Not mine. Not even Scrabble.
"Let's play Scrabble!"
Harry turned his neck to stare incredulously at his best friend for the majority of his life and his current and longest girlfriend for three years sitting on his lap, playing with the hem of his shirt in boredom.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Scrabble, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed in sheer delight, shooting out of her boyfriend's lap and holding up the deluxe edition of the famous Muggle board game to his face. He pushed her hand down before she bashed his face in with the heavy box. "I'm pretty sure you've heard of it."
"I have," replied Harry dryly, opening the Daily Prophet to begin skimming the front page for any news he might need for his job as an Auror. "Why did you suddenly want to play Scrabble of all games?"
"It's great for vocabulary advancement," Hermione reasoned pointedly, her hazel eyes shining with mirth, mesmerizing Harry with its life and joy dancing along the surface.
"Please Harry," she begged with a pout that made Harry roll his eyes in mild annoyance.
"No Hermione," He replied, lifting the newspaper to his face to shield his lover's very attractive face from view and to prevent her from using her effectual tools of seduction to make him do whatever she wishes him to. "If anything, I'll be losing horribly."
"That's the point," Hermione answered with a grin, causing Harry to swat him playfully with his hand. "Come on please? I'll make you lunch!"
"You always make lunch," He pointed out without looking up from the Quidditch rankings of the season.
"Then," She began, brows wrinkled in avid concentration for the most faultless bribe. "I'll be your best friend forever!"
"You already are." He stated simply.
Hermione huffed impatiently before crawling up his lap once again, inserting her head between the magical newspaper and him with the most pleading (and not to mention alluring) look on her face.
"Play with me," She murmured in a stage-whisper. "And I'll play with you."
This time, Harry dropped the paper on his lap with a clouded look etched on his face; one of lust and desire shooting up his veins. Without a word his left hand held her neck and his other hand snuck its way to her waist and pulled him back on his lap for a searing kiss.
"If this means so much to you, fine I'll play with you." He pulled away and conceded with an exaggerated sigh. He rolled the Daily Prophet and tossed it towards the general direction of the kitchen causing Hermione to scowl at him before beaming once again.
"You know how the game works I presume?" Hermione asked, popping the box open. She placed the game board on the coffee table and began to write down his and her name on the sheet of paper for scoring. Harry set up the tile stands, plucked his seven letters from the bag of tiles before Hermione, and they commenced to play with Hermione to go first.
With an attentive look crinkling her perky nose, she began to place her tiles on the huge game board.
"Tercet," She grinned in triumph, but her smile widened even more after landing on the Double-Word Score. Hermione then began to record the word that she used and her score on the current score column.
Harry looked at his words in downright annoyance. It consisted mainly of consonants and he scrunched his brow and ran a hand through his hair.
"Can we use words that aren't in the Muggle dictionary but you know it exists?" He asked hopefully.
"Like Wizarding jargon, you mean?"
"Yeah, that."
"Sure, why not."
Harry smiled in success before placing his own tiles to form 'veela' which Hermione recorded immediately.
The game proceeded with Hermione using such mammoth words that once or twice Harry had to ask what one word meant. Being incessantly bored with the amount of time Hermione uses to find some other colossal word, he began to watch her. He watched his favourite pair of eyes in the entire world tango and shows the wildest of emotions. Thinking back to their moments of life-or-death, her eyes were expressive, like a Pensieve he's willing to drown into.
His gaze flowed to her adorable nose, her lips that he claims every time he has the deepest swellings of love deep within him. Lower and lower he looked, to her collarbone, her arms, her chest (his stare lingering longer than what is socially polite), her fingers, her legs, her knees and lastly her feet. Harry can't help but silently pray and wish that she would spend all eternity and a day with him, even if she'll just sit there looking all adorable as long as she is his. And it all then occurred to remind him without preamble.
By Dumbledore's long and shaggy beard, he wants to marry her!
He's been planning for days, weeks, months, years really. He was in the verge of proposing at the very second the both of them watched the mutilated and disfigured body of what was Tom Marvolo Riddle collapse on the ground after his Killing Curse reverberated from Harry's 'love shield'. As soon as Voldemort's wrecked corpse collapsed, Hermione jumped into Harry's arms and that's when he almost asked her to be his wife.
But he didn't, because his Gryffindor courage was spent facing the darkest wizard of all time.
So, now he's sitting across from her three years later with a meditative expression marring his features. Ever since the Horcrux Hunt he's been carrying his deceased mother's ring in his pocket everyday in hopes to gather the valor hiding in his heart to ask this totally brilliant witch before him to be the one woman in his life that is willing to spend infinity with him as much as he is willing to spend it with her.
"It's your turn Harry," Hermione's voice lifting him from his thoughts. He glanced down his tiles and to the board before forming a word.
It was her turn, and it was his almost immediately. For eight turns it went on, without a hitch and it was Harry's turn again.
As Hermione recorded his current word on the sheet, her eyes ran through his list before double-taking at the last couple of words on Harry's column.
"Will you marry me," She whispered, lips trembling and tears threatening to escape her pretty eyes.
"Would you?" Harry asked hopefully, his heart drumming loudly inside his chest like a party parade, taking out the velvet box that inhabited his pocket for the longest time and opening it before her.
He heard Hermione sob before nodding eagerly and jumping into his arms causing them to flop on the soft couch brusquely, the game was the last thing in their minds. She met his lips in the deepest of kisses they had ever shared before pulling away and spattering random, wet kisses all over his face while blubbering like the girl in love that she is.
"For the love of Merlin, yes I'd love to marry you!" She finally vocalized. Hermione stopped her lovely assaults on her new fiancé to beam at him, which he reciprocated tenfold.
"I love you Hermione," Harry whispered, voice thick with emotion and adoration for the lady on his lap.
"Oh Harry," She sighed. "I love you too."
"Does this mean Scrabble is over?" He asked hopefully, his eyes glinting with mischievousness, causing Hermione to shiver in anticipation at his plans for their first night as fiancés.
"Yes," She said with an unwavering smile before standing up and pulling Harry along with her. "Now it's time for your type of game." She whispered in such a dulcet, velvet tone introducing promises and sheer delight in the hours to come, before pausing abruptly. "I won."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course you did, sweetheart. By a landslide, I must say, if the final scores are 374 to 83. Now, can we play my game?" He asked pleadingly, grinning when Hermione grabbed a hold of his hand and practically dragged him towards their bedroom with giggles racking their body in excitement.
For the rest of Harry's life he would be eternally grateful for Hasbro Inc. for that chance that they had offered him for the life he had always dreamed of; the reality that is now Hermione Jane Potter.
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