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"Aren't you cold?" Hermione asks as she and Ron walk through the park at night.
Ron waves a dismissive hand, though, really, he realized about ten minutes ago that a long-sleeved shirt is definitely not warm enough for this weather. He had assumed he would be fine, but now he deeply regrets not checking the weather before leaving. Worse still, he is far too stubborn to admit his mistake, so he's determined to just tough it out. "Me? Cold? No, Hermione. I don't get cold!" he tells her, and maybe he puts a little too much enthusiasm in his voice.
"Ronald…"
"I'm fine, Hermione!" he insists, nodding like a simple bob of his head will somehow make it more true. "Never better!"
She doesn't buy it. Hermione's eyes narrow, and she shakes her head. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"
Ron shrugs. She's right. Of course she's right. There's quite literally no reason for him to be like this, but he can't help it. There's still a part of him that is so painfully hesitant to admit he's wrong, at least about small, insignificant things. By now, he's learned to admit it when it's something major, something that could jeopardize their happiness, but the little things? Maybe it's because they're so small and minor that Ron hates being wrong about them.
"I… might have underestimated how cold it was," he admits, clearing his throat and pushing his hand through his red hair, offering his wife a sheepish smile.
With a roll of her eyes, Hermione opens her beaded bag, the one she's had forever that still has that extension charm on it. "Lucky for you, I took the liberty of packing a jacket," she tells him.
"Really? But we're just going to the park."
She laughs and pulls out a tan jacket, one that's warm but light enough to be comfortable. "We are," she agrees, "and yet…" She hands him the jacket. "I figured I should grab it when I realized you were just wearing a shirt out."
Ron slips his arms into the jacket, adjusting it as needed. "Do I get credit for at least wearing long sleeves?"
Hermione slips her hand into his, leaning into him. "You're setting the bar awfully low, love," she teases.
"Yeah, well… Who needs a bar anyway?" He turns his head, pressing a kiss to her curls and smiling to himself. "What would I do without you?"
"Crash and burn."
He snorts. "Probably."
He hopes he never has to find out. It isn't just the little things she does for him, or the way she helps keep him in line when he starts to drift away. Hermione makes him happy in a way nothing and no one else ever has.
He's holding onto her for eternity.