Disclaimer: We don't own them, but if we did this would be happening.
Dedicated to Nita, for her birthday. We hope you like it!
Perfect After All
Tonight was supposed to be perfect. It was supposed to go off without a hitch, just like in the fairytales. Of course, nothing was ever quite perfect where Ron and Hermione was concerned.
* * * *
Ronald Weasley stood on the front step of the Burrow and waited impatiently for his brothers to come back with the car. He'd told them seven o'clock and no later, he'd threatened Fred's life and George's box of pranks until they had agreed to be home on time. Yet, it was now seven fifteen and there was no sign of the car anywhere. They were late and that meant Ron was late.
"Hermione is going to kill me," he growled under his breath, checking his watch for what was probably the tenth time. Things were supposed to be perfect that night, absolutely perfect. He had planned everything down to the tiniest detail and now his brothers were ruining everything.
He and Hermione had been dating for a year, Ron having finally 'seen the light', as she liked to put it, an entire year after graduation. He had seen the light alright and it was blinding. Ron grinned, that was a good line, albeit a little corny. He'd have to use it when . . .
His thoughts trailed off as his black car came rumbling up the driveway. His fingers twitching around his wand, Ron stalked toward the car angrily, ready to curse both of his brothers when they stepped out.
"Sorry, Ron," Fred yelled, ducking out of the car and running up to the front door.
"Yeah, sorry 'bout that," George added, grinning widely before following his twin so fast that Ron didn't have a chance to curse either one of them.
"They're so dead when I get home," he growled, then got into the car and turned it around, finally ready to pick up Hermione.
A half hour later, and an entire hour later than planned, he parked in Hermione's driveway. Almost mechanically, he pulled the key from the ignition, climbed from the car, and headed up the sidewalk to her front door.
He felt strangely awkward... well, perhaps not strangely... he had felt awkward many a time, but... more awkward than usual. Finally standing on the front porch, he pressed the doorbell, listening to the familiar, echoey tones as they resounded inside. And he waited. And waited.
And... waited.
Maybe she didn't hear him... fell asleep waiting or something. He lifted his hand and knocked on the door. Or, more like it, tried to knock on the door.
Where his hand should have met the solid wood, it simply swished through empty air and collided with Hermione's body. She had opened the door.
He flushed a brilliant scarlet, sure that his face was now perfectly matching his bright shock of hair. "Erm... sorry, 'Mione." Dammit, he cursed silently, removing his hand from where it had come close to dangerous territory. "Er, ready to go?"
Giving him an odd look, she nodded. "Of course. I don't know what took you so long. Really, Ron, perhaps I should ask Professor McGonagall to trasnfigure you into a watch. It might do us more good."
"Sorry," he muttered, following her outside. He was going to kill Fred and George when he got home, if it was the last thing he did.
They got into the car and Ron stuck the key in the ignition, then turned to flash a quick grin in Hermione's direction.
"Where are we going?" she asked, as he started the car and began to back out of her driveway.
Ron's smile grew and he looked over at her. Finally, a chance to redeem himself... even if it was only a little bit.
"It's a surprise," he said softly, still smiling at her.
Hermione couldn't help but smile back at him as he said this. "Tell me," she pushed gently.
Ron shook his head. "Nope. It's perfect though, you'll love it."
"Ron!" she exclaimed, laughing lightly. "I want to know."
Ron opened his mouth to give her another smartass response when the back of his car collided with something, throwing them both forward.
"Great Merlin," he moaned, finally looking back to see another car in the street. He hadn't been watching the road, all his attention had been on teasing Hermione and now he had made the night worse, if anything.
"Whoops," he offered, trying a half grin on Hermione.
She rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh. "I hope you didn't get reservations anywhere good, because the way this night is going we'll never make it anywhere."
Ron smiled apologetically, then got out of the car and went around to speak with the other driver. His night was turning out to be worse than he could have ever imagined it could be.
Hermione watched Ron in the rearview mirror. There was something odd about him tonight, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. I mean, he *was* Ron, after all, which accounted for a certain amount of the strangeness, but even then... She bit her lip, pondering.
"Look, Ma'am, I'm sorry. Just please, let me give you my address, my insurance card, anything. I just have to go."
The other driver, an elderly woman, pursed her lips. "That's what's wrong with you kids these days. No responsibilities. Just run away from your problems, don't you? Well, you're not about to run away from this, boy." She shook her purse at him, and Ron took a step back, his knees pressing against the bumper of the car.
"You don't understand... I'm not running away. I'll pay for everything. I'll sign a statement saying so in my own *blood* if you'll just let me go. It's very important. I'm taking Hermione..."
"Eh? Hermi-what?"
He gritted his teeth. "Hermione, my girlfriend."
"Ah-ha!" she crowed, with the air of one who had made a great discovery. "Your girlfriend, eh? I know how you kids are... taking any chance you can to fornicate like rabbits! It's a downright discrace. Well, I won't stand for it. You're staying right here, Sonny, until the cops arrive. Then we'll see what happens."
She crossed her arms and nodded firmly, seating herself on the bumper of her car and pulling her knitting from her purse.
Ron stared at her in shock.
A half hour later and another argument with the old lady (this one over which colour the scarf for her grandson should be), the police had arrived and were assessing the situation. A casual grin on the face of the younger officer told Ron that he didn't have much to worry about.
"Insurance?" he asked Ron, who nodded and handed him the card.
"We'll get her information from her and give you a call, Mr. Weasley," the young officer said. "Sorry to have kept you here for so long."
"I can go?" Ron asked, not quite believing what the officer was telling him.
"Yes, you can go. And I hope you and your girlfriend have a very nice dinner."
Ron's jaw dropped and he grabbed the officer's hand. "Thank you so much. Thank you," he said, then ran back to the car and jumped into the driver's seat.
Hermione glanced at him. "Is everything cleared up?"
Ron nodded and threw the car into reverse, then finished backed out of the driveway and drove off into the night. "Everything is perfect," he breathed.
Hermione glanced at him, that look on her face that he knew all too well. That 'are-you-insane-everything-is-not-perfect' look that he had become so used to.
"Trust me, 'Mione. It'll be perfect," he insisted.
She just threw him a toned down version of the earlier look and settled silently into her seat. Ron could tell she was annoyed, perhaps not angry, but at least a little annoyed and he didn't blame her. He had almost managed to screw up the night, of course. But he stuck by his earlier conviction. He would make it perfect.
They arrived at the restaurant in one piece, despite the two red lights he ran in order to make it on time. He pretended not to notice Hermione's disapproving glances.
Pulling up in the parkinglot of a particularly fancy Muggle restaurant, he hurried around the car to open the door for her. He offered her his hand, and she took it, putting a bit of her weight on it as she tried to gracefully exit the car while wearing a deep blue spaghetti strap dress and strappy heels.
He stared at her. "'Mione, you look... beautiful."
She flushed slightly, still not used to the compliments he now gave her. "Thanks. You look great too. I don't think I've ever seen you in a suit."
"Yeah... well..." He shrugged and tucked her arm in his, escorting her into the restaurant.
Within minutes, the waiter was seating them at a table for two. A tall, thin candle was set in the middle of the table, its flame wavering and dancing in the breeze from the fans. He hurried to pull out the chair for her, nearly causing it to topple to the floor in the process, before seating himself across from her.
"See, we made it."
She smirked playfully. "I was beginning to wonder."
Ron grinned back at her, then opened the menu in front of him and scanned the meals. He coughed on his water, which turned into an all-out choke when he saw the prices of the meals. Thank God for Fred and George, they had willingly lent him money after he had blown all of his on the most important part of the evening. Ron nearly choked again when he thought about that ... the most important part of the evening. Was he really going to do it? Was he honestly going to do it that night?
Ron swallowed the water in his mouth with great difficulty, then glanced across the table at Hermione. The candlelight was playing softly across her features, shadowing the curve of her nerve and the soft line of her jaw. The lump in his throat suddenly plummetted, settling happily in his stomach and Ron nearly sighed aloud. She had never looked as beautiful as she did to him at that moment. It could be the impending task that was looming over him, the moment which would try his patience and, most likely, his insanity, but he liked to think that maybe he hadn't noticed it before.
She had always been pretty, of course, but even after they had started dating it had taken Ron ages to admit to himself that she was really beautiful. It was a rare occasion when Hermione actually wore a dress, or put on makeup, but Ron found himself grinning stupidly when he realized that those occasions were most often reserved for him.
He loved Hermione without her makeup and her Sleekeazy's hair potion, but more than anything, he loved knowing that she'd go the extra mile for him
"Ron?" Hermione asked suddenly, catching him off guard.
"Hmm?"
"Why did you bring me here?"
He grinned. "It's been a year, Hermione. A year. Did you ever think that . . ." he trailed off when he saw her nodding.
"Yes," she said, "I always thought."
"Really?" he asked, surprised. "Because I really never did." Too late, he realized his error, and his eyes widened in horror. Had he really just said that? Maybe he had just thought it.
But by the look on Hermione's face, he knew that he had spoken the words. Her cheeks flushed angrily.
"Ronald Weasley! Do you have no romantic sensibilities whatesoever or are you determined to... oh!" she crossed her arms in frustration, staring at the wall.
He panicked. Literally panicked. He scrambled from his chair, kneeling on the floor next to her. "'Mione, that's not what I meant..." She refused to meet his gaze. "Please, 'Mione. I didn't mean it that way. But you know me, I open my mouth and something stupid comes out."
"You've got that right," she mumbled bitterly.
"And you know I didn't mean it like that."
Finally, she lowered her cold eyes to meet his. "No, I don't. I'm not a mind reader."
"I know, but... please, 'Mione, let me explain."
She shrugged. "No one's stopping you. Go on. What, pray tell, *did* you mean by that horrible remark?"
"I meant that... that I never thought that I would be so lucky to have you be with me for a month, much less a year. I expected you to come to your senses and break it up. I mean, it's me... I should have screwed it up by now. And I suppose I have." He swallowed, and reached for in his pocket. "And, you know, you'll probably say no, but I have to ask you a question."
Hermione frowned down at him as he shakingly took one of her hands in his. His other hand was still digging around in his pocket and she waited patiently, an amused smile finally crossing her lips. As if it wasn't obvious to everyone in the restaurant what Ron was about to do, they were all watching, waiting for him to finally get the show moving.
"NO!" he cried, jumping up suddenly and dropping Hermione's hand. "I have to... go to the car," he said in a rushed voice. "I forgot something."
With that, he turned on his heel and ran from the restaurant. Some of the people at nearby tables groaned and Hermione shook her head before going back to the menu. She should have known.
Ron thrust the key into the car door with trembling hands, praying to every deity he could think of that the ring box was inside his car. If it wasn't, that meant it was either at home or . . . or lying on the street where his car had collided with the other car.
"Please, oh please," Ron murmured, nearly ripping the glove compartment door off it's hinges as he searched inside. There was nothing there but a pen and his registration.
"No!" he growled, cursing loudly and slamming his fist against the car door. He felt under the passanger seat, his fingers brushing a kleenex box and another piece of paper, but nothing that even remotely resembled the ring box.
"Please be here," he begged, shoving his hand under the driver's seat. Ron nearly cried with joy when his fingers brushed up against the small, soft square that he knew had to be the ring box. He pulled it out and kissed it firmly, then opened up to make sure the ring was still there completely intact. The single diamond glittered in the moonlight and Ron felt his breath rush out of him. It was there, he was saved, he would do it right.
He rushed back inside, licking his hand and running it desperately over his hair in an effort to tame it. Upon entering the restaurant, he slowed to a nervous, uneven walk. He could feel the eyes of every single patron in the restaurant staring at him Perhaps he should have waited until *after* dinner to do this. But... it was too late now.
Feeling strangely as if he was walking Death Row, he made his way towards Hermione, who was calmly sipping her drink. He stopped in front of her and shakily got down on one knee.
"Hermione," he said, well... croaked. The lump had returned to his throat, and with a vengeance. He swallowed, hard, then coughed.
The edges of her mouth turned up and she held out her glass to him. "Need a drink?"
"Thanks," he gasped, downing the contents in one go, hoping that the alcohol would somehow give him more courage.
Damn. It was only water.
He clutched the box desperately in his hand. "Hermione," he began again, and this time he sounded less frog-like. "We've been dating for a year now... and... well, you know how I feel... and... I know, well... I hope you feel the same way... and..."
Hermione burst into laughter. "Good Merlin, Ron! Haven't you read *any* books on proposing or romance or *anything*?!"
That was it. He got to his feet, colouring for what definately wasn't the first time that night. "No, Hermione, I haven't exactly read up on the subject as well as you have, apparently. Excuse me for being so uneducated on the exact way to propose to the woman you're so bloody well in love with!"
He thrust the box into her lap, and it landed among the folds of her dress. "That's for you, by the way. Or perhaps you want me to get you one that's more specifically outlined in one of your precious books!"
He paused to catch his breath, hardly able to bear watching as Hermione picked up the box in her slim hands. She ran her fingers over the soft lid before cracking the box open to peer inside. Her jaw dropped slightly and she opened the box completely so that Ron could see the ring nestled inside as well. A solitary diamond set in a simple gold band with etching along either side. It was simple and yet perfectly beautiful, exactly the feeling he had hoped to achieve.
"Ron," she breathed, staring at it. The diamond gleamed in the candlelight, throwing light fragments across Hermione's cheek and Ron stared at it breathlessly. He'd never imagined she could look as beautiful as she did, staring in awe at the ring he had given her.
"Ron," she repeated and he started.
"Yes?"
"It's beautiful. Now get back over here and do it right."
Ron grinned, then went over to Hermione and got back down on one knee for the third time that evening. "Hermione," he started, "I just want to know if-"
His sentence was cut off, however, when their waiter kicked him in the ribs and went sprawling across their table. Hermione's salad landed with a splat on the carpet and the dinner she had ordered for Ron while he was in the car fell onto the tablecloth and immediately stained it brown. Groans were heard from all around the restaurant and Ron risked a glance out to see the patrons glaring at the waiter angrily.
"Are you blind?" a nearby woman asked. "He's trying to do something!"
The waiter, flushing embarrassedly, sidled off to the side to join those watching Ron. "Great," he thought, "let's get everyone to watch. Why not just turn it into a bloody documentary!"
He sighed, adjusting his position to allieviate the dull throb where he had been kicked, and looked up at the girl in front of him. "Hermione... a lot of things have gone wrong today. We were nearly late, I backed into a crazy old lady's car, I made you angry, I almost lost the ring... and I was mauled by a waiter..." he paused to throw an angry glance at the waiter. "I don't know, perhaps fate is trying to tell me not to do this." He grinned. "But I was never very bright, so I'm going to do it anyway." He took her hand, noticing how his own hand weren't shaking anymore. "I love you, Hermione... and I think I have for quite a while, whether or not I realized it. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life making up for not realizing it sooner. Will you let me?"
A single bright tear slid down her cheek and she smiled, fighting the urge to break into happy sobs. "Yes," she whispered, watching as he slid the delicate ring onto her finger. "Yes." She stared at her hand for a moment before sliding down onto the floor with him, wrapping her arms around him, and kissing him impulsively. "I love you, Ron."
He stared at her in half-shock. "I can't believe it."
She laughed, brushing at the tears that escaped her eyes. She kissed him gently before responding. "Neither can I." Titling her head to the side, she added impishly. "I thought you'd never ask."
The End
Dedicated to Nita, for her birthday. We hope you like it!
Perfect After All
Tonight was supposed to be perfect. It was supposed to go off without a hitch, just like in the fairytales. Of course, nothing was ever quite perfect where Ron and Hermione was concerned.
* * * *
Ronald Weasley stood on the front step of the Burrow and waited impatiently for his brothers to come back with the car. He'd told them seven o'clock and no later, he'd threatened Fred's life and George's box of pranks until they had agreed to be home on time. Yet, it was now seven fifteen and there was no sign of the car anywhere. They were late and that meant Ron was late.
"Hermione is going to kill me," he growled under his breath, checking his watch for what was probably the tenth time. Things were supposed to be perfect that night, absolutely perfect. He had planned everything down to the tiniest detail and now his brothers were ruining everything.
He and Hermione had been dating for a year, Ron having finally 'seen the light', as she liked to put it, an entire year after graduation. He had seen the light alright and it was blinding. Ron grinned, that was a good line, albeit a little corny. He'd have to use it when . . .
His thoughts trailed off as his black car came rumbling up the driveway. His fingers twitching around his wand, Ron stalked toward the car angrily, ready to curse both of his brothers when they stepped out.
"Sorry, Ron," Fred yelled, ducking out of the car and running up to the front door.
"Yeah, sorry 'bout that," George added, grinning widely before following his twin so fast that Ron didn't have a chance to curse either one of them.
"They're so dead when I get home," he growled, then got into the car and turned it around, finally ready to pick up Hermione.
A half hour later, and an entire hour later than planned, he parked in Hermione's driveway. Almost mechanically, he pulled the key from the ignition, climbed from the car, and headed up the sidewalk to her front door.
He felt strangely awkward... well, perhaps not strangely... he had felt awkward many a time, but... more awkward than usual. Finally standing on the front porch, he pressed the doorbell, listening to the familiar, echoey tones as they resounded inside. And he waited. And waited.
And... waited.
Maybe she didn't hear him... fell asleep waiting or something. He lifted his hand and knocked on the door. Or, more like it, tried to knock on the door.
Where his hand should have met the solid wood, it simply swished through empty air and collided with Hermione's body. She had opened the door.
He flushed a brilliant scarlet, sure that his face was now perfectly matching his bright shock of hair. "Erm... sorry, 'Mione." Dammit, he cursed silently, removing his hand from where it had come close to dangerous territory. "Er, ready to go?"
Giving him an odd look, she nodded. "Of course. I don't know what took you so long. Really, Ron, perhaps I should ask Professor McGonagall to trasnfigure you into a watch. It might do us more good."
"Sorry," he muttered, following her outside. He was going to kill Fred and George when he got home, if it was the last thing he did.
They got into the car and Ron stuck the key in the ignition, then turned to flash a quick grin in Hermione's direction.
"Where are we going?" she asked, as he started the car and began to back out of her driveway.
Ron's smile grew and he looked over at her. Finally, a chance to redeem himself... even if it was only a little bit.
"It's a surprise," he said softly, still smiling at her.
Hermione couldn't help but smile back at him as he said this. "Tell me," she pushed gently.
Ron shook his head. "Nope. It's perfect though, you'll love it."
"Ron!" she exclaimed, laughing lightly. "I want to know."
Ron opened his mouth to give her another smartass response when the back of his car collided with something, throwing them both forward.
"Great Merlin," he moaned, finally looking back to see another car in the street. He hadn't been watching the road, all his attention had been on teasing Hermione and now he had made the night worse, if anything.
"Whoops," he offered, trying a half grin on Hermione.
She rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh. "I hope you didn't get reservations anywhere good, because the way this night is going we'll never make it anywhere."
Ron smiled apologetically, then got out of the car and went around to speak with the other driver. His night was turning out to be worse than he could have ever imagined it could be.
Hermione watched Ron in the rearview mirror. There was something odd about him tonight, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. I mean, he *was* Ron, after all, which accounted for a certain amount of the strangeness, but even then... She bit her lip, pondering.
"Look, Ma'am, I'm sorry. Just please, let me give you my address, my insurance card, anything. I just have to go."
The other driver, an elderly woman, pursed her lips. "That's what's wrong with you kids these days. No responsibilities. Just run away from your problems, don't you? Well, you're not about to run away from this, boy." She shook her purse at him, and Ron took a step back, his knees pressing against the bumper of the car.
"You don't understand... I'm not running away. I'll pay for everything. I'll sign a statement saying so in my own *blood* if you'll just let me go. It's very important. I'm taking Hermione..."
"Eh? Hermi-what?"
He gritted his teeth. "Hermione, my girlfriend."
"Ah-ha!" she crowed, with the air of one who had made a great discovery. "Your girlfriend, eh? I know how you kids are... taking any chance you can to fornicate like rabbits! It's a downright discrace. Well, I won't stand for it. You're staying right here, Sonny, until the cops arrive. Then we'll see what happens."
She crossed her arms and nodded firmly, seating herself on the bumper of her car and pulling her knitting from her purse.
Ron stared at her in shock.
A half hour later and another argument with the old lady (this one over which colour the scarf for her grandson should be), the police had arrived and were assessing the situation. A casual grin on the face of the younger officer told Ron that he didn't have much to worry about.
"Insurance?" he asked Ron, who nodded and handed him the card.
"We'll get her information from her and give you a call, Mr. Weasley," the young officer said. "Sorry to have kept you here for so long."
"I can go?" Ron asked, not quite believing what the officer was telling him.
"Yes, you can go. And I hope you and your girlfriend have a very nice dinner."
Ron's jaw dropped and he grabbed the officer's hand. "Thank you so much. Thank you," he said, then ran back to the car and jumped into the driver's seat.
Hermione glanced at him. "Is everything cleared up?"
Ron nodded and threw the car into reverse, then finished backed out of the driveway and drove off into the night. "Everything is perfect," he breathed.
Hermione glanced at him, that look on her face that he knew all too well. That 'are-you-insane-everything-is-not-perfect' look that he had become so used to.
"Trust me, 'Mione. It'll be perfect," he insisted.
She just threw him a toned down version of the earlier look and settled silently into her seat. Ron could tell she was annoyed, perhaps not angry, but at least a little annoyed and he didn't blame her. He had almost managed to screw up the night, of course. But he stuck by his earlier conviction. He would make it perfect.
They arrived at the restaurant in one piece, despite the two red lights he ran in order to make it on time. He pretended not to notice Hermione's disapproving glances.
Pulling up in the parkinglot of a particularly fancy Muggle restaurant, he hurried around the car to open the door for her. He offered her his hand, and she took it, putting a bit of her weight on it as she tried to gracefully exit the car while wearing a deep blue spaghetti strap dress and strappy heels.
He stared at her. "'Mione, you look... beautiful."
She flushed slightly, still not used to the compliments he now gave her. "Thanks. You look great too. I don't think I've ever seen you in a suit."
"Yeah... well..." He shrugged and tucked her arm in his, escorting her into the restaurant.
Within minutes, the waiter was seating them at a table for two. A tall, thin candle was set in the middle of the table, its flame wavering and dancing in the breeze from the fans. He hurried to pull out the chair for her, nearly causing it to topple to the floor in the process, before seating himself across from her.
"See, we made it."
She smirked playfully. "I was beginning to wonder."
Ron grinned back at her, then opened the menu in front of him and scanned the meals. He coughed on his water, which turned into an all-out choke when he saw the prices of the meals. Thank God for Fred and George, they had willingly lent him money after he had blown all of his on the most important part of the evening. Ron nearly choked again when he thought about that ... the most important part of the evening. Was he really going to do it? Was he honestly going to do it that night?
Ron swallowed the water in his mouth with great difficulty, then glanced across the table at Hermione. The candlelight was playing softly across her features, shadowing the curve of her nerve and the soft line of her jaw. The lump in his throat suddenly plummetted, settling happily in his stomach and Ron nearly sighed aloud. She had never looked as beautiful as she did to him at that moment. It could be the impending task that was looming over him, the moment which would try his patience and, most likely, his insanity, but he liked to think that maybe he hadn't noticed it before.
She had always been pretty, of course, but even after they had started dating it had taken Ron ages to admit to himself that she was really beautiful. It was a rare occasion when Hermione actually wore a dress, or put on makeup, but Ron found himself grinning stupidly when he realized that those occasions were most often reserved for him.
He loved Hermione without her makeup and her Sleekeazy's hair potion, but more than anything, he loved knowing that she'd go the extra mile for him
"Ron?" Hermione asked suddenly, catching him off guard.
"Hmm?"
"Why did you bring me here?"
He grinned. "It's been a year, Hermione. A year. Did you ever think that . . ." he trailed off when he saw her nodding.
"Yes," she said, "I always thought."
"Really?" he asked, surprised. "Because I really never did." Too late, he realized his error, and his eyes widened in horror. Had he really just said that? Maybe he had just thought it.
But by the look on Hermione's face, he knew that he had spoken the words. Her cheeks flushed angrily.
"Ronald Weasley! Do you have no romantic sensibilities whatesoever or are you determined to... oh!" she crossed her arms in frustration, staring at the wall.
He panicked. Literally panicked. He scrambled from his chair, kneeling on the floor next to her. "'Mione, that's not what I meant..." She refused to meet his gaze. "Please, 'Mione. I didn't mean it that way. But you know me, I open my mouth and something stupid comes out."
"You've got that right," she mumbled bitterly.
"And you know I didn't mean it like that."
Finally, she lowered her cold eyes to meet his. "No, I don't. I'm not a mind reader."
"I know, but... please, 'Mione, let me explain."
She shrugged. "No one's stopping you. Go on. What, pray tell, *did* you mean by that horrible remark?"
"I meant that... that I never thought that I would be so lucky to have you be with me for a month, much less a year. I expected you to come to your senses and break it up. I mean, it's me... I should have screwed it up by now. And I suppose I have." He swallowed, and reached for in his pocket. "And, you know, you'll probably say no, but I have to ask you a question."
Hermione frowned down at him as he shakingly took one of her hands in his. His other hand was still digging around in his pocket and she waited patiently, an amused smile finally crossing her lips. As if it wasn't obvious to everyone in the restaurant what Ron was about to do, they were all watching, waiting for him to finally get the show moving.
"NO!" he cried, jumping up suddenly and dropping Hermione's hand. "I have to... go to the car," he said in a rushed voice. "I forgot something."
With that, he turned on his heel and ran from the restaurant. Some of the people at nearby tables groaned and Hermione shook her head before going back to the menu. She should have known.
Ron thrust the key into the car door with trembling hands, praying to every deity he could think of that the ring box was inside his car. If it wasn't, that meant it was either at home or . . . or lying on the street where his car had collided with the other car.
"Please, oh please," Ron murmured, nearly ripping the glove compartment door off it's hinges as he searched inside. There was nothing there but a pen and his registration.
"No!" he growled, cursing loudly and slamming his fist against the car door. He felt under the passanger seat, his fingers brushing a kleenex box and another piece of paper, but nothing that even remotely resembled the ring box.
"Please be here," he begged, shoving his hand under the driver's seat. Ron nearly cried with joy when his fingers brushed up against the small, soft square that he knew had to be the ring box. He pulled it out and kissed it firmly, then opened up to make sure the ring was still there completely intact. The single diamond glittered in the moonlight and Ron felt his breath rush out of him. It was there, he was saved, he would do it right.
He rushed back inside, licking his hand and running it desperately over his hair in an effort to tame it. Upon entering the restaurant, he slowed to a nervous, uneven walk. He could feel the eyes of every single patron in the restaurant staring at him Perhaps he should have waited until *after* dinner to do this. But... it was too late now.
Feeling strangely as if he was walking Death Row, he made his way towards Hermione, who was calmly sipping her drink. He stopped in front of her and shakily got down on one knee.
"Hermione," he said, well... croaked. The lump had returned to his throat, and with a vengeance. He swallowed, hard, then coughed.
The edges of her mouth turned up and she held out her glass to him. "Need a drink?"
"Thanks," he gasped, downing the contents in one go, hoping that the alcohol would somehow give him more courage.
Damn. It was only water.
He clutched the box desperately in his hand. "Hermione," he began again, and this time he sounded less frog-like. "We've been dating for a year now... and... well, you know how I feel... and... I know, well... I hope you feel the same way... and..."
Hermione burst into laughter. "Good Merlin, Ron! Haven't you read *any* books on proposing or romance or *anything*?!"
That was it. He got to his feet, colouring for what definately wasn't the first time that night. "No, Hermione, I haven't exactly read up on the subject as well as you have, apparently. Excuse me for being so uneducated on the exact way to propose to the woman you're so bloody well in love with!"
He thrust the box into her lap, and it landed among the folds of her dress. "That's for you, by the way. Or perhaps you want me to get you one that's more specifically outlined in one of your precious books!"
He paused to catch his breath, hardly able to bear watching as Hermione picked up the box in her slim hands. She ran her fingers over the soft lid before cracking the box open to peer inside. Her jaw dropped slightly and she opened the box completely so that Ron could see the ring nestled inside as well. A solitary diamond set in a simple gold band with etching along either side. It was simple and yet perfectly beautiful, exactly the feeling he had hoped to achieve.
"Ron," she breathed, staring at it. The diamond gleamed in the candlelight, throwing light fragments across Hermione's cheek and Ron stared at it breathlessly. He'd never imagined she could look as beautiful as she did, staring in awe at the ring he had given her.
"Ron," she repeated and he started.
"Yes?"
"It's beautiful. Now get back over here and do it right."
Ron grinned, then went over to Hermione and got back down on one knee for the third time that evening. "Hermione," he started, "I just want to know if-"
His sentence was cut off, however, when their waiter kicked him in the ribs and went sprawling across their table. Hermione's salad landed with a splat on the carpet and the dinner she had ordered for Ron while he was in the car fell onto the tablecloth and immediately stained it brown. Groans were heard from all around the restaurant and Ron risked a glance out to see the patrons glaring at the waiter angrily.
"Are you blind?" a nearby woman asked. "He's trying to do something!"
The waiter, flushing embarrassedly, sidled off to the side to join those watching Ron. "Great," he thought, "let's get everyone to watch. Why not just turn it into a bloody documentary!"
He sighed, adjusting his position to allieviate the dull throb where he had been kicked, and looked up at the girl in front of him. "Hermione... a lot of things have gone wrong today. We were nearly late, I backed into a crazy old lady's car, I made you angry, I almost lost the ring... and I was mauled by a waiter..." he paused to throw an angry glance at the waiter. "I don't know, perhaps fate is trying to tell me not to do this." He grinned. "But I was never very bright, so I'm going to do it anyway." He took her hand, noticing how his own hand weren't shaking anymore. "I love you, Hermione... and I think I have for quite a while, whether or not I realized it. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life making up for not realizing it sooner. Will you let me?"
A single bright tear slid down her cheek and she smiled, fighting the urge to break into happy sobs. "Yes," she whispered, watching as he slid the delicate ring onto her finger. "Yes." She stared at her hand for a moment before sliding down onto the floor with him, wrapping her arms around him, and kissing him impulsively. "I love you, Ron."
He stared at her in half-shock. "I can't believe it."
She laughed, brushing at the tears that escaped her eyes. She kissed him gently before responding. "Neither can I." Titling her head to the side, she added impishly. "I thought you'd never ask."
The End