Disclaimer: I don't own Harry or Ginny. They belong to JK Rowling, the genius of all geniuses. All hail Rowling!
They stood in front of the rushing water, each grasping the other's hand, watching the sun's progress as it sank deeper into the horizon, a great, blazing, orange ball. Their toes buried in the soft sand, the water occasionally washing over their feet, watching the sun disappear under the ocean: it was the perfect moment.
She turned her head towards him; her hair caught the wind and billowed, a fiery red blanket, into her face, and she reached up to elegantly brush it away. He looked lovingly into those soft brown eyes, searching: was she as ready as he was? He fumbled with the miniature black velvet box in the pocket of his cloak, hesitated for a fraction of a second, then drew it out, simultaneously kneeling down on one knee.
She let out a muffled gasp, covering her mouth with her fingers, her eyes rounding in pleasant surprise. However, she remained silent, waiting patiently for him to continue.
"Ginny," he said, and she loved the way his lips formed her name. He was looking directly into her eyes, and she his almond-shaped, sparkling green pair. "Ginny," he repeated, ever so gently prising open the small box in his hand and as he did so, a most dazzling sight met her eyes. Inside the little box was a shining ring, the beautifully cut brown-gold topaz glistening on its gold band in the light of the setting sun.
"Ginny," he said, yet again, "I can't imagine my life without you. I never want to let you go. When we were away from Hogwarts, looking for the Horcruxes, I would take out the Marauders' map and stare at your name because I missed you so much. What I'm trying to say is," he sighed, "that I-I love you, Ginny. I want you to be with me. Always. Without you, I-I can't see what it'd be like. So-so Ginny," he took a deep, shuddering breath. He could do this. He had to. He had been waiting since the age of seventeen. "Will you-will you marry me?"
"I-I-Oh, Harry, I don't know what to- Oh yes, yes, of course I'll marry you!" she cried breathlessly.
Rising once again to his feet, he slipped the ring onto the fourth finger of her delicate hand.
He reached out and cupped her face into his hands, gazing into that radiant face he loved, and then leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers; he felt her smile and reach out to wrap an arm around his waist and he slipped his own around hers.
The sun finally disappeared, and the moon began to rise. Halfway to its destination high in the night sky, its silver light illuminated the couple for a moment, but then it passed and they were bathed in darkness once more.
A/N: It's a bit of a cliché, I know. But I'm the typical sucker for corny romances—and I kind of liked this. I always imagined the proposal to be formal and traditional, and for Harry to have prepared a speech—which was kind of a weird one in this, I know, but he's never really had a way with words. Tell me what you think of it in a review, and include any constructive criticism you might want to, to help me improve. Thanks!