Just another little moment that came to me while I was shopping for appliances of all things. I've been in house buying chaos this past month...and so it was nice to think of something other than paint and cabinets and movers and spending an obscene amount of money along the way!
"I can't believe you aren't excited for me!"
"I never said that - and don't you dare put words into my mouth!"
"With as much as you talk there's hardly any room for me to put words anywhere - but you don't even need to speak because I can see it all over your bloody face! Merlin forbid you be excited for me!"
"You come home and blurt out that you're going to be sent on a dangerous assignment dealing with capturing the last of Voldemort's followers as if you won a contest to personally touch every member of the Chudley Cannons quidditch team! How am I supposed to be excited about this!"
Ron could feel the anger in his cheeks as he and Hermione stared defiantly at each other. He couldn't remember the last time they rowed this hard. Hell - he couldn't remember the last time the two of them had an honest row about anything since the two moved in together nearly seven months ago. Hermione nagged him about never managing to get all of his clothes in the hamper most nights, but that was always with an overzealous eye roll as she picked up after him. Ron managed to hit the hamper most days...at least in his mind, anyway.
And she was right - he did come home excited. They'd been monitoring a hideout that had been revealed to be a former safe house of Voldemort's, and it was Ron's strategic mind that drew up the plans after evaluating the house, the grounds, and the risk potential. Kingsley was so impressed by the reports that Ron had written up and plans of attack that he drafted that he chose Ron to lead the mission. He was chosen! Not Harry, not some senior level auror, but him! His plans were called brilliant! His plans were hand chosen by the Minister of Magic himself! So of course he came home excited - he'd been waiting for the day where he was recognized for something at work other than being Harry Potter's best friend and today was that day.
The two ate in silence that night. Ron assumed Hermione was just overly worried, but he couldn't understand why. It wasn't like they were a bunch of kids wandering aimlessly with vague instructions relayed by Harry from Professor Dumbledore. He was an auror. He managed to finish his training program near the top of his class, he managed to secure a mid-level position with the auror department in charge of creating strategies and executing plans - a rare placement for a rookie as told to him those inside the department. Ron didn't think it was asking a lot for his girlfriend to be proud of him instead of responding to his news with a look that he interpreted as sheer horror.
They managed to avoid each other after dinner, Ron watching a football game on the telly without any real vested interested while Hermione buried her nose in a book, curled up under the covers in the bed the two of them shared. By the time Ron came to bed, it was a quarter after ten. He found Hermione asleep, the book she was reading open against her chest, with the faintest trail of tear tracks against her cheeks. He carefully peeled the book away from her, making sure to mark her place before placing the book on her nightstand.
She stirred slightly, despite Ron's attempt to keep her asleep, and her eyes fluttered open for a brief moment before closing again. "Are you coming to bed?"
"Am I allowed?" Ron knew it was probably the wrong response, but the biting remark was out of his mouth before he could stop it.
"Of course you are," she said, snapping right back at him with her eyes still closed. Hermione rolled onto her side, her back facing his side of the bed, and did her best to keep from crying…again. She felt him crawl into bed, and before she knew it, his arm latched around her midsection and reeled her towards him, hugging her resistant body to his as if there was no other option. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice cracking.
Ron sighed. "I'm not leaving tomorrow with us in the middle of a row," he said, hugging her as close to him as he could without hurting her.
Hermione sniffled. "I'm just scared," she finally admitted. "It's not that I'm not…I am proud of you. Incredibly proud of you…I'm just scared. I don't want anything to happen to you."
He sighed again, burying his face into her neck, leaving a warm kiss on top of her bare shoulder thanks to the tank top she always slept in. "Hermione…nothing is going to happen."
She shook her head. "That's what you think. Everything's been quiet. Too quiet. And now you guys are going to go after what's left of Voldemort's pathetic group of followers and for you to think that everything will be just fine means that you didn't learn anything during the war. Nothing is fine when those people are involved - and to call them people is insulting to the human race because they aren't people - they're monsters!"
Ron pulled her hair out of the knotted ponytail she had her curls contained with, and shook them loose with a hand, weaving his fingers through the curls so that he could lightly massage her scalp in an attempt to help calm her down. "I know they're monsters," he said softly. "And that's why we have to catch them. We can end this chapter - finally - and the whole lot of us can go back to being the boring sort of aurors that deal with petty thievery and complaints instead of staging lookouts and raids." He felt her relax slightly against him, and mentally noted that this was progress. "Everything is going to be fine."
Hermione shook her head. "Don't say that. You're just asking for disaster by saying that."
"Well I'm certainly not going into this mission thinking it'll be a disaster, considering I'm the one who's planned out our moves," he half joked, the fingers of his free hand continuing to work their magic as Hermione relaxed a little bit more. "And it's ok if you don't think it'll be fine," he promised her. "I can believe it enough for the both of us, because when it turns out that I'm right, you know I'm going to remind you about it every chance I get."
She couldn't help but smile for a brief moment at his comments, the tug at the corner of her lips dissolving as quickly as it came. "I just don't want anything bad to happen to you," she hoarsely whispered.
"I promise I will return to you in one piece."
It took a moment, but Hermione forced herself to roll over so that she was facing Ron. She closed her eyes as he brushed his hand over her forehead and on top of her hair. "I am proud of you…please don't think that I'm not."
"I know," Ron promised.
"I just don't want you to go."
"You'll hardly miss me," Ron replied. "I should be back late tomorrow evening."
"I always miss you," Hermione whispered.
Ron kissed her shoulder again. "Do you miss me right now?"
She nodded quickly.
"But I'm right here."
"But you won't be tomorrow…and you don't know…I won't know when you're coming back."
He sighed. "Hermione, I'm going to be back tomorrow night and -"
"You don't know that you'll be back tomorrow night!" she exclaimed through her tears. She tried to wriggle out of his grasp but he was too strong. "Damn it, Ronald, let me go!"
Ron did as she requested, and watched her all but leap out of the bed, whipping around so that she was facing him, red eyed and visibly scared. "Nothing that has ever involved those monsters has gone according to plan. Nothing!" she hissed for emphasis. "And so while I am incredibly proud of you and your plan and that Kingsley believes in it, don't expect me to be happy about the fact that something could happen to you! You aren't catching wannabe death eaters that will crumble upon being seen - these aren't amateurs!"
"So what, I'm an amateur! I'm not some auror in training, you know! I wear the same damn badge as all the other aurors!"
"That's not what I'm saying!"
"Are you sure? Because I believe that's exactly what you were saying!" Ron shouted in a booming voice.
Hermione plucked the hair tie from her pillow and roughly gathered up her hair, tying it up into a messy bun as she glared at Ron before slapping her hands onto her hips. "What I'm saying," she spat. "Is that I want you around so that we can someday get married and have little redheaded babies and none of that can happen if you go and get yourself killed!"
Ron groaned and grabbed his pillow, clamping it over his face as he stifled a loud, frustrating groan. He waited a few moments before removing the pillow, and found Hermione glaring at him, her hands still on her hips, not budging an inch. "You clearly have no faith in me if you think I'm going to get killed."
"Ronald Bilius Weasley - are you or are you not the same person who at the age of eleven sacrificed himself in a barbaric, life sized game of wizarding chess?" she snapped.
He couldn't help but laugh. "Merlin's beard, woman, what in the bloody hell does that have to do with -"
"Answer the question!"
"Hermione you're being completely mental -"
"You are!" she answered for him. "I know you are because that's one of the best parts about you and that's what I love about you and if you're willing to sacrifice yourself in a game of chess on a strategy you planned then I know you'll do the same thing tomorrow - even if it means that you're the one that gets hurt!" She wasn't yelling so much now as she was crying through her words, tears streaming down her cheeks once more.
Ron climbed out of bed, raking a hand raggedly through his hair as he slowly made his way around the bed and over to Hermione. Standing toe to toe, he looked down at her, watching as she looked away, chewing on her bottom lip. "Look at me."
She bit her lip harder.
"Hey," he said, gently but firm. "Look at me."
It took a few moments, but she relented, and looked up at him.
He bent his head down so that his forehead was touching hers. "I'm not eleven anymore," he whispered.
"I know you aren't, but I know you," she whispered back. "I know what you'll do."
"When you came back from Australia, and we stayed up all night talking, I promised you I wasn't going to leave you ever again, and I meant it, Hermione," Ron said, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. "We're going to grow old together. So old that we aren't going to be able to stand the sight of each other because we're going to be wrinkled and disgusting looking." His joke didn't get the response she was looking for, so he gave her arms a squeeze. "Hermione, I need you to trust me," he finally said. "Your opinion is the only opinion I ever care about - and I can't go into this tomorrow knowing that you think I'm going to fail."
Hermione looked up at him, looking completely defeated. "I have all the faith in the world when it comes to you," she said. She placed a hand on her chest, then clenched a hold of his shirt for a moment, then let go. "I just don't trust anyone else."
The next morning was as quiet as dinner was the night before. They managed to fall asleep together, but Ron never hit a REM cycle. The moment he was almost asleep, Hermione woke up with a nightmare. It didn't take long to calm her down, but Hermione turned him into a human body pillow after that - much like she always did after a nightmare - and Ron never had the heart to move her once she fell back asleep. Curing his exhaustion with a pepper-up potion, he came downstairs wearing his auror robes and found Hermione whipping up a feast. Scrambled eggs with cheese, bacon, hash browns, sausage, toast, fresh strawberries, and a pitcher of orange juice decorated the kitchen table, and there was a plate all dished up and waiting for him.
"This looks amazing, love," he said.
Hermione poured herself a cup of coffee and walked over to the table. She gave him a quick kiss on the lips as he sat down. "I doubt this will quell a Weasley appetite, but who knows how long it will be before you eat lunch or dinner, so eat up," she quietly instructed.
Ron smiled as she sat down next to him. He shoveled in a mouthful of eggs and watched Hermione pull her knees up to her chest, balancing her coffee mug on her knee with a hand while she opted out of eating and instead read the muggle newspaper instead. "It tastes delicious," he said as he swallowed.
She looked up from her newspaper and smiled. "Good. I also packed you away some snacks."
Ron could see that she was trying her best to be excited, but he could see in her eyes that she was still scared, even if her face was saying otherwise. But he wasn't going to push anything with her this morning. He didn't want to fight with her before he left to meet his team at the port key. So he instead made small talk, being mindful to do so without a mouthful of food as he knew nothing irritated her more, and was pleased when she responded in sentences instead of short, one word answers. "I was thinking," he said as he finished up plate number two. "That maybe after this we could go on a holiday."
Hermione looked up from her newspaper. "A holiday?"
"We've both got the time saved up," he said. "And we've never done a holiday together - I reckon it would be fun."
Smiling, Hermione gave him a nod. "It would be fun. Do you have somewhere in mind?"
"Anywhere that involves you, a beach, and a bikini," Ron teased as he stabbed a sausage off of the sausage plate and shoved it into his mouth."
Hermione blushed slightly, shaking her head as she took a sip of her coffee. "We'll see what we can manage."
A few more pieces of bacon tucked away, Ron downed his second glass of orange juice and then removed Hermione's coffee mug from her hand. He leaned over and grabbed the leg of the chair she sat in and pulled it so that her chair butted up to his. He wiggled his eyebrows and Hermione rolled her eyes, but moved so that she was now sitting on his lap, her arms wrapped languidly around his neck. "I love you," he said.
"I love you," she replied with a hint of a smile. "And I'm sorry we rowed last night…but I don't feel any differently. I trust you and your judgment implicitly. But like I said last night - I just don't trust anybody else."
"What about Harry?"
"I trust Harry more than I trust anyone else, but that's not enough. Besides - he's still wrapping up the illegal dragon exchange case so I know he's not going with," Hermione said. "I know you'll be brilliant," she said, almost as if it were a confession, and leaned in to kiss him, which Ron returned with equal enthusiasm. As she broke away for air, she kissed the tip of his freckled nose. "I'll wait up for you tonight."
"It'll be late."
"I'll be up…probably researching our impending holiday."
He feigned a groan. "You aren't going to make the entire bloody thing educational, are you?"
"Well if we're going to be near something worth seeing, it would be a shame to miss an opportunity!" Hermione exclaimed with a sly grin. She kissed him again and reluctantly climbed off of his lap. "You need to get going."
He noticed the immediate turn in her tone of voice, the sadness in her voice not hidden a bit. He stood up from the kitchen table and brushed the non-existent wrinkles from the sleeves of his robes. Ron watched as she picked at her fingernails. "Hey," he said, reaching out and grabbing her hand. "Guess what?"
Hermione shrugged. "What?"
He leaned in and gave her a sweet kiss. "I love you."
She smiled. "I love you too."
He kissed her again. "See you tonight?"
"See you tonight."
Ron smiled. He kissed her once more for good luck, keeping that part to himself, and walked towards the floo in the living room.
Hermione followed, her arms crossed tightly against her chest as she leaned against the hallway frame that connected the dining room to the living room. She gave him a small wave in return of him flashing her his goofy grin before disappearing into the floo. Exhaling heavily, Hermione grasped the back of her neck with her and squeezed it tight for a moment. "Everything will be fine," she told herself. "Everything will be fine."
The hours ticked away slowly. It was the longest Saturday of Hermione's life. She baked three casseroles to bake later in the week for dinner, read two books, made notes in the margins of a bridal magazine for Ginny as she was still undecided on a dress and the wedding was three months away, and that only got her to noon. So she cleaned the house, top to bottom, dusting the corners, and vacuuming every square inch of carpet, but because she was rather diligent on keeping the house clean, that barely got her to two o'clock.
She took Ron's advice after eating a late lunch and grabbed some travel books out of her office and began to flip through them, trying to conjure up ideas of where the two of them could go on holiday. She wasn't sure if Ron's request of her in a skimpy bikini would work out, as she carried quite a collection of scars from the war. A glamour charm could only cover so much. Maybe if they found themselves at a private resort, but she also wanted to go somewhere that had a fair bit of sight seeing, like Egypt and the pyramids, or ancient Mayan temples. Eventually, she decided on Greece, because it had the beaches Ron was looking for and some fantastic sites to see. Hermione was certain that he'd probably roll his eyes at a bunch of nearly crumbled buildings, but she'd find a way to make it up to him…once she got done explaining to him that they had Greece to thank when it came to civilization, democracy, and a number of other things.
Antsy didn't even begin to describe how she was feeling once Hermione prepared, ate, and cleaned up her dinner around six thirty. She knew Ron said he'd be home later that evening, but having him and his safety on her mind all day, Hermione was about to drive herself mental. Needing something else to pass the time, she decided to busy herself by baking treacle tarts - one of Ron's favorite treats. When the floo sounded at a quarter after eight, Hermione bolted towards the living room, only to have George and his lanky arms catch her before she ran straight into him.
"Easy there, Granger," he teased. "I'm the wrong Weasley."
She rolled her eyes at his joke. "Sorry, I though -"
"Do you really need to tell me you thought I was Ron?" he continued to joke.
Hermione blushed slightly. "I suppose not." Dusting the flour off of her hands against the pink and black polka dot apron she wore, she turned on a heel and walked back towards the kitchen. "Might I ask what you're doing here?"
George chuckled. "Do you plan on giving me some of whatever it is that you're baking in here?"
"Depends," she said, picking up a knife to carve into the one finished treacle tart dish. She had one in the over and one more to put in afterwards. "What did you do?"
"I knocked up Angelina."
Hermione stopped what she was doing and looked up at him in shock. "You did what?"
"You heard me."
"You're not joking."
"She told me this morning, we went to see a healer this afternoon, and I have photographic evidence that there is a tiny witch or wizard living inside of her," George said. He dug a hand into his pocket and pulled out a moving photograph to give to her. "See - there it is. It looks a bit like a blob, but the healer promised me that it was a baby."
Hermione took the photograph. She'd seen muggle sonogram photos before, but seeing her first wizarding sonogram photo, as silly as it sounded in her head, almost made her feel as if she hadn't seen anything magical before. Watching the sonogram waves flutter in the five-second loop as the little baby shifted was one of the sweetest things she'd ever seen. "Oh George," she said with a wistful sigh. "It's beautiful. When will you know if you're having a boy or a girl?"
"We're having a boy," George said with a genuine grin. "The healer performed a spell before we left."
Hermione returned his smile with one of her own. "So…baby Fred?"
George nodded. "That's what Ange wants, anyway."
"And you?"
"I reckon we could use another Fred around here," he said with a bit of a sad smile. "That's where I came from, actually, the cemetery that is. I had to tell him first, and then I came to tell Ron, but I forgot he had a mission today."
Hermione made quick work of carving out a piece of treacle tart, placing it onto a plate for George. She walked it over to their kitchen table, and gave George a big hug before he could sit down. "Are you excited?" she asked as she pulled away.
He nodded, carving into the tart with a fork. "I am. I was a bit taken aback at first, but Ange and I have been together for over a year. I'm more worried about telling Mum and Dad - mostly Mum of course. We know she'll insist on us getting married and Ange doesn't want to take away from Ginny's impending nuptials…so we're a bit spooked there, but I told Ange not to stress about it, and that I'd figure something out."
Hermione nodded, taking a seat in her usual spot at the table. "So what do you think you'll do?"
"That's what you're for, Granger," George said with a mouthful of treacle tart. "You're the brightest witch of our age, are you not?"
She snorted. "I'm not sure that title qualifies me in any way to help fix this problem."
"But you're a thinker, Granger," George argued. "You're always the brains of the operation, and Merlin knows any smarts my brother had didn't happen until he met you so…help me. Tell me what I should do."
Hermione sighed. "George…"
"Oh come on Granger," he pleaded. "At the very least help me brainstorm!"
"Alright!" she exclaimed, pulling her feet up onto her chair so she could hug her knees to her chest. "Well…do Angelina's parents know?"
George nodded. "We told them today."
"And?"
"And…I don't know…they seemed really excited," George said with another mouthful. "They aren't all that bothered that we aren't married and such. They're not like Mum."
Hermione nodded. She tucked her curly hair back behind her ears - one at a time - and leaned back in her chair. "Do you want to marry Angelina?"
George shrugged. "I reckon so. I love her, and she…you know…she was really there for me right after Fred died, and yeah…I definitely don't want to be without her."
"So why not elope?" Hermione suggested. "If you do that, you can tell your mum and dad that you eloped, and as soon as your Mum gets ready to shout you can tell her that she's going to be a grandmother again and she'll forget all about yelling at you." She reached over and stole a broken off piece of his treacle tart and popped it into her mouth. "At the very least, she won't yell at Angelina. You're probably going to be yelled at regardless."
"Yeah…I figured that much," George said with a wry smirk. "This is delicious by the way. I didn't know you were such a baker."
"I'm not sure Ron would have kept me around this long if I couldn't bake…or cook for that matter," Hermione teased.
"You could feed him burnt pancakes as thick as a brick and the bloke would still love you," George replied.
She blushed again. "That's awfully nice of you to say."
"It's the truth," George stated. "My brother's completely mental when it comes to you."
"The feeling is mutual," Hermione replied, stealing a glance at the clock on the wall. "I just wish he'd get home already."
George finished up his treacle tart and got up to help himself to a glass of milk. "I can wait around with you if you'd like."
She smiled. "As much as I appreciate the offer, I'm sure you'd much rather be celebrating with Angelina."
He downed the small glass of milk he poured in one gulp and exhaled with a satisfied sigh. "This is probably true. You can come over to our place if you'd like. Ginny's staying with Mum, working on more wedding stuff if I remember correctly. Harry should get back later this week if I remember Ginny correctly."
Hermione nodded. "Thanks for the offer, but I think I'd rather just stay here and wait for him."
"Well, if you change your mind, we're just a floo ride away," George offered. "And thanks for the advice…and the snack."
She stood up from her chair just as the oven timer went off. She exchanged the freshly baked treacle tart for the last one to bake, then wrapped up the one she cut into and gave it to George. "Consider it my congratulations present," she said.
George grinned. "Thanks! Oh, and Granger, can I ask one more question?"
"Of course."
"If Ange goes for this whole elopement idea, which is bloody brilliant, would you and Ron come as witnesses? I know Ron would go of course, but I'd want you to be there too."
"I wouldn't miss it," Hermione promised, tapping a hand over her heart. "Promise. Just give us a date."
He lifted the plate of treacle tart in her direction as to say thanks, and Hermione watched as he apparated out of sight. She waited what seemed to be the longest forty-five minutes of her life at that moment for the last treacle tart to finish baking, and decided once the kitchen was cleaned up that maybe a bath would relax her. Her mind hadn't had a moment's rest the entire day and she could feel her muscles begin to tense from the stress of her consistent worrying. But she couldn't help but worry. Put a boggart in front of her and it would reveal her biggest fear - a life without Ron - and the fear was paralyzing.
Sinking into a bubble filled tub, Hermione closed her eyes and remembered back to the first honest conversation the two of them had when she came back from Australia. The two of them were lying on a blanket in the middle of the yard at the Burrow, watching the stars twinkle against the pitch-black sky. Ron was holding her hand, squeezing it ever so often as he spoke.
"I was so scared when I left you both," he told her quietly, and she immediately knew what he was talking about. "And I did - I wanted to go back as soon as I left but I knew your charms were too good and I'd never find you and I…I don't want you to think I'd ever leave you. Again, that is. I hope you know that."
Hermione nodded, still staring up at the night sky. "I know you won't leave me again," she said after a few quiet moments.
"Do you?"
"I do," she promised.
Ron sighed. "No offense, Hermione, but you don't sound all that convincing."
She rolled her head towards him and sighed. "Do you still want to be an auror?"
He nodded. "I really think I could be a good one. I really do."
"I'm sure you'll be brilliant," Hermione agreed.
"I'm not sure what this has to do with me believing you though," he said with a half laugh, almost as if he were nervous to hear her real answer.
Hermione gave him a sad sort of smile. "I know you'll never leave me. But you're going to be an auror, and who knows how long it will take for things in our world to calm down…and I just…"
"Just what?" he asked gently.
"I'm just nervous," she confessed. "I don't want you taken away from me."
That night was also the first night that the two of them decided to become intimate. It started out as innocent kissing later that night, the two of them snuggled up under the blankets as the cool summer night's breeze blew through the room in welcomed lulls. Neither of them really remembered how it evolved from there, but neither regretted what happened afterwards. Hermione knew that they were each other's first, but all the awkwardness she'd heard about from other girls' tales while living in the dorms was nonexistent. She later assumed that the bumbling and fumbling she'd heard girls in her year talk about had to do with the fact that those girls weren't ready for what they were doing, or maybe they didn't trust who they were with completely, whereas Hermione trusted Ron implicitly. He had her heart…he always had her heart, even when he didn't know it, and Hermione wouldn't have wanted it any other way. Knowing where the two of them were now, though she couldn't see it back then, was worth every fight and every tear.
Hermione crawled into bed late that night, clad in a pair of her pajama pants and one of Ron's old quidditch shirts. As the clock neared midnight, she felt her heart race, and eventually took a calming potion because Hermione knew there was no reason for her to work herself up into a state. Ron said he'd be home late. Ron promised he would be fine. If that's what he promised, Hermione had to trust that he would be fine. So she curled up on his side of the bed, burying her face into his pillow so that his lingering scent overwhelmed her senses with each breath, and fell asleep.
She didn't hear Ron come in later that evening, but her eyes bolted open the moment she felt a pair of lips brush against her forehead. "Ron!" she exclaimed, launching herself onto him, hugging him tight. "Are you alright? What time is it!"
"Almost four," she head him reply, a bit tiredly.
Hermione clicked on the side table lamp and took a good look at him, noticing that he'd probably taken a shower at the Ministry but he had several cuts and bruises on his face that he did not have when he left. "Are you alright?"
He nodded. "Just a bit banged up, but it's nothing that can't be fixed. Promise."
She moved over to her side of the bed and watched him shrug out of his auror robes and into his pajamas, catching a few other bruises and cuts along his backside. "Did your plan work?" she asked as he joined her in bed, shutting off the light as he swung his leg up and under the covers already warmed for him.
Ron nodded. "We got 'em all."
"Really!"
"Really," Ron replied through a gigantic yawn. "We got back a few hours ago, but I had to speak with Kingsley."
Hermione propped herself up a little bit with her pillows as Ron rolled over to her, hugging with head resting on her chest. She raked her fingers through his hair, and smiled as he moaned ever so slightly. She knew it was one of his favorite things - her fingers scratching and rubbing his scalp. "Is everything ok? Was anyone hurt?"
He sighed, hugging her a bit tighter. "There was a really close call…but it doesn't matter now."
She kissed the top of his head. "I'm sure Kingsley was very pleased."
"Mmhmm," he mumbled. "But I resigned as a field auror. It's what I was talking to him about afterwards. I'm going to work on devising and strategizing plans from now on, but I won't be going into the field…not anymore."
"What!"
Ron looked up at her, exhausted and confused. "I'm not going to be a field auror."
"But you love being a field auror!" she exclaimed.
He shook his head. "The allure is gone, I promise." He moved head back to where it was and sighed. "Besides, all I could think about today was you, and your anxiety if something were to happen to me, and then when we were in the middle of it and the building collapsed -"
"A building collapsed! Oh my God Ron! What happened!"
"I'll tell you later," he said, trying to calm her down. "That part isn't important. What's important was what I realized…once we had everyone accounted for and all of the death eaters tied up and ready for transport."
"Oh?" she asked, a bit more subdued.
He nodded, his hand playing with the hem of the large shirt she was wearing. It took him a minute to realize it was actually one of his shirts, which made him chuckle, despite his exhaustion. "Why are you sleeping in this?" he asked.
Hermione looked down and shrugged. "Because I fell asleep alone, and on the rare occasion that you aren't here, this is what I do. I sleep in your shirts and I bury myself into your side of the bed and it makes me feel better."
"I didn't know that," Ron quietly murmured.
"Well, now you do," Hermione replied with a smile, even though she knew Ron couldn't see it. Sighing, she moved her hand down and gently massaged the nape of his neck for several minutes as the two enjoyed the silence. "I don't want you giving up your dream," she said after a bit. "Do not do this because of me. I'll eventually get used to it."
Ron shook his head slightly against her chest. "It has nothing to do with you being uncomfortable. I just had the epiphany tonight as we were leading the non-compliant death eaters over to the port key for transportation back to the Ministry that…well, I reckon I want to have little redheaded babies with you too someday, and I can't keep promising you that I'll be ok if I consistently put myself into danger." He yawned, largely and loudly, and resumed snuggling up against his girlfriend. I'm going to stick with what I'm good at and leave the hero work to those who want the glory, because it's not worth it for me. Not anymore." Ron looked back up at Hermione, and noticed the tears welling up in her eyes. "I love you."
Hermione sniffled slightly. "I love you too. I hate that you're a field auror, but I don't want you to give up what you love. I could never ask you to do that."
"You are what I love, Hermione," Ron said. He crawled up her just a little bit so that he could kiss her lips, and had he not been so tired, it would have been more than just a kiss. "A job is a job, but you are everything," he whispered in her ear. "And tonight that hit home for me more than it ever has, and I'll tell you more about it if you want later but right now…I just want to sleep in this bed with you."
"Alright," she softly replied. She reached behind her and grabbed a pillow, getting herself situated so that Ron could wrap himself around her from behind, holding her backside as close to his chest as he could with his protective hold around her. "I love you."
She felt him nod. "I love you too," Ron murmured.
Hermione was nearly asleep when she heard Ron mumble her name. "Yes?" she asked in a barely audible voice.
"Did I smell treacle tart when I came home?"
Hermione stifled a laugh. "Yes, sweetheart. There's two whole tarts downstairs just for you."
He kissed the back of her neck. "You really are the best girlfriend ever, Hermione."
She closed her eyes and smiled. "Goodnight, Ron."
"Goodnight, love."