Forget what I said a few chapters ago about it being my favourite chapter; this is my absolute favourite chapter. It is complete fluff, quite possibly worse than the rest of the entire story, and I adore it. I'm sure you will too.

~Chapter 9~

"Harry! Where are we going?" We are soaring at top speed, and he looks so happy, with the wind flying through his raven black hair, slightly longer than he usually keeps it. His eyes are sparkling mischievously, something that even those closest to him don't see often. We're travelling on our brooms. Mostly because Harry loves his broom, partly because I still have no clue where we are going. Oh! We are descending. I dip my broom down, and follow Harry towards a small clearing. We land gracefully, thank goodness. Harry hates it when after a long game, I just kind of tumble onto the ground. It makes him nervous.

"Wait here, Gin. I'm just going to go and set up. There is a really pretty glade just through there." I nod and smile at his turned back. To be honest, I'm still in shock that he knows what a glade is. I hope that if he does propose, he does it in a really clichéd way. Tried and True. A ring around my champagne glass would be wonderful. Ooh, I hope that he brought champagne. I'm pretty sure that we have croissants, and raspberries and strawberries. And ice cream. Basically, sweet food. We both have a little bit of a sweet tooth. Ok, massive sweet tooth in my case.

"Come on, just through here." He leads me through a gap in the bushes that I'm sure wasn't there a second ago. I gasp slightly when I see it; it is simply beautiful. He has laid the pale blue and white large checked picnic blanket in the middle of the small glade surrounded by those hot pink miniature roses. On the blanket, there is a huge picnic basket, and two champagne glasses, filled with champagne, and each with a strawberry in it.

"Goodness, Harry this is beautiful! It's absolutely perfect! How did you know it was here? Oh, the roses are so pretty!" I gush. Eww, I never gush. Mum, she is the queen of gushing. Me, je goush jamais. Jamais. Harry raises one brow at me.

"Why so enthusiastic?" He smirks, "What do you want? Chicken sandwich or ham sandwich? Or we could skip the sandwiches, and go straight on to dessert."

"Dessert." He knows me too well; I bet he didn't even pack sandwiches.

"Ok, Ice-Cream, or normal cream?" Mmm, I love Ice Cream.

"Ice-Cream. Did you pack drink? Not the likes of Firewhiskey, the Muggle stuff."

"Of course. When I was little, Aunt Petunia was hosting a dinner party for Uncle Vernon's boss at the time. She served Champagne, real French stuff they were given for Christmas the year prior. She served it with strawberries, and I always thought that it looked nice, so that's what I brought." Strange, really, how Petunia influenced Harry. For somebody that he has resented most of his life, she has made a strong impression on him, whether he knows it or not.

"That sounds really good, actually. I love Champagne." They had it at Ron and Hermione's wedding. Harry and I got absolutely smashed on it. Him quicker than I. He can't hold his drink, bless him. Hermione and Ron had already left, so it really turned into a Weasley party, rather than a Weasley/Granger wedding with Muggles.

"Remember Ron and Hermione's wedding Gin? That was funny."

"Yeah, remember the look on Hermione's face when they got home and she discovered how drunk we got? She was appalled, not to mention Mum. She was scandalised." Mum's reaction was hilarious. She could honestly not believe that her baby boy was married, and her baby girl was absolutely pished with her 'adopted' son. She went mental, and all we could do was laugh! Harry ended up sleeping in Ron's room at the Burrow, because he couldn't Apparate home.

"Yeah," He laughs. "At least one of them got a kick out of it. Ron thought it was hilarious." We carry on in this fashion for a few hours, before I fall asleep, my head resting on his chest. When I woke up, the picnic had disappeared, leaving only sparklingly clean champagne flutes and some chocolate (Milk chocolate with a gooey caramel centre, you'll be pleased to know) remained. It's almost 9pm, according to Harry's watch.

"Harry, it's time to wake up." I don't actually really want to leave just yet.

"Ginny? I wasn't asleep. I have a surprise for you. Follow me," He leads me back through into an open field, taking the bubbly and chocolate.

"Look up." He says, simply. I do, and when I did, I am met with the most beautiful sight. The heavens were spread out above us, the stars millions of tiny, glittering dots, seemingly different colours against the inky midnight blue sky. The exact colour that tames my vibrant orange hair, and dulls it to a glistening auburn. A tame fire, as Harry would call it. My wedding is no longer red and gold; it's silver, white and midnight blue. I turn to face Harry, and see his brilliant jade orbs gazing into mine. He kneels to the ground, and takes my hand.

"Ginny, will you do me the immense honour of marrying me?" I just know that I have a stupid grin on my face, but I just can't bring myself to care properly.

"Yes, a million times over. I would love to be your wife! I love you so…" He never got to hear how much I loved him, as he had grabbed my face gently, and pressed his lips to mine in a kiss so passionate that I forgot who I am. And where we were, and other such like things.

"I love you too, Gin. I can't believe it went this well, I was sure that I'd trip, or stutter, or something." In reply to this, I simply stretch my grin wider, if possible.

"Well, y'didn't, and I'm glad. The sky is so pretty, I love that colour blue."

"Well that's good, do you want your ring?" I nod spastically, and he opens a pretty, deep blue ring box to revel a beautiful white gold, thin band with a classic raised, inset, round-cut Sapphire, the exact colour of the velvety night sky. Beside the deep blue stone are two small inset diamond baguettes, sparkling like stars.

"It was my Mother's; I found it in the family vault. We can get you a different one if you like…"

"No, I would love to wear your Mother's ring. It is beautiful; it's the colour of the sky."

"The ring and the sky are pretty, but you outshine them by far." Aww! That's so sweet!

"Flattery will get you everywhere, m'dear." I lean in, and kiss him soundly. He takes my hand, and touches my ring lightly.

"I like how it looks on you." He says.

"Good; it's never coming off." I smile. All too soon, our night is over. We Apparate home, Harry already have taken the brooms and basket home while I was asleep. An hour later, and I am lying in my cold bed, not sleeping. I climb out of bed and tiptoe into Harry's room, where I snuggle up next to his warm, sleeping form. This is where I belong.

AWWW! I chose "will you marry me?" rather than phrases like 'will you be my wife' etc. etc. because I reckon that it's cheesetacular, and just a simple "will you marry me?" is so much better. Did I do them justice? Let me know! By the way, follement is French for crazily, madly, wackily. I haven't been translating all the French that I've randomly popped in, but Google Translate will give you an approximation of what is being said.

-Chocolate Fish