Word count: 668

"Daddy! Daddy, look!" Rose calls, beaming with excitement as she pokes her head out of the water.

Truthfully, Ron is nervous about his daughter swimming in the open water. He reminds himself again and again that she's in the shallowest part, and she is a good swimmer. Besides, he and his siblings used to swim like that all the time, and they're okay. It's fine.

"Good job, Rosie!" he says, offering her a thumbs up. "Maybe it's time to come out for a bit?"

Rose pouts, but she doesn't argue. With a huff, she splashes around a few more times before stepping out of the salty water. "I wanna be a mermaid, Daddy," she tells him, running forward and wrapping her arms around his leg.

Ron chuckles and pats her head. "I don't think you do. Have you ever seen a mermaid before? Scary."

"That's mean!"

She reminds him so much of Hermione sometimes. Hermione would have fought tooth and nail over the dignity of house-elves. Ron supposes the apple really doesn't fall so far from the tree.

"Hugo! Hugo! I'm gonna be a mermaid!" Rose squeals, releasing her father's leg and running over to where her brother walks, happily adding seashells to his plastic yellow pail.

Ron watches the two of them, and he can't help but smile. They don't have nearly enough family beach days. It's one of the few times his kids get along without him or Hermione having to constantly remind them to be nice.

With a content sigh, he makes his way to where his wife sits beneath the umbrella's shade, a book in her hands. Ron considers teasing her; there's so much to do at the beach, but, of course, Hermione chooses to read. Still, he knows teasing her will likely end badly for him. Reading is Hermione's way of relaxing, and he knows better than to give her a hard time.

"Are you just going to stand there staring at me, Ronald?" Hermione laughs, peering up at him over the top of her book.

Ron blushes guiltily, as though he's done something wrong. "I was going to sit down eventually," he says, taking a seat beside her. "Just got distracted by how beautiful you were."

Suspicion is visible in her face. "You were going to be a pest, weren't you?"

He clears his throat, scrubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "Dunno what you're talking about. I always admire your beauty, and… er… Yeah, I was."

She snorts, eyes rolling. "I wouldn't expect anything less of you," she says, and there's a softness in her voice, an affectionate tone he loves so much.

When they were kids, they didn't really know how to act around each other. Ron remembers saying cruel things, and the way Hermione would sometimes lash out or snap at him. Neither were perfect. Maybe that's why so many people were surprised when they started dating; Rita Skeeter even wrote an article speculating on how doomed they were as a couple.

But here they are, years later. They balance one another out in a way no one else really can. Ron can't imagine spending his life without anyone else, and he's glad Hermione has chosen him.

"We should do beach days more often," he says. "Why don't we?"

Hermione chuckles and leans in, kissing his cheek. "Because you always forget your sunscreen, get sunburnt, and talk about how much you hate the beach," she reminds him.

"Well, I didn't forget today."

"Only because Rose reminded you."

"Fair."

He lets out a content sigh and wraps an arm around his wife. They've really gone through so much together, and here they are, stronger than ever.

"I love you, Hermione," he says.

"I love you too."

"No, Hugo! That's a jellyfish! You can't touch it!"

Ron starts to move, but Hermione hands him the book to hold. "I've got this," she says, climbing to her feet. "Kids? Who wants ice cream?"

Ron really is the luckiest man alive.