“And do you know what she said?!”
“What?”
“I thought—I thought your voice would be deeper!”
Ron watched, exasperated yet amused, as his wife dissolved into silent, wheezing laughter. She threw her head back, shoulders shaking, and he instinctively placed a hand on her back, half-afraid she’d topple off her stool.
“Oh my gosh—I can’t!” Hermione snorted, trembling with suppressed giggles.
Ron grinned, shaking his head. “That humiliates a bloke!” he said, starting to chuckle.
“I know—she was wrong for that!” Hermione gasped, but judging by how hard she was breathing, she didn’t mean it that much.
Ron just smiled, watching her with open fondness. He reached for her hand. “You look beautiful tonight.”
She really did. His gaze swept over her, taking in the flowy, strapless, hot pink dress hugging her figure. The color looked incredible against her rich brown skin, and her thick curls cascaded freely down her back and shoulders, soft and wild.
“Aw, thank you, baby.” Hermione sobered, her smile warm. “You look quite dashing yourself.”
“You knock me out in comparison.” Ron murmured, bringing her hand to his lips.
He smirked when she flushed. He was in a very romantic mood tonight.
Ron waved his hand to get the waiter’s attention when—
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
“Oh!”
Ron turned at the sound of Hermione’s surprised voice.
Standing beside her was a short, stocky man with greasy brown hair and a patchy beard. Ron rolled his eyes.
“Thank you.” Hermione smiled politely, already glancing away.
“What’s a pretty thing like you doing here all alone?” the guy drawled, flashing too many teeth.
“I’m not alone, my hus—”
“It’s alright, gorgeous, I’ll keep you company.” The man leaned in, completely invading Hermione’s personal space.
Ron tensed, shifting closer, but the guy didn’t even acknowledge him.
Now, Ron was absolutely, unequivocally, one hundred percent sure his wife could take care of herself—she’d proven it more times than he could count. But the smelly-looking bloke leaned in so close he was practically touching her. Then, with dirt-rimmed fingernails, he placed a hand on Hermione’s thigh and squeezed.
Hermione stiffened, already reaching for her wand—
But Ron beat her to it.
His fist shot out in an instant, cracking square into the guy’s face.
Hermione barely had time to react before Ron grabbed the bastard and punched him again, sending him stumbling.
“Ronald, stop it!” Hermione exclaimed, leaping up and grabbing his shoulder.
Ron let her pull him back, sending a dark glare at anyone in the restaurant who dared look at them the wrong way.
“I’ll have you know I was perfectly capable of handling that myself,” Hermione huffed, arms crossed.
“I know, love. Doesn’t mean you should have to,” Ron said unapologetically.
She pursed her lips, staring up at him. He could practically see her melting, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.
Ron groaned, flexing his hand. “Dunno why I went at him Muggle-style,” he muttered, wincing at the throbbing in his knuckles.
Hermione shook her head, frowning at him fondly. “You complete idiot,” she murmured.
Ron grinned, stepping closer, his uninjured hand finding her face.
“Yet you love me,” he smirked, closing the distance.
Nope. He didn’t regret it one bit.