A/N: Here's just a cute little scene I thought up. I don't own the characters or anything. I do love reviews, though…
It had all really started his sixth year at Christmas. It was very late, and the rest of the Burrow was sleeping peacefully. But not Ron. He was awake, alone, and painfully aware of a nagging feeling in his stomach that something wasn't right. He was so preoccupied with he thoughts, he didn't notice his father come into the kitchen where Ron was sitting.
Arthur Weasley took one look at his son and decided: this was the night. He sat down a glass of hot chocolate in front of Ron with a thump, breaking him out of his reverie.
"Oh! Sorry, dad. Didn't see you there." Ron muttered, sipping his chocolate and carefully selecting a biscuit from the tin Arthur offered him.
"You seem to be thinking rather hard." Arthur commented, nursing his own chocolate. Ron swallowed and peered into his father's eyes. His father gazed back, raising his left eyebrow slightly. Ron gathered his courage in the silence.
"I'm…I'm having a problem with my friend." Ron started carefully, knowing full well that his father would immediately know which "friend" it was, but hoping he wouldn't comment. He didn't. Instead, Arthur Weasley nodded and dunked his biscuit into his chocolate, waiting.
"I can't seem to understand…them. I mean this person is completely mysterious and infuriating but…" Ron trailed off, not knowing how to sum up his relationship with Hermione. This, in itself, was infuriating to Ron because he'd spent so much time thinking of it, but still couldn't put words together in a way that properly explained their relationship.
Arthur continued to dip his biscuit and sighed.
"When I was your age, Ron, I had the same problems with my best friend." Ron frowned. Maybe his father didn't know who he was talking about, but he let him continue.
"For a while, we just never seemed to click, never seemed to be in synch. We were growing up. I was absolutely petrified we were growing out of each other."
Ron nodded. "Like, it feels like you're just not the same as you used to be, and you can't get back to it." Arthur nodded back.
"Exactly. It was even small things. One of us would want to go to the library while the other wanted to stay in the common room, or one of us suddenly decided to take a class the other despised. It was awful, feeling like I couldn't trust that friend anymore because they seemed to be changing so much."
"But-" Arthur held up his hand to stop his son.
"I know, of course you can trust this friend. But I also realized that while we were growing up, our friendship was just growing with us. I stuck with my friend, and I'm glad today I did."
Ron smirked. "Yeah, now you and Rotsworth are off every Tuesdays, still playing muggle poker like the old Hogwarts days." He said, speaking of his father's close old school friend.
"No. I'm not talking about Jordan. Though we are due for a round at the pub soon." Ron frowned again at his father while he stared out of the window.
"Wait…you don't mean that you stopped talking to… that friend, do you?" Ron sounded suddenly panicked. Arthur didn't answer, still gazing out the window. Ron spluttered. Jordan Rotsworth was the only school friend his father kept in contact with.
"No, son, we didn't quite stop talking…" Arthur paused to sip his cocoa.
"Well, then, what'd you do?" Ron asked finally, still trying to figure out who his father's mysterious school friend was. Arthur's eyes finally left the dusty glass and he fixed his youngest son with an intense stare.
"I married her."
Ron swallowed hard. The two continued to look at each other until Arthur broke the silence.
"Maybe that helps you, maybe it doesn't. All I know is that it's the best thing I've ever done, marrying your mum." He nodded once at Ron, who still gaped, speechless, at him. "Clean this up before your mother finds it in the morning. After all these years she's still like a prefect with all her cleanliness." Arthur winked at his son and padded softly upstairs.
To any passersby, if they happened to look into the window at that particular moment, all they'd have seen was a boy sitting in a kitchen eating biscuits. They'd have thought that maybe he'd had trouble sleeping, or perhaps they'd comment on how appealing those cookies looked.
They'd have never imagined, in that seemingly boring, completely everyday moment, that Ron Weasley had just decided to marry Hermione Granger.
