Perfect

I sat on the couch in the living room of our flat, watching the news on the Muggle device known as a television. Under it sat the DVD player and VCR, also Muggle devices. Beside me was a Muggle lamp, electricity and all instead of just kerosene or candles. In the other room, the microwave chimed, and I got up.

One thing you get from being married to Rose Weasley is all the Muggle appliances she’d grown up with and knew how to use. It was a big difference from way back when I still lived at the Manor. No house elf to do my cooking and cleaning, no fancy parties and celebrations to dress up for, no aversion to Muggle equipment. Actually, there wasn’t all of the money either, not that I minded. I’d been cut off when I married Rose.

I never regretted it.

I got to the kitchen, the refrigerator humming and the microwave still beeping at me. I pressed the button that popped the microwave’s door open and took out the plate of the things that Rose had taught me how to make. They were called S’mores, little creations of graham crackers, chocolate, and marshmallows. I had taken a liking to them, and Rose had admitted that they were one of her favorite snacks, so I had made some as soon as she left for the store. It was a little surprise, since she seemed to do so much for me and I haven’t done as much for her recently as I could have. I was on break from Quidditch season, and was taking full advantage of my two week reprieve.

I sat the hot plate on the counter, blowing on my fingertips, when there was a knock on the door. I went to open it, not really caring that I was just in boxers and a sweater. It’s not like it could be someone I wanted to impress, is it?

I was wrong about it being someone I wanted to impress.

“Why didn’t you just come in?” I asked dumbly from in the doorway as Rose stood on the front stoop, juggling two large paper bags. I took them from her, and she laughed.

“I couldn’t come in. I left my key here and locked the door when I left.”

“Oh,” I said intelligently, grinning at her.

“You’re going to freeze your nads off. What are you thinking, standing there in just boxers and a sweatshirt?” she asked, taking on her mother tone as she breezed past me and into the living room, after kissing the tip of my nose.

“I’m fine. It’s not like I’m going outside, is it?” I asked her as I took the paper bags to the front door.

“Next time we’re outside, I’m going to jinx your pants invisible for all the neighbors to see what you have - or don’t.” her mocking voice came as I put the milk in the refrigerator.

“Hey, you know I’m fairly well endowed!” I called back teasingly, and I was rewarded with the sound of her laughter.

“Do I, now?” she called back as I finished putting our groceries away and picked up the plate of still warm S’mores.

“Do I need to remind you?” I asked, chuckling a little.

I went into the den taking a seat beside her on the sofa as she hit play on the DVD remote. I held the plate under her nose and she looked down with a grin, saying, “I should never have let you know that I loved these things.”

She took one and took a generous bite, sighing.

I loved the glimmer of slight ecstasy that the chocolate gave her, the small sighs she let out when she took a particularly satisfactory bite. I loved the way she licked her lip when the chocolate strung out from the treat as she took a bite, or the way she tried to politely cover her mouth when she did so.

There was nothing I didn’t love about Rose Weasley. I loved absolutely everything about her.

Yes, it’s repetitive. But it’s true.

I lay awake after she had fallen asleep, her normally sleek and orderly auburn curls falling a little haphazardly around her face and her beautiful brown eyes closed while she drifted in dreamland. Her chest rose and fell with each gentle breath she took, and for what seemed like the hundredth time, I counted the freckles on her face. There were three across the bridge of her nose, and nine scattered lightly across her cheeks. Her skin was soft, and kind of pale, a creamy texture that was heaven to touch.

She had more freckles across her shoulders. About five, maybe six. I had counted each one several times before, but there always seemed to be times when I couldn’t find that elusive sixth freckle, or when I would have sworn it was in a different spot.

As I gently touched the freckle on the front of her right shoulder, a gentle smile graced her soft lips, and I smiled at it.

Yes, there was absolutely nothing about Rose that I was not irrevocably in love with. She was everything to me.

So I didn’t have the Malfoy riches anymore. So my parents hadn’t fully accepted that I was married to a half-blood. And Rose’s father didn’t approve, either. So what? I had everything I needed in Rose. Rose Weasley - wait, that’s not right. I should be calling her Rose Malfoy. It’s still going to take some getting used to, but I wouldn’t change anything.

She’s perfect.

Even when her hair is in disarray, and she hasn’t applied her makeup, or even when her makeup is running, she’s beautiful. She is perfect in every single way, from the sandy blonde, nearly invisible hair on her stomach to the very tip of her nose.

I still remember the first time she’d come over to the flat, before we were married and before it was ours.

Knock. Knock.

I stood up from my brief nap on the couch, wondering who the hell would be bothering me at a time like this. I’d just gotten home after a match with the Cannons. It had ended at Harpies, 380, and Cannons at 320. We wouldn’t have won if Albus hadn’t caught the snitch when he did.

“Hello?” I asked when I opened the door, trying not to yawn and completely failing.

“Hey,” she said softly, looking at her toes. “Can I come in?”

“Yes! Yes, you don’t have to ask!” I stood aside, letting her in. I was in a pair of lounging pants that she’d given me a few weeks ago, without a shirt. I flushed slightly, but she didn’t seem to mind as she stepped inside.

“Um…” she said softly, and I could tell she was upset about something.

“Let’s sit on the couch, okay?” I said, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder and guiding her to it. “You can tell me what’s wrong then, right?”

“Y-yeah,” she’d said, smiling thankfully at me. She was kind of timid in the flat, not knowing what to do or say, and not wanting to be rude by just coming in and sitting down as if she owned the place.

How things had changed from then, when she’d come to say that her father had gotten mad and didn’t approve. I hadn’t expected much different…but I didn’t care. I was furious that Ronald Weasley could be like that to his only daughter, though. That was the only reason I’d cared what he thought - because it meant so much to Rose. After another two years, Rose had given up, not caring what her father thought, and we had gotten married. We’d been twenty already, together since we were sixteen.

I watched her shift in her sleep, another smile touching her lips, and I wondered what she was dreaming. And I knew that it would only get better from here on out. We were a family. Our third anniversary was in a month…and in another eight, we were going to be parents.

And who knows? Maybe her father will get his act together and accept us, because there’s really nothing he can do about it now. He’s going to be a grandfather, whether he wants a Malfoy in the family or not. We still have to tell him, but we’ve already told Hermione. She’s a great Mum - I even call her Mum now. She understands, and she can see that I would do anything for her little girl. Her beautiful, wonderful, radiant, soon-to-be-a-mother, daughter.

Anyway, everything about Rose is perfect, and the life we have leaves nothing to be desired. Sure, we’d like familial approval and blessing, but that will take time to sink in. I know that, eventually, her family will accept us. And I hope that mine will, too. In the meantime, however, I’ll settle for what I’ve got with her.

You can’t get much better than perfect, anyway.