May 2, 2004
Ron Weasley paced nervously in front of Hermione's door. Three times he had attempted to knock before his nerves got the better of him. It was their two year anniversary, and he intended to make it unforgettable. It wasn't until he heard the bubbling of laughter and two distinct voices - one of which was male - that he pounded on the door.

"Just a second," he heard Hermione call out before she opened the door. The remains of her laughter lit her smile when she saw him. "Ron, hi. Come on in."

"Who's here?" he inquired, moving past her into the living room. But she didn't need to answer for he saw who it was that entertained his girlfriend - Malfoy. "What's he doing here?"

Hermione crossed the room and stood by his side, resting her hand on his forearm. "Draco lives in my building. We have tea together sometimes," she explained, hoping her calmness would transpose to him. It shouldn't have come as a surprise when a furious blush crept up Ron's neck until it reached his hairline. He said nothing as he left the living room for the kitchen.

"I should go," Draco decided, rising from the couch. Standing before her, he looked her over once and gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Call me if you need anything."

Hermione allowed him to hug her goodbye before seeing him out. Closing the door, she leaned against it and rubbed her temples as she reminded herself to breathe. More and more, she and Ron had spent their time fighting, and she wondered if Draco would be the straw that broke the camel's back. Mustering the strength she needed for Round 2, she entered the kitchen to find Ron seated at her small table.

"Are the two of you friends?" Ron wondered, diverting his gaze from her. Quietly, she confirmed their friendship. "How long?"

"A few," Hermione cleared her throat, "A few years. Since the war ended."

Ron shook his head, locks of red hair swinging about from the effort. "How did I not know about this? He's been living near you for Merlin knows how long. How did I not know that?"

Hermione shrugged and took a seat across from him. Reaching across the small round table, she placed her hand over his larger one. "We don't see each other that often," she assured him. "Before he moved in here, it was maybe once every couple of years that we saw each other. Those letters a few years ago, the ones with the pictures, those were from him."

"And now that he lives here?" Ron pushed.

Hermione sighed. He was too calm, and the other shoe was bound to drop at any moment. "I don't know, Ron. He lives down the hall so we run into each other on occasion."

He rose from his seat and scrubbed his hands over his face, the crimson tinge receding as the seconds ticked by. Part of him longed for the days of blissful ignorance, but he knew things had been off between Hermione and himself for some time. The small box in his pocket, he believed, was the ticket to fixing things.

"I came here today to ask you something important," Ron stated, turning to face her. Taking a step forward, he hesitated. Was he supposed to get down on left knee or the right? He tried each before deciding on the right. Hermione's eyes widened; she knew exactly what he planned to do. "Will you marry me?"

Hermione was gobsmacked. Though she knew he was going to ask once he was down on one knee, she had no idea how to answer his question. And so the first thing out of her mouth was her answer. "I don't know."

Ron moved his other knee so it was on the floor and he sat back on his heels. "You don't...you don't know?"

"I don't know," she reiterated, still reeling from the shock of the proposal.

"Do you think you might know soon?" Ron asked, ashamed and embarrassed by his proposal gone awry. Again, she didn't know. Ron pulled himself to his feet and dejectedly stuffed the ring back into his trouser pocket. "I should go," he decided.

Hermione remained seated and nodded. She watched as he left the kitchen and she listened for the sound of the floo. Sure that he was gone, Hermione bolted out of her flat and ran down the hall to Draco's apartment.

"Why do you look like you've seen the ghost of Voldemort?" Draco joked when he opened the door to reveal a very white-faced Hermione.

"Ron proposed," she told him, not bothering to wait for an invitation to enter. It was only as a courtesy that she knocked in the first place. They had long since taken to letting themselves in without announcement or invitation.

"Is that bad?" Draco asked, shutting the door. He sat down and watched as she paced in a straight line in front of the coffee table.

She stopped and stared at him as if he had grown another head. "You're questioning whether or not a proposal from Ron Weasley is bad?" she asked incredulously.

Draco continued to watch her walk back and forth. "Are you expecting me to give you a reason not to accept his proposal?" he inquired.

"I'd have thought you of all people would have a million reasons," she muttered. Finally, she stopped pacing and took a seat beside him. Without realizing it, she reached for his hand, holding it tightly.

Draco glanced down at their joined hands. "I of all people," he mumbled. "Listen, I'm the last person who should be giving anyone advice on engagements. I ran from mine because I couldn't bring myself to marry someone I didn't love. For that, my parents disowned me. At least if you turn down Weasley's proposal, you'll still have a family."

Hermione moved closer to him until she could rest her head on his shoulder. "I might not have you though," she said sadly.

"You're my best friend, Granger. I'm not going anywhere," he vowed.