The South American hotel room looked out onto a pristine, white sandy beach. The penthouse suite included a balcony with an immaculate view of the city and beaches, where Hermione Granger Weasley, still in her wedding dress, was combing her hair and preparing for bed. Her childhood friend and new husband, Ron Weasley, was leaning against the balcony doorway, watching his bride with a bright smile. He couldn't believe that finally – finally – after years of wanting, the love of his life was his. Tonight would be the start of a new chapter for them both.
Such a heavy thought had not gone unnoticed by Hermione, because she now was planning out their life together out loud, as though she were outlining one of the many papers the couple and their best friend and brother-in-law, Harry Potter, had completed in their youth.
"Ron, I want to have our first baby back near Hogwarts. We could move to the countryside where none of the paparazzi will ever find us. You could Apparate to the Ministry for work and go in with Harry; no one will ever know. I know the perfect spot – right by the river where I found you again on the Horcrux hunt. It's beautiful in the springtime. Ginny and I could go there early and fix up the baby's room." She glanced back at him with a beaming smile, her fingers twirling through the bushy brown waves of hair that Ron adored so much. He didn't think he had ever seen her this happy.
"You're so…beautiful," Ron murmured, so captivated he was by her that he had to fumble around for the right word. Hermione turned to face him, her brilliant smile broadening even more.
"It's only because I'm so in love," she admitted.
Ron could only laugh at this different, blissful Hermione that intrigued and enthralled him. "No. No, it's because I'm so in love with you," he teased back, yet he meant every word intensely.
Hermione blinked, peering at him curiously now. "So, love has blinded you?" she inquired: a question almost corny in its schmaltzy romance. Ron only laughed more and shook his head. That wasn't exactly what he had meant.
He held out his arms to her, and Hermione gleefully leapt into them. Ron carried her grandly back into their room and placed her gently on the bed. He moved on top of her, then quickly cast Silencing charms all around the room; he also closed all the doors and windows, but let just enough of the moonlight pour in. Another wand flick, and slow, romantic music began to play from a Muggle stereo he had borrowed from Harry. Hermione laughed.
"Ronald Weasley, you are such a charmer!" Ron flashed her his signature lopsided grin.
"Are you ready, love?"
Hermione bit back a smile. "I've been ready most of my life." The newlyweds almost reverently stripped each other of their wedding garments, and then began to make love.
It was almost obliterating in its finale, yet so tender in its build-up. Once their first-time was done, Ron made love to his wife more slowly, gently – almost to the point where he thought he might lull her to sleep. Hermione remained awake, however, adoring how attentive Ron was to her, but also doing what she did best: thinking, about a great many things. Finally, she worked up the courage to voice her thoughts:
"Ron?"
"Hmm?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"….How long have you loved me?"
Ron paused in his slow worship of her body, his hands hovering over her legs as he now thought.
"I would say…I've truly loved you since fourth year…when I first noticed you were a girl." Hermione giggled at that last part; it was an old inside joke between them. "But I would say I fancied you since at least second year, just after you were Petrified."
Hermione bit her lip, recalling that awful time where she had laid in coma-like limbo after the basilisk attacked her. "Was seeing me that way…painful for you?"
"Seeing you Petrified or as more than a friend?"
Hermione grinned at her husband's perceptiveness, a trait that he had improved immensely on since when they had first met as children. "Both."
"Seeing you as more than a friend was definitely terrifying, but…it was an exhilarating terror; the kind that you actually embrace. Adrenaline rush, you know? Seeing you Petrified was scarily terrifying, but I would say I've seen you in other situations that were far more scary."
"Like what?" Hermione didn't know why she had pressed the question, for she thought she knew what the answer would be. But her husband's response surprised her.
"Seeing you with Viktor at the Yule Ball about knocked the wind out of me. I was so panicked over the thought I had lost you. It almost physically hurt to see you in his arms."
Hermione bit her lip. "It hurt to see you in her arms, you know. Lavender's." She looked like she might cry. Husband and wife suddenly made eye contact again.
"I'm sorry," they got out at the same time.
"You have nothing to be sorry for, my love. Nothing," Ron almost hissed with intensity. "It was my fault, all of it – the Yule Ball, Lavender, leaving the Horcrux mission, not saving you from being tortured! You are blameless, you are perfect, Hermione Weasley. I-"
"Sssssshh," Hermione stopped Ron's self-loathing tirade with a finger to his lips. Then she began to kiss his body, her touch full of love, speaking as she did so.
"First of all, Ronald Weasley, none of the above is your fault. The stuff with Viktor and Lavender was you just being a teenage boy. The locket made you leave Harry and me; it twisted your mind. And you did save me from Bellatrix – your voice calling for me kept me alive and gave me hope."
Ron tried to protest, but she cupped his face, holding his eyes. "You know it's true! And even in you did make mistakes, I forgave you a long time ago." She continued her bodily worship of him, Ron entranced by the love she poured over him.
"Second of all, I am far from being blameless – I made mistakes too – but hearing that you think I'm perfect warms my heart. Third," and here she smiled shyly "keep referring to me as your love, and fourth-" she arched up to nip his ear lovingly and whisper "- say my new name again."
Ron's smile looked in danger of breaking his face. "Mrs. Weasley. My love," his voice dripped with ecstasy. He gave a deep, searing kiss that almost made Hermione swoon.
"See," she smiled. "I don't care about power or fame or wealth. Celebrity pairings mean nothing to me. I don't love Harry; I love you. You're my Ronnie – the only one I want. Never even think about that cursed locket again or wonder if what it said was true. It's not." (Ron had told her about his psychological torment at the hands of Voldemort a few nights after the final battle).
Ron's eyes filled with tears and he began to run his hands along her body again.
"Mine….." he practically growled as he cupped her thighs protectively. At one time, Hermione would have chastised him for such possessiveness; but that was before she learned of all the feelings of inadequacy that had dwelled inside his heart, the fears that the locket had seen there and exploited, the feeling that – compared to Harry and Hermione – he just wasn't good enough.
Hermione let her husband resume their lovemaking, listening to the music that floated around them and feeling Ron's body pressed against her own…
Hundreds of miles away, Harry Potter was sitting in his favorite easy chair at the Burrow. Every few minutes, he would glance across at his wife, Ginny, then back up at the clock. 4:00 AM. Finally, he slammed his hand down on the armrest.
"That's it. I'm calling them."
Ginny groaned. "Bloody hell, Harry, give it a rest! I'm sure Ron and Hermione are fine!"
"They haven't called us once since they left the reception!" Harry argued as he stalked towards his Muggle cellphone anyway. "What if something went wrong?"
"You really think Ron and Hermione would call people on their honeymoon? It's called wanting privacy, Harry! The most communication we had with anybody was sending my folks a two-bit postcard – that arrived after we got back. Besides, even if something is wrong, they would have known to owl or Patronus us or whatever –"
She glanced up from her tirade to see Harry with the phone in his hand, the number already dialed. Her eyes narrowed into slits.
"Don't. You. Dare." Harry stuck out his tongue at her and hit CALL.
Ginny lunged at him, grabbing for the phone while Harry successfully fought her off. "They are four hours behind us in Brasília! At this rate, they're probably already in bed, you insensitive prat!"
But the call was still dialing…
Back in Brazil, Ron and Hermione were still making glorious love. Suddenly, their bliss was pierced by a different sound –
"BLEEP, BLEEP, HELLO MOTO!" Ron's annoying Motorola ringtone suddenly blared. Hermione growled.
"I am going to hex the bollocks off whoever thinks they can call us on our honeymoon!"
"Whatever you say, love," Ron sighed. He rolled off her and stumbled over to his phone charger. When he saw the caller ID, he burst out laughing.
"Guess Harry won't be taking a piss for quite a while!"
Hermione, now sitting up in bed, folded her arms and pouted like a little kid. "Fine. I'll make an exception for Harry. Just pick up!" Ron obeyed.
"Hello?"
"Merlin, Ron! You guys are still awake?"
"No one sleeps on their honeymoon, mate. They shag. You should know that."
Harry's voice seemed to tense at this flip response. "Have you been taking care of my sister?" he growled. Even before becoming siblings through marriage, he and Hermione had always had a surrogate brother/sister-like bond. Thus, Harry was about as protective of Hermione as Ron was of his actual little sister Ginny.
"Yes, Harry. If you want proof, I'll put you on speakerphone. Say hi, Hermione!" Hermione stomped over to her husband. "Hello, Harry," she greeted.
"Hey, 'Mione. Has my tosser of a best mate been treating you right? Because if he hasn't…"
"You'll hunt me down and kill me. I know, I know," Ron sighed. That had become a sort of morbid joke between the two men. When both had gotten engaged, Harry and Ron had come up with a policy that can only be described as Mutually Assured Destruction. The rule? If you hurt my sister, I will hunt you down and kill you.
"Yes, Harry, Ronald's been very good to me. Amazing, in fact."
"Great!" Harry replied, his voice already more cheerful. "So, how's Brasília? Are the beaches nice? Did you get good room service? How's the butterbeer?"
"Goodnight, Harry," Hermione said exasperatedly, sounding more like his mother than his sister-in-law.
"No! Wait! I was just about to tell you how everyone is back here! They're-" The receiver clicked. Back at the Burrow, Harry let out a laugh of disbelief and turned back to his wife, who was now eyeing him smugly.
"She hung up!"
"At last she took you call. I wouldn't have even answered!"
Harry could only shake his head.