Disclaimer: Yeah, I only wish I owned Harry Potter.
Author's Note: Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, where I had to write a fic about Ron (which scares me because I don't do major characters) and the As Strong As We Are United Competition.
It is - at least, for the time being - the strangest moment of his life.
He sees Viktor Krum with Hermione. Before the Durmstrang students came to Hogwarts, Ron had idolized Viktor Krum - even now, there's no denying Krum is an amazing Quidditch player, and after the World Cup, Ron knew he had become a bit of an overzealous fan for a little while, enough so that Ginny and the twins had been teasing him about it.
Before the Durmstrang students actually arrive - and even, at the beginning of their stay - Ron has fantasies about becoming friends with Krum. He sees in his mind's eye Krum teaching him all of these cool Quidditch moves like the Wronski Feint, things that he's never actually seen done before at Hogwarts, because the skill gap between Hogwarts students and professionals is ridiculously large. For a while, he daydreams about it.
And then, he sees Hermione with Krum, and all his excitement about Krum disappears. He feels strange seeing them together. There's no way they should be in a relationship - Krum's too old, and he's from Durmstrang, and all of these other reasons that Ron's sure would come to his head if he gives himself enough time to think.
At the time, he doesn't even consider jealousy, because there is absolutely no way such a thing could be possible. He won't let himself entertain the possibility, even though it sometimes dances at the corner of his mind. He and Hermione are strictly friends, and there is nothing else to it - nothing at all.
o0o0o
It's the worst moment of his life.
Hearing her scream - hearing her be tortured by Bellatrix freaking Lestrange, of all people - is like nothing he's ever felt before. Nothing can even compare to this - no pain he's ever felt, emotional or physical. Hermione's screams tug on his heart. He can't bear to hear her in such agony; he wishes he was up there instead, because surely being tortured himself can't be any worse than this. This is the girl he loves up there - even if he won't say as much out loud.
He screams her name. If he had been asked, he wouldn't have even been able to explain why. What, did he honestly think she would yell back? Was he hoping to give her strength? He can hear Harry telling him to shut up for a moment, but the words barely register in his brain, because Hermione needs help, Hermione needs someone to rescue her from that foul bitch, and Ron wishes he could be the one to do it.
This, right here, he thinks, is hell.
Hearing Hermione scream, and not being able to do anything about it. Being stuck in this damn cellar, with no clue what to do. He feels so utterly useless, like he's the stupid sidekick again, not knowing what he can do, and so he yells for Hermione, because - in his mind - it's the only thing he can do.
o0o0o
It's the most nerve-wracking moment of his life.
He sits there beside her, on the beach near Shell Cottage. Bill and Fleur had invited everybody over to see their second daughter, newly arrived, but after they had put her to bed and Fleur had also retired, exhausted, Ron and Hermione had left and headed to the beach. It's a pleasant night in September - not too hot nor too cold - and the soft breeze is just enough to blow Hermione's hair around her face.
She looks beautiful. She looks so beautiful, and he freezes up for a moment, doubting himself. The stupid Horcrux - the locket, with its freaky versions of Harry and Hermione - dances in his head for a moment, tormenting him with the thought of Hermione not loving him, but he pushes it away, forgetting it. They're meant to be, Ron and Hermione. He can't remember anymore a time before her - he can't remember a time when he didn't love her.
He maneuvers into an awkward position; kneeling in sand isn't the most comfortable thing in the world. "I, er, wanted to do something all fancy," he says, "but then this just kind of seemed like the perfect time." He's practically shaking from nervousness, but he presses on anyway, pulling the box from his pocket and opening it so that Hermione can see the ring inside. "Hermione Jean Granger," he says, feeling oddly formal, "will you marry me?"
o0o0o
It's the best moment of his life.
He stands at the front of the room. He can feel dozens of eyes watching him, but he isn't paying attention to any of them. His eyes are solely focused on Hermione, who is practically glowing in her white gown, walking to him on the arm of her father. Nobody - especially not Ron - cares that Hermione's Muggle father is walking her down the aisle at a Wizarding wedding. That sort of thing doesn't matter - especially not in this moment.
She looks happier than he's ever seen her before - content and excited and joyful, all at once, all the different types of happiness melded into one beautiful expression. He stares at her, barely able to believe that this glorious woman is going to be his wife.
"Do you, Hermione Jean Granger, take Ronald Bilius Weasley to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
"I do."
"And do you, Ronald Bilius Weasley, take Hermione Jean Granger to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do," he says, and lowers his lips to Hermione's, feeling like - at least for the moment - everything is right in the world. She is his, and he is hers. All of his most important moments, he feels, involve her in some way. They are meant to be - they are Ron&Hermione, and together, they are unstoppable, they are unbreakable. With all his heart, he loves her, and finally, he feels entirely confident that she feels the same way.