A/N: This isn't my best story, the grammar's not great, the wording's a bit blah and the plot's highly unoriginal. Please enjoy, read and review anyway, and if you did like this, then you will definitely like my other stories, which I promise are better. Thanks.

May As Well

'Ron, what do you think about this dress?'

It was a month after the war had ended, a month since Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger had started going out, and a month since the most significant moments in the history of either of their lives had taken place. And that included, but was not limited to, the killing of Lord Voldemort.

Of course, no one had gotten over Fred's death, that was impossible, and Ron had found it hard to smile for a fair time, but Fred's funeral, which was today, was supposed to be a celebration of Fred's life, not a crying fest. Everyone knew that was what Fred would have wanted.

And so there they were, acting like an old couple, together for years, for in many ways, they sort of were.

'Yes, Hermione, that dress is fine,' Ron exclaimed exasperatedly. Who would have known that girls could be so tiresome? Even this girl, who he loved so much.

Well, clearly that was the wrong thing to have said…

'RON!' He looked up sharply, uh oh- 'You don't like it do you? Oh, no, I really wanted to look nice for Fred…' she trailed off. Ron had thought that she was mad, but she didn't really sound so mad right now, more sad and a little bit lonely. He could never say the right thing, could he?

'Please, Hermione, I love that dress, it's beautiful on you, I'm just a little distracted, with my brother's death and all.' He hadn't intended it to come off harshly, but it did, because deep down, Ron resented how she read into his every little thought, she really needed something to prove to her, something to clearly show that he loved her, and never meant her harm.

Hermione's bottom lip trembled, and she sat down next to him 'I'm so sorry, baby… I almost forg- no, I didn't, it just slipped my mind for one instant, you know I didn't mean to snap at you,' he shook his head at her and smiled weakly, 'I know.' And simple as that, the minor argument was solved. To be honest, there had been a major decrease in numbers of arguments between them since they had kissed, it was perfectly clear just what they had really been angry about.

Ron stood up and brushed his robes off, and Hermione followed suit. The two walked out the doors of Ron's bedroom at the burrow, where they had been staying since the war, and swiftly crossed the grounds. Before they reached the degnomed clearing where the funeral was to be held, Ron quickly doubled back. He hoped he was doing the right thing, for all of them, Hermione, himself, and even Fred.

The funeral was beginning to take place, the party had started. It was nothing like a funeral any of the guests had ever seen before, it had been completely planned by a mourning George, who of course, knew exactly what Fred would have wanted. What a pity, that George could never enjoy this happy occasion without Fred.

A marching band was playing, guests were mingling, trying to be cheerful in most cases, for Fred's sake. It was a beautiful funeral party, if incredibly untraditional, more a celebration of life than a mourning of death, but still, everything was going smoothly when Ron came racing down the garden, his longish red hair being yanked back by the wind. Hermione, of course, thought he had never looked more handsome, and he, gazing into her eyes, thought she had never looked more beautiful. It was love, not make up and dress robes that made them this way.

Ron paused directly in front of his girlfriend, almost knocking her over in the process, took an awkward deep breath, his Adam's apple bobbing amusingly, and looked Hermione right in the eye.

'You know what?' he said in a breaking voice,

'What…?' Hermione whispered, in a tone barely audible.

'Uh. Um, you wanna get married?'

She laughed. Of all things, she laughed, and he quickly broke in to fix it, or make it worse, whichever way you look at it,

'I mean- we may as well, it's not like I want to… spend my life with anyone else, you know? And, uh, I thought you'd want to…'

She was smiling blissfully, even after such a terrible proposal, even with a sweating boyfriend who's pants were on backwards, even when she knew she was making him anxious in not replying, this was her Ron. The boy she had fallen in love with, who was now a man, and who she was still in love with.

She nodded vaguely, barely containing her excited smile, her eyes sparkling with joy, and said, mimicking Ron's deep, crackling voice, fairly terribly,

'Yeah, may as well,'

And then she smiled as he smiled, lunged forward as he did, and kissed him, just as he did her.

He put a rusty silver ring on her finger, which was tangled in his mop of red hair, and got caught, making him wince in pain as it pulled on his hair, and you know what? It was perfect. No matter that the ring was dozens of years old, and probably closer to a party favour faux silver ring than an engagement ring, no matter that neither of them looked anywhere near glamorous, no matter that Ron was out of breath, and that Hermione's eyeliner smudged, it was their own, pure love and friendship, that made that moment what it was, for everyone around.

Perfect, in its own special way.

A/N: You like? I don't really, but I'm reasonably happy, because I was suffering MAJOR writer's block before I wrote this, and then had this burst of inspiration from a random fanfic not even Harry Potter or wedding related, and absolutely had to have Ron, awkwardly proposing to Hermione. Review if you please, because it's really not the same for you to just add to favourites, as nice as that is. XD I love youse all, goodbye now…