Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger were sitting across from each other outside their usual restaurant for their lunch break; a turkey sandwich sat on a plate and a large bowl containing pumpkin spice stew were left half eaten and half forgotten by the two respectively. Neither talked since there was too much work to be done.
Ms. Granger was reading a large book on Advanced Transfiguration, which she had already read through a few times, but was reviewing it once more for the class she was going to teach in the fall. Mr. Weasley was busy editing a Quidditch article that was to be published in a highly esteemed newspaper the next morning.
They were both very grown up… and still very single.
Every year that slipped past they would do their best to avoid the topic of a potential relationship. This didn't mean there weren't incidents in the past—like the drunken snogging at the Christmas party two years ago when both denied the incident and said they remembered nothing, but neither of them could lie very well and no one understood why they bothered.
Harry and Ginny washed their hands of the two of them long ago. For years they attempted to match-make them, all failed. Honestly, neither Ginny nor Harry understood how either of them were able to restrain themselves so well since both were fairly passionate people in all other aspects of their lives.
However, Ron and Hermione thought they were both being noble. Little did anyone else know, they had discussed the matter in private many a time. They were both so very sure that the moment they became romantically involved it would crash. Things would build up, they would somehow become bored with the other, and romantically they would ultimately suffer. They were so damn sure of it.
Despite agreeing with these reasons on multiple occasions, they were always together. Neither could last longer than a few months in a romantic relationship, and had any attempt ever lasted longer than it did, tensions would gradually rise and all hell would break lose.
But within a week their lunches would continue as if nothing had happened because they were both cowards.
They knew they were, and every morning when they woke up and every night before falling asleep, they would touch the empty place next to them in their respective beds and admit how cowardly they really were to the darkness.
Back to the present, as the two friends sat there, working unfalteringly, a little thing called fear was seeping into their hearts; no, not just their hearts— their very souls.
It was then, when the icy cold fear was right upon them, did their work falter. Hermione stopped reading, keeping her eyes on the page but not seeing a word. Ron stopped writing, but continued to twirl his quill as if nothing had happened. And both their minds reeled with apprehension.
This whole thing they had set up—a strange kind of abstinancy from the other, satisfied by random people who always kept failing to be Ron or Hermione, but being together as often as possible laughing into the night and frequent owl messages—wasn't enough because it promised nothing.
It could all stop in an instant as soon as someone just wanted a life beyond their instability. And then they could lose touch, move away, marry, have kids… their lives could change entirely.
And it made them both sick to their stomachs to think of that other life.
After a minute or two of quiet reflection in the depths of their anxieties, Ron and Hermione both concluded their next move.
Hermione looked up and caught Ron's eyes for a brief moment. The look was insignificant, so short a time no one would think anything of it, but in just that quick glance they smiled and went back to their work. They were safe.
Any fear that was creeping in vanished like a patronus chased it away. Ron nudged Hermione's foot, not looking up from his red marked parchment. Hermione simply responded with a, "Hm?" and continued to read.
The warm August wind was blowing, and happy witches and wizards were chattering and pleasantly wandering about the avenue. Appetizing smells from the various shops and restaurants wafted through the breeze. Some birds chirped as they scampered around in search of crumbs.
Ron and Hermione were busy with work but they were both aware of all the sights, sounds, and smells around them because at that moment everything was perfect and everything needed to be noticed and filed away in some corner of their memory. As Ron finished marking yet another correction, he asked casually, as if he wanted Hermione to pass the salt, "Will you marry me?"
Hermione turned the page, still reading, and responded with a little delay, "Yes."
After a few more moments of silence and study, they looked up at each other and smiled with such happiness, you'd think it was some kind of glee charm.
But then they went back to their work because they were both very grown up... except now, finally, after years and years and in just a few moments… very not single.