A/N: TIL this site has a "Copy-N-Paste" feature. Cool! I've written a few fanfics on my phone, and now I can transfer them to the site! All characters in this work are the intellectual and creative property of the amazing J.K. Rowling, who had BETTER NOT LET US DOWN THIS SUMMER.
Anyway... Enjoy the cheese!
Ginny Weasley gulped as she turned the corner onto the pristine road with its perfect lawns and shiny cars. The pavement beneath her feet was fresh and new and blindingly white, especially relative to the well-worn sidewalks and paths of Ottery St. Catchpole. Swallowing her nerves, she pressed forward.
The house with the brass number four was in much better shape than it had been when they had brought the Muggles home. The cobwebs were gone and the garden was weeded. Flowers were beginning to grow in the bed beneath the open window.
Ginny shook herself and knocked on the door.
"Ah! Ginny! Come in, dear; have some tea."
Ginny was still amazed at how the divorce had changed the once-cold woman she had heard stories of. Gone was the woman who had neglected and starved her own flesh and blood, pretended he didn't exist. This new woman now rushed to the kitchen to fetch a cup of tea for one whom she had once scorned.
"I appreciate the effort to accommodate me, Mrs. Dursley, but I mustn't stay long," Ginny said apologetically. "I've left everybody under the impression I'm out shopping for a new helmet."
Mrs. Dursley smiled softly, and Ginny didn't need to be a Legilimens to know what was going through her head. Her nephew had grown into quite the worrywart and had begged Ginny to wear a helmet when playing Quidditch. Not that Ginny minded - it was a small price to pay to give some peace of mind to someone who had lost so much.
"Hey, Mum, have you seen my..."
Dudley Dursley paused at the threshold, pleasantly surprised.
"Oh, hey, Ginny! Didn't know you were swinging by. Is my favorite cousin around?"
Ginny laughed. "Nope! Like I was just telling your mother, he thinks I'm out getting Quidditch supplies."
"Then what brings you here?"
At this, Ginny sobered. Sensing her unease, Dudley sat down in a nearby armchair.
"I have something I wish to ask, and I want to do this right."
Dudley and Mrs. Dursley exchanged a puzzled glance.
"Ask what?" Mrs. Dursley queried, not unkindly.
Ginny paused to consider her words. "Harry's scared."
The Dursleys tensed visibly.
"He's scared to take the next step our relationship. Ron says he wants to propose, but he's terrified that something will happen to me if he does. I don't want to put that kind of pressure on him, which is why..." Ginny took a deep breath. "Which is why I'd like to ask for your nephew's hand in marriage."
She had to force herself to say it without blurting out the fateful words.
"I want to do this right. For him."
For a fraction of a second, Ginny thought the Dursleys would disapprove of this unconventional approach.
Then Dudley broke into a grin.
"Don't cry, Mum," he said mirthfully.
Indeed, Mrs. Dursley was on the verge of tears, her hand over her mouth.
"You really love that boy, don't you?"
"He's everything to me," Ginny said without hesitation.
Mrs. Dursley nodded and swallowed a sob, looking down distantly. "It must be so hard for him, relationships. I wonder if affection is still foreign to him..." A hiccup escaped her. "He needs someone to tell him just how loved he truly is. To say the words that I never had the courage to say."
Their eyes met.
"Go to him, and prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he's your world. I think you'll make a happy man of him."
A weight lifted from Ginny's chest and she smiled. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Dursley. I won't let you down."