I have to decline your offer."
Horace grimaced offended: "If you should change your mind…"
Ron shook his head vehemently: "I don't think so!" He checked his watch, "Excuse me, but my wife is waiting for me. Bye, Professor Plughorn." He winked at Peter: "Mr. Carlson, maybe we'll meet again later."
"Slugborn!", muttered Horace and looked after one of the famous members of the golden trio, who hurried away, without wasting another glance at him. He cleared his throat: "Remember that, Mr. Charleston, fame changes people and often not to their advantage."
Peter bit back his laughter: "Yes, Professor, I will remember it."
When Ron walked into their guest room, Hermione poked her head out of the adjacent bathroom: "Already here?"
"And I wonder, why you are still here and not already in the library." Her husband grumbled and threw broom and the folder on the bed.
"I did not know, that you are a lousy loser." His wife came out of the bathroom and leaned against the door frame.
"I'm not-" He took off his jacket. "a lousy loser, if I lose in an honest way." He hung his jacket under the watchful eyes of his wife over the back of a chair and sat down on the edge of the bed.
She studied her fingernails in all innocence: "I don't know, what you're talking about."
Without untying the shoelaces, he kicked off his shoes: "I'm talking about the delaying tactics."
"Delaying tactics? We granted you a margin of two hours. Besides, you should be glad, I spared you the unpacking."
"Thank you, but I would have done the unpacking with a flick of my wand, you know!" He got up from the bed, to put his shoes by the door.
His wife looked pointing down at the bed. Ron rolled his eyes and lied without blushing: "I wanted to put it away, just now." He grabbed his broom and glanced around the room. Hermione pointed in silence under the bed. Ron knelt beside the bed, to push this under it. But of course, he would not be Ronald Weasley, if he did not have before a check, that there are no homicidal evil spiders. He leaned forward and peered under the bed.
In the meantime Hermione stared unabashedly at the sexy buttocks of her husband. Unfortunately, her pleasure was short-lived, he straightened up and after a glance at her face, he asked, confused: "What is?"
In order to distract him, she teased: "I know your unpacking, a rumpled suit would have been your smallest problem."
He flung himself sideways on the bed and closed his eyes. Suddenly he opened one eye and snickered: "A rumpled suit would be a great improvement to my Yule Ball outfit, do not you think!"
She could not resist a smile: "Probably true." Satisfied, he closed his eye again.
With a sigh, Hermione sank down on the bed and glanced thoughtfully at the door. Of course, the temptation was great, after all these years to take a look at her beloved library, but on the other hand such an opportunity offers not all days. After she had made her decision, she pulled her wand from her back trouser pocket and whispered the necessary spells.
Apparently not quiet enough, because as soon she uttered 'Silencio and Colloportus', the bed croaked and her husband muttered curiously: "What are you doing?"
She turned her head and grinned cheekily at him: "Take advantage of the favourable situation!"
Ron leaned on his elbow and blinked sleepy: "Favourable situation?"
"No children-" She climbed up and pushed him in the chest, so that he fell back on the bed, then she sat down onto his lap, with her legs to either side of him: "- who interrupt us."
Her husband smirked: "Is this a program point, I don't remember, to have read about in the folder!"
His wife intertwined her fingers with his and whispered seductively: "This is just for you, Mr. Weasley."
"Should I feel honored, that I-" Hermione decided it was time to let actions speak instead of words and leaned forward, to bit him gently into the earlobe.
Harry sat on the stage of Hagrid's hut and tapped his fingers on his wrist watch: "20 minutes late, that is even for you a record, mate."
Ron rubbed his neck in embarrassment: "Sorry, but the early start and the long flight took their toll on me." - His friend snorted incredulously. – To hide his blush, Ron glanced searchingly around: "Where's Ginny?"
"Nice try.", thought Harry and cleared his throat. "On the Qudditsch field, where else. And Hermone, still recovering from her tiring journey or already in the library?"
To Ron's relief, at that moment the door opened and Hagrid saved him from the answer.
From a distance you could already hear the music from the ballroom, as Ron awaited his wife at the stairs. By now, he had adjusted his tie for the umpteenth time. Inwardly, he shook his head over his nervousness, merlin, he felt like a schoolboy, before his first date and not like a 29 year old married family man.
He was so absorbed in thoughts, that he did not notice the arrival of the couple Potter. Ginny threw her husband a meaningful look and tapped her brother on his shoulder: "Hello big brother!"
Ron turned around and grinned crookedly: "Hello you two!" He reached again for his tie, but his sister slapped his hand away. She bit back a mocking remark and straightened his tie wordlessly: "I must say, I never thought, that you can be so romantic, Ronnie."
Harry looked questioningly at his wife: "Huh?"
She rolled her eyes: "Ron awaits Hermione at the foot of the stairs." Her husband still looked bewildered. "The yule ball, you dumby!"
"Oh!" Harry nodded and snapped with his finger: "The ball, almost like a deja vue, what, mate!"
Ron blushed, but his answer got stuck in his throat, when he caught sight of his wife at the top of the steps. He swallowed und whispered: "Wow!", as she walked down the stars. He did not even notice the flashing of Ginny's camera.
Once at foot of the stairs, his wife looked at him expectantly.
"I do not at all know what to say, you're beautiful!" She smiled shyly and brushed a curl behind her ear: "Do you really think?" He nodded and she beamed with pleasure.
Harry coughed: "Guys, I promised my wife a few dances!" Ron shook off his trance and held his arm out: "Shall we, Miss Granger?" She linked arms with him and smiled: "We shall, Mr. Weasley!"
Hermione put her toothbrush in the cup and grabbed her hand lotion. Humming to herself, she rubbed the cream into her hands. She closed her eyes and thought dreamily back to the previous evening. All night her husband has not left her side and she could not remember in one evening ever having danced so much with him. She giggled, okay, perhaps at their wedding reception. She opened her eyes and held her hand in front of her mouth. Yawning, she stepped out of the bathroom and stopped. Already asleep, her three loved ones lay cuddled in bed. Even Canon, who was lying in front of the bed, wagged his tail only slightly.
She smiled fondly and went around the bed. Carefully, she lifted the blanket and snuggled against her husband. Sleepily, she murmured: "Guess what…" Without waiting for an answer from her peaceful snoring husband, she added: "There is no place like home!"