QLFC, Season 9, R4, Captain: 1984

Quidditch League Boot Camp: Ron Weasley, Prompt #28. Story

Notes: This is a story requested by my friend, Bex (DobbyRocksSocks). I woke up one morning to a message from her basically telling me I needed to write Ron messing up a proposal (in a cute and fluffy way) so here it is.

Um… sorry for the sickly fluff. You can blame Bex for it and the fact that I've spent the last 2 weeks at home watching trashy love stories on TV.

WC. 1588

Thousands More

It had been one thousand, nine hundred and seventy-eight hours since the war ended. That was approximately eighty-four days, or nearly three months.

It had been that many hours since everyone's lives changed forever — since they realised the extent of what they had lost.

It had been one thousand, nine hundred and seventy-eight hours since they all started grieving.

It had been one thousand, nine hundred and eighty-three hours since Fred Weasley took his last breath. It had been that long since Percy sobbed over his brother's body, and since Ron and George and Harry looked on, horror on their faces.

And it had been one thousand, nine hundred and eighty-four hours since Hermione kissed Ron.

One thousand, nine hundred and eighty-four hours of — no matter all the other emotions running through them — feeling ridiculously happy.

Because they had each other, and that counted for something.

...

It was a warm, sunny day in Ottery St Catchpole as the month of July came to an end. The Burrow, a place once filled with love and laughter, had begun another day in sorrow. Everyone had woken up and gone about their business without many words being spoken. Molly had cooked the family breakfast, giving Harry Hermione's, and Hermione Ginny's. She had then collected their plates before they'd finished and began washing up.

As usual, everyone thanked her and left the kitchen, escaping the now familiar silence of the Weasley matriarch.

Harry and Ginny went for a walk along the Burrow's boundaries, Percy returned to his room to brood, and Ron joined Hermione under the largest tree on the property. Like Percy had found sanctuary in his old room, they had found it here, by the tree.

Hermione had a book open, and Ron picked at the grass. They both sat in silence.

It was a peaceful, welcoming silence that neither felt the need to speak over. It was how they spent their days, how they dealt with their grief. In comfortable silence, knowing that the other was there if they needed it.

And in the one thousand, nine hundred and eighty-fourth hour of being each other's comfort, Hermione was the first to break protocol.

Her head lifted from her book and she looked at Ron, smiling.

"Ron," she said, her tone bright. She was pleased with something.

Ron looked up from where he was twisting two pieces of grass together. Then a grin broke out on his face, because her smile was contagious. He loved her smile. "What's got you all cheerful?" he said. "Something funny happen in your book?"

He was teasing her, but she nodded, still smiling. "Not funny… just something to think about."

Ron looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She rarely elaborated, always leaving him guessing. But slowly, his grin widened and he nodded. "Alright, tell me then. I want to hear it."

Hermione turned back to her book.

"What's it called, anyway?" Ron asked before she could answer his previous question. "What has you so invested that you haven't said a word in thirty minutes?"

"It's called The Notebook," Hermione said. "It's alright, but it's just this one quote. It stood out to me about… about how I feel about you."

Ron dropped the grass, the green strings settling somewhere amongst the thousands of others. "Right," he said, suddenly feeling anxious.

He watched her, waiting for her to say more, or at least pick up the book and tell him. But she did neither. She just smiled.

"It's nothing bad. It's good. It's very good. My feelings are good."

Ron said nothing, but pulled up two more pieces of grass and began tying them together. "Go on, then," he urged.

In the one thousand, nine hundred and eighty-four hours since their first kiss, talking had not been something they'd done a lot of. They'd rarely touched on the topic of their feelings. It wasn't that they hadn't wanted to, but beginning something in the aftermath of the war had stopped them. How could they express their feelings of happiness when so many people were suffering? So many people were dead? It felt wrong, so they hadn't.

Hermione picked up the book, drawing it closer to her eyes. Maybe it was just Ron, but had her cheeks taken on a shade of red that hadn't been there moments ago?

She began reading.

"Poets often describe love as an emotion that we can't control, one that overwhelms logic and common sense. That's what it was like for me. I didn't plan on falling in love with you, and I doubt if you planned on falling in love with me. But once we met, it was clear that neither of us could control what was happening to us. We fell in love, despite our differences, and once we did, something rare and beautiful was created. For me, love like that has happened only once, and that's why every minute we spent together has been seared in my memory. I'll never forget a single moment of it."

Silence ensued. Hermione looked up to find Ron staring intently at the two pieces of grass in his hands. For a while, she thought he wasn't going to respond. But he spoke eventually, albeit his voice was barely audible above the light breeze on the warm summer's day.

"You're in love with me?" he said, still not looking up.

"Yes," Hermione replied. "Very much so. Even more since… well, since we've actually been together. And I feel so happy." She closed the book and turned her body completely to face him. Ron managed to bring himself to finally look at her.

"Me too," he said softly. "So am I."

Hermione smiled, then leaned forward and kissed Ron. She allowed her lips to linger against him, letting him know that she meant what she'd read to him. Every single word.

When she pulled away, he reached out a hand, hesitated, but cupped the side of her face anyway. She revelled at his touch, his warm skin against hers sending pleasant shivers through her whole body.

"I love you," he whispered. "More than… more than I ever realised I could."

"I love you, too," she replied. It was the first time they'd ever said the words out loud, but something they'd felt for longer than three transient months.

They settled back against their favourite tree, Ron beaming with happiness and Hermione doing her best to hide her own grin behind the book. They returned to their tradition of silent contemplation for a while, until Ron broke it this time.

"We should get married," he said.

Hermione snapped the book shut once more and turned to him. "What?" she laughed. "You're joking, right?"

Ron looked at her. "Well, I wasn't, but… I suppose I am now."

"That's absurd!" Hermione said, and Ron flushed. Her laughter caught in her throat as she wondered if she'd insulted him. "Ron —"

"We love each other, don't we?" Ron was picking up more grass. "You just said you did, and I know how I feel. And we're —"

"Eighteen," Hermione said.

"That's when Mum and Dad got married. Thereabouts."

Hermione stared at Ron, her face emotionless. Then, she laughed lightly, shuffling on her knees towards Ron and cupping his face in her hands. He looked up at her with something she'd not seen before. Complete love. For her.

"Oh, Ron," she said, stifling another laugh. "I do love you, but that doesn't mean we have to get married. Not right now. Not after having only been together for —"

"One thousand, nine hundred and eighty-four hours," Ron said. "Going on eighty-five," he then added.

Hermione's expression softened, her hands still on his face. "How do you know that?"

"Every hour is special to me," Ron said quietly. "Every moment with you is one I don't want to waste. They've been the best hours of my life. And I know I'm not going to feel this way about anyone else in my life."

"You don't count in… days?" Hermione questioned, the phrase simultaneously strange and endearing to hear.

"Every moment matters," Ron said, "and we have already lost far too many." He removed her hands from his face and took them in his own. "But I can't deny that I'm irrevocably in love with you."

He spoke with such sincerity that Hermione had to scold herself for momentarily considering accepting his proposal.

"We don't need to be married to be in love," she laughed again.

Ron looked away, embarrassed, and Hermione kissed him once more.

"That doesn't mean that maybe in three, four years, I'll feel the same on the matter. But let's just… enjoy each other for the moment, okay? Work things out. Get past what's happened. Together."

Ron nodded and Hermione kissed him again, long and hard. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer to him.

When they broke apart, he looked her in the eye and then laughed himself. "That was the stupidest thing I've ever said out loud, I reckon. But you have that effect on me."

"I don't make you make ridiculous proposals of marriage," Hermione said.

"My feelings for you do."

Hermione smiled and placed a kiss against his cheek. Ron grunted his approval.

"Has it been another hour together now?" she then asked.

Ron nodded.

Hermione snuggled up against him, leaning her head on his shoulder. She interlocked their fingers.

"That's just one of many," she whispered. "I can't wait to spend thousands more with you."

I was already craving to write Romione and then I get asked to write fluff and it turned into something sickly sweet. I apologise. I really do.

But I also hope you enjoyed!

Thank you to my team and fellow Captain, Alina, for your help with this!