I, Insert Your Name, do not own Insert Book's Name. Nor do I claim to be Insert Book's Author's Name.
I dedicate this story to two women who have been waiting 3+ and 4+ years for thier men. I wish you luck!
Summary: Harry pressed his hand against his breast pocket, feeling the small circle of metal against his chest. This was it! Harry was going to finally ask Ginny! He just hopes she says yes.
Ch 1: Four Years
Ron watched as Harry James Potter, the boy who lived, the man who defeated you-know-who, frantically circled the room for half an hour like a fifteen-year-old witch waiting for the results of her pregnancy test. If Harry's pale face didn't show how nervous the boy was the sudden stops by the garbage pail with the over whelming sick feeling would certainly be a telling sign. In fact after half an hour of watching this Ron, himself, was starting to feel the need to pay a visit to the porcelain man.
"Sweet Merlin's knickers, Harry! If you don't sit down I will do a sticking charm on your arse so you'll never leave the couch again," Ron finally shouted. "And stop that bloody mumbling or I swear…"
"I'm sorry. I'm just nervous about tonight."
"I know, mate, but really! Just calm down! There is no way that Ginny will refuse you. You two have been dating for, what, three years now? I say it's about time."
"Four years, actually."
"Four years and you haven't asked yet? I'm surprised she hasn't killed you in your sleep yet!"
"Four years isn't that long…"
"Four years isn't that long? Four years isn't that long!? Sweet Merlin's knickers, Harry! Four years may be little to you, but we're dealing with women here! To a patient woman three years is stretching it and Ginny has never been a patient woman. You get to four years and you might as well consider yourselves bloody permanent boyfriend/girlfriend and few girls want that! I wouldn't be surprised if she bloody chucks you tonight before you even get the chance to say the bloody words! ... Harry, you don't look so good."
With each word Ron spoke, Harry grew steadily worse till his face was reminiscent of the gray lady's, his palms oozed sweat, and he had gained the appearance as if he could not decide whether to faint or to vomit.
"You…You really think it's that bad?"
Ron scrunched up his face, "Well, I'm sure she loves you, so you have that on your side. Just make sure you ask tonight! Love can only get you so far before she loses hope."
With these new thoughts in his head, Harry was again circling the room.