A/N: If you want to read a story a bit similar to this chapter but better then you should read That Day by Ninnytreetops. It's probably my favourite R/Hr one-shot ever. There have been a few little homages to it in my other fics and is the story that made me change my head canon to include the two of them living in a shit hole in London for a while. Seeing as I'm ripping it off more than usual here I thought I better rec it. And apologise for the level of ripping off displayed here.
Disclaimer: J.K Rowling doubts your commitment to Sparkle Motion and owns Harry Potter. I have never doubted your commitment to Harry Potter and own Sparkle Motion.
This was as perfect as life could get as far as Hermione was concerned. She was warm, encased in thick duvet, with her head sinking further into her pillow. For all she knew all she was just a head. She couldn't really feel the rest of her body and that didn't seem to matter at the minute. Nothing too bad could be happening if she was in what felt like a giant marshmallow, could it? She could stay here forever if she wanted.
As soon as the thought had happened, Hermione felt herself gradually slip back into consciousness. The rest of her brain kick started and took note of not just the rest of her body that was curled into a ball, but the heat of another person lying behind her. Within seconds, Hermione knew where she was, who she was with and whatever had just happened that made her feel so happy had been a dream. Even though it happened every day, Hermione sometimes found that nothing could be as upsetting as waking up.
Thankfully every morning the cure to her upset was never too far away. Her eyes still closed and her body protesting, Hermione rolled over and cuddled up to the bare torso she found. As always, an arm wrapped around her and a kiss was planted somewhere on top of her head. Today it managed to be on her temple which was big improvement on yesterday when it had somehow managed to end up in her eye.
"Time is it?" she mumbled, pulling Ron closer to her.
"Dunno," came his grunt of a reply.
"Good," she sighed. "Probably feel guilty if I knew."
"Why?"
"Because I'm still in bed."
"It's Sunday," Ron pointed out. The more he spoke the less gravelly his voice became and Hermione lamented that it would be another twenty-four hours until she got to hear Ron's sleepy voice again.
"We don't usually just stay in bed all day on Sundays."
"Yeah," Ron yawned, "but normally I've got a shift at the shop or you have something to do and, even when we don't, we go to see your parents."
"Reminds me," said Hermione, moving her head so it rested on Ron's shoulder. "Got a postcard yesterday."
Ron shifted a little so that he could see part of her face. "How are they?" he inquired.
"Mum says she loves all the attention she is getting off the 'strapping young men'-"
"Bet your dad isn't."
"-and Dad found a bookshop that he wants to take me to at some point," Hermione finished as though Ron hadn't spoken.
"You are," Ron sighed, shaking his head, "the only two people I know in the world who would bother with bookshops while on holiday."
Hermione chuckled lightly, shuffled closer to Ron and closed her eyes. She had changed her mind; this was as perfect as life could be. Even without the presence of Voldemort in their lives, things hadn't stopped being action packed for the couple. There had still been arguments, Ron and Harry still ended up in hospital every so often and it turned out keeping up with family obligations and in contact with friends almost took up as much time as a full time job. On the subject of full time jobs, theirs seemed custom made to take up every waking hour they had spare. Ron always argued that criminals needed to learn about the typical nine-to-five, while Hermione had started working closely with Percy in International Co-Operation and was having meetings all around the globe, trying to make life fairer for magical creatures.
In fact, the only time Hermione could really remember being like this was the summer before she went to Hogwarts for the final time and even then they had to avoid parents and siblings. Being married and living together meant nothing to the real world that kept bringing them interruptions and obligations.
"So," Hermione sighed, "what's the plan for today?"
"A Sunday where we don't have to be anywhere?"
"Hmm."
Ron pulled Hermione closer to him so that she was half lying on him and squeezed her a little. "This."
"Sounds good," murmured Hermione. She planted a kiss over his heart and buried herself further into the duvet. It was going to take something spectacular to get her to move. As she was about to close her eyes and try and get some more sleep, Ron cocked his head forward so he could see her. He blinked a couple of times, sleep still clinging to his eyelashes, and frowned.
"Really?" he asked.
Hermione rested her chin on his chest. "Why do you sound so surprised?" she chuckled. "I do like spending time with you."
"Yeah, the "I do" gave that away," Ron retorted with an eye roll. "It's not like you to want to stay in bed all day though. Even when you're ill you're trying to rid the world of social injustice or shout at me," he added with a shrug.
Times like these made Hermione question what other people must think of her. She didn't think she was as uptight as Ron made her out to be. Obviously he exaggerated, but it came from somewhere. Just because she rarely saw the point of wasting a day in bed, didn't mean she was some kind of robotic slave driver.
The smile playing around Ron's lips was enough to tell her that he meant nothing by his comment and Hermione was too content to start an argument over something so trivial. He usually meant it as a compliment in his own strange way.
Even though she had decided to stay how she was, wrapped in Ron's arms and the duvet, Hermione moved so she was lying on top of Ron. His hands began stroking her back as she leant over so that her hair blocked most of the light. In the semi-darkness she could still see Ron's smile.
"I can think of nothing more perfect than lying here with you, darling husband, in this bed and pretending the rest of the world doesn't exist for a couple of hours," Hermione whispered against his lips. Just as she was about to close the distance, morning breath the last thing on her mind, the room was filled with the sound of clattering metal and a roaring engine.
With a groan, Hermione rolled back onto her side of the bed and waited for the noise to fade and the windows to stop rattling.
"That'll be the Brighton train," Ron grumbled.
"Sounds more like the Croydon one to me," sighed Hermione, smiling apologetically at Ron.
Rather than taking this frequent occurrence as well as he normally did, Ron scowled at the ceiling. "Hard to forget the world in this place," he muttered. He gave the bedroom of their tiny London flat a dirty look as though it was the structure's fault it was built next to a train track.
"This place," Hermione scolded him with a poke to his shoulder, "is our home."
Ron met her eyes with a dark look. "It's a one bedroom flat in a very loud part of London that would smell strange if we didn't have magic to stop it."
"And it's our home."
Hermione held his gaze for a long time and hoped he would cheer up. She knew their living situation wasn't ideal, but she was more than willing to put up with it. They would soon have enough saved for a deposit on a house. It was still a couple of months before they could start looking, but they had decided it would be somewhere more rural. Hermione couldn't wait. They could make it their own, have a garden… And have enough space for their possessions. It really wasn't convenient to cast Undetectable Extension Charms on various boxes.
Not having to hide any existence of magic from their Muggle landlord would be nice as well.
Ron opened his mouth to say something but closed it again and swallowed. Knowing he was holding something back, Hermione placed her hand on his upper arm. Underneath his warm skin and the slight ridges of scar tissue, she felt his muscles tense.
"Just wish I could afford somewhere better," he mumbled. Normally when he moaned about not being well off, he sounded gloomy. Hermione was surprised this time to hear a tone more annoyed than anything.
"We," she corrected him sternly. "And soon we'll have enough savings. We'll be able to move out and live in a nice house in a nice part of the country and-"
"Oi! Dickshit!" interrupted a distant voice of a teenage boy. "Why don't you just fuck off, yeah?"
"-and not have to put up with next door's demon kid?" Ron finished for her.
Hermione closed her eyes and waited for the argument down on the street to subside. By the sounds of things the other voice was that of a policeman.
"And that, yes," she agreed quietly. The boy couldn't have been more than thirteen and yet spent more time outside after dark than at school. Ron had several nicknames for him, including Draco Mark II and Perfect Contraception. He was also convinced he was the reason their rent was the cheapest in London.
Hermione's thoughts were cut short by Ron's voice. "I'm sorry."
Turning to see his expression, Hermione found that he looked hopeless. There was something about that shade of blue that caused the sadness in his eyes to intensify. "Whatever for?"
"If…" Ron paused, struggling to meet her eyes. "If I hadn't have asked you to marry me," he explained quickly, "then we wouldn't have had to pay for a wedding and-"
"And if I hadn't said yes," cut in Hermione, "then we wouldn't have had to pay for a wedding." She stared at her husband for a long time, waiting for him to look at her. He didn't seem capable though.
"Ron," she said quietly, unsure if she was more angry or scared, "do you regret getting married?"
Thankfully, he looked at her. "Not for a second," he told her sharply. "It's just…" His voice lost its certainty and he sighed heavily. Hermione waited for an explanation as he pushed her hair away from her face. "I wish I could give you better," he finished quietly.
Seemingly unaware of Hermione's reaction to his words, Ron tried to wrap an arm over her stomach but she pushed him away. He gave her a questioning look as she sat up, letting the cold air attack her skin. It was nothing to how her insides had frozen though. In the background she heard Ron say her name, but she didn't respond, even after he lightly stroked her arm with his fingertips. They had been together for five years and he still didn't understand.
"What is it going to take?" she asked, still not looking at him. Her voice wavered with the effort it was taking to not start shouting. Behind her she heard Ron sit up against the headboard, the bedsprings groaning with the strain. For a moment he was silent and Hermione hugged her knees, waiting.
"What?" he eventually said, causing her to turn to face him. He looked utterly lost.
"I kissed you," Hermione gritted out. "I told you I loved you. I slept with you. I moved in with you. I married you." With each syllable her voice had grown louder and Ron had cowered a little more. The anger faded into sadness at the sight. "And sometimes it's like you're still sixteen and the best thing you can think of to get my attention is to tell me that you're tall."
Ron frowned. "When did that ever happen?"
"Years ago," she replied.
The crease between Ron's eyes deepened as he tried to recall the incident.
"Well," he shrugged, "I am tall."
"It's not the point!" Hermione huffed. "When are you going to accept that I don't want fancy things? I want you." She jabbed her finger into his stomach and flung herself back down.
For a few loaded seconds there was silence. Both of them seemed to be holding their breaths. Eventually, Hermione glanced at Ron.
"Are you saying I'm not fancy?" he pouted.
"No," Hermione snapped. He wasn't going to get away with this by turning it into a joke. "I'm saying you seem like you don't think I'll be happy until you've given me a throne, a crown and a-a golden sceptre!"
Ron frowned again. "Where the bloody hell would you keep a throne? If we get one of the bigger bottles of milk you have to squeeze your stomach in to get into the kitchen!" he chuckled.
Hermione glared at him, but it just made Ron laugh harder. With a huff she rolled onto her side so she wouldn't have to look at him. So much for a perfect Sunday in bed… If Ron was going to be an arse then she would have to think of something else to do with her day. Well, she would the moment Ron had cast a heating charm on the flat. There was no way she was getting out of bed before that.
Ron sighed as Hermione turned away from him. The laughter subsided and all he was left with was the half of his torso she had been laying on feeling chilly. Deep down he knew he had been a tit and spoke without thinking. He got how being married meant they shared everything and he loved it. Sharing his life with Hermione was the only way he thought he would ever want it to be. But couldn't she see how he wanted the best for her? She deserved it and he wanted to be the one who gave it her.
The problem was that, not only did she deserve the best, she was fiercely independent and would like to get the best herself. He loved that about her, but his instinct was to look after her. He couldn't help it.
It frustrated him so much every time a cupboard door would break or the hot water stopped working. In order to keep within the Statute of Secrecy they had to allow the landlord to fix any serious problems and not rely on magic to fix things permanently. Hermione would think of a spell that would prevent them having cold showers or whatever and, even though she didn't seem too disheartened, Ron hated it. He was letting her down.
Of course his attempts to explain had backfired because he was shit with words. Even the ones that sounded good in his head never made it out of his mouth in one piece. He wasn't about to let a slip of the tongue ruin a lazy Sunday. Hermione seemed pretty set on being pissed off though. Even from behind he could tell she had her arms tightly folded.
Slowly, as to give her enough time to push him away if she wanted, Ron sank back down under the covers and rolled over to hug her from behind. Although she didn't reject him, she remained tense. He kissed her shoulder through the thin cotton of her pyjama top and forced his right hand into hers.
"I'd never get you a throne," he mumbled into her hair. "Not a proper one, anyway. I'd get you a throne of books."
"And what would I sit on if I wanted to read the books?" came Hermione's icy reply.
"A chair."
Ron bit his lip and waited. He felt her twitch as though she was trying to stop herself laughing and soon he heard a giggle escape. She rolled over and started tracing patterns on chest. Years ago it would have taken forever for her to forgive him for this sort of thing. Sometimes it still did. But over time they had both learnt that it was sometimes better to not hold a grudge. Their time together was so limited it seemed pointless to spend it angry.
"And if you wore a crown around here you'd get mugged so…" Ron continued thoughtfully, "I'd get you a woolly hat. You like woolly hats, right?"
Hermione nodded. "I do."
Ron smiled at getting something right. He considered the rest of her original statement and then shook his head. "I have no idea why you want a sceptre."
"It could make me look regal," suggested Hermione seriously although the corner of her mouth twitched.
"Well, it still seems pointless to me," Ron dismissed. "Instead I'll get you a… sandwich."
Hermione's jaw dropped. "A sandwich?"
"Yeah." Ron shrugged. "Can't go wrong with a good sandwich."
"What makes it a good sandwich?" she asked him, narrowing her eyes.
"It's ham and cheese."
Hermione seemed impressed. "That is a good sandwich."
"I know," Ron said as though it was obvious. "That's why I gave it to you."
"Well, thank you for the hypothetical sandwich," Hermione chuckled as she snuggled closer to him. "I love it more than my hypothetical and useless sceptre."
"What if a hypothetical bloke offered you a library, a wardrobe full of woolly hats and an entire buffet?" Ron asked tentatively, stroking her arm. "I don't think I'm going to ever be able to give you that stuff."
"No. You'd eat half of the buffet," Hermione said with a smile.
"So? What if Hypothetical Bloke gave you all that crap?" Ron tried to keep the uncertainty out of his voice but he had a feeling that he failed. He had no idea why, even now, he'd occasionally be hit by a wave of doubt. The way she was looking at him should have been enough.
She stared at him for a long time. It was one of those looks where it felt like Hermione was reading his mind. He kept eye contact, hoping she would be able to see the words he couldn't articulate and the feelings he couldn't express.
"Is the hypothetical bloke you?" she questioned.
"Nope. I'm too busy eating the buffet he's giving you," Ron added with a grin.
"Then there would be no contest," Hermione said simply, cupping his cheek. "If he isn't you, then I don't care. No other man could ever offer me anything I want because all I want is you."
And then she was kissing him and his hands were buried in her hair. The taste and feel of her wiped all doubt from his mind. He could put up with the terrible neighbours and miniscule flat if he still had this. She was right, after all. Soon they could have a house to call their own. It would be the life he had always dreamed of and they would have made it for themselves.
Ron broke away when he felt his left arm go fuzzy. He dragged it out from under his pillow and used it to pull Hermione on top of him again. If he could have her as a permanent duvet he would.
"Your lines are cheesier than your sandwich," he whispered into her shoulder as he ran his hands over her back.
"What about you?" she said, lifting her head up. "Any hypothetical leggy blonde I need to worry about?"
"Nah."
"Sure?" she asked. She raised her eyebrows. "She'd probably go to Quidditch matches with you?"
"You go to Quidditch matches with me," Ron pointed out. An afternoon watching the Cannons or the Harpies with Hermione was more enjoyable than it was with Harry surprisingly. She was less likely to laugh at him if the Cannons lost and didn't spend Harpies games fretting for the safety of their star Chaser.
"Yes," Hermione said, rolling her eyes, "but she would let you swear at the ref."
"Where's the fun if you have permission?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes in thought. "She'd let you put your Cannons posters up in here."
"Really?" Ron's hands ceased their movements.
"Hm-mm."
"Hermione?" Ron said slowly. "How would I go about getting a divorce?"
"Oh, it's this long drawn out process," she replied, nodding seriously, "that would involve lots of paperwork and me removing your genitals from your person."
Ron's face fell. "That doesn't sound fun."
"It doesn't, does it?" Hermione said conversationally.
"Then I'm probably going to have to turn the leggy blonde down," sighed Ron, his whole body sagging with disappointment.
"She will be heartbroken." Hermione patted his shoulder sympathetically.
"Nah, she's got her eye on that nutter with sceptre and the buffet anyway."
Hermione snorted with mirth and buried her face into Ron's neck as he held her close and began laughing himself. His jokes were never as clever as hers, but Ron knew she liked them. When they were at serious and boring work dinners, Ron would try and make her laugh to pass the time. She'd give him disapproving looks, but when she thought he wasn't looking, he would see her smiling fondly in his direction. She could be just as silly as he was when no one else was watching.
Eventually Hermione calmed down enough to look at him again and they shared one of those intense looks that Ron wouldn't have thought himself capable of ten years ago. They always left him feeling strangely vulnerable. It was though Hermione could see the real him, even the parts he hid from the world, but it was okay. He could see all of her, after all, and she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
"I'm sorry," he said in almost a whisper. He rested his hand against her cheek and she leant into with a sigh.
"Don't be."
They smiled and knew that a similar argument would happen sometime in the future, but it wouldn't last long if they didn't let it. They understood each other too well to let it change anything.
"What time is it?" Hermione asked him again.
"Dunno."
Hermione laid her head against his chest. "I wish we could spend every day like this," she whispered.
Ron chuckled. "You'd get bored eventually."
"Would you?"
She shifted slightly so that she could see him, a small crease on her forehead and her hair everywhere. Ron knew his answer.
"No." He kissed her on the forehead and stayed there until he felt her relax once more. "I could never get bored of doing nothing but hang around with you," he told her.
It was true. Yeah, she annoyed the hell out of him sometimes, but it was worth it for the good parts. Even if she was reading and not paying attention to him, he would enjoy himself. There was something about knowing that she was happy that made him feel better than most other things could.
"You're a liar," Hermione smirked, "but I love you for it."
"A liar?" exclaimed Ron, scandalised. Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Well, I could probably last a week."
Instead of being offended, Hermione gave him a soft smile. "That sounds good."
She rested her forehead against his and exhaled. A week of just each other… It sounded like bliss. Maybe they could go on holiday once they had settled into their new house? They hadn't really been on one since their honeymoon and they definitely needed one. He could surprise her for her birthday perhaps? Ron decided to save the idea and think about it when he was more awake.
"We've only got a day though," he reminded her sadly. "Work tomorrow. Duty calls."
"Then let's make the most of it and do nothing all day," Hermione said as though she had suggested they rob a bank, which wouldn't exactly be a new experience for them. "We'll even splash out on a takeaway."
"Knew there was a reason I made you that sandwich," Ron smirked as Hermione giggled. Whenever she made that noise he was powerless to stop himself from kissing her. Unfortunately, just as he felt her breath against his lips, he heard the front door open.
"Ron?"
"I know."
The both of them froze and stared into each other's eyes. They weren't stupid. Given Ron's job, their parts in the war and the area they lived in, they had made sure that breaking into their flat was highly difficult. Whoever was currently talking in hushed voices in their living room was either very, very clever, or very, very lucky.
Hermione rolled off Ron as he sat up and grabbed his wand. He motioned to Hermione to stay put, which earned him a look that clearly said "in your dreams." Ron glared at her in the hope that she would understand that he wasn't trying to undermine her; it was just that he was trained for these situations. All Hermione did was roll her eyes and pick up her own wand.
Deciding they could argue about this after he had arrested the trespassers, Ron pressed his finger to his lips and listened, trying to work out how many they were up against.
"Where are they?" he heard a female whisper.
"Maybe they went out? Or are still in bed?" replied a male. Ron frowned. It was hard to tell seeing as they were whispering, but he thought he might recognise the voice.
"Ron up at this time at the weekend?" said the female much louder this time.
Ron fell back against the pillows with a groan. His heart was still hammering against his ribs when he heard the male speak again from directly outside the bedroom door.
"You don't want to just barge in there."
"What makes you say that?"
"Unpleasant past experiences."
"Oh, grow up."
Hermione nudged Ron to get his attention. "That's-"
"Yeah."
He didn't get chance to say much more after that as the door crashed open and a short, red-haired woman paraded in as though she was invited.
"Cover yourselves!" she called out as she smiled at the couple still in bed.
"Ginny!" Ron growled. "We could've been naked!"
"That would have involved you getting laid, Ronnie," laughed Ginny, "and Hermione is too smart for that."
Before Ron could retort the man followed her into the room, apparently happy that everyone inside was clothed.
"Hey, guys," he said sheepishly.
Hermione pulled the covers up around herself. "We gave you that spare key for emergencies, Harry," she scolded him.
"This is an emergency," Harry insisted with a nod. "Well, it's urgent."
Ron scowled. "There's urgent and then there is barging in on a Sunday lie-in urgent."
Harry seemed unphased by the murderous glare Ron was trying to give him. "This is the latter," he said, moving to stand by Ginny at the end of the bed.
"What's happened?" Hermione worried.
"Nothing," Ginny reassured her before adding, "Yet, anyway."
Ron looked from his best friend to his sister, the frustration of the situation burning inside of him. They were clearly hiding something and, frankly, he couldn't give a shit. Whatever it was probably prevented him from shagging Hermione within the next ten minutes like he had been planning to. If it ruined his after-breakfast shag as well, he would probably be forgiven for killing them.
"Tell us what the bloody hell is going on," he demanded, throwing his wand back on the table with so much force it bounced off, sending red sparks at the wall.
No one noticed the sparks though. Hermione was scrutinising Harry and Ginny who were looking at each other as though they were chocolate cake. It was enough to make him feel sick.
"Well-" Harry began, reaching out to hold Ginny's hand and smiling in a rather disgusting way.
Next to Ron, Hermione gasped. He glanced at her and saw she had covered her mouth with her hand. Feeling as though he was missing something, Ron turned back to the other two who were still gazing at each other.
"I-I sort of," stammered Harry, "well…"
"We're eloping," Ginny interrupted. She turned to look at Ron and Hermione, bouncing on the balls of her feet, a look of pure elation on her face that was perfectly mirrored by Harry's.
Stunned, Ron's eyes flicked from his sister's ecstatic grin, to the joy radiating off his best friend and eventually onto the shocked and teary expression of his wife. He had no idea what to feel other than shock. All he knew was his perfect, lazy Sunday was about to become anything but.