Author's Note: New One-shot! For the purposes of this fic, Hermione is working for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, while Ron is working as an Auror, as according to various sources of canon information regarding their lives post DH. Where they live isn't really important – some apartment somewhere in Muggle or Wizarding London, I guess.
~~*~~
Hermione appeared, quite suddenly, at the door to her apartment with the telltale 'Pop' of an apparating witch or wizard and, balancing a bag filled to bursting with various official looking documents, began searching for her apartment key. On any other day, of course, she probably would've taken the Floo Network straight from work right into her own lounge room. Today, however, she'd been interviewing a couple of centaurs regarding the finer points of centaur law to ensure Legislation she was working on wouldn't offend the centaurs as a whole once passed, and the forest she'd been doing it in, quite understandably, didn't have a fireplace.
Once she'd located her key and redistributed her belongings so that she could open the door without dropping anything, Hermione preceded inside, and, with a flourish of her wand, sent the mountain of paperwork she'd been carrying fluttering upstairs. Satisfied the various charms she'd cast on her own study were now doing their best to organise the files for her, she set to work (with a few lazy flicks of her wand) cleaning up the mess Ronald had no doubt made between her leaving this morning and he himself heading off for work.
Sometimes she wondered if he purposely tried to make as much mess as possible, knowing he would have only had at most fifteen minutes alone in their flat before having to leave for work. Despite herself, she smiled as clothing, dirty dishes and a discarded newspaper floated by her, each bobbing its way towards the appropriate place for such mess. Awkwardly (as skilled as she was, Hermione had never been that great at housework or cooking charms) she caught the plate Ron had eaten breakfast off before it dropped into the sink, letting the buttery knife fall with a clatter. Another flick of her wand brought her scrubbing brush and the tap to life, and she turned to survey the apartment as they began cleaning the few dishes left without requiring her attention.
It was then that she noticed the ring lying on the counter before her. Immediately, her stomach plummeted and the rest of her insides flared.
No! She snapped internally, crying out to herself. I can't believe the imbecile! Exasperated, Hermione smacked the counter with her hands, her wand landing with a frighteningly loud rap and spraying a few angry sparks.
He's left his damn engagement ring sitting on the kitchen counter! She cried to herself. I can't believe him. He's ruined it all again!
Pouting, she recalled the first date they'd ever been on, a few short months after the fall of Voldemort – how Ron had stuttered, knocked over glasses and just generally been clumsy. In hindsight, the entire episode was delightfully adorable – a major part of why Hermione found herself happy to wake up beside the young Auror everyday – but at the time it had been frustrating and embarrassing. It had been just like their first Christmas alone together: Ron had overcooked the turkey and undercooked the vegetables; even with all the cooking charms his mother had spent weeks showing him.
That episode had been immediately adorable, and they'd laughed together about it as they ate pizza and drank wine well into the night, but Hermione had lamented the loss of a romantic evening over the next few years as time together had become harder to come by, what with their jobs and family dominating every minute.
And now this! She thought, hovering near tears from sheer frustration. He can't even propose without ruining the surprise, spoiling it! Now I know. The idiot!
Frowning, but nonetheless overcome with curiosity, she reached out to pick up the ring, to examine it just a little closer. As her hand closed around the delicate band, the strangest sensation crept over her, until, suddenly. Bang! She heard a crack somewhere behind her, and, out of the blue, something was suddenly pulling at the back of her navel and she was spinning wildly and she could have sworn something strange was happening to her clothes as they began to prickle all of a sudden...
And then there he was, down on one knee and dressed in the finest dress robes she'd ever seen, cut in soft crimson and rich, velvety navy. And she – she was wearing a stunning dress where moments before she'd been in worn, practical hiking gear for her interview with the centaurs – and it was bright crimson to match his robes and... Oh my God! She was on the roof of their apartment and it was absolutely overflowing with roses and the air was sparkling with golden dust like it was snowing and it was all just too much and her head was spinning like you wouldn't believe!
"Hermione," he spoke, his voice brimming with delight at the shock and wonder on her face, "will you marry me?"
The one, single word fell out of her mouth before she'd even managed to comprehend what he was asking or where she was.
"Yes."
~~*~~
Author's Note: I don't know how those last few paragraphs read, because I wrote them myself and I know what they're supposed to feel like (so that's what they feel like to me), but I was trying for as rushed a feel as I could get with my writing to put across the surprise and shock Hermione's feeling. So if they felt awkward the first time you read them, I apologise. Try going back and reading from where she picks up the ring as fast as you can and see if that works any better.
And by fast I mean Reallyreallyfastlikeyou'resupposedtoreadwordswithoutspaces, fast.
Also, reviews are nice. I have a couple more ideas for some other couple's proposals, too, so we'll see where that goes in the next few days.
