Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me. Deathly Hallows Compliant, as well as Nineteen Years Later compliant. Enjoy!
Novel Ideas
She looked up from her crossed hands which rested upon her slightly wrinkled skirt. Trying to ignore the boy sitting beside her, and the distracting scent that was so foreign and so familiar, she studied her bitten fingernails and ruined cuticles, running her tongue quickly across her slightly large front teeth. For some reason, though she tried her hardest to turn her mind and attentions from him, Hermione just couldn't stop noticing the way his chest rose and fell to the same beat as hers, or how his red hair was just a bit askew from the wind through the open window.
"Hermione," His voice startled her already shot nerves. "Do you think that Harry really likes my sister? I mean, I know he's my best mate, and I'd trust him with my life, but I don't know if I trust him with her. She's only just of age." Hermione smiled at him timidly, making eye contact for the first time that afternoon.
"Well, we both love Harry, don't we? And you already said that you'd trust him with your life--so why not with Ginny? Anyways, your mother trusts them together, why shouldn't you?" Hermione said in a slightly joking manner--she liked that he was so protective of those he loved, and couldn't help remembering the times he had tried to protect her, with varying degrees of success.
"Hell, my mum would've married them off years ago if she could've. She's always wanted Harry as a son, even if its only by marriage." Ron suddenly looked away from her and she could sense a change in the light air the conversation had had up until this point. It seemed as if it had turned into something much more serious, and fast. He reached out blindly for her hand, his eyes not quite meeting hers, his body still on guard and his breath shallower than normal, and spoke in a lowered tone.
"You know, my mum's kind of always had her heart set on having you as daughter as well. Maybe you could, well, maybe you should, I don't know, marry a Weasley," Hermione's breath caught in her throat and she felt as if she couldn't breath. "You know, maybe you could, maybe you should, marry...Charlie." Hermione let out the breath she had been holding in trepidation and laughed aloud--a bright, joyful effusion, the likes of which neither had heard since the war had ended. Ron looked at her, her eyes aglow with surprise and mirth, and couldn't help but smile as well. Within moments, the two of them were doubled over each other laughing like giddy children, the smiles on their faces taking the pain and fear and sadness from every crevice and premature line that had marked them.
It was a beautiful day.