ANs

-Thank you for being patient! This took a bit longer because I wanted to write the next chapter first… which means that the final chapter has already been drafted :). I just need to polish it up and let my betas take a look before posting.

-Speaking of betas, THANK YOU smjl and adenei6!

-And lastly, this has officially become my most followed, favorited, and reviewed fic! I'm so thrilled by the response to this little headcanon of mine, and quite sad it's coming to an end soon… :(. I hope you know that every single one of those follows, favorites, and reviews brought a huge smile to my face!

Step 11: Understanding Each Other

At this point, you've probably known each other for a while, and have likely both witnessed her growth and experienced your own. You won't doubt that the task of understanding her is a complicated one. Although you will never truly know her, as everyone is constantly changing, it is important to try, and to let your efforts show.

Ron smiled down at the book, appreciating its throwback to the first chapter, Getting To Know Her. At first, Ron wouldn't have spotted a difference between the two steps, but now he could. He finally understood Hermione enough to know that she would always be full of mysteries to him.

In the past, unsolvable mysteries never intrigued Ron. Most subjects would start to frustrate him upon realizing he'd never truly understand them. He didn't see the point of pouring all his efforts into studying things that were constantly changing. Hermione was an exception of course. He used to consider the task of "getting to know her" to be a goal, a destination, but in reality, it was a never-ending adventure, one that proved that maybe there were some topics that could hold his interest no matter how vast.

Ever since he accepted that Hermione was someone he'd never fully understand, he began to enjoy the journey of trying, regardless of the outcome. Not only did Hermione-as-a-subject pique his interest, but her own inquisitiveness toward other unknowable things was contagious. Over the years of being with her, he had adopted a similar curiosity for the world around him. He developed an appreciation for its expansiveness, which included everything from stories and books, to science and nature, to government and politics, and of course, other people. The world really was a fascinating place, and he had Hermione to thank for that realization.

There was no one he wanted to share life's mysteries with more than Hermione. With her by his side, he felt like he could take on anything, which is why he couldn't wait to drop to one knee and ask her to continue the journey of life with him.

After receiving Jean and Hugo's blessing in Australia, it didn't take long for him to purchase a ring, and elicit Ginny and Harry's help forming an elaborate proposal plan. Over time, it had turned into something he was quite proud of. Not only did it incorporate her obsession with books, her thirst for adventure, and her love of riddles and problem-solving, it also offered her some insight into his own mind, something she'd long ago admitted she'd never understand, but she'd die trying.

He'd even arranged for Jean and Hugo to stay at the Burrow, which is where— if all went according to plan— they would enjoy a celebratory dinner as a newly engaged couple. In fact, her parents were already there. Ron had picked them up from the airport while Hermione was at work, taken them out for lunch, and dropped them off at the Burrow where Molly and Arthur took over entertaining them. Ron smiled at the memory of his dad's excited yelp upon learning that they'd be hosting muggles for a short stay. Arthur, who did not fully understand muggles, never missed an opportunity to learn as much as he could about them.

Jean and Hugo shared a similar fascination with everything magical at the Burrow. They were full of questions when they noticed household spells working in the background to keep laundry clean, wash dishes, even knit baby clothes for the grandchildren. Ron heard them both wonder aloud why Ron and Hermione never performed magic around them anymore. It seemed that their previous aversion to magic was likely just a fear of the unknown— a distrust that Hermione had accidentally instilled alongside her memory charms. By now it had faded into curiosity, and Ron realized that their commitment to keeping her magic hidden around her parents might be rooted in misunderstanding.

As Ron's curiosity grew over the years, he had started noticing it in other people. It appeared as Arthur's constant quest for information about the muggle world, Molly's incessant questions about Jean and Hugo's lives in Australia, and their equally enthusiastic inquiries about the Burrow. He had even noticed it in Harry, who after the war, found immense joy in life's small pleasures. With the stress of being The Chosen One a staple of his past, he seemed committed to enjoying the simplicity of finally being normal. Ron noticed more than curiosity. He noticed there was an openness, optimism, and enthusiasm for life that he now shared with others. Part of it was surely Hermione's thirst for knowledge rubbing off on him, but now that he was surrounded by people in love, he wondered how much his own happiness contributed.

Just maybe, the next day, everything would go according to his plan. If so, Hermione would conclude the day with a fresh stack of new books, a thoroughly exhausted mind, an engagement ring, and a fiance.

But of course, the world had a way of telling its own story. Years ago, that fact would have terrified him, but today it made him smile. If he could pick one lesson he'd learned from life thus far, it was that some of the best stories were born from the unexpected. Like snow on a warm window, he felt his anxieties about the perfect plan start to melt away, suddenly offering him a sense of reassuring clarity. Maybe being in love had made him naively optimistic, but he preferred to think that the last few years with Hermione had proved that the universe could also make perfect plans.

Whether his proposal was perfect, a complete disaster, or something in between ultimately didn't matter. He grinned at Hermione sleeping soundly beside him and just knew that whatever happened tomorrow would be brilliant. He was no longer nervous, but interested, excited, and of course, curious.

It didn't take long for Ron and Hermione to get used to living together. They fell into a comfortable rhythm in no time— maybe too comfortable of a rhythm— which occasionally meant functioning on autopilot.

They discovered that the most effective way to re-engage each other was to argue. Ron and Hermione were professionals at fighting— in fact they had hardly gone a year at Hogwarts without an epic relationship-defining row. During their first year, it was The Troll Incident which ironically began their friendship by luring Hermione into the bathroom to cry, and motivating Ron to set aside his grievances to admit he'd rather she'd not die. They credit their lack of fighting in their second year to the fact that Hermione was petrified for most of it. If she hadn't been, who knows what would have happened, and it's probably best not to think about it too much.

Their third year was marked by the Scabbers Versus Crookshanks Debacle, and they fondly referred to their fourth year as The Year That Ron Realized Hermione Was A Girl. They got through fifth year on a fragile agreement to put up a unified front for Harry, who was (to put it gently) having a really hard time, and neither could forget the casualties of their four-month estrangement in year six, or the fact that Riddle's locket had briefly severed their bond during the war.

Over time, these arguments taught Ron and Hermione a lot about each other, and even as adults-in-love, they continued to put that knowledge to use. Ron understood which buttons to press, and he always knew exactly where the line was. Like everything else that he'd learned through his years, discovering how far he could push her took trial, error and a few more relationship-defining fights.

Ron still shudders when he remembers the Great Christmas Fight Of 1999, which they now nostalgically call the "GCF". It was their first Christmas after moving in together, and at this point Ron can't even recall what started that fight. It could have been about their travel plans, or Hermione bringing work home, or the fact that Ron wanted to extend the Garden-Gnome-On-The-Christmas-Tree tradition to their own flat, but whatever it was, it opened pandora's box.

Whatever sparked the fight was just the tip of a large and treacherous iceberg. It's how Hermione and Ron learned that six months of living together without any fire wasn't natural for them. Until that day, they had been burying every minor annoyance to keep the peace between them, and thanks to the GCF, it all came spilling out in a flaming explosion of crying and yelling.

As it turned out, six months of "smooth sailing" was really six months of Ron squeezing the toothpaste bottle from the top instead of the bottom, drinking juice straight from the carton, and forgetting to take his shoes off at the front door, leaving muddy footprints everywhere, and making their flat looking like the Marauder's Map. It was six months of Hermione losing track of time and coming home from work late, constantly "re-organizing" drawers and cabinets so that Ron could never find anything, and meddling into his job as if his Auror missions were school assignments, and she was smarter than him.

He finally informed her of all those little annoying things she did— and in turn, learned that she had her own list of grievances about him. The GCF might have started with something small and unremarkable, but it ended with Ron feeling like she was watching him, taking notes of every small infraction so she could later use it in combat. Looking back, he was doing the exact same thing to her, but he didn't see it that way. Instead, the fight continued while he spent an entire defiant week at Grimmauld Place trying to prove Hermione wrong about everything.

It was a step too far. His estrangement was only supposed to last one night, but it dragged on for that whole week. Ron and Hermione are two of the most stubborn, determined, and obstinate people that ever managed to come together, and neither wanted to be the one to admit their fault.

Luckily, they learned from it. The GCF is what made the line that should not be crossed crystal-clear. It taught Ron that angrily leaving reminded her of the lowest point of their relationship, and left her with little emotional currency to spend on effective mediation. After that fight, Hermione stopped baiting Ron into dangerous waters, because it never resulted in satisfaction. All it did was rub his insecurities about not being good enough in his face, and the more he believed them, the more inevitable a disastrous break-up felt. When the stakes were lower, his fighting became dirtier. It reminded them both that effective arguing meant finding solutions to their conflicts, instead of getting distracted by their hurt pride and completely forgetting how the argument started in the first place.

Most importantly, it showed them that fighting would always be part of their dynamic, and bottling up their feelings just ignited a time bomb. They've never had a repeat of the Great Christmas Fight of 1999, but they came close a few times. They fought in a way that resembled controlled burns, engaging in regular arguments that cleared any flammable ammunition that could accidentally burn their relationship to the ground if left ignored.

They simply loved bickering too much. It kept things interesting. Ron loved Hermione for her passion, and Hermione loved Ron for his sharp wit, so there really wasn't a better way for them to remind each other of the qualities they fell for. But thanks to the GCF, Ron knew where to draw the line, and Hermione understood what topics to avoid, and they argued in a raging peace that outsiders would never understand.

Fighting became another way to show their love for one another. They would yell, scream, and shout things that made others cringe and slink awkwardly out of the room to place bets on their break-up. What those others didn't understand was that these fights were how they demonstrated their knowledge of each others' boundaries. It provided them an opportunity to honor their limits, and paved the way for them to fall even more in love with each other.

Her boundaries were different when she was sick. When his normal level of playful antagonism suddenly became too much for her to handle, he knew to reel it in. It wasn't just a result of colds and the flu, but a monthly occurrence. Her tolerance for her annoying boyfriend would drop below its normal baseline for a few days, which warned him to tone down his pestering. It also served as a reminder to stock up on pain potion and practice his warming spells so he could help make her more comfortable. He would never understand the experience of period cramps, but he could do his very best to help her get through them.

Of course, Ron didn't just use arguing or illness to show Hermione how much he knew about her. His careful observation of Hermione over the years meant that he no longer cooked with fennel, he had an ever-expanding mental list of her favorite wines, and his birthday and Christmas presents had evolved from unusual-smelling perfumes to books she hasn't read yet, tickets to stage productions, or mentally challenging activities, like personalized scavenger hunts that engaged her strong desire to solve puzzles and answer riddles.

His favorite place to apply his hard-earned understanding of Hermione was in the bedroom. The solid, trusting foundation they had built paved the way for them to gently expand each other's boundaries. In a way, sex mirrored fighting, because they understood how to challenge each other and keep it interesting, while also demonstrating respect for one another's limits. At this point, Ron knew exactly where to push her and where to pull back, and it became an artful game, an engaging dance where their explorations sometimes reinforced their previous understanding of one another, and other times offered up a surprise.

Those explorations taught Ron that it was ok to phrase his bedroom requests as commands as long as she had a sense of physical control. That could mean that she was positioned on top, or was wearing more clothes than him, or that she had her wand and he didn't. He learned that her aversion to surprises translated into the bedroom, and their physical communication was always clearer when accompanied by words. He could snake an arm underneath her and flip her around so she was pinned underneath him, pull her hair, or dig his fingernails into her skin— as long as was expecting it.

He discovered that these boundaries were somewhat fluid when, one night, he pressed into her just a little more forcefully than normal, and shifted them forward so her arm got caught between the mattress and the headboard. He stopped when he realized that she was stuck, but to his surprise, she waved off his attempt to unpin her.

"Actually, I kind of like it."

And honestly, he did too.

He was then reminded of his brother Bill's words before his wedding so many years ago— that the best part of being with someone is the fact that they constantly change and evolve, and you'll never truly know them. It really did leave room for some fun surprises.

She still surprised him often, and not just in the bedroom. Ron understood— and supported— her career ambitions, and he knew she had a strict timeline for working her way up in the Department of Magical Law. He was aware of which promotions she was being considered for, and always had a bottle of champagne ready to celebrate when she would come home and excitedly announce her new title. That's why he didn't expect her to turn down a director position in favor of a lateral move across the department, just because she needed a "change of scenery." And although he was supportive, of course, her decision to step away from Magical Law completely to take a lower-paying, less prestigious social service internship at St. Mungos completely shocked him.

"I thought you loved Law," he remembered saying.

"I do," she reiterated when she told him the news. "But I've never tried anything else."

He popped the champagne anyway, silently hoping that she would never apply the same logic to being with him.

Ron also understood that unlike him, Hermione was accustomed to a certain level of financial security— when her underpaid internship meant a few household bills went overdue, they slashed all luxuries from their budget. Ron, now operating at his childhood default simply shrugged it off, while Hermione panicked.

"What if we miss rent?" she had said, pacing the living room.

"We move into Grimmauld Place," he answered nonchalantly.

"What if we starve?"

"My mum would never let that happen. Plus, muggles sure know how to make convenience foods taste good," he said, while heating up his second bowl of ramen.

Ron knew that her timeline for starting a family differed from his. He was ok with that, and did his best to silence any remaining hope that she would change her mind. But much as he tried to squash his desire to drop hints, he couldn't help but notice the moments that suggested she was bluffing.

The topic of babies started appearing in their conversations more frequently. She would casually tell Ron that she liked certain names, or gush at a pair of baby socks they would stumble upon while out shopping. She even asked Molly to see some of Ron's baby pictures and wondered aloud if their future kids would inherit his flaming red hair. She'd ask hypothetical questions that didn't seem that hypothetical at all.

"Do you like the name Rose?" she asked him once, when they strolled past a rosebush.

"I do," he said. "Why?"

"No reason."

She reacted with genuine enthusiasm when Ginny announced her pregnancy, and Ron wondered how much her detailed questions had to do with true concern for her friend. When James was born, and Ron and Hermione were named Godparents, she fell in love with him immediately. Ron did too, but he also fell more in love with Hermione when he saw how tenderly she looked at baby James. A fire ignited in his chest when she bounced James on her hip, read him bedtime stories, and begged Ginny and Harry to let them babysit.

"I think you both need to go out, have some fun," she told Ginny at Grimmauld Place, while holding a bottle to James' tiny face. "Ron and I can watch him."

"Hermione, are you sure?" Ginny glanced between them, a knowing, yet skeptical look on her face. Ron shrugged at her and smiled. "He's a lot of work."

"We can handle it." She sounded confident.

And they did handle it. Baby James regularly spent evenings with Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron while Harry and Ginny enjoyed a parenting break. He had to laugh at Harry's words when Ron returned James one night.

"Isn't babysitting the best form of birth control?"

He laughed partly because it was funny, but mostly because he wasn't finding it to be true at all. In fact, there seemed to be a connection between James's birth and Hermione's sudden casual relationship with contraceptive charms. It was the same for him. He began hearing the words "It'll probably be fine this time," more often while they undressed each other and realized their wands were in another room. For Hermione, who was so averse to surprises and always needed a plan, occasionally shrugging off contraceptive spells could only mean one thing— that 'no babies until age 30' might be another flexible boundary.

They experienced a gradual, but clear shift in priorities. Seeing how happy Harry was as a husband and a father reinforced what he already knew— that he wanted his life to look like that too. Hermione's genuine elation when discussing their future together assured him that they were on the same page.

It didn't expedite his plan to propose to her, but it gave him all the confidence he needed to finally put his plan in motion. He picked up a few shifts at the joke shop to save more quickly for a ring. He suggested they pay a visit to Australia to see her parents over the winter holidays, and made a private plan to discuss marriage with Jean and Hugo. He even asked Harry for advice. Harry told Ginny, who simply said "about fucking time" and insisted she help him plan the perfect proposal.

Sometimes he wanted to go back in time and show his past self the elaborate plan he was creating to ask Hermione Granger to marry him. He'd inform first-year Ron that he was going to fall head-over-heels in love with the girl he had just called a nightmare. He would tell his fourth-year self not to worry so much about Viktor Krum. He'd assure that oblivious sixteen-year-old that yes, when she asked him to Slughorn's party she meant it as a date, and that he was wasting his time with Lavender Brown. He'd even encourage his seventeen-year-old self to just kiss her at Bill's wedding, or in the drawing-room at Grimmauld Place, or in that damn tent. He'd tell him to embrace her, let her know how he feels, and that he has nothing to worry about because one day he's going to propose, and she's probably going to say yes.

But he also knew that those tough moments were part of their story, and their relationship would continue to evolve over a lifetime. There was still so much about each other they didn't understand, and decades from now, their dynamic might be completely unrecognizable. Based on the past fifteen years of change, he had no idea what to expect from their future, but he could no longer wait to find out.

To be continued!