ANs:
-Here it is, the final installment! Just in time for the New Year!
-Thanks again, everyone. I had so much fun writing this story, and I hope it brought you some joy.
-There few more notes and thanks at the end!
-Be11a
Step 12: Asking Her To Marry You
At this point in your relationship, you'll hopefully know her well enough to plan the perfect proposal. But don't worry too much about perfection— if you've followed our advice, she'll be charmed enough to say yes to an imperfect one too. So alas, this is where our guidance ends, your future together begins. Best of luck!
Ron chuckled at the book's irritating, yet unsurprising lack of advice. Annoyingly, the book was right— he no longer needed its guidance. What he needed was sleep, in fact, his body was now begging for it.
He set the book on the table beside him and curled up behind Hermione. With his face in her hair and his arm around her waist, he closed his eyes and was asleep in no time. Any anxiety about the next day was appeased by his dreams, in which his elaborate— maybe slightly exaggerated— plan to propose went off without a hitch.
xxx
In his dream, Hermione was the first to rise— as usual, and Ron woke to the sound of the shower. Ron watched himself stumble out of bed and into the steam to join her, where she enthusiastically embraced him, jumped into his arms, and wrapped her legs around his waist. He pinned her to the wall and kissed her lips, her cheeks and her neck before working his way down her body. Dream-Ron moved his mouth between her legs while Hermione gripped his hair and slipped her thigh over his shoulder. Pleased with his own technique, Ron smugly watched on as Hermione unraveled, and he hoped that it wouldn't be the last time that day Dream-Ron would invoke such an enthusiastic exclamation while down on one knee.
Almost too suddenly, the shower scene morphed and shifted like a memory transition in a pensive. Dream-Ron was in the kitchen, and Hermione was curled up in the living room with a book. Pots and pans sizzled on the stove, and the scent of a hearty breakfast filled the air. The tea-kettle whistled and he poured two cups before piling their plates high with food. They sat cozily on the sofa, eating breakfast and confirming plans for the day.
The walls of their apartment then faded away, rematerializing into what appeared to be a blend of a nearby bookstore and the Hogwarts library. Ron and Hermione were quickly engulfed by the maze of bookshelves. Hermione's mind was always turning, looking for problems to solve and puzzles to complete, so she didn't protest when Ron handed her the first book— Wuthering Heights, and told her he'd set up a puzzle for her to solve. In that book he'd dog-eared a page, and circled letters that named the title of the next one. Ron saw a smile spread across her face as she began her hunt, excitedly flipping through each novel until her stack included Wuthering Heights, as well as Iliad, Little Women, Life of Pi, Year of Wonders, Oliver Twist, and Utopia.
Hermione became so engrossed in the scavenger hunt that she didn't notice Dream-Ron leave the bookshop. She had no problem finding the rest of the books, and was soon holding a stack of blurry titles which Ron knew to be Moby Dick, Alice in Wonderland, Robinson Crusoe, Rabbit Hill, Youngblood Hawke, and Mansfield Park. There was just one more to find— Jane Austen's 'Emma', which happened to be a portkey enchanted to bring her to Grimmauld Place.
It might have seemed like a random assortment of books, but it wasn't. Ron had spent significant effort locating these exact titles, and he could list them in order by memory, and as a result, they'd been swimming in his dreams for quite some time now. He knew Hermione was clever enough to figure out the pattern, possibly too clever— so much so that she might miss the connection entirely. After all, she frequently overlooked what was right under her nose.
As soon as she laid her hand on Emma, the walls of the Corner Books—Hogwarts Library hybrid started spinning, morphing into the drawing room of Grimmauld Place as if it had taken a long swig of polyjuice potion. Soon enough, Hermione was standing face-to-face with Harry and Ginny.
"Hermione!" Ginny said excitedly. "You made it!"
"Where's Ron?" she asked excitedly.
Harry answered by handing her another scrawl of paper.
Meet me in the place we first kissed. You're clever enough to find out how.
Hermione looked up at Harry and Ginny, letting slip a little huff of annoyance. "That would be the room of requirement."
Ginny shrugged, as tight-lipped as Ron had told her to be.
"The only way to get there is with a house elf—"
"Keep reading," said Harry.
Hermione glanced back down to the note.
Ps: Remember what I said to earn that kiss!
Hermione scowled at the note.
Harry nodded. "I can summon Kreacher if you want—"
"No!" she said, and Dream-Ron smiled. Just like at the Battle of Hogwarts, he would never force house elves to be part of his proposal plan, and he understood her well enough to assume she knew that. "There's another way."
Harry smiled and gestured to the rest of the house. "Have fun."
The world spun around her once again, shifting into another room upstairs. Hermione was suddenly standing in front of one of the Vanishing Cabinets that the Aurors had confiscated from an ex-Death Eater months prior. In his dream, the cabinet was a bit more obvious than in reality. It was tall, colorful, and bursting with energy as though it were alive, unlike the dull, dark, and sinister version that actually existed. Even though the cabinet looked fun and enticing in the dream, Dream-Hermione was still a skeptic, so she stood in front of it with her arms crossed, her face scrunched up as though it had called her a dirty word.
Ron had pulled some serious strings to set the second one up in the Room of Requirement, but luckily, McGonagall was as much of a hopeless romantic as he was. Hermione continued to study the cabinet from a distance, as if checking for dark magic, and he understood her hesitation of course— she had no way of knowing where its sibling was. She gingerly opened the door to find another note scribbled inside.
You found it! See you on the other side.
Hermione beamed, and then to his confusion, dropped her bag to the floor, hastily removing books. When her bag appeared empty, she piled two books back in— Year of Wonders and Emma.
Interesting. Ron wasn't going to pretend to understand that choice, even in a dream-state.
He shrugged it off, which was easy to do once distracted by the look of pure giddiness on her face as she disappeared inside.
Grimmauld Place faded away, and its place appeared the Room of Requirement. Not that it was recognizable as such— Ron had asked the Room of Requirement to look a very specific way, and of course, it had obliged, exceeding all expectations. Hermione stepped out of the cabinet into what appeared to be a train compartment on the Hogwarts Express, just like the one where he had first met her.
She looked around, and tears filled her eyes as the memories of their first encounter flooded in. On the cabinet door was another note, which she unstuck from the wall with a trembling hand.
This is where we met! It's also where I first realized how much I valued the opinion of that precocious know-it-all, Hermione Granger. I still check for dirt on my nose every day.
Hermione shakily laughed, and wiped a tear from her eyes with her free hand. Then the train compartment doors slid open to reveal another room. This time it was a bathroom, much like the one where she nearly lost her life to a rogue troll when they were eleven.
She shuddered at the memory, but grinned when she noticed the writing on the wall.
This is where I learned exactly how desperate I was for your forgiveness, and how far I was willing to go to earn your friendship. Thank you for teaching me how to pronounce Wingardium Leviosa.
Her eyes watered again, blurring her vision so that she nearly missed the door sliding open again to reveal the next room. Patting her sleeve to her eyes, she stepped out of the bathroom and into the Great Hall, which was all dolled up for the Yule Ball. The Weird Sisters playing loudly in the background was a stark contrast to the soft decorations and draping lights which looked exactly as romantic as they did in their fourth year.
This time, however, the lights spelled out a message.
This where I realized I fancied you.
Hermione laughed, clearly not as saddened by the memory as she could have been. Instead, she appeared grateful for the event that made Ron's daft teenage self realize she was not just any girl.
A pair of doors appeared across the room, and Hermione continued her way through, admiring the decorations with a soft smile on her face. When she exited, she found herself in the Gryffindor Common Room— more specifically— the armchairs and fireplace where they had spent so many nights huddled up close to one another, studying, talking, or simply sitting in comfortable silence.
Her eyes paused on a message plastered on the wall, just above the fire.
This is where I fell irrevocably in love with you.
She looked longingly at those chairs, like she wanted to take a seat by the fire and curl up with a blanket and a book. He could clearly imagine her eyes scanning the pages, her fingers drifting over the words as if touching them would make them real, and her lips forming into a content smile as the day's stress left her body. It was a beautiful image of her in her default state, a picture that was one hundred percent Hermione. He'd never seen her happier anywhere else.
Dream-Ron had appeared behind her. He cleared his throat, and Hermione turned on her heels to face him, her eyes instantly re-watering at the sight of him.
"Hermione," he began, his voice shaking with nerves. "I know that you don't like surprises, so I hope this doesn't come as one."
Her lips quivered and she brought a trembling hand to her face to absorb the tears that were now falling freely down her face.
"I even spelled it out for you in the bookstore, so I hope you've had time to think of your answer." She softly laughed and her eyes sparkled when he reached into his pocket and took a step toward her, lowering himself to one knee. With a shaky inhale to prepare, he asked the question. "Hermione Granger, will you marry me?"
Dream-Ron's voice cracked like he was a teenager asking her to a dance, and he half expected her to look at him in confusion, and ask "what?"
But that's not what happened. She was lost for words, and answered with her head which bobbed up and down as she ran toward him. He opened his arms to embrace her, but she halted.
"Wait!"
She dug into her bag, and pulled out the two books she had purposefully brought with her, Year of Wonders, and Emma. She handed them to Dream-Ron, who looked them over with an amused grin on his face, while she dove back into her bag. She pulled out a third— one that was not from the bookstore. Pride and Prejudice— her favorite book, the one she always has with her. It all made sense now.
Year of Wonders
Emma
Pride and Prejudice
Holding all three books, Dream-Ron smiled up at her. "Is… this a yes?"
"Well, seeing as I don't have an S, it's a 'Yep'," she said, before finally diving into his embrace as the books tumbled from his arms like basilisk fangs.
He had forgone all effort to keep from crying, and so had she. He momentarily pulled away from the hug to slide the ring onto her finger. It took a couple tries with their trembling hands, but then she fell heavier into his arms and he tightened his embrace. He lifted her up and carried her to an armchair, and they sat intertwined by the crackling fire, hugging, kissing, and crying into each other's hair.
Ron half expected the room to shape-shift again, bringing them to the celebration at the Burrow where their families were waiting, but his dream never got that far. Their embrace in the armchairs began to feel even more real, and soon enough, the Gryffindor Common Room was fading to black.
xxx
Ron awoke in his own bed, his arms still wrapped solidly around Hermione. The sun was shining through the window, sending a beam of light to the floor where Crookshanks slept, belly up, as if he was trying to photosynthesize. Hermione began to shift restlessly in her sleep, groaning, as the light knocked on her eyelids like an unwelcome solicitor.
Reality set in, and it would have been easy to feel sad upon realizing his perfectly-executed proposal was all a dream. But instead, Ron just felt giddy with excitement. This could very well be the start of the best day of his life.
As long as everything went according to plan.
"To Ron and Hermione!" exclaimed Arthur, reaching his champagne glass straight up into the air.
"To Ron and Hermione!" echoed a chorus of Weasleys, Grangers, and a Potter.
Glasses clinked, champagne splashed, and a beaming Ron slipped an arm around Hermione to pull her close to him. She tilted her head up to his, and he leaned in to capture her lips in a kiss. He felt her arms wrap around his middle and vaguely heard a few whistles in the background.
Ron and Hermione. It always had a ring to it.
No time had been wasted before preparing The Burrow for the celebration. CONGRATULATIONS was magically written on the wall in capitalized, tinsel-like lettering that flashed red and gold. Jean and Molly had prepared an impressive spread, which rivaled Hogwarts welcoming feasts. Hugo was already mentoring Arthur in the art of mixology, while Charlie and George eagerly volunteered to taste test each new cocktail. There was a cake shaped like an engagement ring, and it appeared that Ginny had gotten to it, because the words "about fucking time" were scribbled across in icing.
"So, Darling," said Jean, as she refilled her champagne glass. "Aren't you going to tell us how he proposed?"
"Yes, dear! Please tell everyone!" echoed Molly.
Hermione, who had just taken an unusually large bite of watermelon, replied with a look of surprise as if for some reason she hadn't expected that question. She slowly chewed, buying herself some time, and sent a panicked glance in Ron's direction. A silent conversation followed.
How much do I tell them?
That's up to you.
They squinted at each other for a few more moments, finalizing the details of their abridged story. Then Hermione turned back to her mom.
"I'd love to tell that story."
xxx
Earlier that day...
"Good morning," were the first words Ron mumbled at the start of the best day of his life.
"Morning," she muttered back.
He snaked his arm around her and pulled her close. "I love you."
"I love you too," she said, sending him a look of slight confusion at his eager confession of love. "I'll be right back," she added before hastily untangling himself from her arms, and bolting to the bathroom.
Ron groggily rolled out of bed to get dressed for the day. He opened the drawer of his nightstand to find the small velvet ring-box, and slipped it into his pocket before hobbling into the kitchen to make tea and start breakfast. He filled two mugs and set them aside to cool off while breakfast sizzled on the stove. His stomach twisted in a combination of hunger and nerves as he shuffled eggs around in the pan, planning out how he would introduce today's activities. Luring her to the bookstore should be easy enough, but he hoped she was feeling up to the rest of the adventure.
He heard the shower starting upstairs, and turned the stove down to low. Remembering the colorful beginning of last night's dream, he stumbled back into the bedroom, hoping Hermione wouldn't mind a visitor. He presumptuously pulled off his shirt before cracking open the door to unleash a flume of steam into the bedroom.
Ron froze at the sight of Hermione. The shower was running in the background, but she was crouched on the tile floor, hovering her face over the toilet while she wretched. One hand wrangled her hair behind her head, while the other supported her weight on the floor.
Fuck.
"Hermione," stammered Ron. "Are… are you ok?" He rushed to her side and knelt down, taking her hair from her hands. He cleared some loose strands away from her face while she gently shook her head.
"No," she groaned. "Not okay—" her body interrupted her as she heaved again.
"Well, shit, Hermione," he said softly, hoping his disappointment didn't sour his words. Hermione rarely threw up. In fact, the last time he recalled had been during a panic attack in Australia before they found her parents. It suddenly occurred to him that this was the first time he'd held her hair on a bathroom floor while she vomited into the toilet. He felt a strange sense of pride, as if they had reached a new relationship milestone.
As his hopes for a smooth-sailing proposal started to fade, there was a part of him that considered asking her right there on the bathroom floor. It would have been the least romantic way to do it, and she'd probably hate him for it, but he doubted she'd say no. Something about seeing her in such a vulnerable state made his heart swell, and he wanted her to know it was that it was her humanity that he fell in love with.
Fuck, he'd marry her on a bathroom floor with vomit on her face, no question about it.
She grimaced and groaned, then leaned over the toilet yet again, and Ron gently held her close and rubbed her back as she suffered through the next wave of nausea.
He could maybe wait a little longer.
Eventually, she stood up and wiped her face, revealing an expression of utter embarrassment. "Thank you," she whispered, pointedly looking away from him. "I'm going to shower now."
Ron scoured his mind for something to say that might make her feel less awkward. His randy brain landed on, "do you mind if I join you?"
Hermione paused, then laughed. "You want to shower with me?" she asked incredulously. "After that?" she added, motioning toward the bathroom floor.
"Well… always," shrugged Ron.
"Sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I don't exactly feel sexy right now."
He wanted to tell her how wrong she was, and that his attraction to her was unconditional, but worried it would have come off insincere. "Ok. Breakfast is ready in the kitchen—"
"About that," she interrupted. "It smells wonderful but…" she trailed off, motioning to the toilet where she'd left last night's meal.
"Right," said Ron. "Would porridge be better?"
"Yes."
"Ok then. Porridge it is."
"Thank you."
Once in the kitchen, Ron scraped the remaining eggs and veggies into a leftovers box, and stored them in the refrigerator, before getting started on a gentler, blander breakfast.
To contrast the flavorless porridge he was making, Ron's mind shifted into overdrive, trying to rework his proposal plan to consider Hermione's nausea. Portkeys could upset even the strongest stomachs, and the Vanishing Cabinet was no walk in the park either. He had planned to floo to the Burrow from Grimmauld Place after returning together in the Vanishing Cabinet, and at the very least, they could always floo to the Burrow early…
Fuck.
Ron tried to keep an open mind about the day ahead. Maybe Hermione would be feeling better after her shower, and a trip to the bookstore would cheer her up. If that didn't work, maybe his mum would be able to push the celebration back a day, and he could try tomorrow.
Everything was going to be fine.
He doubted that even more when Hermione never returned to the kitchen. Thinking he'd better go check on her, he left breakfast on the counter for the second time, and made his way back to the bedroom.
She had returned to the same place as before, crouched on the bathroom floor, head bowed over the toilet. She looked pale and sullen, and hadn't bothered to change into day clothes or dry her hair after her shower. Her sopping wet hair stuck firmly to her towel which seemed to absorb enough water to save their neglected houseplants and she sat on the tile with the heaviness of a bag of flour.
"Hermione?" Ron asked tenderly.
She shook her head, and covered her face with her hands.
"You're not feeling any better," he said.
Hermione shrugged.
Ron willed himself to emotionally detach from the remaining images of Hermione in a bookstore, the Room of Requirement, and the Burrow and sat down next to her. With a closer look at her face he realized she was crying.
Fuck.
"What's wrong?" he asked, as he slipped an arm around her. "I'm worried about you. You're never sick."
She turned into him and buried her face in his chest, mumbling something incoherent.
"Sorry?" he said, pulling her close to him so he could hear her better.
Lifting her face from his chest for a brief moment, she said, "We haven't been spending mornings together."
She was right, their schedules had never lined up enough to enjoy waking up at the same time, and as of late that was even more true. "Hermione," he whispered. "Has this been happening a lot?"
Hermione nodded and pressed her face back into his chest. She spoke so softly against his shirt that he might not have heard her, but the words demanded his attention. "Ron, I'm pregnant."
The images that had been dancing in Ron's mind were still there— Hermione gathering books, searching for the Vanishing Cabinet at Grimmauld Place, wandering through Ron's memories, and embracing him by the fire in the common room. It almost felt that his mind was expanding so that those images took up less and less space, because they weren't actually real, and this was.
In all that extra space, his mind cycled through visions of his future, playing memories yet to be made. For the first time since he had decided to ask her to marry him, proposing felt like a simple task because he saw far beyond that now. He wanted to ask her, but then he wanted to hold her hair if she got sick again. He wanted to run out at weird hours of the night to buy the food she craved. He wanted to go to that bookstore, not so she could partake in his scavenger hunt, but so he could buy all the books about pregnancy and parenting.
"Are you serious?" were the words that tumbled out of his mouth, dripping with pure excitement. She nodded affirmatively, and an involuntary smile spread across his face. He reached a hand to her cheek to wipe away a tear, before landing his lips on her forehead.
He felt her grinning under his hand, seemingly pleased at his positive reaction. Her excitement gave her next question a melody. "Well...what do you want to do?" She asked it confidently, like she already knew what he would say.
But she didn't know.
"I want to marry you," he stated, like it was the most obvious question in the world.
She pulled away and squinted skeptically at him as if he might be joking, but there was nothing but sincerity in his eyes.
He then reached into his pocket, pulled out the ring box, and popped it open to reveal a beautiful solitaire ring— simple, understated, yet timeless, just like Hermione. Then a smile enveloped her face and she didn't need to say anything at all. She leaned into his embrace, and he felt tears leaking from his eyes, elation on his face, and nothing but happiness.
They sat there intertwined and crying for some time until he realized she'd never actually answered. "So… will you?"
She responded wordlessly, with an enthusiastic nod against his chest, and he slipped the ring onto her finger.
It really felt like the rest of the world had disappeared and they were alone, the only people that mattered. When reality started to filter back, Ron had to chuckle at the sudden realization of what room they were in. It was almost funny how much effort he had put into planning out the perfect day, only to propose to Hermione on a bathroom floor.
"I had a better plan, you know," he said finally. "To ask you."
She shook her head and mumbled into his chest. "This was perfect."
Maybe it was. Their friendship began in a bathroom, as did their relationship nearly eight years later, so it was quite fitting that he proposed in one too. He'd have to save his scavenger hunt for another occasion, but that was ok. He had a lifetime of opportunities ahead.
To outsiders, it might not be the most romantic story. Luckily, Ron didn't give a fuck what outsiders thought, because he had Hermione.
xxx
"We had just woken up and were getting ready for the day. We got to talking, and I asked him what he wanted to do," she said, wiping a stray tear from her face. "He said 'I want to marry you.' I... didn't see it coming at all."
Ron was thankful for the fact that his lopsided grin was pretty much stuck to his face, otherwise he might have winced. As he had predicted, Hermione had left out the most important piece of information. Without it, it all sounded rather unremarkable.
"Out of the blue?" asked Molly, her eyebrows raised.
In his peripheral vision, Ron saw Harry and Ginny exchange a knowing glance.
"Out of the blue." said Hermione, before taking another big bite of her watermelon slice.
"I think that's so romantic!" Jean had one hand resting on her heart, and her eyes sparkled with tears. "Ron, did you plan it like that?"
Ron inhaled sharply at the sound of his name. "Um, well no, actually," he said, sending a reassuring look toward Hermione. "I had something more elaborate planned."
"Then what happened?"
Ron grinned as he watched Hermione show off her ring to Ginny and Angelina who had appeared at her shoulder. "I just couldn't wait any longer."
Molly and Jean's soft smiles and sparkling eyes suggested they were satisfied by that answer.
The celebrations continued into the evening hours, and sometime after dinner, Ron appeared at Hugo and Arthur's makeshift bar to find that Hugo already had a drink waiting for him.
"Congratulations again, son!" said Arthur, before engulfing him in another hug.
"Thanks Dad," he said.
"I'm going to check on my future daughter-in-law!" he said excitedly. "I'll see if she wants a drink."
Arthur scurried away, leaving Ron alone with Hugo.
"I already made you an Alexander," Hugo said, sliding the drink across the table to Ron. "Made one for Hermione too."
Ron felt his ears turning crimson, as if he'd been caught in a lie. Now was not the time to inform Hugo why his daughter wasn't drinking. He would just have to drink for two today.
However, Hugo was quite observant. In a whisper, he added, "there's no alcohol in hers."
Ron met Hugo's unflinching gaze, and the two men stared at each other for an uncomfortable pause. The tension finally broke when Hugo smiled, and Ron felt a wave of relief. "How did you know?"
Hugo chuckled. "I've never seen her eat watermelon." He took a dramatic swig of his own drink before continuing. "But Jean couldn't get enough of it when she was pregnant with Hermione."
Ron glanced over at Hermione, who was working her way through yet another slice of watermelon. He tried to remember the last time he'd seen her eating it, but was drawing a blank.
Hugo brought him out of his memories. "I guess our conversation about contraception was for shit."
If Ron had just met Hugo, he might have put more effort into formulating a diplomatic answer. He might have interpreted his pursed lips as stern disapproval rather than a weak attempt to prevent himself from laughing at his own joke. He definitely would not have burst out laughing and answered the way he did.
"Total shit."
Encouraged by a few cocktails, Hugo grinned widely and unleashed a hearty laugh. Then he did something surprising. He put down his glass, circled the table, and opened his arms to embrace Ron.
"I'm happy for you, son," he said softly. "I hope you're happy too."
Ron saw no reason to hold back his tears, so he didn't. He had always assumed his future father-in-law would consider Ron's happiness simply an extension of his daughter's, but Hugo proved him wrong. This was a man who cared about him deeply, as if he was his own son and Ron could feel it. "I've never been happier."
Hugo pulled him to arm's length. Ron noticed a tear on his cheek and felt another wave of connection with the man. With a pat on his shoulder, he turned back to the bar and grabbed both glasses. "Now go have a drink. Have some fun," he said before adding with a wink, "while you can."
Ron found Hermione discussing wedding plans in the living room with Ginny and Angelina, and slid into a seat on the armrest of her chair. He pressed the glass into her hand and leaned down to whisper in her ear, "non-alcoholic."
She looked up at him and mouthed, thank you, before leaning against him while he slipped his arm around her.
Ginny was smiling at them as more Weasleys piled into the living room. Seeing Ron and Hermione together ignited another toast from the group. "To Ron and Hermione."
"To Ron and Hermione!" echoed the crowd.
Plus one.
He'd never been more excited about anything in his life, and it was clearly evident by his expression. When she clicked her glass against his and looked him right in the eyes, he saw his own elation reflecting back at him, and knew she felt the same way. They had come so far, but their story was only just beginning.
The End
Special shoutout to smjl and adenei for proofreading every chapter, I don't know what I'd do without you two. Please check out their profiles because they're pushing out some seriously good Romione content.
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Happy 2021, everyone.