"Ron! Get your lazy arse out of bed!" Hermione said, throwing a pillow at him. Ron moaned and threw it back at her. It hit the floor, and from the laugh that Hermione gave a second after the thump, Ron guessed that it had been nowhere near its mark. "UP!" Hermione pleaded. "C'mon, Ron."

"No," Ron replied stubbornly. Annoyed, Hermione made the choice to use the best weapon she had.

"I'm in a towel," she said, a bit of a smirk in her voice.

"Meh," Ron said. But the temptation was too great, so he peaked one eye open, then another, frowning at the superior, snobbish look on Hermione's face.

"Okay. I'm off to take a shower," Hermione told him. "You can be late if you want, see if I care."

But she'd gotten Ron at the word shower. He'd leaped out of bed and bolted towards the bathroom, then hopped into the jet of warm water.

"Ron!" Hermione cried, indignant.

"Yes?" Ron said, peaking his face out of the glass shower door.

"I didn't say you were supposed to be taking a shower, I said I was!"

"I know," Ron told her, winking impishly, and Hermione rolled her eyes while a smile spread across her face.

"So you jumped into my shower because...?"

"Well," Ron said, choosing his words carefully, "I think I'll be in here a while, and you apparently need a shower, so maybe you should join me."

"Wasn't last night enough?"

"Never, love."

Hermione stared at him for ten seconds flat before moaning and saying,

"You're incorrigible!"

Ron grinned.

"Isn't that why you love me?"

"Oh, yes. Because your endless pursuing of me at Hogwarts really showed character."

Ron moved to shut the door.

"Well, I guess I'll just be showering by myself. Have fun going out in public with your hair like that."

Hermione gazed at him with a stricken look on her face as the door slid shut.

"Fine!" she shouted, one second before it closed. "Fine! You win this time!" she said, releasing the towel and stepping into the warm shower with him.

"I know I do."

"But I hate you," Hermione added sourly, kissing him quickly before reaching for the shampoo.

"Good morning to you too, honey."


"Hurry, hurry!" Hermione called in a panicked voice. Ron poked his head out of the kitchen and waved his butter knife threateningly at her.

"We have three minutes until scheduled departure time," he told her, his eyes flicking toward the white board that Hermione updated every night to show Ron the exact time she wanted them to leave for the Ministry the next morning, depending on how much work they had to do or what time their meetings or appointments were. It was anal, controlling, and so Hermione that Ron had just gotten used to it and learned to love it. "And seeing as you insist on having that bloody board, I am already hurrying."

Okay, well, maybe not love it. But definitely deal with it.

"Well, now you have one and a half minutes, so go faster."

Ron finished buttering his toast with a final flourish of his knife, then threw the piece of silverware into the sink and tromped over to the fireplace. Hermione's eyes were darting uncertainly between the white board and the sink, not sure which thing was more important to her. Finally, Ron made the choice for her by flicking his wand and making the knife vanish. Her face relaxing considerably, Hermione took the floo pot from him and shouted,

"Ministry of Magic!"

She spun out of the fireplace and Ron smiled as her bushy hair flailed while she spun. As he helped himself to some powder, he remembered her first day of work, when she'd straightened her hair. She hadn't been the same at all. In fact, she seemed more like Riddle-Hermione than Real-Hermione. And he definitely hadn't married Riddle-Hermione. That would have been bad, especially considering the fact that she'd been in love with Harry. Also, if Real-Hermione had kissed Harry the way Riddle-Hermione had, Ron didn't think he would have been able to marry her anyways. The image of the two of them was already branded into his mind either way, but if Real-Hermione had kissed Real-Harry, Ron was sure that he'd have the image in his head whenever he was snogging her and that did not make for a healthy marriage. Of course, Hermione and he didn't usually talk about the past. Though Ron would never admit it to anyone (much less his wife) he was now kind of grateful for Viktor Krum. Without Krum to interrupt his and Hermione's relationship, she'd be dead. Because Ron hadn't been so clouded with love during Hermione's torture incident he hadn't been stupid, and therefor he had been able to save Hermione without getting her killed because of his actions. It had been okay in the end. His bloody mum had killed Bellatrix. Rather fitting, if Ron did say so himself. He still loathed Viktor Krum, however. Hermione found this rather hilarious, seeing as, according to her, she had much more of a reason to be jealous about Lavender. Ron agreed with her, but when they'd had the discussion had refused to admit it. The next night Hermione had started moaning Viktor's name in her 'sleep', just to get a rise out of Ron. Needless to say, it worked, but when Ron had refused to hug or kiss her for a week, Hermione had instantly regretted her actions.

Alright, fine. It was just two days. He did have needs, and with a wife so willing to comply, who was he to refuse the both of them? But she did regret it. A little. Oh fine, not at all.

By the time Ron got to the Ministry, Hermione was already talking to a co-worker about the newest laws she was trying to put in for House-Elves. Spotting Ron hurling out of the fireplace, she bade the person goodbye and headed over to her husband. She kissed him quickly before saying,

"Don't forget about tonight!"

Ron frowned at her.

"What's tonight?" he asked.

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but suddenly someone called out, "Mrs. Weasley!" and Hermione and Ron turned around to see Hermione's boss waving her over to him. Hermione turned back to Ron, gave him an apologetic look, and pecked him on the lips once more before saying,

"I have to go. Have a good day, sweetheart."

Ron watched her hurry up to her boss and begin a conversation that entailed a lot of nodding. The two approached the lifts, and Ron looked around as the doors slid shut. Immediately, his eyes found Harry. Ron hurried over to his friend and nodded at him. Harry nodded back.

"Morning," he said as they got to the elevator. He yawned as Ron echoed the greeting.

"What's up with you?" he asked, seeing Harry's weary facial expression.

"Gin and the baby," Harry answered, suppressing another yawn. "Kept me awake last night. James has the biggest damn lungs I have ever had the misfortune to-"

"Yes, I've heard this before," Ron said, brushing it aside. At first he'd been sympathetic, but by now he was impatient with Harry's frequent rants about the loudness of his child. Ron himself couldn't wait to have those problems. It wasn't that Harry resented James in any way, he had just never known a baby in such a young stage as James. Teddy had been taken care of Andromeda full time, and Harry had never had to worry about it or experience it. Which was why Harry had been completely caught off guard when his child had arrived into the world. He'd been shocked by things most people thought was a given.

"You and Hermione still having trouble conceiving?" Harry asked delicately, and Ron gave a curt nod before saying,

"We'll get there."

"Of course you will," Harry said easily. "Without a doubt."

There was silence on the lift, each man lost in his own thoughts, until the doors opened and they stepped out into the Auror Offices. Ron and Harry strode into the conference room and sat down, ignoring the light lull of conversation in favor of their own thoughts. That was the thing about them. They never had to be in conversation to enjoy each other's company. Sometimes it was preferable that they weren't. The chat dulled, however, when their boss strode into the room and up to the white board at the forefront of it.

"Anyone know the day?" he asked, marker poised to write.

"The seventeenth," Harry yawned. Ron turned towards him, startled.


"April seventeenth," Harry repeated. Ron's eyes widened.

"I thought that was tomorrow!"

Harry shrugged, and Ron hastily stood up.

"I'm sorry sir, I'm feeling a bit nauseous. I think I need to take the day off."

His boss frowned at him, but perhaps Ron looked a bit more pale than usual, as (after a few more seconds of scrutinizing his employee) his boss nodded and let Ron go. Harry watched him pack up and whispered,

"What's wrong?"

Ron bent down to pick up a paper and muttered,

"Today's our third wedding anniversary."

Harry's eyes widened.

"You forgot your anniversary?" he whispered.

"I didn't forget!" Ron hissed. "I just thought it was tomorrow. I got my days mixed up!"

"What's the big deal? Didn't those theater tickets you got her have a date on them?"

"Today's Thursday," Ron moaned. "They don't have a Thursday night show- I ordered the Friday tickets."

"You're in such deep shit," Harry winced. "What're you going to do?"

"Improvise," Ron told him quietly.

Harry swallowed hard. Ron Weasley... improvisation? Romance? This could not end well.


The best plan Ron could think of was to set up a table outside and have his mum make a romantic dinner. Although he felt that Hermione deserved better (after all, it was his fault they had no fancy plans on their anniversary) it was the best he could do on such short notice. All the good restaurants had been booked for weeks, and it wasn't like they could have their anniversary dinner at the Leaky Cauldron. Quickly, Ron stepped onto the lift and pressed the up button. He got off a few floors later and hurried into the waiting room outside of Hermione's office, where her secretary was making copies of notes using a spell. As Ron entered, the phone rang, and he watched as the secretary picked up and said,

"Hermione Weasley's office."

Resisting all temptation to start giggling like a teenager at that sentence, Ron listened as Hermione's secretary conversed with a House-Elf expert from China. Fifteen minutes later, she got off the phone, looked up at him and said,

"Can I help you?"

"Of course you can. I've been standing here for fifteen minutes, haven't I?" Ron said, irked. Hermione's secretary just looked at him. "I need to see Hermione," Ron said.

"That's not possible. She's busy."

"I'm her bloody husband!" Ron argued heatedly.

"She's busy," the secretary repeated.

"It's our anniversary," Ron probed.

"Yet that just does not change the fact that Mrs. Weasley is busy."

Unable to take it any longer, Ron hit his finger against the intercom button.

"Yes?" came Hermione's voice.

"Your bloody secretary won't let me in, Hermione."

There was a pause. Then,

"Well... why not?"

"I don't know!" Ron yelled at the same time as the secretary said,

"You told me not to let anyone disturb you, Mrs. Weasley."

"I meant clients. My husband doesn't count in that. Always let him in, please. Unless I'm with a client."

Feeling very smug, Ron crossed the room and opened the door. Hermione stood up to greet him, looking greatly amused.

"Really, Hermione?"

"Sorry about that," she smiled, kissing him. "So what's up?"

"Do we have any tablecloths? Like, not really nice ones, the kind you might use on... an outdoor picnic table, for example."

Hermione stared at him blankly before saying,

"You waited for fifteen minutes outside my office and had a minor showdown with my secretary to ask me about a tablecloth?"

"Er- yes?" Ron said, now realizing how stupid that sounded.

"You know it would have been faster just to owl me."

Ron put on a cheeky grin.

"I wanted to see your gorgeous face."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'm so flattered."

"You should be," he said, moving closer.

"Why's that?" Hermione asked quietly, eyes on his lips.

"Because there's only one woman on earth I get to think is gorgeous, and luckily for you that woman is standing right in front of me."

"Luckily for me?" she laughed, eyes going up to him. "This was all luck?"

"No," he amended, leaning."I think we actually have to thank a troll."

"Okay," Hermione murmured as Ron went for her lips. "Thank you, troll."

It took Ron almost no time to make her woozy from his kisses, and- once he had succeeded in doing so- he pulled away, kissed her nose, and said, "So. Tablecloth."

"Right," Hermione said, sitting down on the couch in her office. "They're in the attic. In the box that is aptly labeled Tablecloths."

"Thanks, Hermione," Ron said, kissing her one more time. "Mind if I use your fireplace?"

"No, go ahead," she told him. Ron headed over, said his destination as quietly as he could, then found himself spinning until he saw the living room. Quickly, he stepped out, then called out his mum's name. She ambled into the room, and her face broke out into a smile upon seeing her son.

"Ronnie! What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work?"

"I faked illness."

Her smile faded.

"I see now that I've raised you well."

"Hey, I got Hermione, didn't I?"

"True enough. Anyways, why would you call in sick?"

"Today's my anniversary. Apparently."

"I thought it was tomorrow," Mrs. Weasley said, frowning.

"Me too," Ron admitted. He scratched his head once before continuing. "Well... the tickets I have are for tomorrow, so I was wondering if you could make Hermione's favorite meal?"

"Why can't you make it, Ronnie?"

Ron sighed. "First of all, I can't cook to save my life. Second, I thought we agreed that you'd stop calling me Ronnie when I got married."

"Sorry, dear. I forget. Of course I'll cook for you! It'll be my gift you this year."

"Thanks, mum," Ron said, letting out a sigh of relief. He hurried back to the fireplace and grabbed some floo powder. "Bring it over around five," he told her before stepping into the fireplace and shouting out his and Hermione's address. He spun out as soon as he saw their couch, then tripped over Crookshanks as he came out of the fireplace. Swearing loudly, Ron disentangled himself from the hissing cat, but a few seconds later Crookshanks started rubbing himself against Ron's leg.

"Oh, now you fancy a cuddle, do you?" Ron said angrily. "How about last night when Hermione was working late and I wanted to cuddle? I was so carefree then!" Crookshanks purred, but Ron shook his head. "Not now, Crookshanks. I'm busy."

He bolted for the stairs to the attic, shutting the door behind him so that the damn ginger cat couldn't follow. The attic was dark, and Ron quickly lit his wand, hoping that it would brighten the room. It did, but not by much. All he knew now was that he had a big shadow and the attic was way bigger than he had initially thought. Cursing himself for getting married, Ron moved deeper into the attic and began the tedious task of finding the box with the tablecloth. After about an hour of searching, he spotted it in a rafter, tucked tightly between a group of boxes.

"Accio box!" Ron said, raising his wand and directing it towards the box. It squirmed, but didn't soar towards him. Sighing about the horror that was his life, Ron moved closer to the box and attempted to get it. The box was too high, so he grabbed another one and went to stand on it. He reached out, trying to grab the box. Suddenly, the one he was standing on caved in and he fell over, landing in yet another box. Trying to breathe deeply and calm his temper, he slowly opened his eyes. His face was pressed against a composition notebook with familiar handwriting.

This book is the property of Hermione J Granger. Year: Six. School: Hogwarts. Class: Potions.

His eyes widened as he realized what it was. Excitement filling him up, Ron lifted up the notebook and saw what was underneath.

This book is the property of Roonil Wazlib. Nose out. Year: 6. School: What do you think? Class: Potions.

Laughing at the sight of his 6th year writing, Ron opened the book, looking at the words he had penned more than half a decade ago. Sixteen year old Ron was so frustrated and angry with himself... Ron was much happier now. He would argue that he was happier now than he had ever been in his whole life. It had started a year after the war. He'd finally been able to stop living in fear and guilt, and he'd started to be able to let go just a little. It was also the point in his life where he'd finally gotten used to his relationship with Hermione. Not used to, per se, but at least comfortable. He'd still grinned like an idiot when she introduced him as her boyfriend or he introduced her as his girlfriend. But he was able to tell her that he loved her without blushing and stumbling over his words, and they were both less guarded when it came to snogging. Their relationship seemed to improve with time, and Ron had known even then that it was rare, special, and completely amazing when that happened. He had been nineteen years old and completely aware of the fact that the woman he was snogging was his future wife, even though he didn't have a ring.

Now that they'd been married for three years, Ron couldn't help hoping that she never stopped getting fits of giggles sometimes when people called her Mrs. Weasley. Of course, when he got the giggles, it was much less respectable. But when Hermione did it, it was downright adorable.

Tonight, for the first time since fourth year, I have made my peace with the Yule Ball. I am glad that I didn't take Hermione. I can't believe that she would have died if we started dating at fifteen. I hope to God that the same thing doesn't happen in real life. Hey- funny thing. What happened in the dream was nearly identical to Trelawney's prediction. Wouldn't it be hilarious (not to mention wicked) if McGonagall's thing came true? I wonder if Hermione will snog me during a battle of some sort...

Holy shit. McGonagall had been right. Ron had never connected the dots to that before this moment... his mouth dropped open in surprise. That was nothing short of shocking, really. Shaking his head and grinning broadly, Ron reached down and picked up Hermione's diary. He opened it to a random page and read the top line, which seemed to be a continuation from the last page.

I just wish so much that I'd had a different Yule Ball experience. An experience with Ron. It wouldn't even matter if he fell in love with me that night or another night or never at all. Just to have that one night to dance with Ron and look pretty for him... he has totally and completely denied me of any opportunity to do such a thing. Even Bill and Fleur's wedding- I'm not his date, I'm just invited by default. Because I'm the best friend. Harry doesn't even count, he's family. He needed a family and they took him in. If Harry hadn't been an honorary member of the family, I probably wouldn't have even been invited. I'm simply not important enough to Ron. I probably never will be. I'm the bushy haired, nagging, know-it-all. The girl who loves him disguised as his best friend, and that hurts. It hurts to know that he'll never look at me the way I look at him, to know that if Lavender Brown is his type I will never be what or who he wants. And you know what the worst part is? It's the part that I will never, ever have a chance to have a night like the Yule Ball again, where I dress up for him and he only sees me. Unless, of course, we get married. But that's ridiculous. Like that's ever going to happen. I hate the bitch that's going to marry Ron, hate her. Oh merlin, I'd better make this invisible so Slughorn won't be able to see it. Ironically enough, by the time this is visible again because the spell has worn off, I'll either be with Ron or totally and completely over him. Or dying inside because neither has happened. Wow. Here's hoping.

Reading the diary entry, getting lost in the story, Ron almost forgot that Hermione's story did have a happy ending. Looking down at the gold band that never left his finger, Ron recalled the way she'd looked on their wedding day. The white dress, the wide smile, the way she'd only been able to look at him because she couldn't believe that he was her husband. And vise versa. As he pictured this, a bit of his renewed guilt for how he'd treated her in sixth year ebbed away, and he smiled. Now he knew what needed to happen. He knew what he needed to do in order to make it the best anniversary ever. And when he was done, it was going to be kickass.


It figure, Hermione supposed, that Ron wasn't home. He was probably doing last minute things for their anniversary. It wouldn't have been the first time. She headed over to their bedroom, opened the door, and nearly fell down. A brand new dress, the exact color of the one she'd worn to the yule ball, was lying on the bed. Hermione check the size, which was (to her surprise and pleasure) correct. That was rare. On it lay a note that instructed her to put on the dress and meet 'me' in the garden when she was ready. The note seemed to have been written with great care- for once, Hermione could read her husband's handwriting. She'd gotten used to it over the years, but when Ron wrote like this it made her life much easier. Unable to help herself, Hermione kissed the note as excitement began to wash over her. Quickly heading over to her dressing table, Hermione grabbed a bottle of sleekeazy and began applying huge amounts to her hair. Then she pulled it into the same elegant knot she had on the night of the Yule Ball. After squirting liberal amounts of perfume onto herself, Hermione slipped into the dress. It felt smooth and silky on her skin. She headed over to her closet and dug up an old pair of dark blue high heels. They went well with the light blue fabric of the dress. They went well with the light blue fabric, so Hermione stepped into them and tottered over to the mirror. A few strands had escaped and were framing her face beautifully. Upon redoing her eyeliner, mascara, and eyeshadow, Hermione exited the room and made her way out to the garden.

Lights were strung up on the trees, white, bright, and beautiful. They cast a glow all around the place that made everything look softer and more romantic. There was a Weird Sisters album playing softly in the background, and a picnic table laden with all of Hermione's favorite foods. Ron, who had been seated when she walked out to the yard, stood up to reveal a pair of navy blue dress robes, around the same color of Hermione's shoes. She laughed lightly.

"Look how coordinated we are!"

Ron strode over to her and kissed her. He started to pull back, but Hermione wound her arm around his neck and kissed him harder. She pulled back after several minutes, pressed her forehead against his, and smiled breathlessly at him.

"Do you like it?" Ron asked, gesturing around the yard. Hermione nodded and he grinned at her and took her hand. "Hermione Granger, will you go to the ball with me?"

She blushed like she would have when she was younger and said,

"Of course. But please don't call me that anymore. I'm Hermione Weasley now, remember?"

"No way. We're fifteen for the night."

Hermione wrinkled her nose.

"I'm not sure you want that. There are some things that I do now that I would not do when I was fifteen."

"Alright, you win," Ron said, surrendering easily. Hermione smiled.

"So how exactly did you do all this?" she asked.

"I have a single romantic bone in my body," Ron replied. "And I think I just utilized the shit out of it tonight."

"Well done," Hermione complimented him.

"Thanks, love."

They snogged for a bit before Hermione pulled back and said,

"So what's for dinner?" Laughing, Ron picked her up bride-style and carried her over to the table. It was a mark of how strong he'd gotten from being an auror, and of how petite Hermione was. She was easier to carry than most women of her age. This probably had to do with her height, or lack thereof.

When Ron set Hermione down at her place, she noticed a journal sitting beside her plate. After scanning the writing on the front, she realized what it was.

"Oh my god," she whispered, and then she opened it and began reading delightedly.

"You want to do that aloud, maybe?" Ron said, and Hermione nodded, then began. She read hers aloud and Ron read his aloud, but he hesitated when he reached the end. He'd never told Hermione about what happened at the end of the dream. He'd never wanted to talk about it, relive it, and in doing that he'd also been protecting her.

"Can we read the end another time?" Ron asked quietly. "I don't want to wreck the evening."

Hermione looked desperately curious, but she nodded all the same, and that was what made Ron break out into a beaming smile and ask if she wanted to dance. She took his hand and they swayed together to the loud, upbeat Weird Sisters music, tremendously out of time with the music due to their soft, slow style of dancing. Both inwardly praised merlin that their single days were over, that they would always have each other to have, to hold, to love, and to cherish. It was in the middle of their dancing, laughing, and kissing that Hermione stepped out of Ron's arms and said,

"I have something for you."

She ran back into the house as fast as her high heels would allow her and came back to a bemused Ron a few minutes later, holding a box. Her engagement and wedding rings glinted as she swiftly opened the box and held it out to Ron, who looked more bamboozled than ever at the sight of the contents of the box.

"Chocolate Frogs?" he said, and Hermione merely smiled mischievously at him. Ron ripped the bag open, then let out a shocked yell. His own face was blinking up at him, giving himself a sheepish smile.

Ronald Weasley is best known for being one-third of the Golden Trio. He is currently a high-rank Auror at the Ministry of Magic, and his married to his childhood sweetheart, Hermione Weasley. Mr. Weasley enjoys Quidditch, wizard rock, and bickering with his wife. He has become a sex symbol for gingers everywhere.

Ron looked up, horror struck, to see Hermione laughing.

"That's not actually what it's going to say," she told him through her laughter. "The part about bickering will be spending time. And I just asked them to add the part about the sex symbol for this one."

"Is the other one your card, then?" Ron asked, and Hermione nodded. He ripped it open to see a picture of his wife giving him a small smile, her eyes shining with excitement.

Hermione (formerly Granger) Weasley is best know for being the brains of the Golden Trio. She is currently working at the Ministry of Magic in the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures department (S.P.E.W division). Sometimes called 'The Brightest Witch of Her Age', Mrs. Weasley enjoys reading, playing with her half-kneezle (Crookshanks) and spending time with her husband and Hogwarts sweetheart, Ron Weasley. She is looking forward to the birth of her and Mr. Weasley's baby, which will take place in roughly nine months.

"That's pretty-" Suddenly, the last statement hit him. "NINE MONTHS?"

She stared up at him, biting her lip and smiling nervously.

"I'm sort of... pregnant."

"Bloody fuck!" Ron roared, and he lifted her up in his arms and kissed her soundly on the mouth. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!"

"So you're happy, then?" Hermione giggled.

"Happy?" Ron bellowed. "I'm... I'm... shit, Hermione. I'm so proud of you."

"Proud of me?" she frowned. "Why are you proud of me me?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, peppering her face with kisses. "I just am. YES! FINALLY!"

"You're gonna be a dad," she whispered. "How does that sound?"

"Bloody brilliant," Ron said fervently. "Wicked. Every phrase in my arsenal."

"Pretty sure you just used them all up, honey."

He pulled her into a fierce hug.

"How'd you get the chocolate frog cards?"

The mischievous smile was back on Hermione's face, although Ron couldn't see it.

"I stopped by the factories and gave them a heart wrenchingly romantic story about how it was the anniversary of my marriage to my gorgeous, wonderful, sexy husband and how I wanted to prove to him just how gorgeous, wonderful, and sexy he is."

"And they just let you have them a month early?" Ron asked, amazed. "I mean, they're not coming out until the anniversary of the Final Battle..."

"Well, I had to drop a few names first," Hermione admitted. "Namely my own. And yours."

"You're so amazing," Ron said, admiring his wife. "I'm so glad I married you."

"Same," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "You weren't glad before."

"Well, I'm even... gladder."

Hermione laughed. She kissed his shoulder, then his neck, then finally his chin, before bringing her lips up to his.

"We'd better get inside. We have work tomorrow."

Ron, glancing around to see a completely darkened sky, nodded. He looked disappointed. As Hermione walked away, she said,

"So I'm assuming you called my parents and told them we weren't coming?"

Ron froze. Those had been the plans?

"Er- yeah."

Hermione smiled at him.

"Good. Wow, if tonight was the night before our anniversary, I can't wait to see what you do tomorrow."

Shame, annoyance, anger, and frustration washed over Ron as her words registered. Seriously? Their anniversary had been the next day after all. Harry fucking Potter had gotten the date wrong. Ron gulped, thinking fast. When he replied, it was casual, nonchalant.

"I was thinking we could call in sick from work and spend the whole day in bed with you, me, and a half dozen cans of whipped cream."

Hermione looked back at him, scrutinizing him.

"Will you take me out after?" she asked appraisingly.

"Er- sure," Ron replied, thinking of the theater tickets he had still.

"Alright," Hermione shrugged, to the complete disbelief of her husband.

"Really?" he croaked.

"Sure," Hermione said. "Since you called in sick today, I can just say I got what you got."

"Who are you and what have you done with my wife?" Ron gasped, and Hermione smirked at him. "Seriously, you're acting so... badass."

"Always the tone of surprise," Hermione murmured teasingly.

She kissed Ron, entangling her hands into his hair, pulling him closer, trying to control her emotions because she felt so happy she thought she could've possibly burst.

"No really," Ron said, pulling back insistently. "You hate cutting work. Why would you do this?"

"Well," Hermione said carefully, "it's sort of because you made a silly mistake and fixed it in the most romantic way possible. It's a little bit because of the diaries, and remembering how lucky I am compared to where I was then. But mainly... it's because I love you."