Ch. 9 It's time

A snore permeated the quiet room. Canons posters adorned one wall, while a stained glass window was on another. Ron was face down in his pillow, taking a much needed and appreciated mid-morning nap.

"Ron, it's time."

Ron fell out of the bed, awake in an instant. His wand was at the ready, eyes alert. "What, who?"

Hermione chuckled from the other side of their king sized platform bed. "I'm not in labor, silly. I'm not even pregnant."

He looked up while grinning like a troll at his wife still huddled under the covers. "Sorry. I thought it was that morning we had to rush to the hospital with Hugo. I'm fine; just a flashback."

Hermione grinned. The memories of that night and morning were now funny, now that four years had passed. Poor Ron still turned a vibrant shade of magenta whenever she brought it up. It wasn't funny at the time, with her water breaking at 1am after an evening of fun and frivolity with Harry and Ginny at the house with the kids. Ginny was a help, Harry a mess trying to corral four kids to the Burrow with Molly and Arthur – and then there was Ron. He was a disaster, since this was his first true birth. He had been out on assignment when Hermione was rushed to the hospital with Rose mid-afternoon from the Ministry. He got there quickly enough – racing back from Blackpool was atrocious via emergency portkey – and she was comfortable when he arrived – but the panic from her going into labor a month early didn't help his nerves.

Ron crawled back into bed, delighting in his wife's warmth. Sunday mornings after the kids went to Gramma Molly's house were so much fun. Fresh sheets on the bed, his wife smelled of bacon, and she delighted in showing him attention and affection in a myriad of ways. He appreciated her undivided attention for him on Sunday mornings after a long week chasing papers across his desk.

Once he snuggled back under the covers, a few days past Christmas, he tickled her flanks, hearing her giggles resonate across the room. "That's for waking me the worst way, woman. You know better."

Her cheeks flushed, and she writhed under his calloused fingers. "Ron, stop, please."

He continued to tickle, enjoying her laughter. "Say it."

He relented for a second, waiting for her to capitulate. She stared at him, daring to continue.

"Fine."

He found another spot to tickle, working away at the middle of her hips. She laughed, her gaffaws echoing in their bedroom.

"I surrender."

Ron continued to tickle, waiting for the magic phrase. "Not yet you don't."

"Weasley is my King!" she panted under his continued antics.

"Yes!"

They fell back onto the bed, both panting from exertion. "That's what you wanted to hear this morning, wasn't it? Had to stroke your ego too, huh?"

"You know me – my ego is as large as – "

"Ronald!"

" – my feet."

"Aren't you cheeky this morning?"

"Only for you, and only for a little while this morning. We still have to be at Mum and Dad's by noon today."

They snuggled back down into the bedclothes, finding the warmth comforting.

"So what was so important to wake me from my mid-morning nap?"

Hermione played with the smattering of ginger hairs on her husband's chest. They were soft like the ones on his head, unlike the stubble on his jawline. "What I was going to say further was that I think it's time to get a new bed set for us."

Ron looked down at his wife, finding her expression serious.

"Really? This one seems fine to me. You've never complained about it in the least."

"I wasn't considering a new purchase for me. I was thinking for your benefit."

"So? What's wrong with this one?"

"You might not notice, but I do when you get up in the middle of the night for a call-out. You gripe about your back aching more, and just not resting as well. I did some research –"

"Now there' a surprise," he cheeked.

" - and the industry recommendation is changing the mattress and box springs every ten years. It's been twelve we've had this one."

"It sure doesn't seem that long."

"It has been. We got this set after we moved into the flat once we got married."

"That long?"

Hermione nodded. "And I don't mention to you, since I'm always up so early, that my hips aren't eighteen anymore, and I could use a bit more support."

"Sure. We can look into getting a new bed. I didn't realize it wasn't comfortable anymore for you."

"Well, it's fine for now, but I'd like to look around and see what we can find that would work best. A king sized set would set us back some galleons if I don't shop around."

"How many galleons are we talking?"

"Well, the better ones are about 300, and can go as high as a thousand."

"A thousand! No bloody way? What do they do, massage your arse while you lie on it?"

"No, dear. They are made with different materials to be comfortable, so the adverts say."

"How much did we pay for this one?"

"Not quite one hundred galleons. I converted the money over to pounds and found it at a shop on sale."

"We can get another one of these, right dear?"

"Well, we could," as Hermione pushed her hand into the mattress, finding a particular spring that squeaked, "but since the kids are getting older, I'd like something that was a touch more quiet when we're on it."

"Are you a witch or what?"

She looked over at her husband, seeing the smirk on his face. "Cheeky bugger."

"We don't have to be quiet. There are spells, you know."

"I know that. I came up with a few we use, remember?" Hermione blushed, looking like a girl of 18 not the mom of 32. "I rather hear you than the bedsprings."

"But the kids don't and won't hear us."

"I know, but I also prefer to hear other things besides the bedsprings making a ruckus."

"Does that really bother you?"

She blushed. "Sometimes. I get distracted by the noise. And you know I wake when the bed squeaks when you get a call-out in the middle of the night."

Ron looked out the window from their cottage, seeing the trees covered in snow and ice. It looked like a cold slice of heaven. "OK. Do your research, and find something we'd both like."

"So you want the cheapest?"

"Blimey no. Not anymore. Find us something that doesn't squeak like a box of ice mice."

"That might be expensive."

"So? We can afford it if we budget. My wife not hearing a squeaking mattress would be worth it."

"A husband whose back didn't hurt would be worth it too."

"My back doesn't hurt."

"But my hips do on occasion."

Ron flipped them over, pushing her deeper into the bed clothes. He wiggled his toes, finding another squeaky spring at the foot of the bed. He looked over his shoulder, finding the offending noise. "You mean like that noisy spring?"

He looked back at his wife, who was once again comfortable in his embrace. "Well, that is certainly another one that will be annoying."

Ron moved his hand, and found another one. "Blimey, you're right. Our bed is infected with ice mice. We do need another one."

Hermione grinned up at her husband, finding his stubble covered cheek beneath her palm. "Maybe since the kids are at Gramma's house, we can use a silencing spell just this once."

"I rather wake the neighbors this morning with our ice mice infested mattress."

Ron leaned down to kiss her gently on her lips while finding another offending coil. They grinned at one another while pressing on various places on their bed, making silly noises while tickling one another.

It was after ten, and the kids were sound asleep in their beds. A full day at Mum's house, including being cooped inside for much of it made for hyperactive kids. The other mum's got sick of their racket quickly, and tossed them outside for an hour to have a much needed snowball fight. Much hilarity ensued when Percy enchanted some snowballs that chased the other dads around, and when the group returned, they were chattering like a box of ice mice. Plenty of hot cocoa and warming charms did the trick for the kids, and the adults got hot tea with a splash of firewhiskey.

Ron stood in the doorway to Hermione's study, watching her research mattresses. Years later and she kept her nose in research – whether in a dusty old tome or in front of a telly screen. She might be less frugal than his Mum, but she was diligent in finding what they needed for the best price. Of course, she knuckled knuts so she could have more in the budget for her books – and the kids as well. They might scrimp on vacations, or trips abroad, but she never refused the kids what they needed, or occasionally, what they wanted. Sometimes it was a special trip to Honeydukes – and others, it might be stop in Florean Fortescue's for an ice crème. Special treats were more along the lines of a sleepover with Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur, with Victorie, Dominique, and Louis. Not even a trip to stay the night with Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny was a treat – more like a weekly occurrence. Having their three kids was also a weekly occurrence.

"Find anything yet dear?"

Hermione glanced up from the monitor, smiling at her dear husband. "A few. I've found anywhere from 125 up to 500. I refuse to consider a thousand galleon mattress set, even if it massaged your bum."

"A thousand? Galleons? Wow."

She nodded her head in ascent. "Everything we order can be delivered to the house in a month, or I can go to a store and find a flood model. We could have that quicker, but probably pay more."

"You know, we could do some cushioning charms on the bed. That might work for now."

"Ronald! We don't need to use magic for every little thing, you know?"

He held his hands up in mock surrender. "You'd think you weren't a witch or something."

"It's not the point. I want the kids to be able to function on occasion out of the magical world. You've said more than once that you have trouble when you have to hide in the Muggle population."

"Isnottrue," Ron pouted. He took four steps to the chair next to her desk, slouching down in it to see her face to face. "I've not said that in years!"

"You said it last month when you were on a case up in Manchester for a week. You were undercover and couldn't use magic unless your life was threatened."

Ron continued to pout.

"And haven't you told me on one occasion that you wished you could drive to my parent's house, since I drive too cautiously?"

Ron's pout grew wider.

Hermione laid a hand on her husband's knee. "I'm just saying I want the kids to see that they can function in both worlds. I want them to have every opportunity that we didn't have growing up. If that means that we hold off on using cushioning charms on our bed and spending galleons on a new mattress, so be it. As long as I'm thrifty we should be fine for the budget."

"You say that about many things."

Hermione smiled with a glint of glee in them. "Of course I do. If you had your way, we'd have blown our budget every month on Chocolate Frogs and licorice wands."

"That's not true. I cut back on them once you told me you were pregnant with Hugo."

Hermione turned back to the computer, beginning her research once again. "At least you got what you wanted when you made it onto the Chocolate Frog cards. I still remember your face getting our letter – or that part of the prize was a lifetime supply of Chocolate Frogs."

Ron frowned. "Hermione?"

She looked up from the monitor, knowing the tone of his voice. "Yes, Ronald?" A smirk crossed her face further.

"What did you get with your offer on the Chocolate Frog card? It's not like you to eat Chocolate unless it's something one of our Mum's makes."

She sat there a few seconds, hemming and hawing. "I asked them to send my portion, minus a few sugar quills a month, to either St. Mungos for the kids, or to Hogwarts for a student who doesn't get many birthday and Christmas presents. I get a letter every month from them, asking where I would like to send mine, and I tell them. What you did for Harry that first Christmas never left my mind."

Ron turned a vibrant shade of red. "You remember me telling you that don't you?"

Hermione looked up and smiled. "Of course I do. Instead of going home for Christmas, you stayed at school. Instead of letting your best mate have a really crummy Christmas, you gave him is first real one. What isn't to love about that kind of generosity, especially since Mum went to extra lengths to make it happen? You complained for years about being poor – having so little to give – yet you gave what you had – sharing space in a family with an overabundance of love – sharing meals, and a Mum who loves so much – asking her to knit a sweater for Harry – his first cherished Christmas gift – and summers having fun, when we weren't being hunted down? I'd say that you gave in spades!"

Ron slouched down in the chair even further.

"You might not think I noticed, but I did. You might have been destitute, as you saw it, but in reality, you were so rich and giving. How could I not notice?"

Ron started to smile once her words sank in.

"I want the kids to see you as their hero, like I do. You are an arse at times, but you're also loving, giving, passionate, and boiling with a need to see justice done. You truly are a paladin, wrapped in a lanky package."

Ron pulled his wife into his lap, boiling her blood immediately in a passionate kiss. His lips left hers, moving to her ear. "You certainly know how to build me up, make me feel good about myself."

She pulled back, just enough to see his illuminated blue eyes. "Shall I continue things elsewhere?"

Ron grinned like Christmas came back just for him. "With pleasure!"

Hermione closed the top of laptop, being pulled away from her study once again.