A/N: Obviously, I own none of the rights to either of these series. Those belong to J.K. Rowling and Haruichi Furudate, along with whatever publishers, producers, etc., are involved with both series.
She'd thought about it.
She was sure everyone had noticed it, too. Harry especially had given her a couple of concerned looks.
A week had passed… and she still wasn't any closer to a conclusion. She loved him, but she wanted what was best for him.
She knew she shouldn't be selfish. That staying with him would be comfortable, like he'd said. She would be a Weasley, a part of the family that she loved so much, that all loved her.
But Ron could have better, and she couldn't do that to him, just like he had said he couldn't do it to her.
She sighed.
She wanted more time to think, but she knew that wouldn't change anything.
Wait. Time.
If they gave each other time… stayed friends, but tried to find that perfect match. Then if they didn't, they could always come back to each other. Magic lengthened people's lives. There was no need to decide their eternal partners today.
She ran down the stairs.
"Ron!"
Mrs. Weasley looked up in alarm. "Whatever is the matter dear?"
"Nothing." Well that wasn't entirely true. "Everything." Hermione sighed, that was just plain melodramatic. "I just need to talk to Ron."
"He's outside by the pond, dearie."
"Thank you." Hermione ran down the pathway, not stopping to acknowledge Percy, who was apparently reading in the garden.
She stopped in front of Ron, panting.
"You ignore me for a week, then run out here like a bloody wild woman." She looked up into his clear, amused eyes.
"Sorry." She took a deep breath, then sat down across from him. "I've been thinking. Like you asked me to."
His expression immediately became more guarded. "And?"
"I agree with you."
"Come again?" He looked completely baffled. Hermione laughed.
"I agree with you, Ron." She sighed. "This," she gestured between them, "is comfortable. I like it, and I love you. But you deserve someone who doesn't make you feel insignificant."
"'mione, you don't—"
"Ronald, don't you lie to me. Not about this."
He sighed, defeated. "It's nothing you mean to do, exactly. You're just so bloody brilliant all the time."
She smiled softly, "Thank you for that. You really are amazing Ron, but whatever I say or do…" Hermione shrugged, "I'm not enough to help you believe in yourself, though I wish I was. And... I also don't want to settle down and have kids any time soon."
Ron swallowed tightly. "So are we done, then?"
"You know, despite what your mother may believe, there's no reason to rush into marriage, Ron."
He looked at her blankly. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"There's a thing muggles do. When you find someone who understands you, and you're best of friends, but you don't really see each other in a romantic way, you can promise to marry each other when you're 30 if you never find anyone else before then."
"So… we look for our soulmates, but if we don't find them by 30, then…we'll stay with each other?"
"Exactly. We stay best friends, but we won't be in a romantic relationship. We look for our soulmates, but if we don't find them, then…" she shrugged, "at least we'll have each other."
Ron was frowning, thinking. "That…could work. But until we're 30? That's a long time. There are only so many witches and wizards in England."
"Fine." She laughed, "30 was just a rough number, anyway. How about 25?"
"That's a bit better, at least."
"25 it is, then." She smiled softly at him. "We'll look for our soulmates, but if we both still haven't found them when we're 25, we'll date and marry each other."
She held out her hand to him. Ron grasped it, then pulled them both up.
"It's a deal, Hermione."