Work Text:
Hermione groaned as once again, Ron didn’t seem to even register her existence as they stepped through the fireplace at the Burrow. They’d had an argument about this just the week before, as they’d come home from a lovely Sunday dinner where Ron had not so much as asked her to pass him the salt the entire time they’d been there. While she didn’t expect him to wait on her hand and foot, these dinners were sometimes the only time they spent together while awake. Even their nights had become perfunctory, with Ron rolling on top of her, wriggling about like a wet fish before letting out a sound like a dying cat, and rolling off of her again. At first she’d gotten aroused enough to need to finish herself while he started to snore next to her, now she simply wanted a shower, and half the time actually got up to take one. Not once had Ron woken up, or even checked that she’d enjoyed herself.
Ron was on his knees, Victoire hanging on his neck while James speed crawled towards him. The kids adored him, and it made Hermione ache as she watched him interact with his niece and nephew while they’d had no success conceiving. He blamed her for it because she wasn’t very motherly in the way that Mrs Weasley was, but she so desperately longed for a child of her own. In fact, she could no longer bear babysitting when Harry asked because Ginny was too busy and he was running late locking up at the office. She’d often wondered why Harry had become an auror when it was so clear he needed to teach, but maybe that was a pot she could stir when her own wasn’t about to boil over. In any case, having to give James back at the end of the day, or weekend, tore at her heart in a way that she knew would ruin her mentally if she wasn’t careful.
Ron looked back at her, that damned smile on his face that she’d once believed was for her and her alone, but his eyes slid past her, never even noticing her as he continued to look around before eventually landing on his mother, who was bustling about in the kitchen and yelling at her numerous offspring to get the table set and would you please get the children out of the rafters, Bill?
Hermione loved the chaos, loved the love that shone out of every moment, and at the same time, she hated coming there every damn Sunday. Hated how she felt out of place always. Never fit in as a muggle, couldn’t quite shape herself into a proper witch. Stood out like a sore thumb with her politics, was the only Weasley spouse to not at least have gotten pregnant so far.
The walls of the tiny house closed in on her and she all but ran for the garden, waving her assent to Mrs Weasley as she yelled for her to bring back some herbs when she got back.
Yes, I’ll be a dear. Hermione thought bitterly as she stalked to the far end of the garden, where several bramble bushes blocked her from sight so she could lean on the fence and heave out a heavy sob.
“Blimey!” A crash sounded on the heel of the exclamation, and Hermione pulled herself back together as she cautiously approached the shed it had come from. Wand at the ready, she toed open the door, ready for any number of things gone wrong, but all she found was Mr Weasley at the bottom of a pile of harmless knick knacks.
“Oh, let me help you, Mr Weasley.” She waved her wand to clear the gizmos, some of which she recognised, and then offered him her hand to get him to his feet again.
“When will you start calling me Arthur as I’ve asked?” He dusted himself off, shaking his head as his own clumsiness. “Thank you, dear. Let’s not tell Molly about this, okay?” He laughed sheepishly as he tapped his nose.
“Of course….Arthur.” She’d never really known why she had resisted calling him by his first name, and it came out in a conspiratorial whisper now, though she couldn’t help but smile at the gleeful giggle that escaped him as she did.
He wrapped a congenial arm around her shoulders as they steered each other back to the Burrow, stopping along the way for Mrs Weasley’s herbs.
“I found a stray.” Hermione joked as she handed off the herbs, though all Mrs Weasley did was tut as Arthur kissed her cheek.
“You better not have been getting into trouble dear. I swear, that one’s worse than the twins ever-” She cut herself off and went back into the kitchen to keep herself busy.
“It never gets any easier.” Arthur said with a sigh, watching Molly, but seemingly out of his depth to actually comfort her in any meaningful way.
The rest of the day passed much as any other, yet something felt different to Hermione. Or maybe she simply had changed, no. She’d admitted to herself that her relationship was over, maybe never actually had been alive to start with, she’d just been easy and expected.
Ron too seemed to be aware, but since for him the only thing that changed was that he stopped rolling on top of her, he seemed just fine with things as they were while Hermione -now that she was aware- just grew more and more miserable.
Then Mrs Weasley died. The entire Weasley clan seemed to fall apart right alongside her, and Ron not in the least.
In the wake of the funeral, and all the pain the loss of the matriarch caused, Hermione almost had hope that it could strengthen their relationship, especially when after some deliberation they decided to move into the Burrow, both to fix it up a little bit, and to keep Arthur company.
But soon, it was Hermione and Arthur left alone there while Ron was helping out at the shop, then Harry had helped him get a job in the auror’s office shortly before announcing his departure to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts instead.
They celebrated, first at the Leaky Cauldron, and then at the Burrow when they were asked to leave. Hermione couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this free, nor been this drunk. She wasn’t sure she’d ever actually been that drunk before.
Still, it fell to her and Arthur to tidy up once their assorted friends and family had gone to bed or fallen asleep in the various comfortable chairs and sofas around the Burrow.
“Thank you, Hermione. You and Ron have brought life back into this place.” Arthur hugged her before disappearing into his bedroom, and Hermione stood as if welded to the spot at the realisation that while her own bed -and Ron- were waiting for her, she much rather would have gone with Arthur instead.
She went up to their room and got herself a blanket before finding an empty chair to sit in and read. Sleep would not come that night, not when she knew that she would have to break up with Ron as soon as she got a chance to catch him alone, and she couldn’t sleep next to him knowing that, nor could she sleep out in the open surrounded by friends and family, the only family she had left since the memory charms she’d put on her parents had been too strong to safely reverse, even after Bill had pulled some strings with his cursebreaker buddies.
Hermione blinked away tired tears as she tried to focus on the page in front of her, but instead she just stared at it while her mind wandered. What would her life be like once she and Ron were no longer together? She couldn’t stay at the Burrow, so she supposed she’d rent a flat somewhere, try to actually deepen some of her friendships, though her closest friends were Harry and Ginny, and she somehow doubted they would be all that welcoming after the breakup.
The early light of dawn filtered through the windows as she got up to make a pot of tea, though she was sure that it would be a while before anyone started to wake up; they weren’t teenagers anymore, and it would take them a bit to come back to life, though she half expected Arthur to make an appearance soon. After all, he usually was up before her and Ron, and had been making strides in trying out Molly’s recipes, which she’d left written down, amended so often that they were sometimes illegible. Arthur had started to copy down the ones the three of them had deemed mastered in a new notebook, though they all knew that Mrs Weasley’s notebook would stay in its place on the counter for as long as Arthur lived there.
She sat down at the kitchen table, enjoying her last moments of peace there. She was halfway through her second cup of tea when the first people started waking up, and soon chaos reigned. Chaos didn’t end until well into the night with the almighty fit that Ron threw when she told him she didn’t want to continue their relationship, that only ended when Arthur told them both to go to bed sternly. It was one of the very rare times she’d actually heard him get this serious, and she wondered how differently Ron could have been if Arthur had used that tone more often.
She slept in what used to be Charlie’s room that night, the bedsheets vaguely smelling of fire even though he hadn’t slept there in over a decade. Maybe that should be a plan, go visit him in Romania, and see if Viktor would like to meet up in Bulgaria. Travel the world some while she wasn’t fully entrenched in the political climate that so resisted the changes she wanted to bring about even as she slowly but surely made them happen.
“Ron’s left to stay with Harry and Ginny.” Arthur said when she came down the next morning, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“Oh…” She didn’t really know what to say to that as she poured herself a cup of tea and sat down opposite him, frowning into her tea. “I’m sorry, that isn’t fair. I should be the one to leave.”
“No.” Arthur said, uncharacteristically sharply as he shook his head. “No, I’ve seen firsthand these past few months that you were not the problem in your relationship, and whether you are with Ron or not, you are family. I want you to stay.”
Hermione was stunned at that, a warmth spreading through her chest at the realisation that someone had actually seen her try and try again. “Well, alright then. I’ll stay until I find somewhere else.” She agreed, sipping her tea and trying to relax.
Arthur’s smile in response was tight, and she couldn’t read it, but the subject was dropped in favour of their routine of cooking breakfast together. She couldn’t remember when they’d started it, but since Ron never showed his face until they were done, it felt as if they’d been doing it together forever, just her and Arthur.
At Arthur’s insistence, Hermione took some time off to centre herself, but while she missed the peace of others leaving her be while she’d been with Ron, she found herself much more at peace in general. When she went back to work, she got a lot of compliments about her appearance, and she couldn’t help but feel like Arthur had been a large part of that; while she didn’t particularly put a whole lot of effort into her looks, she did take better care of herself in general since Arthur reminded her to eat and hydrate, and they went on frequent walks together.
More than once, they’d fallen asleep on the sofa together and she’d woken up in her bed, all tucked away. Once, she’d been the one to wake deep in the night, and she’d tucked Arthur in gently before sneaking away, though she had trouble falling asleep that night, for the first time since she and Ron had broken up.
It was the anniversary of Mrs Weasley’s death, and Arthur wanted all his children home for it. Most of them came, though Bill stayed at Shell Cottage with a sick Victoire. It was good to see them all again, to be surrounded by family again. She was back on speaking terms with Ginny, who was heavily pregnant with her second child, and while Harry kept his distance while Ron was there, he made sure she knew that he simply didn’t want to have a fight with Ron about her that day. Ginny told her that Ron still wasn’t able to get over her, that everything he did and said still came back to her and how unfair she’d been to him.
“Doesn’t it get tiring?” She asked, but Ginny just shrugged as she groaned and readjusted her posture.
“That’s just Ron.”
Hermione dropped the subject after that, and while things continued on somberly, she felt like she was a part of the Weasley clan now in her own right, not just as Ron’s girlfriend. She said as much to Arthur as they were cleaning up after people had settled down with drinks for the evening, or gone home to spouses and children again.
“Oh, Hermione. You’ve been family since your second year at Hogwarts.” Arthur sounded so sad when he said it, as if disappointed that it had taken her this long to actually realise a truth that had been there for so long that it should have been hard for her to remember what it had been like before. He reached out to squeeze her hand, and she wondered for a moment at the expression on his face before it was replaced with a gentle smile.
“Are you okay, Arthur? Really?” She asked as she turned her hand in his grasp to squeeze it gently, frowning when he shook his head.
“Not in the slightest, not tonight. But I will be.” He hung the tea towel he’d been drying dishes with over the back of a chair and disappeared up into his room, leaving Hermione to feel for him as she flicked her wand to turn off the light in the kitchen, then joined George, Angelina, and Percy in a game of exploding snap, courteously under a muffliato spell as to not disturb anyone.
“You’re doing a really decent thing here, Hermione, taking care of Dad.” Percy remarked in between rounds when actual conversation could be had. Hermione bristled at that. She certainly wasn’t doing Arthur any favours by taking advantage of his kindness, though she also did think he was genuinely glad for her company.
“He’s a really nice man, you know.” She said as neutrally as she could before begging off of the next round. She couldn’t bear to catch their mixed glances of pity and gratefulness at her apparently having taken who they saw as their addled father off their hands. She was so angry on his behalf that she needed to rinse herself off in the shower for almost an hour before the rage that had bubbled up in her finally settled to a seething simmer.
She resolved never to mention it to Arthur though, she didn’t think any good could come of that, though at the same time if he asked she didn’t think she could lie about it.
It still took her until the summer, when they went for a walk along the river and he rolled up his sleeves to put his hands in the water to cool down that she realised she was attracted to him. Once she did realise though, she was unable to un-realise, and almost every moment became torture. The way he smiled at her, genuinely pleased to see her as she poured her tea in the morning and he read the Prophet, handing off the sections he knew she liked to read once he was through with them. The concentration lines around his eyes when he tinkered with some muggle gizmo that she could have simply given him the instruction manual for, but never did because he was so delighted when things happened, regardless of if those things progressed him, and in extension of that, the way he delighted at failure and what could be learned from it just as much as his successes. The way the tendons in his forearms stood proud as he cooked, and the genuine joy in his laugh when either of them succeeded at something. The way his arms felt around her shoulders when they hugged.
It was after one such hug, meant to simply be a goodnight, that she found the courage to press a kiss to his cheek, her own burning as she stepped back, but without ending the embrace.
“I couldn’t ask-”
“You’re not asking. I am.” Hermione interrupted as she leaned forward, then brushed her lips gently against his, giving him all the chance to tell her to stop or to pull away. Instead, he pulled her close, a small smile on his lips, one she hadn’t seen before, full of promises that she couldn’t wait to find out if he could keep.
He slid his hand along the bottom of her jaw to cup the back of her skull as he kissed her deeply, letting out a soft hum of pleasure as she melted into the kiss and pressed herself against him.
“I don’t-” He sighed as he rested their foreheads together, both breathing heavily. “I’ve never done this with anyone other than Molly.” He admitted as his hands rubbed up and down her sides, though Hermione wasn’t sure just who he was trying to comfort with the motions.
“I’ll take care of you.” She promised before catching his lips with her own and looping her arms around his neck. He let out another soft sound of pleasure before pulling away again.
“This is madness.” He whispered with a shake of his head even as he pressed soft kisses down her throat.
“Is it?” She whispered back with a moan as she let her head fall backwards, her thumb rubbing just underneath Arthur’s shirt at the back of his neck and delighting at the shiver that elicited.
Arthur pulled away, cleared his throat, and took a step back. “Are you sure?” He asked seriously, taking her hands in his and squeezing gently as she nodded and pulled him towards her room. He seemed to relax a little, and it was only then that she realised she didn’t want to do this in the room Arthur had shared with his wife for so long, and judging by how easily he followed her lead, neither did he.
It felt almost illegally good as he gently stripped off her jumper and -she had no other word for it- started to worship her body with gentle strokes starting at her neck and throat, following the lines of her collarbones and shoulders, then tracing his lips down the same path as she pushed his shirt open and off, trailing nails gently down his shoulders and back as she sighed softly.
“So beautiful.” Arthur whispered as he stepped back again so they both could take off their jeans, and Hermione laughed nervously at the reverent way he said it, as well as the awkward feeling of transitioning to the bed. It had been so long since she’d had passion with anyone other than her hand, and she’d forgotten the rules when it wasn’t perfunctory to boot.
She crawled up on the bed next to him, feeling very much like a girl again, all aflutter and giggly as he pulled her close and she straddled him.
“Hello there.” She ground down against him, grinning as he let out a soft moan and grew a little harder against her.
He laughed softly as he ran his fingers lightly up the outside of her thighs, then rubbed his thumbs against the insides, the tips just barely brushing against the edge of her panties, causing her to let out a trembling moan as she pressed down against him again, suddenly so very aware of how long it had been since a man had been inside her, had aroused her this much.
Arthur didn’t stay idle though; he sat up slightly, enough for one hand to trail up her side and to her back to undo her bra while the other reached up, feather light touches stroking between her breasts, then circling closer and closer to her right nipple while he tossed her bra to the side.
A high pitched moan fell from her lips as he sat up just a little more, his erection pressing against her with the change in position as he pressed the softest of kisses on her left nipple, while twisting her right in a delicious sharp pain, the contrast between the two making her see stars for a moment. She rocked against him impatiently, and he chuckled against her chest before pulling away to gently push her off of him.
They were both eager to take off the last bits of clothing, giggling as Arthur got his foot stuck in his haste to kick his underwear off the bed, and then both going silent as they admired each other’s nakedness until Hermione ran her finger ever so slowly up Arthur’s erection to swipe up a bead of precum that had dripped down the length.
“Merlin, Hermione.” He whispered as he reached out to stay her hand. “I have some tricks up my sleeve, but I’d rather not have to use them yet.” He winked as she used his grip on her hand to pull him down on top of her, then settled comfortably between her legs. He felt so right there, she felt so whole as he reached down to position himself and then pressed in slowly. They never lost eye contact as he sank deeper, until eventually she’d taken all of him inside her, a throbbing heat that she clenched around ever so slightly as if to confirm it was really there. “Oh, Arthur.” She sighed as she wrapped her legs around his back, causing the both of them to groan before he pulled back, and then all of a sudden thrust back in, making her yelp in delighted surprise.
He laughed again, that same gleeful laugh that she’d found so attractive. “You feel divine.” He murmured, alongside other such compliments that Hermione couldn’t quite manage to pay attention to as his hips set a rhythm inside her that turned her brain to pulp and sparked pleasure in every cell in her body, all centred around the wet slide in and out.
Arthur’s breathing got heavier as he kissed her again, and shifted to balance himself on one hand, the other trailing down her body to press against her clit, and she screamed at the overwhelming pleasure as she clenched around him. He didn’t let up though; his thumb continued to circle her clit, keeping her on the high until his rhythm faltered and he pulsated inside her, slowing down only when she whimpered, overstimulated as he panted against her neck.
It took her a moment to gain the wherewithal to drop her legs, and he pulled out and rolled off of her to give her room to breathe, but then he waved his wand to pull the covers up over them and gathered her in his arms.
“Remind me why we haven’t been doing this all along?” She whispered through a sated smile while he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Because this was all the sweeter for it.” He told her with a yawn. He fell asleep shortly after, but Hermione lay awake in his embrace, basking in the pleasure, in the way she could still feel him inside her, and then later when she realised his seed was slowly leaking out of her. If she hadn’t been so convinced she was infertile, she might have played with the idea that his seed would take hold within her, but she knew better. Still, the feeling of being so thoroughly his was arousing her all over again, and she reached down to swirl through her own arousal and his seed, pressing two fingers inside herself and rubbing against her clitoris with the heel of her hand. She’d only meant to quickly get herself off, and maybe sleep after that, but her movements woke Arthur up, and he smiled as he watched her.
“Would you like some help with that?”
Hermione giggled; he was so polite even when it came to this, but she shook her head. “Go back to sleep.”
Arthur kissed her deeply, and she sighed into his mouth as she brought herself off again. Arthur was asleep before she’d managed to cast a cleaning charm, and this time she found herself following him swiftly.
They didn’t speak of that night for a while, and went on much as usual, though Hermione found herself glancing at him, and more specifically as his crotch often now, then having to bite her lip as she remembered how he felt inside her. She didn’t notice how much he was casting similar glances at her until one day she dropped something between the wall and the sofa, and as she bent to retrieve it, a moan sounded from behind her. She turned toward the sound to find Arthur standing there, a dark light in his eyes.
She smiled and bent forward again, then gasped as she felt the sofa dip behind her, and hands pulled down her underwear right from underneath her dress.
Before she could so much as question what was going on, she felt Arthur push into her with a heavy sigh.
“Merlin…” He said quietly as he grabbed her hips. “I cannot stop thinking about how you feel around me.”
Hermione braced herself against the back of the sofa as she angled her hips back, knowing this would not last and determined to enjoy every second of it nonetheless.
The whole world faded away until nothing existed but the pleasure coursing through her from his cock moving inside her and the pressure of his fingers on her hips, holding tight enough that she was sure it would bruise and added a delicious contrast at the same time.
She muffled herself by biting down on the sofa in between her white knuckled hands, and Arthur squeezed her hips tighter. “No, let me hear you. There’s no one else and you sound lovely.”
How he was able to speak in full sentences Hermione couldn’t guess, but her teeth let go of the sofa at the same time Arthur slid his right hand down to play with her clit, punching a loud moan out of her lungs as her pleasure doubled to an almost painful degree. But he swirled his fingers around her clit instead of pressing on it while thrusting in, out, and in again, then rubbed firmly up from where he’d slid all the way in over the sensitive tip.
Hermione’s thighs shook as she choked on a moan, clenching around Arthur as she came.
As soon as she started to relax, her legs no longer supporting her, and her arms feeling like rubber, Arthur wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her in place as he thrust harder and faster, just chasing his own pleasure, which he found soon with a whispered moan of her name against the nape of her neck, sounding almost like a prayer as he emptied himself inside of her, barely able to keep himself from collapsing on top of her.
They breathed heavily as they tried to gather themselves enough to extricate from one another, then collapsed onto the sofa, exchanging silly grins.
“You are a witch, you know.” Arthur pointed out as he dug his wand out of his pocket and summoned the item she’d been looking for to him and handed it to her.
Hermione decided against pointing out she’d dropped it on purpose to relieve herself of sexual tension and instead kissed him in gratitude as she tucked him back into his trousers.
“Thank you, Arthur.”
After that they spent the night together more often, and Arthur showed her some of those tricks he’d mentioned. She’d asked him once to show off some of those tricks he’d mentioned the first time they had sex, and they found a new favourite way to fall asleep as a result: with his head buried between her legs while he brought her to orgasm again and again until she passed out. They’d wake up the next morning with him using her thigh as a pillow and work themselves up all over again, though they rarely had the kind of time they wanted to take, and she still ended up having to hurry to make it to work in time. Not once did Arthur make her feel selfish for prioritising her career though, and in fact he delighted in picking up where they left off after -and sometimes during- dinner.
Then Charlie had an accident in Romania involving a dragon and a selkie and Arthur went over to help nurse his son back to health since he refused transfer to St Mungos or another hospital.
The separation was hard, though they sent letters frequently, and floocalled as often as they dared. It was during one of those floocalls that they finally admitted they weren’t ‘just’ having sex, but in fact had fallen for one another, and they decided that once Arthur returned to England, they would announce their relationship to their friends and family. She’d told her mother in a moment of weakness, and while she hadn’t understood, she’d been supportive, especially with learning why Hermione had broken down to begin with.
She’d gotten pregnant. Hermione still couldn’t believe it as she prepared a welcome home party for Arthur and absently ran a hand over her belly, showing far too much by then for her to simply have been letting herself go. She made a face at the thought; as if the thickness of one’s belly had anything to do with that.
It had brought so much into question when she’d realised the truth, and together with her mother she’d had a very long conversation with a gynaecologist, who among other things was able to tell her that far too often the problem was with the sperm, though rarely was the problem looked for there.
Arthur sat right down on his suitcase as he spotted her belly and hugged her close as he pressed kisses to it and their child within.
“What a welcome!” He said after a while, when he was able to gather his thoughts into more than just blissfully happy gibberish during which time Hermione just stroked his hair, so glad to have him close again.
They chatted about Charlie, and his injuries a little after that, while Arthur continuously ran his hand over her belly, as if he hadn’t had seven children before. She said as much to him after a while, to which he grinned.
“I have, yes. And a large part of that is how gorgeous Molly was when pregnant, even more than she already was. The same is true for you.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, which she returned hungrily, and before she really was aware what had happened, he was on his knees before her and had vanished her trousers as he eagerly pressed kisses up her thighs.
“Arthur!” Hermione squealed and giggled as she ineffectively tried to push him away. “We do not have time! We have about thirty minutes to have dinner before our guests arrive.”
Arthur pulled back just enough to give her a pointed stare that very clearly said he was trying to have his dinner just then. Hermione blushed darkly and bit her lip, but shook her head.
“I want to take our time.” She summoned her clothes back to her and got dressed while Arthur got to his feet, his knees audibly protesting. He groaned as he stretched and for the space of a heartbeat Hermione had to fight herself to stick to her resolution to wait. The nights had been long without Arthur, and she often found herself needing to relieve pressure when that hadn’t ever been a problem for her before. It also wasn’t something she wanted to talk to her mother about, and she hadn’t wanted to tell anyone else before she told Arthur, and she hadn’t wanted to tell Arthur in a letter or through the floo, so while she reasoned it was probably a combination of missing him and pregnancy hormones, she wasn’t sure. What she was sure of was that it had been driving her up the wall, and now that he was right there she wanted to flick her wand to strip them both naked and climb him like a tree right in the middle of the living room. But instead she led him into the kitchen, where they coyly avoided eye contact only to end up staring at each other’s mouths as they ate, let out soft sounds of pleasure at the food, and generally tried to pretend they weren’t seconds away from giving in to the urge to worship one another.
The tension between them cooled down to a simmer as they set the dishes to washing themselves and their first guests arrived: Bill, Fleur, and their children. The youngest had just started crawling and came for their shins at lightning speed before demanding to be picked up. Hermione missed the adults’ initial reactions, but by the time she’d picked up little Louis, they both were smiling and congratulating them.
Harry and Ginny were the next to arrive, though without their children, and while Harry’s eyebrows played hide and seek behind his messy hair, they followed Bill and Fleur’s lead. After that Hermione lost track of who arrived when, too caught up making sure everyone had drinks until a hush fell as Ron stalked in, his expression so dark Voldemort would have told him to lighten up.
“Think carefully of what you wish to say.” Arthur’s voice was measured, calm, but had a steel core as he faced his son. He had to look up a little to make eye contact, but Ron shrank before him all the same. With a gulp, he turned on his heel and left the way he came without a word.
Hermione moved to rub Arthur’s back soothingly, hating the fact that her own failed relationship with Ron was now negatively affecting Arthur’s relationship with his son.
“Well, now that we have all of your attention, I’d like to say a few things.” Arthur announced loudly, though it was hardly necessary.
“As you all know, I always said Molly was the love of my life. She brightened even the darkest of days, and I still miss her dearly. I will never stop loving her.” He raised his glass and sipped it. “But that love also leads me to believe that she would not want my life to revolve around the past. She’d want my life to be full of brightness and happiness.” He looked around at his family, his children and grandchildren. “And you all have done a wonderful job of doing that whenever you are around. But day to day, I just missed Molly so much. And even on the days where I did not, I still felt… well, lonely. I missed the companionship of a full house, and having someone to hold, and having silly arguments about what clectrikety is for.” He laughed softly, and there were some scattered laughs as he turned towards Hermione.
“You have given me all of that back, and what’s more you have given me a whole slew of new things to appreciate, from the way your nose crinkles when you can’t figure out how to make some new legislation work, to the way you tuck your freezing toes in the crook of my knees at night to warm them. You’ve made an old man very happy already. Will you make me even happier by marrying me?”