Harry could still feel Ron's heart beating against his knuckles, from beneath his cotton t-shirt and muscles and the bones beneath them. Ron's hand held his firmly as they stared into each other's eyes.

Harry leaned forward slowly, wincing inwardly at the stiffness in his lower back, to press his stubbled lips against his husband's. Ron smiled and opened his mouth. The smooth tongue that slid out to meet Harry's tasted of musk and chocolate.

After ninety years, Ron was as devoted a fan of chocolate frogs as ever.

Ron wrapped his other arm tightly around Harry and pulled him over to nestle by his side against the headboard. The fire glowed warm in the hearth, splashing low golden light onto their faces and tangled limbs.

"Hermione came by while you were at work," Harry murmured against Ron's jaw line. "She was collecting for her House Elf charity again."

Harry felt, rather than heard, the chuckle that rumbled through Ron's chest.

"I'm glad she hasn't changed at all," he said, and ran his fingers through Harry's hair. "I'm glad she's still our Hermione."

"And Ernie's," Harry pointed out.

Ron made a face, then shrugged. He didn't need to articulate his disbelief at Hermione's choice of husband for the four thousand thirty-second time.

Harry nuzzled his face deeper into the juncture between Ron's shoulder and neck, inhaling deeply the scent of the man who had shared his entire life.

"Hang on," said Ron, and proceeded to wriggle his way free.

As he ambled toward the loo, he shook his head. "Being old is the pits, Harry," he grumbled. "I can't even have a proper romantic moment with my husband without having to interrupt it for a jimmy riddle."

He thumped down the corridor. Harry lay still, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, which he'd memorised decades ago, and watched grow over time.

When Ron returned, he flopped heavily onto the bed next to Harry. Groaning slightly at the creaks in his joints, Harry rolled over onto him. Thanks to his long career as a very successful Seeker for the Cannons, much to Ron's delight, Harry had kept his lithe form and had never weighed very much at all.

Ron had got skinnier and softer in his later years, but Harry still loved to lie on top of him.

Ron grinned up at him, the blue eyes as bright and wide as when he was sixteen.

"So, then," said Harry, pausing to nibble at the edge of Ron's white-stubbled jaw line, "what was that about being old?"

Harry could feel the chuckle again.

Ron squeezed Harry tightly against him, and kissed him so long they'd both almost forgotten the question.

"Being old is the best thing that ever happened to us, Harry," answered Ron at last.

Harry kissed him again.

"I promised, didn't I?" he asked when he had finished.

"Yeah," agreed Ron. "Best promise you ever made."

Neither of them got much sleep that night, but it was for a very good reason.