The thirteenth of 26 short stories with Hermione, Ron and the kids during their younger years.
A/N on Pottermore there's a list of 29 signs that Hermione liked Ron from the start, some of these are incorporated into this.
M is for Mama and Dad.
Rose and Hugo had been told the story countless times. Their mama and dad were War Heroes. They were two thirds of The Golden Trio. They'd heard it all before.
Hermione Jean Granger had met Ronald Bilius Weasley on September the first 1991. Ron had shared a carriage with Uncle Harry. Hermione had been helping Uncle Neville find his toad. Her exact words are vague now, criticising his ability to do magic probably. The next were a short while later, she'd come back in her robes. She'd pointed out that Ronald had dirt on his nose, by the way, did he know? Of course, he hadn't, going to rub it off. Even then she'd got under his skin. They supposed it became a thing then. The next three times it was him pointing it out, never letting her forget. The first, toothpaste at The Burrow, the second butterbeer, and the third a speck of dirt upon her cheek. She wasn't amused by the last one, given the situation.
The three had become firm friends after the two boys had saved her from a troll on Halloween. The troll had been awful.
She'd corrected him in Charms with Flitwick, that had been the start. It was Wing-GAR-dium Levi-Oh-sa, not Levi-oh-Sah. The gar had to be nice and long with a swish and flick.
When Ron got knocked out by the Queen in that game of chess. After Harry had moved on, Hermione had gone over to kneel beside Ron crying. He'd admitted that her gentle touch upon his forehead and her coaxing broken voice had brought him to.
He'd always bring her tea when she was studying. Two sugars and milk usually in a large mug rather than a dainty tea cup. He'd learnt it in the summer after first year just before the bookshop incident with Lockhart, the pretentious so and so. She'd offer to help him with his homework, usually just nudging him slightly in the right direction.
At the Yule Ball, she'd danced with Krum in a periwinkle dress. He'd wanted to ask her but been too nervous. He'd upset her that night. He and Harry were stuck with each of the Patil twins. He'd had a crush on Fleur back then, the Twi-wizard champion and lovely French girl. The majority of the guys had. Hermione had masked her emotions well, even around the Bulgarian.
A year or so later Snape had called her an insufferable know it all. Ron had defended her, the fact that she knew the answer. Why did he ask if he didn't want to be told the answer?
Fifth year she'd wished him luck before the Quidditch Tournament, kissing his cheek. He was puzzled by this, and kept touching it beforehand. He hadn't read into it back then either.
The nerve wracking Battle of the Seven Potters. Hermione had been paired with Kingsley on a Thestral. Ron had been steering Tonks on a broom. It sounded like something out a muggle sketch show. Bellatrix had wanted Tonks dead just as much as Harry. Ron and Dora had missed the portkey at Muriel's. Hermione and Kingsley had both been unharmed. Hermione to say the least, had been relieved, just had Remus had been at the sight of Dora. Ron instantly had gone to comfort her; her hands had been left entwined behind his neck even as she spoke. He had no idea, now, to her words but remembers that he was quite happy at having her so close. Both reactions similar though neither couple had noticed.
At Bill and Fleur's wedding, she'd looked wonderful in a lilac floaty dress. He'd asked her to dance, she accepted. They'd danced the night away. Harry in disguise had told Krum that they were sort of together. They'd been interrupted that night. Kingsley sent his patronus at the downfall of the Ministry and they had gone on the run.
At the café on Tottenham Court Road, her back had been to Rowle and Dolohov. As soon as they had raised their wands he'd scooted her along the bench and fired curses. He had her back. The café hadn't gone unscathed though they had tried cleaning up before they left.
They'd had moments then too. They'd fallen asleep holding hands in Twelve Grimmauld Place, exhaustion setting in. Ron had found the easiest way to comfort her was simply to hold her, folding her into his arms for a few moments until she calmed down.
He'd cocked up too, the horcrux filling his head with lies. Before he left he'd given her the option to come with him. Her reaction had him feeling like he was punched in the gut; he shouldn't have done it- making her choose between her two best friends. She reminded him they both said they would stick by Harry. He still had left.
He'd come back and saved Harry in the water. She was less pleased to see him, furious, or so he had thought. He knew now that she'd been upset, cried for a week or so though tried to hide it. Relieved when he came back, he was safe. The trio back together, boy he'd missed her. His shoulder had often bothered him in the tent, just old injuries he would insist, the muscle needed working. The only thing that had felt right was when nimble fingers had pressed certain spots as he stretched and rotated it. Usually, much to her mild amusement, he required taking his shirt off, less restrictive or something like that. It was hard not for her to peek, Quidditch had done him well.
He'd saved her at The Manor too, the only one to dive towards the danger. He had to save her, no ifs buts or maybes about it. It was hell not to be able so save her from Bellatrix. He'd swap in an instant. He'd always protect her. Physically at least. She beat him at magic hands down. She is the better witch, the brightest of their age.
Their first chaste kiss was at Shell Cottage; looking out over the surf. He'd supported her daily walks along the sand, building up strength. He'd instinctively offered her his arm, she took it long after she didn't need to. She'd admitted that if it wasn't for him screaming her name, she wouldn't have been strong enough. Ron was lost for words. Her words of thanks dwelling on his brain long after realising that she'd kissed him.
In the Chamber of Secrets, they'd both sworn they'd survive it together or not at all. All or nothing. Together until the end.
They finally kissed properly during the final battle, all sorts of emotions pulsing through them. He'd commented about the house elves. They needed to get out. Harry was thinking of getting them to fight. Hermione had instigated that kiss, was always concerned about the Elves. The fact that he'd verbalised it flicked a switch in her. The basilisk fangs had clattered to the floor. He'd dropped the broomstick and fangs that he had, lifting her off his feet as they connected. Harry was unfortunate to witness the occasion, awkward apparently or maybe the voice of reason; there was a war on after all. He held her tight; if they were going to die, they would die together. There was no way in hell was he letting her go now.
The general consensus; it should have happened sooner. Their relationship defined as skinny love; two people in love but both too shy to admit it though both showing it. It just took them six years.
The days after the war ended were hard. They were heart breaking. They were grey and miserable and full of too many people not coming back. Too many gone too soon. They were each other's lights in the darkness.
Three days after the final battle he'd asked her properly to be his girl. The days following were the clean up and rebuild. A day under a month after the war, they'd gone on a proper date. Their first of many. Bella Luna and that red dress.
He'd proposed in Paris. The autumnal evening on top of the Eiffel Tower back in 2001. He was nervous that day, jittery. Hermione read him like a book but encouraged him anyways. She'd cried as she accepted his words of loving her since he was a teen, of promising to comfort and protect her. Ginny had helped pick the ring. A simple silver band with a square dark blue stone and small diamonds either side. A cushion cut sapphire apparently. He'd recognised the smaller stones. He'd paid a small fortune, could afford to now. She cried even more when she seen it, commenting how similar it was to her deceased grandmothers. Thank the stars for Ginny, Ron had thought after they had embraced.
Their wedding was the only time that they hadn't gone to Bella Luna for their anniversary in 2004. Fleur had done her hair and make-up. Hermione's curls falling as a cascade rather than outwards like they did naturally.
Victoire was four and in a very pretty dress, her sister in a smaller version of it. Six-year-old Teddy spent the day making Vic spin in circles. Molly and Lucy were about six weeks old, poor Percy was stressed beyond belief. His doting French wife her usual calm self. Angie had been hiding her pregnancy with Freddie at that point, only a few months gone, he was born just before Christmas. James had been born at the start of the year, Ginny able to spring back to fit into her dress.
Molly had fussed over Hermione and spent the day in happy tears at her adopted daughter. Oh, how she had grown.
Ron, admittedly, can't remember much of the day. He recalls his new wife dancing in his arms. The curve of the neckline of her dress and how well it fit then flared out slightly, A-line she had called it. The long sleeves delicate. The lace covered everything but a deep V down her back. Modest but alluring at the same time. The sash around her waist matching Ginny and Luna's periwinkle dresses perfectly. The soft blue shades matching the sky. The hydrangea and gypsophila entwined. Hydrangea, he'd noted, smelt like the perfume he'd given to her Christmas of 1995. She tended to wear it on special occasions, charming it to retain its smell.
Their rings special too, engraved with Swish and Flick. Hermione had cried at them.
They'd laughed that day too. He never really was a dancer. Her face had lit up when he mentioned that he had been practicing. He'd danced with Minnie that day too, for old times' sake.
They'd honeymooned for two weeks. The first few days in Paris. The rest in the South, basking in the sun and exploring vineyards. Hermione liked wine, Ron tolerated it. He enjoyed the food though, always the food.
Ron made a point of kissing her in public, proud of her, of what she'd accomplished. He promised himself yearly that given the chance, he would do it all over again. Maybe for some milestone anniversary they could renew their vows like muggles did.
The kids had arrived too. First Rosie, then Hugo. Hermione had worked throughout. The Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures specialising in Elf Welfare, now at the DMLE for the eradication of Pureblood Laws. She'd finished school too, that year without her had been hard. He'd thrown himself into being an Auror. Lasted two years, he did. Something inside him was unsettled. He'd gone and worked with George, was still there now. Himself, George and Verity and occasionally Angie. He split time between there and looking after the kids, Molly looking after them while he was at work.
They'd invested in Zonko's in Hogsmeade too, employing another couple of staff. Neville often popped in when he wasn't teaching, still partial to some of their original merchandise.
Rosie was a shock when she was born. The red hair had been duly noted as well as a rather large set of lungs. Over due by three days, Hermione had finally given up and gone to the muggle doctors where they helped doing what nature was struggling to do. Rose wasn't a big baby, just sitting funny but soon turned. He hated seeing Hermione in so much emotional distress. Hugo was easier, smaller and three weeks early. Appeared in the afternoon just after Hermione had had her tea. By the time they'd got to St Mungo's, Hugo was on his way. The brown hair had come a few weeks later all soft and silky. He'd been a quiet baby, he still was until someone mentioned Puddlemere.
Rose was used to having people having opinions over her parents' relationship. Not everyone understood. Her mother was working on being less critical. Her father, his confidence and self-belief. Her mama and dad balanced each other out. Both were stubborn, she and Hugo had inherited that but they soon made up.
Rose decided then and there that she wanted a relationship like theirs. Someone that would comfort her but also challenge her. Someone to bring out the best in her. Little could she predict that it was the son of an old enemy. The one person that her mother had hit, and that her father was still touchy about now. But that, is a different story altogether.
Over a decade later and Hermione and Ron were still going strong. For you can't have Hermione without Ron.