The back garden of the Burrow was alive with colour and summer smalls as they all sat there, enjoying the warm summer sunlight and soft gentle breeze while they had the time, and the sun was still out.
Ron sat at one of the picnic benches that had appeared over night, discussing the Quidditch league tables with Harry, laughing as his friend made some comment about Puddlemire United. Oliver Wood was still keeper for the team, though it was rumoured that England had just gotten their hands on him meaning that they might stand a good chance in the world cup this time around.
"Any way, I think the Cuddly Cannons have a good chance of winning this year, seeing as Ginny isn't playing anymore." Ron was even listening to his friend, just occasionally adding in his thought when Harry asked him for his opinion. No, his focus was defiantly somewhere else. A few feet away actually, sat on a tartan blanket doing what she always did on a hot summer's day- read.
He smiled as he watched, carefully turning the pages of her book, her lips gently moving as she read aloud, obliviously lost in her own thoughts.
It seemed almost impossible that he'd sat in this garden years ago watching her as he was watching her now, wishing that he could just go over to her, sit next to her and read to her. The only difference was that he was married to Hermione
"Ron, Ron!" He looked around, Harry's voice close to his ear startling him out of his thoughts. "Have you been listening to a word I've just said?"
"No." Harry stared after his friend, watching the tall lanky red head get up from the bench and walk over to where Hermione sat, still reading her book, which looked like a muggle novel.
Hermione Weasley looked up at her husband, startled out of her reading to see him stood there, blocking her sunlight.
He smiled as he sat next to her, carefully lifting her up and placing her between his legs, as though protecting her, taking her book out of her hand.
"Where were you?" His voice was soft in her ear as he leant forward, resting his chin on her shoulder. She pointed to the sentence she had just read.
They sat there, Ron's free arm around her waist as he read to her and their baby, his voice calming and gentle as she lay there, her head against his chest, smiling as he read, the scent of the flowers over powering her, making her feel sleepy.
Ron smiled down at his wife as she slept; her face peaceful in the summer light. He continued to read, allowing the words to simply wash over her as she continued to sleep.
This was how they were supposed to spend summer days, and they did, for many summers to come.