Title: Don't Choke

Rating: T for language
Genre: Romance & Humor
Pairing(s): Ron/Hermione; implied Harry/Ginny

Description: Ron attempts a proposal to remember, but Crookshanks intervenes with a better idea. And it's certainly not how Ron wanted to remember the night at all.

Author's Note: This isn't my first story written for FFnet, but it is my first story for the Harry Potter fandom. I dare say that I'm nervous to be posting this; writing is such a pleasure, but the pressure is on in the HP world (in my opinion). Give it a chance because you may like it! I really appreciate every reader and reviewer out there(:

Beta: A big thanks to one of my best friends and beta reader, RaiseYourHopefulVoice. She knows how nervous I am about this, and I really am appreciative of her understanding and advice.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in any way. It's all yours, J.K. Rowling.

Ron Weasley looks at the clock for what feels like the hundredth time.

6:45 it reads, indicating that she's late.

It's not like Hermione Granger to be late – to anything, in fact – but especially when it comes to supper time. She's always walking through the door promptly at six o'clock to start cooking.

Except this time, Ron did the cooking, and the chances of it not being rubbish are slim – but he didn't have much time in the first place. Having rushed home early from the Ministry to beat Hermione, he quickly had to clean up the flat they shared in Diagon Alley with Harry and Ginny, then kick out said roommates in order to properly prepare.

His sister and best mate were hesitant to leave at first, causing Ron to reluctantly share his plans for the evening. And after a girlish squeal escaped Ginny's lips, the couple obediently Disapparated to the Burrow with a loud pop.

Now that they're gone and the flat is tidied and the food is cooked (sort of), all Ron has left to do is wait for Hermione. That, and fidget nervously.

Seconds turn into minutes and Ron begins to worry. He finds himself carrying out small tasks to pass the time, such as straightening the jars on the counter or rearranging the flowers sitting in the windowsill. As he's finishing up his floral arrangement, a loud thud erupts in front of him.

"Ah!" Ron yelps in surprise, stumbling back a few feet. He's suddenly annoyed when he sees Crookshanks mounted next to the flowers above the sink.

"Bloody cat. Off with you, shoo," Ron mutters, flailing his arms to rid himself of Hermione's pet, but Crookshanks remains in his position.

Ron swears the damn thing is smirking at him through his squished face. He didn't even want the furry beast to live with them, but – much to his misfortune – where Hermione went, the cat followed. And, of course, Ginny wanted him because she has some sort of 'obsession' (as Ron calls it) with cats; then Harry didn't mind because the stupid animal is actually fond of him.

So, Ron lost epically when it came to ditching the creature. And now, he's forced to feed him and 'care' for him when he doesn't even like him.

And he's positive Crookshanks has mutual feelings. Why else would he hiss at Ron for no apparent reason, or land on his lap with claws purposefully ready to pierce?

"Aren't you getting too old to be climbing around on everything?" Ron asks the cat distastefully. "Shouldn't you be dying or something?"

He remembers Hermione mentioning at dinner one night how long cats can live. However, he wasn't exactly listening, though, because the shirt she was wearing happened to be quite distracting. For some reason, he recalls fifteen years.

But Ron doesn't feel like calculating the math to come up with Crookshanks' age, so he drops the topic.

He checks the time again (6:58) and fumbles with the tiny box in his front pocket, exhaling unevenly as he does so. Ron double checks the room to make sure everything is in its place: the food is in the oven to stay warm; the candles are still burning brightly around the room; and the song he and Hermione danced to at his brother's wedding is playing lightly throughout the flat.

Ron hears a faint 'meow' from Crookshanks behind him, who has found the windowsill to become boring. The cat pounces to the floor gracefully and looks up at Ron, emitting another sound like before.

Ron takes it as "Don't choke," and he narrows his eyes at the pet.

"Don't ruin this for me. I swear, if you do anything, I'll make sure you're out of here before –"

But he's interrupted by the large grandfather clock striking seven. A large cloud of smoke appears from the fireplace in the living room and a high-pitched "Oomf!" follows.

"Ron?" Hermione calls as she kicks off her high heels.

He begins pacing nervously. This is just like asking her to the Yule Ball, he thinks. Except we're not fourth years and it's not for a stupid dance. This is marriage! Oh, fuck…

Ron's ears suddenly turn a dark shade of crimson as he answers, "In the kitchen!"

He hears the soft padding of her bare feet coming in his direction. She enters the room while wiping her clothes free of dirt. "I don't know why I still use Floo Powder. It's such a mess…" But she trails off as she takes in her surroundings.

"What's all this? And where's Harry and Ginny?" Hermione wonders aloud. She whips her head in Ron's direction and fumes, "What did you do this time, Ronald?"

Ron chuckles fearfully – not exactly helping his case. "I didn't do anything, love."

"The only time you cook is when you've broken something or a spell has gone wrong. Or a combination of both!"

"Can't I just do something nice for my girlfriend every once and a while?" he asks exasperatedly.

Hermione still eyes the room suspiciously. "Oh, alright."

He pulls out a chair for her to sit, then proceeds to place the dishes he prepared on the table. "Why were you late today?" Ron questions as innocently as possible. No reason to start an argument when it's not necessary.

"One of my coworkers got engaged last night, so we threw her a small celebration." Her answer is abrupt, and Ron concludes that her mind is still churning as she figures out what he did wrong.

Ron doesn't reply as he sits opposite of her at the small table, shoveling food onto his plate. All that pacing made him hungry, and he isn't going to miss out on a meal – even if he cooked it.

He notices Hermione pushing her helpings around with her fork, a troubled look plastered across her face. "Hermione, what's bothering you?"

She forcefully stabs a roasted carrot and begins to nibble on it. "Nothing!" She gives him the best smile she can muster up before taking a bite of her potatoes.

"I know when you're not telling me the truth, 'Mione."

Hermione sighs. "She just looked so happy today when she told everyone... She seemed so in love."

Oh.

The engagement.

I see…

"Hermione, love, there's something I wanted to ask you…" Ron takes her small hand into his larger one and gently rubs his thumb across her knuckles. He sees a spark of hope flicker in her eyes, giving him the bit of confidence needed.

As he reaches his other hand to retrieve the box from his pocket, the couple is surprised to see Crookshanks land on the table from above. The cat targets and crashes in Ron's food, flinging the majority of his side dishes onto his clothing. Silverware fall the floor and clang loudly, causing Ron and Hermione to cringe. Crookshanks takes his time as he struts across the remaining dishes of food, pausing and 'accidently' knocking over Hermione's glass of wine into her lap.

Hermione stands and gasps, troubled by the stain she knows won't be coming out of her work attire. "What is going on with you, Crookshanks?" She scoops her beloved pet into her arms, not caring that his food-covered fur is further ruining her suit.

"Fucking cat!" Ron bellows.

"Language, Ronald!"

"I don't care! I told the bloody thing to stay away, and look what he's done." He attempts to clean his shirt, but only makes matters worse.

"He's a cat, Ronald! He's not always going to listen to what he's told," she shrieks defensively, clutching a purring Crookshanks to her chest.

So much for not arguing.

"He's out to get me, 'Mione; has been since third year at Hogwarts."

Hermione scoffs sarcastically. "You're being ridiculous. That was eight years ago, Ron. And besides, he wasn't out to get you. He wanted Scabbers. He's certainly my cat, intelligent and all; knew something was off about that rat from the start!" She runs her hands along his soft, ginger fur lovingly.

Crookshanks jumps from his owner's arms and weaves himself through Ron's legs, tenderly rubbing and purring. "Gerroff me!" Ron shouts and removes his legs without tripping over the cat. "See, he's mocking me as we speak!"

She rolls her eyes in annoyance and crosses her arms over her chest. "I've never met someone as resentful as you over a house pet, Ron Weasley."

"Blimey, Hermione! I was just trying to make tonight perfect, and then the – I'm not mental, I swear!"

"What is so important that something as small as a cat could ruin it?" Hermione asks, bewildered at the situation at hand.

"Because I was going to ask you to marry me!" he blurts out without thinking.

Both Ron and Hermione become very still as they let the words sink in.

"Y-you were?" she inquires quietly. The faintest of smiles tugs at her lips.

Ron scratches the back of his neck uneasily. "Er – yeah."

"Yes."

"W-what?"

"Yes, I'll marry you, you idiot!" Hermione exclaims with a laugh and rubs her misty eyes on the back of her hand.

His smile soon matches hers as she launches herself into his arms and kisses him lovingly. And as he lifts her off the ground and spins her in a circle, she's suddenly reminded of the date. She pulls away unexpectedly and looks into his eyes. "Ron… It was three years ago today."

Their first kiss, the second war, the death of his brother…

"Oh, Ron, we should be with your family," Hermione says wearily, clinging to his dirty shirt.

"They'll understand, love. This will be good for them," he assures, kissing her hairline softly.

Ron finally pulls the small box from his front pocket and opens it slowly, revealing a simple, yet beautiful engagement ring. He slips it onto the third finger of her left hand and says, "Tomorrow they'll be throwing you a celebration, and I'll get to tell all my fellow Aurors that I'm the luckiest bloke in the world."

Hermione grins brightly and kisses Ron once more. When they break apart, they spot good ole Crookshanks perched on the windowsill, perfectly gloating in the fact that he had everything to do with how the proposal happened.

And as long as he's alive, Ron doesn't stand a chance of being in charge of the household.

A/N: Thank you for making it this far in my story, a.k.a. the end! Because you read it, I'd really appreciate some feedback! If you don't mind, please leave a review below; reviews certainly make my writing experience much better! The feedback will determine whether or not I continue writing Ron/Hermione, or any HP pairings really, in the future.

Again, please do take some time to review(:

Thanks so much!

XxLadyStrengthxX