To Each Bed His Own

Sometimes I like just lying there next to her, holding her in my arms and knowing that she's safe from any and all harm that could come to her. But then I have to think that I was the cause of her suffering at one point in time. She used to tell me that going out on one of my crazy crusades to kill Voldemort was enough to put her in an early grave.

And I almost did put her in an early grave when Voldemort came looking for me when I was gone. I almost lost her then. But her life was spared when Ron came over with a bad feeling and needed to check and see what was wrong. It was his life that was taken that day.

And it is for that that I am eternally grateful.

Neither one of us can ever put the memory of Ron out of our minds. Sometimes she cries and I can do nothing to comfort her for I would just be as emotional as she. Ron was a big loss for both of us and we make sure that our children know what a great man he was. But they can never truly know.

Then there are the times when she cries out of joy or just cries to cry. I tell her that when it rains and I am away, I am crying with her. If only she knew the part of my soul that I leave with her when I go.

She shifts in her sleep and rolls over to face me. The light from the moon rolls onto her features gently and gracefully. She looks like an angel when she sleeps. I tell her this all the time. But she insists that after having two children, she isn't beautiful. I very much disagree.

Hermione is the best thing that has ever come to me. I didn't know it back when we were still in Hogwarts. But I do now. And I thank Merlin for her everyday.

She mumbles something soft in her sleep and her eyes flutter. I kiss her forehead and whisper soft nothings to make her sleep easier. It seems to work and she drifts back into a peaceful slumber.

I can remember this angel when we were first married. She had been so young and beautiful then. Not that she isn't now, but the image of her then was one that I keep in a picture frame by my side of the bed. And if we didn't have children running around the house, I would have kept one of her that night by my bedside as well.

I chuckle lightly and her eyes slowly flutter open. She looks at me through narrow slits and reaches a hand up to brush the hair out of her face as she mumbles a soft 'Harry'. Her smile lights up not only her face, but mine as well as I reach down to kiss her gently. I love these nighttime encounters. And she does too, I can tell.

The way she begins to kiss me tells me so.