Everything was supposed to be perfect. He had been planning this for months, booked the reservation weeks in advance, and yet, it all seemed to fall to pieces at the very last moment.
Harry really should have known it couldn't be that easy.
The morning started poorly when the restaurant called to cancel his reservation. After a fire in the kitchen the previous night, the manager was forced to shut down until inspections and repairs could be done. She, of course, offered a new reservation for their earliest opening date, but that simply wouldn't do for Harry. It had to be tonight on October 31st. And he simply could not wait another year.
He accepted this fact with resignation and started on an alternate plan. Perhaps a picnic instead. A private, intimate picnic in the park. That could be romantic, right?
But then the dry cleaners called. His suit had been mistakenly given to another customer who was now out of the country with his suit. For a solid ten minutes, Harry considered requesting an emergency portkey to retrieve it but ultimately decided against it when he couldn't find a good explanation for how he made a seventeen hour flight into a few seconds trip.
A suit wasn't appropriate picnic attire anyways. He would settle for a pair of dress pants and a pull over. That would still be nice for what he had planned, and Hermione had told him how much she liked the green one he had.
The final blow came when Harry couldn't find the ring. The ring, his mother's ring, had sat in his vault the last twenty-five years, waiting until he had a need for it. He left the ring at Gringotts as long as he dared not trusting that his incredibly intelligent and nosey girlfriend wouldn't stumble upon it. But apparently, his hiding place had been a little too good, because he couldn't find it now. Room by room, Harry methodically turned out every corner, emptying drawers and tossing closets. He checked the couch cushions and under the furniture. He even checked the freezer in a moment of panic and desperation.
How could he possibly propose without a ring?
Hermione was beaming when she turned the key to their flat letting herself in. Harry had promised her his whole night. With their work schedules lately, the most the couple saw each other was late at night half asleep as they stumbled into bed. She was excited to have a whole night with her boyfriend all to herself.
What she had not expected was to find the flat in complete disarray and said boyfriend laying face down on the couch.
She comes into the flat they share to find it a wreck, her boyfriend laying face down on the couch.
"What happened?" Her voice was shrill with worry as she rushed to his side concerned there had been an attack. At his side, she could determine he was unharmed but seemed miserable.
"I was gonna propose today," he admitted, the confession muffled by the cushion.
Her heart skipped a beat at the word propose. Suspicions had been creeping into her mind for weeks only to solidify when he told her about the special night he'd planned. She was suddenly very grateful Ginny suggested getting her nails done when she confessed her suspicion to the youngest Weasley. But she also couldn't help the knot that formed as she realized he said it in a past tense.
"And you aren't now? "
"I can't," he complained, still pressing his face into the couch. "It all went to hell. I can't even find the ring now."
A giggle pressed up her throat at the childlike tantrum Head Auror Potter was throwing. She couldn't help thinking how adorable he looked pouting. Kissing his head, she walked into the kitchen. Harry finally sat up, peering over the back of the couch to watch her. Confidently, she pulled a pasta box down from the top of the pantry and fished out a dainty black box. He groaned and placed his face in his hands. The pasta had been his first choice of a hiding place as Hermione never cooked lasagna. She sat next to him on the couch putting the box in his hand.
"It was supposed to be perfect," he groaned, eyes glued to the plush velvet he ran his fingers over.
"Harry." Her voice was soft and comforting. "Will you look at me please?"
When he did, he found an amused look rather than the disappointment he'd expected. She ran a thumb over his cheek. If she ever wondered at how much he loved her, she saw the answer, bright and blazing, in his eyes then.
"I don't need big romantic gestures. You know that. If it comes from you, then it is perfect. All I need is for you to ask."
Slowly, he slid down to one knee in front of her, pressing a kiss to her hand. He looked up into those unfathomable eyes he loved to fall into everyday as he popped the box open. Harry barely heard her sharp gasp over the roaring in his ears.
"Will you marry me?"
"Of course, I will."
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