A HariPo drabble
Note: The Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling, not me. A short piece handed in as an English assignment. B) Read, review, and enjoy!
"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways." —Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Ron Weasley arrived home late from work one evening. It had been a very restive, busy day. He was an Auror, and he had just raided a den of aspiring Death Eaters. Ron had survived the battle, but one of his fellow Aurors had not been so lucky.
"Are you all right, Ron?" his wife, Hermione, asked as he entered the kitchen. Her face was etched with concern.
The wizard shook his head. "We lost one today, 'Mione." He sat at the kitchen table and leaned on his elbows. He clasped his hands and rested his chin on them, his lips pursed. It was not as though Aurors were always unharmed when they returned from a mission. However, it always hit close to home when someone was lost.
Hermione, with the same grim thoughts running through her mind, padded across the tiled kitchen floor in her bare feet to her husband and wrapped her arms gently around him, treating him as if he were a fragile glass figurine. She kissed his red hair. "You lived, though," she muttered quietly.
Ron darkly grinned. "Ever the optimistic, you are." He drew her down into the chair beside him and took her left hand in his. His eyes fell immediately to her wedding ring, and the memories that surfaced flooded his senses: his proposal, their wedding, the birth of their daughter, the birth of their son two years after… "Where are the kids?" he asked.
"Rose went to see a movie with Scorpius. Hugo exhausted himself practicing his broom-flying today, so he's upstairs and in bed." The witch smiled gently at her husband. "Ron, it's… This happens. We can't always be sure of everything."
He hugged Hermione to him. "I know. I know we've been together for more than twenty years, too. It suddenly doesn't seem like a lifetime anymore, though; it feels as though all of our big moments happened yesterday." Ron smoothed a lock of her hair back and cupped her cheek in his hand. He realized she now had a faint wrinkle near the corner of her right eye, only proving to him that their big moments certainly had not happened just the other day. He was overcome with emotion. "'Mione, I love you. I love your bushy brown hair, these big umber eyes, that clever grin of yours—I love it all. I love it when you explain something to me calmly and your serenity in doing so passes on to me. I love that you gave me two wonderful children and are always my partner in parenting them, however difficult that may be. Most of all, I love that you are still the girl I met in our first year of school. I love that you've never changed—grown up a little, maybe. You most definitely helped me grow up, but I love that—despite being my Mrs. Weasley—you're still 'Hermione Granger' underneath it all."
Now her face was really etched with worry. "Ron, why are you talking like this? You're rarely so sentimental."
Ron kissed his wife and again hugged her to him. "Hermione, today just made me realize I've got to appreciate what I have while I have it. Life is too short not to be thankful for you, Rosie, and Hugo."
Hermione nodded. "You mean because you could be that Auror next time," she said, forcing back—unsuccessfully—her tears.
He kissed her again. "I won't let that happen, though. I refuse to be gone in the blink of an eye." He paused. "I love you too much, 'Mione."
"I love you, too, Ron."
Short, sad, and sweet. This was my first Romione, surprisingly. I hope you liked it. I hope my teacher did; I turned it in, despite the fact that he hates fiction (though I got an A+ on the last piece I did using my own characters).
Thanks for reading, and please review!
2016 note: Huh. I forgot about this…let alone that this had been turned in as an assignment (sadly, I don't think I remember the grade, but I was a straight-A student, sooo… ;P). But, in 2010, I think I might've still liked Romione, whereas I feel more neutral about them now… Ah, well.