HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MONICA!!!
Title: The Best of Times
Pairing: Ron/Hermione
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1179
Notes: Monica, Happy, Happy Birthday! I hope you enjoy this very fluffy little glimpse of how I see things transpiring for Ron and Hermione (and Rose and Hugo) in the future. (And sorry for the lame title, but you know how much I suck at them. This one was borrowed from Styx. *grins*) ♥ ♥
The Best of Times
From somewhere in her subconscious, Hermione is roused by the clanging of pots and the squeal of a three year old and she jerks awake, sitting up and looking over Ron to the clock on his bedside table.
"Damn it!" she mutters, nudging Ron harder than she'd intended. "Ron, wake up."
His eyes are still closed as he wraps his arm around her waist and attempts to pull her back down to the bed. "Ready for another go, are we?"
"Hardly," Hermione giggles, although memories of their love-making the previous night are still fresh in her mind and she thinks it is terribly unfortunate to waste such a lovely erection as the one he is sporting...if only they didn't have a full house. She disentangles herself from his embrace and climbs out of bed, donning an old t-shirt of his. "We've slept in."
Ron flops onto his back and flings his arm over his eyes. "So?" he pouts. "The wedding's not till noon, and it'll only take us an hour to get there, even driving."
"True, except I told the children to come for breakfast at eight-thirty sharp, and from the sounds of it, everyone is already here."
Ron groans once more for good measure and mumbles something, but whatever else he says is lost as Hermione hurries into the bathroom, uses the toilet, brushes her teeth and hair, and washes her face. She glances at her reflection in the mirror, trying not to focus on the streaks of gray in her short curls or the fine lines around her eyes.
"Still beautiful," Ron murmurs as he pads into the bathroom behind her, now clad in pyjama pans and a t-shirt, and presses a kiss against the top of her head. "Give me two minutes, and I'll be right down." He grins and swats her on the bum, waggling his eyebrows at her in the mirror. "Unless you'd like to join me."
"I'll take you up on that offer later," she promises, reaching up on her tiptoes and pressing a quick kiss against his lips.
She ties the sash of her dressing gown as she exits the room and makes her way downstairs, pausing at the kitchen door and feeling somewhat nostalgic by the banter she hears from inside.
"Honestly, Rose, you look even more pregnant than you did yesterday."
"Honestly, Hugo, you're even more of a git than you were yesterday."
Hermione pushes open the kitchen door to find Hugo seated at the table, his face buried behind the morning edition of The Daily Prophet, and Rose standing at the stove, stirring the beginnings of breakfast in the frying pan in front of her while balancing a wiggly two year old on her hip.
"Why, good morning, Mum. Coffee's on," Hugo announces without looking out from behind his paper and Hermione isn't surprised - both Ron and Harry have boasted about how skilled Hugo has been at stealth and concealment during Auror training.
Hermione shakes her head. "And here I thought I was sneaking up on you."
"No offense, Mum, but I'd be a piss poor Auror if you could," Hugo replies, finally lowering the paper and grinning at her - Ron's grin, she muses not for the first time, and she easily remembers how that very grin from his father was her undoing all those years before.
"Is that so? I can sneak up on your dad well enough," she counters jokingly. "Surely you aren't calling him 'a piss poor Auror'?"
"Course not," he snickers, fixing her with his best incredulous look. "But you know as well as I do that Dad lets you sneak up on him. Besides, didn't you insist that we be here precisely at eight-thirty?"
"I do believe you're right," Rose interjects, winking at her brother as she shifts Celia from one hip to the other around her very pregnant belly. "So pleased you could join us, Mum," she continues, a smirk on her face.
"Yes, very funny," Hermione replies wryly as she walks over and pulls the toddler, who has been reaching and gesturing for her since Hermione entered the room, into her arms. "I had a late night…reading," she adds when Rose opens her mouth to make what Hermione suspects is a snide remark as she holds out a mug of coffee for her mother, closing it with an even snarkier smirk than before as she and Hugo exchanged one of those looks.
Hermione soothes back the soft strawberry-blonde curls from her granddaughter's face. "And how is Nana's girl this morning?"
"She's ready to knock them dead at her Uncle Hugo's wedding, aren't you, Celia?" Hugo replies, reaching up and tickling his niece.
Hermione touches Hugo's shoulder lovingly. "And you, love? How are you holding up?"
Hugo shrugs and grins even wider. "Bloody brilliant, Mum. Just waiting for noon to get here is all."
"Best bloody day of your life," Ron chimes in as he enters the kitchen and claps Hugo on the shoulder before picking up the mug of coffee Rose had left on the table for Hermione in one hand and scooping Celia from Hermione's arms with the other. Hermione watches with affection as their granddaughter peppers Ron's face with sloppy kisses, holding his face between her chubby little hands and running her fingers through his beard, cooing, "My papa," before plopping herself in his lap contentedly and snuggling up to his chest.
"I'm one lucky bloke," Hugo adds, laughing as Hermione leans over his shoulder and kisses his cheek before rubbing his hair like she did when he was a boy.
"Speaking of lucky blokes," Ron says, arching an eyebrow at Rose, "where's yours?"
Rose holds up her hand and shakes her head as she sets a plate down in front of Hugo. "Don't ask. He was summoned an hour ago, something about his presence being required to fix something or another." She sighs heavily as she carefully eases herself into the nearest chair. "I don't know, Mum. One of these days, I'm going to shut off our Floo so that we might have one day of peace."
Ron clears his throat and grins in amusement at Rose, who rolls her eyes and sets a plate down in front of him as well.
"Damn, Rose, this is good," Hugo says, cutting off any retort she might have had. "Who knew you could cook."
Hermione jerks her head up, ready to chastise him for his language, only to see Rose punch her brother in the arm. "Blimey, Hugo, don't talk like that in front of her," she says through gritted teeth, gesturing towards her daughter.
"Oh yeah, sorry." Hugo looks sufficiently abashed and makes a silly face at Celia, causing her to giggle and make a silly face back at him.
"Never mind your mum," Ron says, winking at Hugo. "She's having…issues this morning. I blame it on this big wedding that you're subjecting us to."
Rose raises her eyebrows and eyes Hermione curiously, a smirk on her lips. "So does this mean I'm finally forgiven for having eloped?"
Pairing: Ron/Hermione
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1179
Notes: Monica, Happy, Happy Birthday! I hope you enjoy this very fluffy little glimpse of how I see things transpiring for Ron and Hermione (and Rose and Hugo) in the future. (And sorry for the lame title, but you know how much I suck at them. This one was borrowed from Styx. *grins*) ♥ ♥
The Best of Times
From somewhere in her subconscious, Hermione is roused by the clanging of pots and the squeal of a three year old and she jerks awake, sitting up and looking over Ron to the clock on his bedside table.
"Damn it!" she mutters, nudging Ron harder than she'd intended. "Ron, wake up."
His eyes are still closed as he wraps his arm around her waist and attempts to pull her back down to the bed. "Ready for another go, are we?"
"Hardly," Hermione giggles, although memories of their love-making the previous night are still fresh in her mind and she thinks it is terribly unfortunate to waste such a lovely erection as the one he is sporting...if only they didn't have a full house. She disentangles herself from his embrace and climbs out of bed, donning an old t-shirt of his. "We've slept in."
Ron flops onto his back and flings his arm over his eyes. "So?" he pouts. "The wedding's not till noon, and it'll only take us an hour to get there, even driving."
"True, except I told the children to come for breakfast at eight-thirty sharp, and from the sounds of it, everyone is already here."
Ron groans once more for good measure and mumbles something, but whatever else he says is lost as Hermione hurries into the bathroom, uses the toilet, brushes her teeth and hair, and washes her face. She glances at her reflection in the mirror, trying not to focus on the streaks of gray in her short curls or the fine lines around her eyes.
"Still beautiful," Ron murmurs as he pads into the bathroom behind her, now clad in pyjama pans and a t-shirt, and presses a kiss against the top of her head. "Give me two minutes, and I'll be right down." He grins and swats her on the bum, waggling his eyebrows at her in the mirror. "Unless you'd like to join me."
"I'll take you up on that offer later," she promises, reaching up on her tiptoes and pressing a quick kiss against his lips.
She ties the sash of her dressing gown as she exits the room and makes her way downstairs, pausing at the kitchen door and feeling somewhat nostalgic by the banter she hears from inside.
"Honestly, Rose, you look even more pregnant than you did yesterday."
"Honestly, Hugo, you're even more of a git than you were yesterday."
Hermione pushes open the kitchen door to find Hugo seated at the table, his face buried behind the morning edition of The Daily Prophet, and Rose standing at the stove, stirring the beginnings of breakfast in the frying pan in front of her while balancing a wiggly two year old on her hip.
"Why, good morning, Mum. Coffee's on," Hugo announces without looking out from behind his paper and Hermione isn't surprised - both Ron and Harry have boasted about how skilled Hugo has been at stealth and concealment during Auror training.
Hermione shakes her head. "And here I thought I was sneaking up on you."
"No offense, Mum, but I'd be a piss poor Auror if you could," Hugo replies, finally lowering the paper and grinning at her - Ron's grin, she muses not for the first time, and she easily remembers how that very grin from his father was her undoing all those years before.
"Is that so? I can sneak up on your dad well enough," she counters jokingly. "Surely you aren't calling him 'a piss poor Auror'?"
"Course not," he snickers, fixing her with his best incredulous look. "But you know as well as I do that Dad lets you sneak up on him. Besides, didn't you insist that we be here precisely at eight-thirty?"
"I do believe you're right," Rose interjects, winking at her brother as she shifts Celia from one hip to the other around her very pregnant belly. "So pleased you could join us, Mum," she continues, a smirk on her face.
"Yes, very funny," Hermione replies wryly as she walks over and pulls the toddler, who has been reaching and gesturing for her since Hermione entered the room, into her arms. "I had a late night…reading," she adds when Rose opens her mouth to make what Hermione suspects is a snide remark as she holds out a mug of coffee for her mother, closing it with an even snarkier smirk than before as she and Hugo exchanged one of those looks.
Hermione soothes back the soft strawberry-blonde curls from her granddaughter's face. "And how is Nana's girl this morning?"
"She's ready to knock them dead at her Uncle Hugo's wedding, aren't you, Celia?" Hugo replies, reaching up and tickling his niece.
Hermione touches Hugo's shoulder lovingly. "And you, love? How are you holding up?"
Hugo shrugs and grins even wider. "Bloody brilliant, Mum. Just waiting for noon to get here is all."
"Best bloody day of your life," Ron chimes in as he enters the kitchen and claps Hugo on the shoulder before picking up the mug of coffee Rose had left on the table for Hermione in one hand and scooping Celia from Hermione's arms with the other. Hermione watches with affection as their granddaughter peppers Ron's face with sloppy kisses, holding his face between her chubby little hands and running her fingers through his beard, cooing, "My papa," before plopping herself in his lap contentedly and snuggling up to his chest.
"I'm one lucky bloke," Hugo adds, laughing as Hermione leans over his shoulder and kisses his cheek before rubbing his hair like she did when he was a boy.
"Speaking of lucky blokes," Ron says, arching an eyebrow at Rose, "where's yours?"
Rose holds up her hand and shakes her head as she sets a plate down in front of Hugo. "Don't ask. He was summoned an hour ago, something about his presence being required to fix something or another." She sighs heavily as she carefully eases herself into the nearest chair. "I don't know, Mum. One of these days, I'm going to shut off our Floo so that we might have one day of peace."
Ron clears his throat and grins in amusement at Rose, who rolls her eyes and sets a plate down in front of him as well.
"Damn, Rose, this is good," Hugo says, cutting off any retort she might have had. "Who knew you could cook."
Hermione jerks her head up, ready to chastise him for his language, only to see Rose punch her brother in the arm. "Blimey, Hugo, don't talk like that in front of her," she says through gritted teeth, gesturing towards her daughter.
"Oh yeah, sorry." Hugo looks sufficiently abashed and makes a silly face at Celia, causing her to giggle and make a silly face back at him.
"Never mind your mum," Ron says, winking at Hugo. "She's having…issues this morning. I blame it on this big wedding that you're subjecting us to."
Rose raises her eyebrows and eyes Hermione curiously, a smirk on her lips. "So does this mean I'm finally forgiven for having eloped?"