The Question He Asked

"I'll be there in a second!"

Ginny waited, sitting on Hermione's bed. Hermione had gone to take a shower as she and Ginny were going out for a cup of coffee. Ginny had been thinking that Hermione of late had been staying inside too much after they – Hermione and Ron - had broken up. It was five years after the war, and for three of those years, Hermione and Ron had been going strong. However, last week they had very abruptly broken up, which had shocked most people they knew. Most had thought, especially among the Weasleys, that Ron would have popped the question soon.

Ginny began to poke around the room; she was not a patient person, and Hermione took long showers. She fiddled with various toiletries on Hermione's bureau, plucked at the strings of a small violin in the corner, rooted through the closet, and decided she was bored. Peering under the bed, expecting to find shoes, she reached under, and instead of what she expected pulled out a small, leather-bound book that was slightly worn.

Ha hah, a diary, have we Hermione? Ginny thought to herself, grinning with anticipation. Flipping to the latest entry, she began to read.

I think the reason I began liking him was because after the war, he looked so sad. I know that I felt sad – Harry's dying was a trial on us all. However, I never could tell the difference between sadness and simply begin quiet around some people as the years progressed – a trait of mine that I am more aware of now than ever. Ron was probably never 'sad' around me – he simply had better people he wanted to talk to.

Like her. Is she really just another dumb blond, Ron? Is she the reason we broke up? I remember seeing you talking so animatedly when I accidentally walked into a coffee shop not realizing you were in there - perhaps I'm wrong, as I walked out in the next instant. You probably never even saw me.

I remember from our Hogwarts days how Lavender had once asked whom I liked. I think responding and not sprinting out of the room was the stupidest things I've ever done. I remember how she gave Ron a nickname – Cherry, I believe, for reasons that would probably make Ron furious now. Every time I talked to him in the hallway, I could see her over his shoulder mouthing the word.

I'm sure you've lost it by now, Ron. I was never sure though, as I never let you do it with me. Was that the reason?

I remember that the one person who knew spread the 'treasured' information fast – the idea of me liking someone, anyone, was apparently astonishing. I remember that first it was Lavender, then Parvati, then Ginny, then – oh God, Ginny. She had to scream it when she was told. I remember Shirley, a 5th year, calmly turning to glare, softly saying "Doesn't he have a girlfriend?"

Perhaps I think about it too much. All I know is that since we broke up, I've taken to playing the violin almost too much – the fingertips in my left hand are all callused, and it hurts to hold a quill. I practiced for five hours yesterday.

Five hours of trying not to cry...

Perhaps I don't know how to better phrase this, other than I don't like you anymore Cherry, Ronald, Ron. I remember how Fred and George had mocked me about when you took me to dinner that last night we were together – "He's going to pop the question, just you watch!" they had said. Instead, we broke up, you saying how things had changed between us. How maybe we just needed some space. Maybe we should meet other people. Why, Ron? You knew how I felt about you. However, now, it's too late. I hate you.

But I still love you even more.

Finishing, Ginny felt bad about the part she had contributed to it; however, the feeling was fleeting; she had gotten them together. In their 7th year, Ginny could recognize the looks that Ron was giving Hermione, and took her chance to hook them up.

Suddenly struck with an idea, Ginny tore out the pages the entry was on and shoved them in her pocket. She had only just replaced the diary under the bed when Hermione came out of the bathroom, fully dressed with what Ginny thought might be a smile returning to her face.

"Ready?" Hermione said.

Ron came home around 3:00 o'clock the next day, feeling haggard as he had been working since 9:00 a.m. yesterday - he was tired, hungry, and ready to fall asleep. Going into his small bedroom, he fell on his bed, only to hear a crinkly noise underneath his head on his pillow. Sitting up, he found a note from Ginny.

Dear Ron,

Read this.

- Love, Ginny

Groaning, he un-taped the envelope that was attached to the note and opened it. Pulling out the pages inside, he immediately recognized the handwriting as Hermione's.

I think the reason I began liking him was...

But I still love you even more.

Once he had finished the stolen diary entry from Ginny, he sat up on his bed and stared at his wall, his thoughts running unbridled. The night they had broken up, he had had the ring in his pocket. He remembered nervously fingering it in his pocket as conversation had been strained. She had looked so sad and unwilling to be there. He felt like his heart was being ripped out when he asked her if she wanted to break up. He had thought that the reason for her stony silence was because she didn't love him. But after having read the letter, he thought that maybe it was because she had thought he would never love her... and here he had been thinking she wanted to break up when really she wanted – actually, he wasn't sure what she wanted. But he had a question to ask her.

Grabbing his coat, he ran out of his apartment into the rainy London streets. She loves me, she loves me, he thought to himself, running past the elementary students being released from school. He ran – and felt - like someone drunk, crashing into various people as he ran by. Upon arriving in the section of London where she lived, he began to run faster, his heart pounding and adrenaline making him ecstatic. Coming to her apartment complex, he breathed deeply at the door, pushed it open, and began to walk up the stairs.

Arriving at her door, he stopped, still breathing hard. He was soaking wet from his run outside in the rain. Looking at the mirror down the hall, he decided that he looked like a drowned rat. Deciding he didn't care, he breathed deeply and knocked.

Hermione opened the door to a redheaded man with the most earnest expression she'd ever seen someone wear. He grabbed her hands and pulled her close to him, so that their noses were almost brushing. Still breathing hard, the man said –

"Hermione – will you marry me?"

Yes, I know, corny, but I hoped you liked the story anyway. I took some liberties with this story, as I think that Hermione and Ron might have already been dating in the sixth book. However, if you really want to know, I can't remember – it wasn't particularly memorable to me.

If you liked the story, I beg for you to review! I love comments. Constructive criticism is appreciated too, so if you loved, hated, or thought the story was mediocre there's a review with your name on it! (thumbs up)