A Proposal
Author's Note: Originally published on December 22, 2011
Ron speared the last piece of greasy sausage and shoved it into his mouth, his lips smacking as he enjoyed the savoury morsel. He swallowed with an audible gulp and set down his fork, before chugging down the last of his pumpkin juice. He let out a sigh of contentment and pushed his chair back, the rickety legs scraping loudly along the worn oak flooring of the sparsely populated pub.
He'd certainly gained a new appreciation for food, after the months of mushrooms and burnt fish he'd once had to endure. That ashy taste was something he'd never truly forget, even though it had been two years since that awful winter. Leaning back, he rubbed his belly in satisfaction as he took in the festive decorations around The Three Broomsticks.
The garlands and wreaths hanging from the crossbeams were interspersed with tiny floating candles, creating an effect similar to the twinkling white lights found on Muggle Christmas trees. The decor filled Ron with a child-like anticipation of the upcoming holiday—his favourite time of the year.
He was enjoying the quiet morning, glad to be away from the chaos of the store for a day. Not that he was complaining; he enjoyed working with his brother and having some Galleons in his pocket for the first time in his life. He'd just been looking forward to this day since Hermione had suggested it the previous week. He'd even arrived ridiculously early, which was an oddity for him, but it proved how excited he truly was.
It had been difficult to get time to themselves, between work responsibilities and family—their rapid ascent into adulthood seemingly occurring in the blink of an eye. Hermione had decided to live with her parents after finishing her schooling at Hogwarts, creating another alone-time barrier. Today would be just for them, with no interruptions.
Ron sighed and fingered the small object in his pocket, the internal debate he'd been having with himself once again igniting. He feared he was moving too quickly, that she wasn't ready to accept his idea. He'd put a lot of work in to make his plan happen, but a part of him feared it was all for naught.
He shook his head—his mind made up—and stood up, his lean arms stretching skyward as he stifled a yawn. He was surprised he wasn't more nervous at his decision to proceed. Perhaps it was the calm of the unhurried morning which lulled him into such a comfortable and relaxed state.
As he reached into his pocket to pay for his meal, the door of the pub flew open and a flood of students rushed in, the silence shattered by the stomping of boots and the cacophony of teenage voices. Ron hurriedly threw some coins on the table and beat a hasty retreat out of a side door, not wanting to deal with the stares and whispers that accompanied his fame in the Wizarding world.
While he'd been devouring his breakfast, he hadn't noticed how heavily the snow had been falling. He pulled his jacket tighter around his long torso and shivered, his hands feeling the chill of the blue morning. The puffs of his breath hung in front of him, suspended in the icy air as he trudged forward, his visibility hampered by the wall of flurries.
He rubbed his hands together and crunched through the white carpet, searching for another warm place to slip into before he was supposed to meet his girlfriend. He turned the corner of the building, only to discover another group of excited students. Hoping to remain inconspicuous, he swiftly ducked his head down and zipped his collar around his chin, heading in the opposite direction.
He wandered the little used side walkways of Hogsmeade, creating paths of his own through the heavy snow which continued to fall. He occasionally stuck his head into a shop, but soon found that the entire village was overrun with third-to-seventh years.
"Bloody hell," he cursed out loud to himself in frustration, kicking a nearby snowbank. "She just had to pick the same day as a Hogwarts visit. So much for privacy."
He cupped his hands together and raised them to his mouth, blowing warm air onto his frigid hands. He heard the familiar sound of female teenage giggling and abruptly stepped around a nearby corner.
"Oof," Ron wheezed, his loose knit cap falling over his eyes from the sudden impact of colliding with someone.
"Watch where you're... Ron? Is that you, love?"
A grin blossomed across his face at the sound of his favourite voice. He blindly reached out and pulled Hermione into a tight hug.
Her laughter rang out in the cold winter air as she pushed his hat back up over his fringe.
"Morning," he greeted her, the sight of her flushed cheeks and smile instantly melting away his darkening mood.
"Good morning, Ron. I've been looking everywhere for you," she replied, her eyes fluttering closed as he leaned forward and planted a soft, cool kiss on her pink lips.
"You're freezing, Ron!"
He rested his hands on her hips and shrugged. "I've been walking around and I forgot my gloves."
She rolled her eyes at his admission, amused by the look on his face. "You could have just used a warming charm."
"Why would I do that when you can warm me up?"
He pulled her into another hug and she gave up, deciding instead to sink into the comfort of his long arms. She closed her eyes and relished the feeling—until she felt the cold against her bare skin as he slid his hand stealthily past the waistband of her trousers.
She shrieked into his coat from the sudden shock. "What are you doing?"
"Warming my hands. This is much better than any charm."
Hermione glanced up and to find him peering down at her, his attempt at looking innocent failing miserably.
His adorableness was irresistible to her, and she couldn't help pulling him down for a long, deep snog.
As they broke apart, both panting heavily from the intensity of their kiss, Hermione shivered and rubbed her own hands together, despite her gloves.
"C'mon, let's go somewhere warmer."
She grabbed his arm and began pulling in the general direction of the Three Broomsticks.
"Hermione, there's a Hogwarts visit going on. I don't want to go in there!"
"Stop being such a baby about it," she teased as she continued dragging him towards the pub.
"I'd rather not deal with the fame nonsense; I get enough of it at the shop."
"Well, the Ministry's not much better, you know."
"Then why do you want to go through that again today?"
She halted and peered at him, understanding dawning on her features. "You're absolutely right, Ron. Good thinking!"
His cheeks warmed, in spite the biting air. It pleased him immensely when she sang his praises. It was this feeling of elation that prompted him to blurt out something unexpected.
"How about Madam Puddifoot's instead? It's quiet in there and we can enjoy each other's company."
Hermione's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Really? Are you sure?"
"Yeah, there's something I want to talk to you about... just didn't think privacy would be a problem."
She eyed him with curiosity, but didn't press him to elaborate further. "Shall we?"
Her gloved hands wrapped around his cool ones as they walked in companionable silence. Ron's other hand was in his pocket, nervously feeling for the item he'd left there.
As they reached the door, Hermione took a quick peek inside and noted the lack of empty tables. The place, much like The Three Broomsticks, was full of students—though they were much quieter, lost in the angst of teenage love.
She turned back to Ron with a frown on her face and shook her head.
"Hog's Head?"
She sighed, but nodded in agreement. He, too, was disappointed. The Hog's Head wasn't exactly the most romantic of places. Glancing around, he couldn't help but notice the simple beauty and peacefulness of the falling snow.
Hermione was tapping her foot impatiently, unsure of what was delaying their walk to the Hog's Head. Ron suddenly broke out of his reverie, a huge smile on his face.
"Before we go, I really need to talk to you about something. Come with me?"
He'd seen a great spot in his earlier wanderings, and knew it would be perfect.
She followed him to a small clearing behind Madam Puddifoot's. A copse of powder-dusted trees provided a beautiful backdrop, and the area had the privacy they were seeking.
He was quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts as he ran his hands up and down her arms. Their eyes locked momentarily—long enough for Hermione to see a wealth of emotions in his bright blue orbs; a mixture of nervousness, apprehension, and excitement.
"Ron, is everything alright?"
"Yes, love," he winked at her reassuringly and continued on. "I just wanted to give you an early Christmas gift."
Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved the tiny, rolled up slip of parchment he'd been fiddling with for days. He felt himself holding his breath, his fingers shaking as he passed her the scrap.
She slowly unfurled it, sensing that something immense was on the note.
Home is on the top floor, 93 Diagon Alley, London.
She was confused, unsure of what he meant.
"I already know you live in the flat above the shop, with George."
He laughed, surprised that the smartest person he knew hadn't figured it out.
"Actually, George has decided to find his own place, to give himself a little separation from the shop."
"I think it's a healthy step for him. Now," she held up the parchment, "please explain."
"It's a Fidelius Charm, Hermione."
"Of course! Thank you... I appreciate you giving me access to your flat." She paused, trying her best not to rush him. "Is... Is that all? Why are you so nervous?"
Ron grinned, seeing the frustration mounting on her features. It was something he'd seen many times in his life, and he wanted to tease her for a little longer before getting to the point.
"George told me his plans to move out a couple of months ago, and ever since then, I've been making some changes. The flat is mine now, after all."
"Is that why we haven't been there lately?"
"Yeah, exactly. I had a lot to do, and didn't want you to see it until it was ready."
"Did you manage to tidy the place up a bit? It was rather foul at times."
"It wasn't that bad! Besides, I changed several things."
"Oh, like what?"
"Well," he scratched the back of his neck before revealing the secret. "I had to make it more habitable for someone else to move in, you know, cleaning, rearranging the furniture, and putting up some bookshelves."
"What are you saying?"
"Hermione, I'm so tired of not seeing you every day. I'm tired of not talking to you and spending time with you. I hate not waking up next to you. Love, I'm asking you to move in with me. I want to make my flat our flat."
Her eyes widened in surprise, even though she'd worked it out in her head when he mentioned the bookshelves. She was so overcome that all she could do was jump into his arms and squeal loudly, her shouts muffled by the thickness of his coat.
She could feel the rumbles of his laughter through his chest as he whispered in her ear.
"Is that a yes?"
She nodded, tears of joy pricking her eyelashes as they threatened to slide down her rosy cheeks. She pulled back and gave him her widest smile.
"Oh, Ron, I want nothing more than to live with you. I miss you every day, and as much as I love my parents, I think it's time for us."
He let out a deep breath, his anxiousness finally abated. He'd been dreading her reaction, but it was better than he could have hoped.
She could see the relief sweep across his face, and was filled with pride and affection for her boyfriend. She loved the maturity he'd shown, his patience, and everything he'd done, just for her.
"What are you thinking about, Hermione?"
"I was just thinking about how much I love you, and how I haven't properly thanked you."
He cocked an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
In a flash, she was in his arms again, pulling him into a deep, hungry kiss. His hands slid down to her arse and he lifted, causing her to let out a breathless giggle as she wrapped her legs around his lean torso.
Heated lips and tongues collided again as Hermione pressed herself against Ron, causing him to moan into her mouth.
"Oh, fuck," Ron mumbled between kisses. "We can have this every day."
"Uh huh," Hermione groaned, tightening the grip of her thighs as they continued their passionate snog.
He walked them to the rear outdoor wall of Madam Puddifoot's and pressed Hermione's back to it, kissing every inch of exposed skin along her neck. Judging from her soft whimpers, he knew she was enjoying it.
Lost in their loving embrace, they failed to hear the approaching foot falls. A stern, familiar Scottish lilt suddenly rang out.
"Detention! I will not have my students behaving in such an inappropriate manner!"
They instantly stopped, having heard that voice many times in the past. Hermione heard Ron curse under his breath as she reluctantly let go. They sheepishly turned, knowing full well who had discovered their little dalliance.
"Mr Weasley, Miss Granger!"
She was just as shocked as they were at the unexpected interruption.
"Hello, Headmaster McGonagall," Ron ventured. "How are you this morning?"
"Certainly not as well as you, Mr Weasley," she replied, a disapproving frown on her face.
Hermione turned beet red in embarrassment, mortified at being caught in such a vulnerable position by someone she had the utmost respect for.
"Well, um, you see..."
She was cut off when her former professor held up her hand.
"No need to explain yourselves to me, dear. You are both adults now."
Hermione nodded and Ron's jaw dropped, shocked that they escaped an admonishment from McGonagall.
"However, I trust that you will find somewhere a little more... private for your activities, and not in plain sight of my impressionable students. Is that understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," they replied in unison, as if they were in first year again.
"Uh, Headmaster?"
"Yes, Ronald."
He gulped. "You won't tell my... anyone about this, will you?"
The corner of McGonagall's mouth curved upward as she tried to hide her amusement at his obvious panic. Apparently, Molly Weasley put more fear into the young man than Voldemort himself.
"No, Ron, I will not tell your mother about this."
"Thank you, Headmaster."
"But, Mr Weasley, do tell your mother I would love to meet her for tea, won't you?"
"Yes, Headmaster."
"Very well then, dears. I have a few more places to check for this sort of behaviour... from my current students."
With a stiff nod, she walked away. As soon as she was out of earshot, Ron turned to face Hermione, his eyes wide.
"Bloody hell... that was close."
"Too close," she agreed. "Luckily, I happen to know of a flat that might just be empty right now."
"Oh, is that so? Who's flat is it?"
"Ours," she replied with a shy smile.
"I like the sound of that."
"Me, too."
She walked up to him and threw her arms around his waist.
"I love you, Ron."
"I love you, too."
They spun on the spot and in the blink of an eye they were gone, ready to start the next phase of their lives, together.