Ask: hi! idk if you take requests or if you have time to write and i hope i'm not bothering you but i would love if you could write romione when they're married and maybe around 30-36 and still blushing at each other yk (i just saw a headcanon that said that lol) idk you are more creative that i am and maybe you can make something cool out of it thanks đź’— sorry if i explained myself so bad but im french ;)
Ron smooths out the creases in his ceremonial Auror uniform. He's had extreme feelings about the outfit since he joined the academy many moons ago. The heavy material always weighs him down, and he bloody hates the colour maroon. Plus, it's all fussy and impractical. If he had to take down a dark wizard this morning, he's not sure he'd be able to do it all trussed up like this.
It's his first day back after a long time away helping George with the shop and looking after the kids. Of course, the management has assigned him to press briefing duty as punishment for even considering leaving the department. Ron had his reasons, of course, and there's nothing in the handbook forbidding an eleven-year unpaid sabbatical.
Coming back was a no brainer. Ron's only worry is he might not be able to keep up with the newer recruits. His fitness is bound to have dropped after spending all that time spent on the sofa watching Muggle children's TV, and he's no spring chicken. But he's pretty sure his new position as Head of Strategy will limit his time on missions anyway.
Plus, it helps that Harry is now the Head Auror, meaning he'll have to listen to Ron whine if he assigns any tasks outside of Ron's standard working hours.
It pays to be best mates with the boss.
Talking of, Harry's voice brings Ron out of his musings, all serious and formal in the redhead's ear. "Phoenix flies in thirty seconds. Get ready."
A bag of flobberworms bursts in Ron's stomach, squirming away in excitement. This is the first press conference the new Minister of Magic is making since being appointed to the post. Ron was up late last night, waiting for the vote's results, and after months of campaigning, it was a well-deserved win. The announcement sparked mass parties across the country. The new minister will herald a new era for the wizarding community, and their appointment will change their lives and way of living forever.
His mum and dad had held a small celebration at the Burrow. It had been nice to be there with the rest of the family, and they had still been going at three this morning. Although he doesn't regret the decision to stay up late, having to stand through a two-hour briefing so early forces a massive yawn from Ron's lips before he even has time to consider suppressing it.
The room is full of journalists, all jostling to be at the front of the auditorium to get a galleon-winning interview with the new Minister. Ron's supposed to be helping to keep the order, but for now, he decides to let them fight it out. There's no point in throwing his wand in or showing too much authority this early on. He'll need his energy if there's a mass brawl later.
As he considers taking his third patrol around the edge of the room, the brown double doors at the back open, and a respectful quiet falls over the attendees. Harry emerges first, wearing the same ceremonial robes as Ron, but with a badge dictating his status shining from his chest. The Minister's personal protection team follows—an army of Aurors all in black—with their wands held high, forming a tight box around the new Minister of Magic.
"G'morning, Ma'am," Ron greets her, making sure his usual lopsided grin is on his face. It doesn't drop as she ignores him, her nose held high and her eyes fixated on her destination. She strides with purpose to the stage at the front of the room, and Ron's heart takes a giddy leap.
Stuck up witch.
Still, he can't help but let his eyes drift over her as she continues on her journey, taking in the bushy brown hair flowing down her back and the way her royal purple robes hide all the parts of her he loves the most. It's like her body is a secret known only to him, and he whispers a silent thanks for the Ministry's adamance that they still wear robes. His trousers have tightened so much walking will be difficult for a moment or so.
Ron loves a woman in power.
Kingsley Shacklebolt takes the podium first, as is the tradition in the wizarding world. It's his last job to announce the new minister and pass the responsibility over officially. Ron's attention drifts off as the speeches continue. The Minister spouts off words he's heard a hundred times over.
Once the declamations finish, the questions begin. They follow all the usual patterns: what are your plans to improve the economy? Why did you fail to strengthen the rights of mountain trolls? What does your husband think about your promotion?
Ron's head shoots up at the last one, searching for the witch brave enough to ask it. After spending the last twenty years of her life under the public eye, the Minister has a strict, no-personal-questions policy. This order includes no pictures of her children. Anyone reporting a story without evidence risks a visit from the Head of the Independent Wizarding Press Services, a body she set up to ensure magical papers only tell the truth.
Clearing her throat, the Minister's pulls her body more upright, and her fingers tighten around the edge of the podium. "Would you ask a male Minister a similar question about his wife? Or is it assumed that he can go about his civic duties without needing permission from his spouse? My husband has no influence on my position or the policies I will be working on during my tenure. If he did, the Cannons would win a lot more of their matches than they do now."
She pauses to allow the crowd to giggle and the tension to dissipate, and Ron's heart swells with love. She's gotten better at dealing with people since their time at school.
"But I know he supports every decision I make because I don't make them without discussing the impact they might have on our family. Even if it means having to change jobs or doing more than his fair share of the housework and childcare so I can serve the British Magical community."
Following her gaze, the heads of every attendee swivel around to glare at Ron. If he wasn't used to the attention, he might squirm under it. But although heat creeps into his cheeks and to the tips of his ears, he holds himself tall, his chest puffing out in pride. Pulse racing in his ears, he searches above the sea of journalists to find Hermione's deep chocolate brown eyes.
There's a reason he falls in love with this woman every single day.
"I love you," she mouths back at him whilst the attention is focused elsewhere.
An even bigger smile spreads across Ron's face when he spots that her cheeks are flushed as bright as his. Despite the number of people packed into the room, they enjoy the private moment until Harry's voice sounds again in Ron's ear. "Gross."
Ron resists laughing. Some habits never disappear, even though they've been friends now for over twenty years.
Soon enough, the press conference picks up again, and despite the best efforts of the media to pry further into Hermione's personal life, she refuses all related questions. The conversation fades away as Ron watches her, enthralled by how impressive his wife is. His only hope is that the rest of the day passes quickly, and she isn't too tired by the time she gets home, so he can show her how proud of her he is.