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Tumblr Prompt: "Not yet." Ron just wants his usual date night with Hermione. Post-battle/pre-epilogue drabble.

Our Home

Ever since Ron and Hermione started dating, they designated Friday evenings as date nights. These dates were not usually extravagant in any sense of the word, and often consisted of them ordering takeaway, watching a muggle film, or playing chess, usually from the comfort of their own home. It was a way for them to connect after a long week of work.

It wasn't atypical of them to not decide on a date activity ahead of time; rather, it was an unspoken rule that they would both arrive home at a prompt hour after work on Friday without staying late, and they would carry on from there. While they hadn't discussed their plans for the upcoming week's end, Ron didn't expect their typical routine to change.

So when Hermione disapparated into their home instead of taking the time to use the floo network, Ron knew that it wouldn't just be a typical Friday for them.

"We've got fifteen minutes to get changed, and then I need you to accompany me to dinner with the law enforcement department."

Bewildered, Ron exclaimed, "What?"

Hermione scrunched up her nose, taking just a moment to blow a wisp of hair out of her face in her disheveled state. "I know, I'm sorry. Let's just go, and we can discuss it later."

"But, Hermione, it's—"

"Date night, I know!" She let out a heavy sigh. "Ron, please? This would mean a lot to me."

With the hope that they would be able to escape with enough time to spare to still have a decent evening together, Ron resigned, and before he knew it, he was dressed in the fanciest clothes he owned and sitting around a large table at the most lavish restaurant he had ever been to. Ron and Hermione didn't go out to eat very often, mostly due to the amount of attention they received from strangers in the wizarding community after the war.

Ron wasn't prepared for Hermione to spring the work dinner on him. The event was as stuffy as he feared, and he found it hard to keep up with the pleasant pretenses when the older men in their haughty plum-colored robes droned on about the efficiency of legal proceedings — the fact that Hermione was the only woman representative seated at the table was not lost on him.

Anxiety took over, and his knee bounced incessantly under the table, occasionally bumping into the hard surface above causing the entire table to shake.

"Ron," Hermione hissed. Ron seized the movement of his legs, instead drumming his fingers on his too tight trousers.

A glance at his watch revealed that it was just after nine, and his expectations for the evening were fading fast.

Ron and Hermione shared a heated gaze, of which Ron hoped that he conveyed his strong desire to leave. Just as Ron opened his mouth, Hermione gripped his knee under the table with her fingers.

"Not yet." Her voice came out as a harsh whisper through gritted teeth, and Ron despised the fake smile she had plastered to her face.

"Hermione, we've been here for three bloody hours already," he mumbled, entirely too annoyed at that point to care about the consequences of his complaining.

"And I'll make it another one if you don't hush!"

Ron leaned back in his seat, defeated. The night was surely a bust, and he didn't figure there would be a way to salvage it.

An idea popped into his head, and Ron took the first opportunity he had to set his plan into motion. The chair scraped against the tile flooring as he stood up, and he pointedly ignored Hermione's glowering stare. "You'll have to excuse me, I'm not feeling well. Love, I'm going to floo home. Will you be alright getting home by yourself?"

The look on her face was one of pure disapproval. "Certainly."

Ron rushed through the floo network, knowing that he likely didn't have much time before Hermione made her way home as well. Less than five minutes after he was deposited into their living room, the bright green flames churned again, and Hermione appeared in the fireplace. Her hair was wild and her eyes were blazing with fire, prepared for a row.

"Ron Weasley, what in Merlin's name do you think—"

She paused mid-sentence, eyes widening at the sight before her. Ron already knew that the brooms must have been spinning in her head as she surveyed the room. Their flat appeared as it did earlier that evening, with nothing out of the ordinary aside from one minor detail: Ron was kneeling before her with a delicate, jeweled band pinched between his fingertips.

"Hermione Granger, I know this was probably the last thing you expected to walk into when you came home, but I thought there was no better place than our home — the place that is for us. I love you, and I love our life together despite the hideously boring events you drag me to, and I want nothing more than to marry you."

Hermione remained rigid in the fireplace for several, very long seconds. Her eyes were trained on the studded ring that sparkled as Ron held it up.

Ron let out a shaky laugh. "Uh, Hermione, love? No offense, but you look like you've just seen a Dementor."

Hermione closed her gaping mouth, and her shoulders sagged as air left her lungs. "I'm sorry, I just — we were at dinner and I had no idea…"

"Leave it to Hermione Granger to completely thwart my grand attempt at a romantic proposal," Ron teased with a smirk.

"I...but…you…" For once in his life, he had managed to render her almost speechless.

"Wanted to leave so that I could propose to my girlfriend? Yeah, I did."

Hermione eventually covered her mouth, appearing to be slowly processing her shock. "I had no idea."

"That's a first," he quipped.

A guilty expression crossed her face. "I honestly thought you just wanted to shag."

Ron gave her a coy smile. "You mean we're not going to?"

Ignoring his statement, Hermione returned back to the most important matter at hand. "You...you're proposing."

Ron figured, by this point, they've broken the record for the amount of time needed to respond to someone's proposal. "I'm trying to."

Hermione's mouth started moving faster than Ron could keep up. "And you're not just yanking my wand, are you? To get back at me for our disastrous date night? Because if this is all just an elaborate scheme—"

"Hermione," Ron cut in sharply, his impatience taking over. "Will you just answer the damn question, already?"

Hermione crossed her arms, a smile erupting on her face. "I don't recall you ever asking me a question."

Ron huffed. "Of course, I did."

"No," Hermione repeated matter-of-factly. "You said that you want to marry me. There was no question asked in your statement."

Ron didn't bother hiding his eye roll, and he should've known that Hermione wanted even something so personal as a marriage proposal to go by-the-book.

Ron made an exaggerated show of clearing his throat before asking, "Hermione Jean Granger. Will you marry me, Ronald Bilius Weasley, so that we can have children, grow old together, and continue driving each other barmy like this for the rest of our lives?"

She looked down at the ring then back up at Ron a few times until, finally, a shrill laugh left her mouth.

"Well, yes, of course!"

Ron could hardly contain his happiness as he stood at once, engulfing Hermione into his arms while simultaneously crashing his lips to hers. Any remaining despondency lifted, and he savored the joy that radiated through him.

Against her lips, Ron mumbled, "I wouldn't say all of tonight has been disastrous…in fact, I might have some other plans."

There was a certain spark in Hermione's eyes that she only reserved for him. "Oh, Mr. Weasley. What else did you have in mind?"

Without warning, he caught the back of Hermione's legs and scooped her up into his arms. Hermione squealed in surprise as Ron carried her over to the sofa before depositing her unceremoniously onto the cushions.

"How about I show you instead of tell you?" Ron winked.

Soon, Hermione was stripped of everything except for the jewelry adorning her left finger, signaling the start of a new adventure. They were Ron and Hermione, and they were about to have a pretty damn good life together.