"You enchant me," she admits as her fingers trail along his arm. Relishing in the way he shivers under her touch, she adds, "Everything about you is just... You're sort of perfect, Reg."
"Nobody's perfect," he points out, straightening out one of her thick curls just to watch it bounce back into place again when he lets it go. "If you think I am, you're deluding yourself."
"Fine; you're flawed, but your imperfections are all things that make you sort of perfect for me."
He wants to brush that off as well. After years of being called perfect by his parents only to realise, too late, how warped their sense of good and bad is, the word always gets on his nerves. It's just another reminder of how ignorant and egotistical he used to be. But he knows that Hermione isn't saying it because she thinks he can do no wrong; she's saying it because she knows better and loves him anyway. And that makes all the difference. Wrapping the strand of soft hair around his finger, he murmurs in response, "You enchant me, too."
A/N: Prompt: 'enchant'