Ron Weasley was a nervous wreck. He was fiddling with a smalls silver box in his pocket as he sat with his family at Ginny's Quidditch game. After the horrid war had ended, everyone who had been a 7th year was asked to come back and finish their education. Her and Harry were an item now, and since he was the Headmaster, I guess that defeats the purpose of the no student teacher relationships rule.
"Are you alright, Ron?" his girlfriend Hermione broke him out of his thoughts.
"Yeah, fine." he said nervously. The tips of his ears matched his fiery hair. Hermione grabbed his large hand with a smile. Her skin was so soft, he'd always thought that she had nice skin. He put his arm around her to warm her up and his perfectly shaped lips kissed her forehead. She smiled, knowing how much he loved her.
Everyone cheered each time Gryffindor scored another point.
The Weasleys, Harry and Hermione made their way back to the Burrow after Gryffindor's win. Mollie and Arthur were preparing dinner. There was a chill in the air, and Ron squeezed his girlfriend tighter.
Without bothering to say hello, the two rushed upstairs, hand in hand.
Hermione went into her bedroom and began folding laundry. All of a sudden Ron came in with an annoyed expression.
"Where's my rat, Hermione? I reckon it's that bloody cat of yours! Look at him, smiling at me, looking all satisfied."
"Oh, Ron. I can't take you seriously when you're telling me that my cat is smiling at you!" she laughed.
"I don't see you coming up with any other expression for that beast smirking at me!"
"He's not smirking at you, Ronald." she sighed. "He's a cat, his face just looks like that."
"It's your own fault, Hermione! He's your cat!" Hermione sniffed. "What's wrong, hey, I'm sorry." he hugged her, but she pushed him away.
"Tell me what's wrong."
"What's wrong? What's wrong? You've had the past seven years to ask me that question, but never once did you ask me what's wrong! I can finally breathe, yet nothing feels even slightly okay! I know we're together now, but I really don't think that you actually care about me! I'm just Hermione Granger, annoying, bushy haired, bookworm, Hermione Granger. That's all I am, and that's all that I would ever be to you!"
Ron grabbed her wrist, and pushed her up against the wall. His breath smelled of peppermint. Hermione gulped.
"Marry me." he demanded in a whisper.
She didn't even have to respond, he could see it in her eyes, the answer was yes. He let of her wrist and threw a small, silver box onto her bed as he left the room.