A/N: So tired from helping to prepare everything. Time to crash for the night, I think. Anyway, merry Christmas for tomorrow! (Well, for less than ten minutes away, but there's no way I'm staying up until then tonight.)
The first time he mentions it is in jest. "I could marry you," he says, laughing, after he sees her team up with Sirius to hex a girl for insulting werewolves in front of Remus. The offence more than warranted the punishment, in his opinion. Given the way she calmly accepts her resulting detention, he rather thinks that she does too. It's the first time he realises that she knows about his friend's lycanthropy, and it's the first time that he sees her as someone other than the smart girl with the bad taste in friends. She snarks at him and storms off, but the words are still out there.
The second time is part of his campaign to win her over. "Come on, Evans," he says, his eyes challenging her. "Tell me you don't want to marry me and have ten children with messy black hair and green eyes." The sound of shocked spluttering – and then, afterwards, of yelling – makes it abundantly clear that she wants neither of those things. She appears to be more indignant about the excessive number of children, though, so he decides to take that as a win. He's not that attached to the idea of marriage or of children, anyway – it was just an attempt to get her to start thinking about what a future might be like with him – so the number is hardly set in stone. And everything else is negotiable.
The third time is much more serious. "We should elope," he says, his tone pleading even though his words themselves
aren't. "Run away to America or somewhere the day we graduate. Somewhere you'll be safe." She's his girlfriend now, and she holds his hand to soothe him as she tells him that it's tempting but they both know they can't. The look on her face is genuinely regretful, though, and he gets the sense that she might have said yes had the question been just a little bit different. It's not the right time for him to ask that question, but he stores that knowledge away. One day, he knows, it will come in handy.
The fourth time is part of the planning process. "What do you think about the idea of getting married?" he asks, twisting long strands of wavy red hair around his finger. "In terms of us. Would you want to be a certain age first?" Her response is careful and measured, and they both open up about their hopes and plans and expectations. It's the most revealing conversation he has ever had, and she admits that it's the same for her. By the time their free period ends and they leave the abandoned classroom to make their way down to lunch, he is more certain about his future with her than ever.
The fifth time is the time. "Will you marry me?" seems like such a big question, but it slips out of his mouth as easily as anything. Because, after everything that has already passed between them, it feels completely natural. She beams and tears spring to her eyes as she nods, so he slips the ring on her finger as they fall into one another's arms. He feels at home in her embrace, like all of the pieces have fit together for one brilliant moment. As they pull away, threading their fingers together like dandelions, he knows implicitly that he never wants to be apart from her. And that, to his never-ending joy, that desire is more than reciprocated.