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It was a nothing day, cold in its mundanity, candid in its forgettability. Yet here Ron was watching his wife flip through the pages of a book like he’d never seen her before. He was laid back in bed, eyes drifting open and closed, the weariness of mundanity bringing him away from and towards the edge of sleep.
Mundanity, what a word. Soft in its countenance, said with such vitriol, no Ron was pretty sure the people who complained about shit like this were always destined to be miserable cows. How could anyone be miserable, call something like this ordinary when it always felt surreal to him. Hermione- his wife! What could ever be ordinary about the best thing that had ever happened to him.
Hair tied back with some random string, the loose pieces falling into her eyes, legs curled up as she smiled down at the pages of some book he didn’t give a rat's ass about. His eyes could only stay open long enough to focus on her face, the slight line between her forehead the slight smile on her face, secretive like she thought no one could see it.
Maybe she thought he was asleep, Ron was known for sleeping through almost anything. The candle flickering on her nightstand was nothing. She turned a page, the shadow passing over his face, eyes slowly blinking to compensate for the change in light.
She bit her lip letting out a sigh before setting her book aside. She was humming something soft, the notes gliding up and down as she blew out the candle.
It reminded him of an old song his mother used to sing.
Witches we see all the odd things
The hammers the broom sticks the flawed things
But those odd on and flawed they hold all the riches
Oh riches oh riches
Usually found by Witches
How lucky a wizard should be!
To find an odd one like me!
She slipped into the bed beside him tucking in close as she caressed his face.
“Go to sleep,”
Ron leaned into her hand thinking only that he was the luckiest wizard in the world, “But I’m having such a nice dream.”