“The rose bushes are finally in full bloom, ‘Mione.” Ron comments from the window, looking out over the garden behind the kitchen. Hermione comes up next to him, looking out the same window and seeing the same roses, just as they had every day
“Look at that, they are.” Hermione agrees, pushing up on her toes to kiss Ron’s cheek. “Now, will you start the fire for me? Rosie and Hugo are going to be here any minute, and I still have to set the table.”
“They lived in this house their whole lives, ‘Mione, they’re not expecting it to be all fancy when they come back to it.” Ron tells her, but he goes to start the fire anyways, whispering a spell when Hermione’s not looking. She makes the dishes dance over to the table with a simple flick of her wand, the silverware and napkins following suit. Ron smiles at her, his expression as warm as the fire, and he comes up beside her. She looks up, craning her neck backwards to meet his eyes, and he kisses her forehead.
“I know they don’t expect it. But it’s different now.” Hermione says simply. Ron understands. The silverware crosses itself across the plates, and Hermione presses closer to her husband. “Do you think we’re ready?”
“Yes.” Ron knows, answering the question beneath the surface question. Hermione understands.