"Hermione, it's not a big deal!" Harry called after her, exasperated. He pulled his glasses off, pinching the bridge of his nose in hopes of stopping his headache in its tracks before it became fully formed. He took a deep breath, mentally counting down from ten.

10… 9… 8…

He heard a loud crash from the kitchen, followed by a strangled yell of frustration. "Are you okay?" He yelled hesitantly.

"Reparo," her voice sounded strained. "It was just a glass, Harry, relax."

"Well, you stormed out of the bedroom all bent out of shape, how was I supposed to know that you hadn't punched a window or something?" Harry quipped, finally catching up with her. Her hair was falling out of its braid, wispy brown curls framing her face. She slammed her wand onto the counter beside the newly repaired drinking glass and began viciously looking through the cabinets.

Harry caught her wrist. "Hermione, can we please talk?"

She turned on her heel, her brown eyes alight with anger. "Talk about what?" Each word sounded like a death threat.

"Merlin's beard, Hermione. All I said was that you hog the covers at night! It's not like it's a crime, I was just making a comment!"

"Just making a comment? Right, and we're 'just' living together, that's all. Nothing major, nothing to worry about." She pulled her wrist free from his grip. "Is everything just a joke to you, Harry? Because I'm beginning to feel like I can't take you, or us, seriously anymore."

Harry stared at her, lost at what she had said. The words rang in his head like church bells. "Wh- what do you mean?"

"We've been dating for four years, and we've been living together for the past three and a half! My mother keeps asking me all these questions about our plans for the future, and I don't have any answers, Harry." She choked back a sob, reaching up to wipe the tears from her eyes. "I don't know what to tell her, or how to explain any of it, because it just feels like you and I are just playing house. We're not kids anymore!"

Harry pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her as she sobbed. "I know we're not, Hermione. And I'm not playing games. I mean, look at us, we've practically been through hell and back together! If you don't know that I love you by now, then I guess I really shouldn't have bought this." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, green velvet box.

"I was going to ask you tonight at dinner," he said, flipping it open to reveal a gleaming white gold diamond ring. "But I guess now's a good time as any." He took her hand in his. "Hermione, I've known you since I was eleven years old. You've saved my life more times than I can count, and you've always wanted the best for me. I know I can a total pain in the ass sometimes, but you're the only person that I ever want to steal my covers. Will you marry me?"

"Oh, Harry," she breathed, wiping more tears from her eyes. "Yes! I'll marry you, you ridiculous man!" She threw her arms around his neck, tangling him up in one of her famous bone-crushing hugs.

He kissed her when she let go of him, and pulled the ring from its box. "So does this mean I'm forgiven for the stealing the covers thing?" He asked sheepishly as he slid the ring on her finger.

Examining her ring, she smiled. "Yeah, I guess it does. But you're still in trouble for touching me with your icy cold feet last night."

Harry just laughed and kissed her again and again and again. Stolen covers or not, he was a happy man.


Words: 639

(A/N: Merry Christmas/Happy New Years/Happy holidays, dear readers! Thanks for taking the time to read this little story, and don't forget to review! Xo.)