Author's Note: Yahoo! This is a one-shot about semi-oldness. It's RWHG, which is probably my favorite…

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Harry Plotter is currently resting!

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Up to this day, her 14th wedding anniversary, Hermione Granger Weasley liked to knit. Anything that involved making something with her own two hands, she liked doing it. She was that intelligent, creative sort of person. Not only that, but she was caring and kind and, because the years had treated her well, motherly. That was why she became a Healer.

But now she wasn't due for her shift. She was, as I mentioned, knitting. She continued the tradition of Weasley sweater knitting, and she was making one for her husband, Ronald. It was not maroon. Suddenly Hermione stopped, sighed, and looked at her around her house.

She remembered that Ron had taken her out to dinner on their 1st anniversary. She wore a gold spaghetti strap dress that suited her perfectly. (A/N: If you want to see what it looks like please e-mail me.) Her hair was up in a messy bun with some loose curls near her face. Ron had on a blue long-sleeved polo and dark gray slacks, his regular thing nowadays, but his hair was different. It was long, of course, but he actually had it slicked back, as though it were in a ponytail like Bill's. Hermione had told him afterwards, "It made me fall in love with you all over again… don't do it too often."

That night she got pregnant.

She shuddered with cold. She looked to her white, home-sewn muslin curtains. They're quite elegant in the wind, she thought, 'but it's too cold.' She put down her knitting and headed to shut the windows and block the autumn winds. 'October,' she thought again, remembering her daughters who were at Hogwarts. 'They've been at school for over a month now.' As she reached to close the window, she heard a familiar voice say, "Happy Anniversary, dear."

Hermione looked around to find Ron holding a bunch of daisies wrapped with rice paper and tied with a pink satin ribbon. "Oh, Ron! You remembered," she exclaimed, taking the flowers and hugging her husband. "Of course I remembered. October 10, not that hard to," he said, laughing.

She hit him on the arm. "I thought you remembered because you love me!" She was half angry, half amused, he could say that much. "I do love you. And just to prove it… I'll take a bath."

"A bath?" she said, wondering what this had to do with anything besides hygiene.

"A… different kind of bath."

"How different?" she asked, absolutely clueless.

(10 MINUTES LATER.)

"I told you it was different."

They were in their light green bathroom, in the roomy white bathtub. The tiled surface around the tub was surrounded by perfectly shaped rocks, white candles, and scattered daisies. Yes. More daisies. But there were white rose petals in with the hot water.

"Ron… this is so perfect."

"Thanks."

"No… thank you." She pushed herself over next to him. "It's perfect."

"You already said that."

"I know," she said dreamily.

"Hermione?"

"Yes dear."

"I love you."

"You already said that."

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A/N: For hopeless romantics. Please review!