Author's note: So this story is a gift for an absolutely lovely reader and reviewer, HattieTheGreat, who loves Ron and Hermione. Seriously, she's amazing!
So this is a story about Christmas and Roses and Ron/Hermione and weddings and babies and parents... Little stuff like that. I think I'm going to take this story up to either Ron's proposal or the wedding... Depends on HattieTheGreat, since this is her story! And also how much interest I get...
So, to HattieTheGreat: Thank you so much for all of your support. Love you to bits. Hope you like the story, and a very Merry Christmas ;)
Don't own Harry Potter.
Ron was nervous. Really nervous. His hands trembled as he watched Harry press each number, then a green one.
He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans before taking the phone.
"Harry, should it be making that noise?"
"What noise?"
He put the phone to Harry's ear. "Yeah, it's just ringing."
"Good morning, Pearly White's dental practice, Margret Kelly speaking, how may I help you?"
"Harry, what do I?"
"Tell her you're a family friend of Doctor Granger, and need to speak to him as a matter of urgency." Harry hissed.
"ERR, I'M A FAMILY FRIEND OF DOCTOR GRANGER'S AND I REALLY NEED TO SPEAK TO HIM AS A MATTER OF URGENCY."
"Stop shouting, stop shouting!" Harry whispered urgently.
"Is this a prank call? Are you selling something?" she sounded suspicious.
"A prank call?" Asked Ron, sounding thoroughly bewildered. Harry shook his head. "No- I-"
"Name!" Harry mouthed frantically. "Name!"
"My name is Ronald Weasley." He looked at Harry, a desperate sort of helplessness on his face. Harry had to fight to contain his laughter. He used his wand to write the words.
Tell her you go out with Hermione.
"I'm dating Doctor Granger's daughter."
The woman hesitated. "Very well. He's preparing for his next patient. I shall hand you over in just a second."
The sound of high heels clicking on a hard floor could be heard. A door opened, and muffled voices could be heard.
"Ronald Weasley for you, sir." Said the woman.
"Oh. Thank you, Margret." Suddenly, his voice was louder. "Hello, Ron. Is everything alright? Is Hermione ok? Nothing's happened, has it?"
They had carefully rehearsed what he would say next, but Ron's mind went blank. Had it not been for Harry's back up plan and quick thinking, no words would have come out at all. He thrust the piece of paper in Ron's hand.
"No, not at all. I would like to come see you today, if that's alright. I have something to ask you and I think it is better to do it in person, face to face."
"Oh, Err, Ok. Well, I finish at 7, why don't you meet me at work, and we can go for coffee? Only it's probably best if you travel by the normal way, err, for us I mean, because my secretary Margret will be here, and I don't think she's used to people appearing out of a fireplace. Do you know how to find us?"
"Yes. I shall see you at 7, sir."
"Good. I shall see you then, Ron."
Ron put the phone down, and breathed a sigh of relief, falling back against the wall. "Well, could have been worse."
"Yeah. You just need to remember what you want to say." Harry looked like he was trying extremely hard not to burst out laughing, and made a mental note to tell the story to Fred and George later...
"What are you doing?" Ginny asked, coming in through the kitchen. "Were you using the phone?"
"What?" Asked Harry, distracted. "Oh, yeah, Ron needed to phone Hermione's parents."
"Why?" Asked Ginny, half concerned, half suspicious. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah. They've invited Hermione and I to have dinner at their place, and I wanted to know if they needed me to bring anything." Harry was extremely surprised at how smoothly the lie fell from Ron's lips. Ginny shrugged, and turned to Harry.
"We're looking at the house in an hour, Harry. And I want to look at toys for the nursery when we're done."
"Sure." Harry grinned at her. Ron looked away.
"Blimey, Harry. You, a dad." he said, once she'd left. "Are you not nervous?"
"Not really, as it happens. I'm quite excited. Besides, you're going to be an uncle for the second time, too. And Godfather."
Ron winced. Two year old Victorie was the apple of his eye, but him? An uncle? It still seemed surreal.
It was also odd because Fleur was due (for the second time) in just over three months. George and Angelina had just announced they too were expecting, though their baby would probably be around 5 months younger than Harry and Ginny's.
"Yes, I'm surrounded by babies." He laughed. "Nappies and dummies and crying."
At 4, Teddy hardly ever cried. And Victorie hated dummies. Though perhaps the nappies part was accurate. And Ron, however much he may complain, adored his little niece and nephew to distraction.
Harry shook his head. "Anyways, good luck for tonight."
Ron grimaced.
"Thanks mate. Pray he doesn't murder me and I'll pray Ginny doesn't sentence you to death by cuddly toy."
Harry grimaced. "Oh, yeah."
Ron quickly departed after that, going home to shower and get changed. He pulled on a his muggle clothes, then sat staring at the Christmas tree for a bit, lamenting that there was only 9 days until Christmas... That meant only 9 days to get everything sorted...
He only got 5 minutes. Hermione flooed in, a complication he hadn't foreseen. She was meant to be working until 8 tonight! Admittedly, he should have thought of his, since it was doubtful he would get away by 8, let alone make the half hour long journey by muggle transport home, but still, now he might not get away at all.
She dumped her shopping bags on the side and pulled him into a tight embrace. "Hey. You look nice."
"Hey." He said, pulling away but not letting go of the arms he had wrapped around her waist. His mind was whirring so loud it was a surprise she couldn't hear it. What could he say? "You're early."
She began unpacking the groceries. "Yeah, Kingsley let me off. Something about working overtime. I suppose it is a Sunday." She began chopping carrots. "I'm saving up days for our trip to Venice. It's only a month away and I still need 4 days. But Kingsley said he was so impressed with my work he was going to give me them anyways." She sighed, grating cheese for the sauce. "It doesn't feel right, not earning my days off. But I suppose it was very kind of him."
"Hmm." he said, laying his head on her shoulder and wrapping his arms around his waist. "You have earned it, 'Mione. You've earned this holiday ten times over. Honestly, you're turning into Percy!"
She laughed, and it sounded like silk. He smiled, insanely happy. He had been the one to make her laugh like that!
"Can I do anything? We both know I hardly ever do the cooking!" He brushed a curl off her neck with his fingertips. She shivered, and laughed.
"Chop the chicken up, then put it in the pan with the oil."
"What are you making anyway?" he asked.
"Your favourite." she grinned. "Fahitjas."
He grinned. "I swear, Hermione Jean Granger, I will love you until the day I die."
"Glad to hear it." She laughed. "Oh, I met Harry on my way home. He told me you're going out with him at 6.30."
"What?" Ron asked, bemused, then caught on. Making a mental note to thank Harry from the bottom of his heart the next time he saw him, he said. "Oh, yeah. Kind of impromptu. Ginny's taking him baby shopping, and I thought a boys night out afterwards might keep him from losing his sanity."
She laughed. "Very thoughtful of you." She paused. "Do you think we'll ever have children, Ron?"
He stirred in the sauce. Where had that come from? "I guess I hadn't really thought about it before. Why?"
"Everyone's just moving on with their lives." She shrugged. "I just thought, will we ever get that feeling." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Would you like children?"
He was completely thrown. "I guess- I mean,- not right now, but-" He shrugged at her. "Eventually. When the times right."
She smiled back. "Good." she picked up the plate of rice, and the Fahijas out the oven and set them on the little wooden table that adjoined from the kitchen. "definitely not in this flat, anyway." she sighed.
Their two bedroom flat was small and crampt, with the kitchen and dining room in one room, a living room and two bedrooms. It was also quite cluttered, with her books on almost every work surface and flowers to brighten up the place overflowing everywhere. He liked it, but she was right. It was probably time to move on if... If everything went according to plan.
He glanced at the photograph of them with Harry and Ginny on their wedding day, by the majestic Christmas tree which lit the room in the glow of fairy lights...
"Yes, we'd have to move out. Although maybe it's time to do that anyway."
She sat down and began spooning chicken, rice and sauce onto her wrap. "Maybe. Where would we move, though?"
He shrugged, his mouth full of food. Hermione had managed to teach him some manners.
"Somewhere we could have children, when we were ready. In the countryside. I wouldn't like to have kids in London, even on the outskirts. I'd like for my kids to be able to run around in big open spaces and play the sort of games me and my brothers did when we were younger."
She smiled. "I'm not having 7 Weasley kids, Ron!"
"No! Nope, I do not want 7 kids. I think 3s a good number. Actually, 2. I think 2 is the best number. We'd have a library, and a study, and a big yard where they could play Quidditch. The kitchen would be big and airy and bright and the living room would be small and cosy and snug. We'd have one of those sun rooms where it's always warm, even in Winter. And at least 4 bedrooms."
She grinned. "That sounds excellent. I can almost picture... But our budget!" she laughed.
"Hermione, you said yourself we could afford Malfoy Manor, we're just holding out for the right sort of thing to spend it on."
"Yes, but Ron, I have my 5 year plan. That kind of house could cost millions of pounds in muggle money!"
Ron laughed. "Screw the plans. Look, we get paid a lot, and we've been savingever since we left school... I don't need to know how galleons transfer into those weird muggle paper things to know that we have enough money for exactly the kind of house we want. When we started renting this place, it was for convenience. Yet despite all our planning, we're still here."
She grinned. "You're right. Let's do something sensible stupid." She glanced at the clock. "Speaking of stupid, Ron. It's twenty past six."
"Oh. Err, I'll help you clean up."
She snorted. "Now that is stupid." she said and waved her wand. The plates flew into the kitchen, scraped themselves clear of excess food and landed, neatly stacked, in the dishwasher, the last flying out of Ron's hands.
"Go. And have fun." She grinned, watching Ron's retreating back walk down the dimly lit street.
There was an underground station just around the corner, but Ron, who had travelled by underground very rarely (and always with someone else buying the tickets and getting him through the barrier,) was completely lost.
Finally deciding that to ask one of the people in the florescent jackets may be his best bet, he started towards the nearest one, only to be bowled over by an irritable workman on his way home. "Watch where you're going!" he snapped.
"Oh- err- sorry."
The man hurried on his way with a mutinous glance behind him at a very confused Ron.
Ron glanced at the clock. He needed to get a move on. "Excuse me? Sorry, excuse me? I need to get to Oxford street." he looked at the ticket Harry had purchased on his behalf yesterday. "I need the - line."
"Well, follow the signs to the - line then." said the irritable woman, turning to answer the question of a harassed looking woman with a push chair.
Ron followed the people towards the ticket barriers. They put their tickets in a sort of slot. He followed suit. He barrier swallowed his ticket, and opened.
"Hey!" he said to the barrier. "I needed that."
He was attracting rather a lot attention. One passer by was helpful enough to say "Your tickets come out, son. There."
"Right. Thanks." said Ron, as the passer by walked away, chortling.
Ron was completely confused by the escalators, the adverts, and the different lines, but what confused him most of all was the busyness of the small station, and the grumpiness of everyone. He was pushed and jostled by the bustling crowd, and nearly knocked over again twice, but not a single person stopped to apologize.
"If it were anyone but Hermione." he mutter under his breath as he stepped onto the train. It went so fast he was almost knocked over.
Finally making it to Hermione's parents dentistry bang on time, he pulled in a deep breath and pushed open the door.
"I'm sorry, we're closed." Said the secretary, looking him up and down.
"Ron Weasley. We spoke earlier." he almost laughed.
"Oh. Doctor Granger won't be a moment. Please take a seat."
Ron sat on the hard, wooden chair and settled himself down for a long wait. It turned out, however, it wasn't a very long wait at all.
"Ron! How wonderful to see you!"
Hermione's father strode down the corridor, pulling off his long white coat and disposing of his rubber gloves as he spoke.
Doctor Granger liked to say he looked 'average.' He was average in height, a thin but well built man, with reasonably broad shoulders. His hair was a soft dark blond colour, streaked with steely grey around his ears, and his nose was straight and average in size. However, his eyes. His eyes were a rich dark brown color flecked with violet, crinkling with humor. It was here he looked like Hermione.
"Doctor Granger." Ron tried to smile despite the fact his heart was beating out an extremely odd rhythm.
"Shall we?" he asked. "Remember to lock up when you leave, Margret."
Ron's hands were shaking as he attempted to drink his coffee. Seeming to sense this, Doctor Granger said.
"So, Ron, you wanted to ask me a question?"
"Err, yes. I would like permission to marry your daughter." It was if the words had been wrenched from him against his will. That was not what he had planned to say. He had not meant to be so blunt, and half expected Doctor Granger to flat out refuse.
Doctor Granger looked astounded for a moment. Then, inexplicably, he smiled. He leaned back in his chair and surveyed Ron.
He burst out laughing. Seeing Ron's wounded expression, he stopped. "I thought you'd never ask. You have it."
"Really?"
"Of course. I've observed you and Hermione over the past couple of years, Ron. No father could ask for a better man for his daughter."
"Well, I- thank you."
"You know, I feel as if Jean and I have grown apart from Hermione. Every time I went to the platform to pick her up, I expected the little eleven year old girl I'd first brought there to come out. The little eleven year old girl that I gave up, so she could go somewhere she was safe and happy and find a world where she belonged. But she never did come back. What I saw was a young girl and later a young woman of increasing beauty and maturity. You can't imagine how her letters made us feel, Ron. The enchanting stories, the first hand view of Hogwarts life and the magical world. For a father, it was both a blessing and a curse, to know she was happy yet not have a hand in her life, in every decision she made, and later when she told stories of dangerous dark wizards and war, to know I would be completely incapable of protecting her, that perhaps she may be the one to protect me. Even now, part of me feels as if she were stolen from me. It is bittersweet indeed. But Hermione has grown to be everything I could ever have hoped and more, and I am just glad that she still wants me in her life, and Jean too, and that you respect us and our traditions enough to come and speak to us first. So yes, Ron, you have my blessing."
"Thank you. So much." Said Ron. He was touched by Doctor Granger's story. He had never really thought of how it was from the muggleborns parents point of view, not knowing where their child spent the year and not knowing who they would be bringing back. Hermione had spent nearly every Hogwarts summer of his memory with him and his family. He had never really thought of this from her parents point of view. However, were he Doctor Granger, he supposed he would feel cheated.
So Ron had permission to put his master plan into action.