Firelight
Author's Note: Originally published on February 14, 2017
Silence enveloped her world, the peace only broken by the occasional crackle of the bright fireplace. Once upon a time, she never could have imagined that such an evening was possible.
Staring out the large window of their small cottage, she watched as the barest hints of snow slowly floated down, like wisps of cotton caught in a gentle summer breeze.
She sighed, enrobed in a warm blanket of safety and love.
Her left hand idly stroked the reddish-gold fur of her pet. As usual, Crookshanks had tucked himself into her side and drifted off, just as gratified as she was.
She beheld her right hand, her fingers tangled in the beautiful ginger locks of her love. Ron's head was propped on her knee, his lean, sleeping body half-hanging over the side of their overstuffed settee, causing her to grin.
She marvelled as the flickers of light from the fire played across his face, the shifting illumination highlighting different freckles. She loved him and the little life they'd built together in the years following the war.
She continued surveying his face, from his gold eyelashes, to his long nose, to his very tempting lips. She was compelled to lean down and give him the barest hint of a kiss.
Sensing her presence, his eyelashes fluttered open, those same lips curving into a smile as she deepened the leisurely snog.
Hermione broke off the kiss and stroked the backs of her fingers across his cheek. She was enthralled by the look of pure adoration he was giving her.
"That is the best way to wake up," Ron said, letting out a loud yawn before unceremoniously shifting his long torso and flopping his head down on her shoulder.
"Hush, Crookshanks is sleeping."
"He's always sleeping."
Ron peered over at the slumbering ball of fur. "You know, love, I've always meant to ask you…"
"Hmm?"
"Why did you get a ginger cat?"
Hermione felt her cheeks warm, and it wasn't due to the heat from the hearth. Her gaze momentarily held the now thickly falling snow, the swirling chaos reminding her of how she felt back then.
"Well… I happened to be drawn to the colour, and Kneazles are very intelligent."
"You were drawn to the colour?"
"Yes, why is that so difficult to understand?"
"Well, ginger is not exactly a popular choice… for most."
"It was perfect for me."
"Are we still talking about the cat, Hermione?"
"Maybe," she lied.
"Right."
"I was confused, and I didn't know what to make of it. You infuriated me, yet, I knew what I felt for you was different than what I felt for Harry."
"I know what you mean… I felt differently about you, too. You were pretty, and I didn't know what to make of it."
"You thought I was pretty? Even back then?"
She turned and saw the blush on his cheeks this time as he sat up.
"Yeah."
She snuggled into him, basking in his warmth and completely content.
"Love you."