Ron was lying on his bed tossing a little black box up in the air and catching it, thinking of how best to ask her. For once, he wished it wasn't his day off. He didn't even have work to keep his mind off of the task he was about to do.

Then there was a knock on his bedroom door. Ron jumped about a mile and stuffed the little box in his sock drawer before calling, "Come in."

Ron's best mate Harry walked in. The exact person he needed to talk to. He suddenly remembered that his sock drawer was still open. He closed it with a guilty look as if he'd been stealing and sat down on his bed. "Hullo, Harry. I thought Kingsley was going to need you in all day. Bit busy, isn't it?"

"Ah, it was supposed to be, but it wasn't- which is actually a good thing. I was told by a couple of er..." Harry gave a little cough and scratched behind his right ear nervously, "little… er… birds that I had to talk to you... about… er…" he stopped. And started looking around, avoiding eye contact with Ron at all costs.

"Why's Hermione mad at me now? What did I do this time? Did Ginny tell you for her? I 'spect she did," Ron asked nonchalantly. Harry really didn't need to be that worried. I mean, this happened at least twice a month.

"Er... well… according to her, you have been a bit… ignorant. Apparently you've been ignoring Hermione a bit, and they want to know why. Supposedly. According to Ginny," Harry replied, adding "supposedly"s and "according to Ginny"s in the hope that Ron wouldn't be as angry with him.

Ron rolled his eyes and snorted. "Funny. I wanted to talk to you about the answer to that question. I… er…well…what it is… see… the thing is, Harry… I… um… well-…" Ron stuttered nervously. He realized that he wouldn't be able to get it out. So he just shook his head and began staring at his sock-clad feet.

"You want to propose to Hermione, don't you?" Harry asked knowingly. Ron couldn't understand how Harry always seemed to know absolutely everything that Ron could never put into words.

"Er… well… yeah," Ron said hopelessly. He couldn't help being nervous that someone knew what he wanted to do, even if it was just Harry.

Harry chuckled. Ron really was hopeless. "Well, I can't tell Hermione that." He rolled his eyes. "So, how are you going to do it?"

"Er…. That's the thing, Harry. I don't know how. I need help." Ron said sheepishly, glancing up at his friend for a quarter of a second before glancing back down again.

"And why would you want me to help, you bloody idiot? I've never proposed to anyone before!" Harry contradicted. "Why don't you ask Bill? He's been married for four years and his wife hasn't killed him yet! He's even got a two year old!"

"Yeah, but Harry…. I trust you slightly more than Bill. You know my brothers. They'll go telling everyone. Plus, you're actually good with girls… well, better than I am anyway. You can actually… I don't know, but…. Harry, come on! You know I won't be able to do this without help. Admit it Harry. I'm a failure at this kind of stuff. But you're not!"

Ron sighed. He couldn't believe that Harry had suggested that he ask one of his brothers. Bill would just smile knowingly and chuckle, then start telling stories! And George would do evil, evil things. Charlie would laugh at say, "Figure it out, Ron…. Of course, if you want to know how to tame a dragon, I'd be glad to help…. As long as you tell me what breed first." Percy would scoff and tell him to stop being so shallow and do something important. Why couldn't he have any sensible brothers?

"Alright, alright. I'll help," Harry said, finally giving in. Ron was good at revenge. "Alright, mate. Let's start with the basics. What does Hermione like to do with you?" This had to be the weirdest thing Harry'd ever done to do to help Ron.

"Uh… I dunno," Ron said. He was just chock full of answers.

"Alright then. This is going to make it harder. My best mate is a numbskull," Harry groaned. He'd rather try to have a reasonable conversation with George. "Well, since Christmas is coming up soon, why don't you do it on Christmas eve?"

"Alright but what would we do?" Ron fell onto his bed, head first.

"Uh… the most romantic thing I've got is Paris. Would it be safe to apparate to Paris?" Harry said with a shrug.

"I dunno. Go ask Mum." Ron said, jokingly. If Harry actually did ask his mum… he shuddered at the thought of what he might have to do to his best friend. His sister would definitely kill him for it, but the revenge would probably be worth it.

"Ok. I'll be right back." Harry said and dashed out of the room, snickering at how stupid Ron was for even suggesting it. Did he really think Harry wouldn't ask her, just to annoy the hell out of his best mate?

"Harry! I didn't mean it!" Ron screeched, sitting up again, but Harry didn't come back. Ron sighed. Of course.

Harry skipped the last three steps and walked into the kitchen, still laughing inwardly at Ron's expression when he'd left. What did he care if Ron tried to kill him? What he was really worried about was what Hermione would do to him if he didn't "fix Ron" as she'd put it. Mercifully, Mrs. Weasley was standing in the kitchen, making sure the dishes didn't make a mess as they cleaned themselves.

"Mrs. Weasley?" Harry asked, fighting to keep down hi laughter. "Can I ask you a question?"

Mrs. Weasley turned around and smiled at the boy she thought of as another son. "Why of course you can, Harry. Sit down and we'll have a nice little chat." Harry sat down opposite Mrs. Weasley, as instructed. "Now, what is it, Harry dear?"

"Well… Ron wants to know if it's safe to apparate to Paris." Harry said in a rush. He didn't want her to think he was the one up to something! Of course, she probably thought so anyway, simply because what he'd said was just like "I have a friend who wants to know…".

"Oh! Really? And may I ask why my son wishes to apparate to Paris?" she asked, a bit suspicious, as Harry had known she would be, that it wasn't Ron who wanted to take a trip to Paris.

"Well… you should probably go ask him." Harry decided, trying to make her believe that it really was Ron who wanted to talk to her. "I don't think he'll want me to tell you."

Mrs. Weasley smiled and shook her head before leading Harry up the stairs to Ron's room.

~*~

As his mum opened the door, Ron almost fainted. His brain was whirring through a list of the most horrible insults he could possibly think of. Things like, "Harry is the evilest, most vile creature on the planet, even if he did defeat Voldemort, or, as George would say, Lord Moldy Shorts. Or the dark lord Pants-less. Or the Bumblebee killer…. Actually, Hermione came up with the bumblebee one. Supposedly, that's what Dumbledore means in whatever the hell bloody language it was," and everything else insulting her could come up with. Ron couldn't wait for his mum to leave so he could use them all on Harry. Ron then decided that after he had insulted Harry properly, he could kill Harry and frame Viktor Krum…. Then go into hiding in case Ginny figured out who had actually killed Harry Potter.

Mrs. Weasley rushed over to Ron's bed and sat down next to him. "Now, Ronnie dear, tell mummy everything. Why do you want to apparate to Paris?" Ron stared at his mother, open mouthed. He couldn't believe she'd just come right out and said it. Mrs. Weasley, however, took his expression to mean that he was nervous about telling her. "Oh, my poor Ronnie! Don't be ashamed! It's alright. I promise that I won't tell anyone else!"

Ron took a deep breath and then managed to say in about twenty seconds, "CauseIHermioneIwantandI-I-Iyeahandwellyeahand…yeah?" Ron stuttered in reply. Harry snorted. He doubted that even Mrs. Weasley could understand that. Harry, it appears, was wrong.

Mrs. Weasley grabbed her son, hugging him so tight that he was sure it was a safety hazard. Mrs. Weasley then exclaimed, "OH Ronnie! That's it? Oh! I have another little boy getting married! You know you could have just told me that! Oh Ronnie! Well, honestly dear, if you want my opinion, I'd go with a portkey. It is much safer over such a long distance. Anything else you need help with?"

"Er… Yeah," Ron said, looking nervously at the ground, thankful that his mum had finally released her death grip on him.

"Oh, what is it?" She asked, excited to be asked to help.

"Everything!" Ron wailed and flopped over and buried his head in his pillow yet again. He would rather eat his own arms than figure this out himself…. Well, that's what he was telling himself, anyway.

"Oh, dear," she said, worried. "Well, dear, what do you think Hermione would like to do? That's always a good start." Mrs. Weasley was trying to be helpful, but Ron was beyond help.

"She'd like to write her own version of Hogwarts, a History, but that's not exactly helping me!" Ron exclaimed bitterly and Harry chuckled in the background, earning himself a death glare from Ron. That was when Harry decided to leave. He didn't want to be praised for living to defeat Voldemort again, only to be killed four years later by his moody best friend.

Mrs. Weasley sighed and said, "Well, you mentioned Paris- or, rather Harry did for you. Is that what you were thinking of?" Mrs. Weasley couldn't help but marvel at how completely hopeless her youngest son was. A bit like Arthur used to be, really, she decided.

"No. Harry thought of it. But it was better than anything I thought of. I was thinking of doing it on Christmas Eve, though," Ron confessed, feeling a bit stupid.

Mrs. Weasley could tell that Ron was feeling like his idea was stupid and she couldn't help but wonder why. It was sweet. And even if it had been stupid, Hermione would've appreciated it all the same."OH! Ron that's so sweet! How about you take her to see the Eiffel tower?"

"Alright," Ron agreed. This was how Ron saw it: His mum was a girl. And in Ron's book that meant that she knew things. Things no guy could ever understand. He decided to take the bait and go for whatever she said… after he took a nap, of course.