Somebody Loves You

SOMEBODY LOVES YOU

"Do you know when I fell in love with you?" asked Ron Weasley as he planted a firm kiss on the top of his wife's head.

The young and bushy-haired Mrs. Weasley frowned in thought. "Fourth year," she murmured after a few seconds. "Yule Ball." Smiling at her accomplishment, she planted a kiss on top of his head and runs a hand through his hair.

"You're wrong," said Ron. Hermione Weasley looked absolutely crestfallen. "Fourth year was when I knew that I fancied you. Try again, love."

He didn't have to ask twice. Hermione was known for her determination and her special talent for being right. If she hadn't pinned the incident, she would have to continue her quest until she did. "Fifth year then," she told him. "Harry got kissed and you--I supposed you wanted to get kissed too. Of course, you had to ask younger who the lucky girl would be. And, by process of elimination . . ."

Ron did not even try to hide the baffled expression on his face. "That's just plain rubbish," he voiced. "I would never have chosen a girl at random. I was too . . . Ron to be picky."

"When you learned that Krum became my pen-pal?" Hermione guessed again, ignoring his comments.

"Pen-pal, my ass," Ron said. Clearly the subject brought up less than hostile feelings. "We all know what was going on there. Why would anyone ever consider just being pen-pals with the most beautiful woman in the world?"

That earned him a sigh of "Ronald!" and a very romantic kiss from his wife. "I am willing to forgive the previous statement because you just gave me a great compliment," she told him. "You're gorgeous."

"No, you're gorgeous," he voiced. "Absolutely adorable. And there's more where that came from. I think I could just sing your praises until eternity."

"I wouldn't want you to," she said. "There are so many wonderful things I would rather have you doing with that amazing mouth of yours."

Ron groaned. "You're talking dirty, Mrs. Weasley."

"How else am I ever going to get you to listen?"

Ron chuckled, amused. "I think we should finish this conversation in the bedroom . . ."

Laughing loudly, Hermione shook her head. "One thing at a time, Ron," she advised, patting his arm with pity. "When did you fall in love with me? Sixth year, I think. When you and Lavender—" She shuddered at the thought. "—were . . . oh, gross, Ron. I keep seeing the picture of you two . . . Why would you do that to me?"

"What about McLaggen?" he snapped back.

"What about McLaggen?" Hermione repeated. "I would have to know that if I ever seemed interested in McLaggen; it all was your fault!"

Ron raised an eyebrow. "How was that my fault?" he wanted to know.

"You were off snogging—and doing the most deceitful things to—Lavender Brown. What was I supposed to do? I would have you know, the idea of Cormac McLaggen and I was absolutely ghastly. The image still haunts me."

"How do you sleep at night?" asked Ron. "I mean, with me and Lavender and you and McLaggen dancing about in that brain, you must—" Ron jumped. "Holy shit, Hermione!"

Hermione leapt to her feet, wrapping her arms tightly around her husband. "What is it? I can't see--Spiders? Is it spiders?" She gently turned her head about the room trying to see what had frightened Ron so much. Of course, spiders wouldn't bother her half as much as they bothered Ron . . .

Ron quickly diffused her fears by shaking his head. "No, I was just thinking about you thinking," he elaborated. "Kinky, aren't you?"

"What are you talking about?" Hermione raised her eyes to his face in question.

"Sex, sex, sex! Do I think about anything else?" was the reply.

Hermione rolled her eyes and released him from her hold. "Ron, can we be serious for a moment?" she asked. "When Dumbledore died." Pausing for a moment in reverence, she continued, "You held me. At the funeral."

Ron nodded in remembrance. "Oh, I was already head over heels for you by then," he admitted.

"Then, I suppose, our first kiss is out of the question," she said.

"I suppose," Ron mumbled half-heartedly, like he did when he was lost and/or confused.

Hermione quirked a brow. "Ron, when was our first kiss?" she asked.

"You know, when we kissed . . ." Ron swallowed. ". . . for the first time."

"Ron!" shrieked his wife.

Ron smiled. "Bill's wedding, sweetheart. Did you think I'd forget?"

Even at this point in time, Ron still made her blush. "Of course not," she lied.

"I think that was when I realized I loved—love you."

They stared at each other in affectionate silence. "But you just said that you were already in love with me at Dumbledore's funeral," Hermione reminded him suddenly.

Ron nodded. "I was."

"How can—"

Ron interrupted. "I said that I realized I was in love with you at Bill and Fleur's wedding, but I had fallen for you long before then," he explained, intertwining their fingers.

"When was it?" Hermione asked, finally giving up her search.

"Second year. You were a cat."

Hermione's eyes widen as she remembered the situation. She had added the hair of Millicent Bulstrode's cat to the Polyjuice Potion by accident. "I looked horrible," she voiced. "I couldn't imagine looking at myself ever again. It was one of the worst experiences of my teenaged years."

"Probably," Ron nodded in agreement.

"I hated every moment of it." I hated me, she added silently.

"Yet I wanted to take you home to Mum."

"You were twelve," she told him.

"And you were half-human." Ron captured her lips with his.

Hermione chuckled, her eyes filling with tears. Of all the things that he could have said, this had to be the most romantic. Even when she was at her worst, he loved her. "Kinky."

"Talking dirty again, Mrs. Weasley?"