Author's Note: Hey everyone! So I've had this chapter almost done for like two weeks, but I just couldn't finish it. I should have known that all i needed was something I was supposed to be doing instead of writing it... Anyway, since the last few chapters have been pretty angsty, this one is pillowy softness(which is fluff). I've returned to the setting of my very first Ron and Hermione story, The Best Christmas as well, but you by no means have to read it for this to make sense. In fact, I probably can't even reccommend that you do read it because I wrote it almost a year ago and I haven't read it in ages and its probably written badly. But there is a better description of the setting in there if any of you would like to read it.
My plan is to try to write a chapter of this a month. I should be able to easily work that in around everything I'm supposed to be doing, and that way you all get to read some more:)
Thanks to anyone who read or added any of the earlier chapters. I also have to thank Cass for reading through this, and Sarah, who inspired it. Also I owe thanks to LillyMay77 and F Maurice for their really sweet reviews of the last chapter. I love all of you, seriously:) So, I think thats it. Reviews would be crazy amazing, and I'll see you all in December!
BarbedWire

Chapter 13: Perfect

He could just make out the shape of her, a soft blanket covered outline against the city lights glistening off the raindrops on the window panes. He was tempted to turn on the strange electric Muggle light but he resisted. The fact that she had not moved or said anything in response to his noisily entering the flat clearly meant that she was asleep. Instead he set about changing for bed as soundlessly as possible, with only the light of the illuminated street below to guide him. Unconcerned with tidiness, he threw his clothes off and allowed them to sit in a heap on the cheap laminate floor, something which he suspected he would catch Hell for in the morning. At the moment however, he was merely concerned with getting himself under the safe respite of his covers, preferably without waking the still form of his wife.

His wife. The phrase still felt strange and new to him, and although it never failed to bring a smile to his lips, it also did not quite feel real. It was something beyond everything he had ever hoped for, beyond the reasonable realm of achievement for one such as himself. And yet it had happened. And even if it had happened here, in this dingy flat with the gray walls and the odd smells and the sloping, uneven floors, it had happened. Even if he wasn't anything more than a joke shop employee and they had no bed frame and they had promised themselves they would have a real house by now, it couldn't dampen the glorious perfection of his life. Whatever else had happened, he stood here, watching the mound of blankets rise and fall in time with her breath.

He paused for a moment, forgetting his exhaustion and his desire to crawl into bed to watch as the Hermione sized lump in the covers stir slightly. He quickly put his hand over his mouth to stifle a yawn, the chilly metal of his wedding band brushing against his cheek, but Hermione did not wake. Wondering to himself how long it would take to get used to the ring, he sat quietly on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes. He would have really appreciated some light as he struggled to untie his poorly knotted laces but he resisted the temptation to cast Lumos, fearing that even the lighted end of his wand would wake her. The last thing he wanted was to disturb her when she was seemed so peaceful. So instead he gave up on the troublesome knots and simply worked enough slack into the laces to force his feet out. Once his feet were free of the leather confines, he tossed them wearily onto the pile of clothes that he would have to deal with in the morning.

He was grateful beyond imagination to be free from all his work clothes and finally able to get into bed. Crawling eagerly under the covers, he moved closer to Hermione to offer her a goodnight kiss. It was only then that he noticed the extremely tattered and beaten copy of Hogwarts: A History lying open next to her, and her wand still clutched in her hand. He sighed as he gently slid the wand out of her grasp and quietly closed the book. He set both on his bedside table.

Falling asleep reading, that was nothing. She did it twice a week, sometimes reading for pleasure, other times pouring over the dozens of files she brought home from work. To Hermione, reading was almost like what breathing or eating was to everyone else. So the fact that she had been reading in bed meant nothing, it was her choice in books that worried Ron. Hogwarts: A History was probably the most comforting book she owned. He wasn't sure why, maybe because she had memorized it, or because it was about a place she loved so much or maybe it simply reminded her of a simpler time, when magic was newly real and everything was full of hope for what that would mean. He didn't know what the book meant to her, but he knew that if something was the matter and she needed comforting, it's haggard and faded pages were the first place she turned. But it had been ages since she'd been in the state of mind where the only company she sought was the well-worn book and whatever it meant. In fact, he hadn't seen it removed off its place of honor on the book shelf for months, not since before the wedding. Which was exactly what bothered Ron.

She'd had her share of headaches since then, probably more than her share. What with practically running the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the new House Elf Protection act she was working on drafting and being married to him, there was no doubt her plate was well full. But she'd handled all of it, the continued straightening out of the department, the many nuances of creating law, all his whining and complaining and refusing to see any of the Ministry people who still bombarded him with offers of jobs. She'd dealt with all of it with a lot of late nights, a little ranting, and some ice cream, but Hogwarts had stayed safely on its shelf. Which likely meant that whatever had happened today was worse than Ministry workers or trying to promote Elvish rights. Much worse.

He gazed down at her, wishing with all his might that he could know what was bothering her and put it right before she had to wake and face it again. But he didn't have any clue what could have possibly gone wrong and probably wouldn't be able to do anything about it if he did know. Mentally cursing his ineptitude, he reached out and gently brushed a strand of curly brown hair that had managed to fall over her face back behind her ear. She did not so much as stir at his touch as he pulled his hand back to softly stroke her cheek.

"I love you, you know." He murmured, his fingers just grazing across the smooth skin of her face. He knew that she could not hear him, but somehow he needed to say it anyway. Something about her lying there, looking more perfect than anything he could have dreamed of left him feeling as though the combined weight of a thousand things he had already said a hundred times would crush him if he did not say them again.

Hermione slept on, seemingly oblivious to Ron's words, and he found himself continuing, as if she were listening.

"And whatever it is that's up, it's gonna be alright. Whatever I can do to make it better, I will." Somehow, it felt much better to say it. Even if he was only really saying it to himself and he had no way of knowing if it was in fact a promise he could keep. He pulled his hand away from her face and placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

"You're the single greatest thing that's ever happened to me." He admitted into her soft, shampoo smelling hair. "I mean that. There isn't anything that I could have ever done that would top this." He realized that he probably ought to feel silly, saying all this stuff while Hermione remained obliviously asleep, especially when so much of what he was saying was much to mushy for him to be saying anyway. But he did not feel silly, instead he felt relaxed and perfectly content. The day's stresses melted away, as did his fear of what was bothering Hermione and he found himself drifting closer and closer to the sleep he so craved. "You're beautiful." He kissed her forehead again tenderly and was about to roll over into his own side of the bed and go to sleep when she suddenly wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

"You're awake," he smiled down at her when at last they broke apart.

"Yes," she agreed, resting her arms on his shoulders.

"How long ago did you wake up?"

She smiled guiltily, "A few minutes ago."

"And how much of that did you hear?" he asked, wondering if he ought to feel embarrassed to have been talking to her while she was asleep. In response to his question, Hermione sat up slightly and kissed him again before she spoke.

"Just enough to know that I made the best decision of my life in marrying you."

"The best decision?" he teased. "Careful there, don't say anything you won't want me to know next time you're angry with me." She chuckled, but he turned serious again quickly.

"I love you, you know." She nodded, and he went on. "And I meant every word of all that."

Hermione smiled up at him, and it was the most beautiful, most perfect thing he had ever seen. He said a silent thank you to the universe for granting him the privilege to be able to devote his life to trying to make her smile like that.

"I know, Ron. That's why I'm so lucky to have married you." He smiled down at her, feeling more in love, and more indebted to whatever force had caused her to fall in love with him when he so blatantly didn't deserve it than he had in his life.

"I'm the lucky one." He whispered, feeling overwhelmed by the sheer honesty of the statement.

"I love you Ron, more than anything." She said sincerely, "Don't think I don't know just how grateful I should be that you love me the way that you do. A lot of people spend their whole lives searching for someone to care that way about them. And I was fortunate enough to find you when I was 11."

Ron made a face, mostly because he wanted to save some portion of his dignity by acting like himself instead of just melting and trying to find a way to tell her just how much he loved her.

"Yeah, but I didn't love you yet then." Which if he thought about it was not entirely true; he had loved Hermione a lot longer than he would ever care to admit. And even if the love that had existed between them during their first two years of friendship had been platonic, it had been the foundation of what they felt now. It was from that friendship that everything else had come from. All the jealousy and turmoil and passion and adoration had all inevitably grown from the reluctant respect and friendship they had formed as mere children.

"No," she agreed, pulling him away from memories of all their years together back to the present. "I suppose you didn't then. But you started to, and I started to love you."

"And it was probably bound to happen as soon as you opened that train compartment door." He added, unable to keep himself from smiling at the memory of their first meeting. "Although I thought at the time you were the last person I ever wanted to spend any time with."

"I probably shouldn't have pointed out the dirt on your nose." Hermione conceded with a blush, "But I was just trying to help." She paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. "It was meant to happen, wasn't it?"

"I like to think so." He admitted a little embarrassed. "It sort of justifies locking a troll in the bathroom with you."

Her gaze was suddenly more intense than anything he had ever seen in his life. It made him want to pull her close and run away at the same time. Instead he just held it and waited for her to speak. "I'm grateful every day for that troll."

Without quite thinking about it he was kissing her with all the force and passion of all the emotions that had been pushing their way out of him since he'd gotten home. It was crazy really, and by standard terms there was nothing romantic about what she'd said. But so was everything else about them. It was all a bunch of mad stories of how they'd alternated between hating each other and screaming the most hurtful things they could think of and saving each other's lives. It started with a toad and a troll and went through a battle and snake fangs, all the way to here. To Hogwarts: A History and a dingy gray flat. It certainly wasn't the stuff that ordinary fairy tales were full of, and probably most people wouldn't quite be able to understand what it was about it that worked so well. But in that moment Ron was certain of two things. He loved Hermione, and that was the most perfect, inevitable thing in the world...