Hey, Potterheads! This is my first ever Harry Potter fanfiction that I wrote down, and I'm so excited to share it with you all because I've been a Potterhead for years and I've never been so inspired to write something before! This is a short one-shot based off a prompt I found online. It's my version of Romione's wedding proposal. I hope you like it!

I don't own Harry Potter.

She was laughing at a joke he'd just said, before she suddenly went quiet and stared at him curiously, but with a hint of amusement. It was an expression reserved only for George and Ginny (And more often that not, himself), and Ron instantly knew she was going to chuckle.

Right on time- a sweet, short sound that lifted his heart, even if it was because of him.

"Oh, Ronald, there's dirt on your nose- again. How hard is it to simply keep your face clean?"

She'd spoken with no malice, so Ron just smiled brightly back.

"Quite impossible is what I've found from personal experience. But then again, that's what you're here for?"

Hermione raised a bushy eyebrow.

"I'm here to clean your nose?"

"Well, why else would I ask you to come over to where we've had our first date? It's only fitting."

She sighed and rolled her eyes, a habit Ron had once hated which now became endearing, and brought out a handkerchief.

Ron was shaking with anticipation. So far, it was going perfectly. Harry always went on about how stressful it had been to propose to Ginny, but this was almost effortless- his best friend must simply not have practiced enough.

"Oh, let me wipe it for you, then. People will gawk at you whilst we eat, and I'm not particularly in the mood for that."

"No!" He yelled back, just as planned. "Don't, please. It's for luck."

"For luck? What on earth are you talking about?"

Well, he'd known Hermione to be smarter and quicker than that, but the comment must have taken her by surprise. He grinned and tried to say it as smoothly as possible.

"The day we met, remember? On the-"

"The train! Of course, you did have dirt on your nose then too. But whatever would you need luck for?"

Ron looked Hermione Granger dead in the eye.

And then got down onto one knee.

This was it now.

No running off; no turning back.

Ronald Weasley was on one knee and there was a tiny black box in his hands that only he knew the contents of and Hermione's sudden grin was unmistakeable; that girl always knew what was about to happen just before it did- it was a surprise to Ron that she hadn't somehow found out whilst he was preparing. He'd been working at this for months, and he'd nearly slipped up more than once. He thanked the heavens for his luck, though. He needed it now more than anything.

Or maybe not. Everything was perfectly planned. He was wearing his best Muggle dress robes (Suits, Hermione had called them) and his hair was styled in this wavy sort of thing that, frankly, he hated, but Hermione had teasingly said made him irresistible (Like a celebrity with a perm- Ron didn't know what a celebrity or a perm were, but he hoped it wasn't too bad). He'd surreptitiously smudged some dirt on his nose when she wasn't looking- Hermione always had a soft spot for the sentimental and poetic- and the ring, one he'd shopped with Ginny and Luna for hours to pick, was in his hand.

Everything was prepared. He had a whole speech written down and memorised, he'd chosen this spot because it was where they had had their first date- a café near Tottenham Court Road. He was ready and it was going to go smoothly, and his girlfriend of three years would (hopefully) say yes.

The only problem? He had been so busy preparing for the day, he'd forgotten to prepare for her. Ron had it all down, to the very last detail, but he was still missing something- no everything, more like. He had swaddled his plan in layers of clothing just in case anything went wrong, yet she, Hermione Granger, was like the wind blowing straight through, and it was horribly getting in the way.

He'd been on his knees for three seconds while she was still smiling and expecting those four words. According to his plan, that was three seconds too long. He was supposed to bend down and smile, take out the ring and say in the perfectly accented speech he'd worked on, "Hermione Granger, I just wanted you to know that I've really enjoyed the past few years. They were the biggest highlights of my life. Would you perhaps humor me by agreeing to continue this vicious cycle until the day we die- in other words, will you please marry me?"

Definitely not his style, but he was sure Hermione would love it. Well, Ginny had told him she would, and his sister was female, so he'd taken her word for it. And it was in all the songs, books and movies too anyway. But right now he was close to hyperventilating. Harry had been right after all.

So Ron did what he always did when he felt anxious. He looked up at her.

She smiled at him with intelligent dark eyes that sparkled brighter than any lumos charm ever would. Her hair had been curled perfectly, but over the course of the night a quite few rebellious curls frizzed up again thanks to the slight drizzle so that she looked like she had stopped working on it halfway through the job. She was wearing a navy blue dress with a silver sash around her waist and simple diamond earrings that glittered brighter than the stars themselves. Ron had seen her in many date looks, as he called them, but he realised this one was his favorite.

She was so plain- with darkish skin and common features- brown eyes and dark frizzy hair that distinguished her from no one- yet she turned the heads of whomever was lucky enough to notice her. Her sense of style was normally a cross between both Muggle and Witch- cloaks with t-shirts and pants paired with a Gryffindor scarf. Her brain, her most defining aspect, was visible even if you could not see it. She just had that way of smiling gently, like she was an old grandmother who knew all the world's secrets, and you knew right away that her head contained something unusual- unusual in the best way, that is. The ring- a pink-red ruby on a gold band, had little sliver wings sticking out- ones that George had promised would fly if you said the right word.

She was so plain, yet she stuck out like a sore thumb- but in this case, Ron might be said to have enjoyed the pain.

Five seconds had passed, and he was still holding the ring and hyperventilating and now Hermione had gone a brilliant shade of pink.

He decided he just had to go for it. He couldn't keep it in any longer. She was Hermione Granger, for God's sake. He couldn't keep her waiting.

Oh God, Hermione Granger.

He'd hated her then liked her then loved her. She was his sister and best friend and girlfriend and probably therapist and dictionary. She was his navigation system- without her, Ron would be quite lost- literally. The streets of London were impossible to memorise. And he couldn't convey just how much he loved her for simply being there to smile at him, to roll her eyes and laugh at him as he did stupid things, but he was damned to hell if he didn't try.

"Oh, God, this is so much harder than I expected. Uh, Hermione Granger, I promise this was planned to be so much better but I have to ask now- will you- will you please marry me?"

And all at once, that simple sentence said everything and yet not enough. So much emotion yet not the amount he'd aimed for. But before he could add any more, Hermione interrupted his speech.

She was glowing with pride, which made no sense seeing as he'd embarrassed himself and it had started to freaking rain, rain on his proposal day, and he'd stuttered, the idiot, and yet she was pink and glowing and practically struggling not to explode. She took his hand and helped him up into the pouring rain -one which plastered their hair onto their faces and probably made the email look so ugly but Ron couldn't bring himself to really care- and looked into his eyes, and for once they weren't old or knowledgeable or exasperated or anything Ron would associate with him. They glimmered with love and excitement, like she'd cast a spell for the first time, and he'd never seen them so young and passionate before.

And, for once in his life Ron knew what she would say just a fraction of a second before she said it.

At the end of the day, Ron Weasley knew Hermione Granger as well as she knew him, after all.

"Yes."

AWWWWW! That's so cute that I might just die! I was inspired to write this story based on a Tumblr prompt I saw online- it reads like this:

Hermione: Oh you've got dirt on your nose. Let me get it for you.

Ron: No, don't! It's for luck.

Hermione: For luck?

Ron: Yeah. I had dirt on my nose when we met, don't you remember? On th-

Hermione: On the train! Of course. What do you need luck for?

Ron: [Gets on one knee]

And, yeah, this is what we got! I hope whoever took the time to read it liked it- I tried my best, so please leave a review and tell me whether or not the characters are OOC. Do you think there's a chance it could happen that way?

To any readers who read my Percy Jackson stories (My main fandoms on this website, check it out if you want to!) I promise I'm working on content. I'm just trying to perfect it, and with tests coming up, that's really hard.

So, yeah! Hope you enjoyed it, see you all later!