She approached the gate on unsteady feet. "Gryffindor courage," she slurred once more. She touched the gate with confidence. Bloody bastard would probably never change his wards.

She stomped up his steps and banged on his door. Merlin, she had had too much rum tea on an empty stomach.

When he answered the door, at first he thought she was on one knee, proposing to him once more. And then he realized she was just puking into his hydrangeas.

"I've always hated those hydrangeas anyway," he said when they had sat down at his kitchen table. Her stomach was still churning from the rum and apparation. She let her head fall into the table, feeling both sick and embarrassed.

"I see you found someone else's clothes," he said as he put some bread in front of her. "Eat that."

She nodded and sat up on her elbows enough to manage a bite. "Ginny's." She said.

"You went there?" He said, with mild interest. "And Potter didn't barge in to disembowel me?"

She shook her head. "No, he's become a girl friend. I'd go to Bill if I wanted someone to disembowel you. Charlie, if I wanted someone to barbecue you in your sleep in an accidental dragon mishap."

He raised an eyebrow. "I'll know to run if I see either."

"By the time you'd see them, it'd be too late."

"I see," he was fighting a smile. Only two hours ago things had been much tenser between them and he wanted to enjoy it, but he wanted to know where it was going. "And what would you send yourself here for?" He probed.

"Just to puke in your hydrangeas and eat your bread," she said. "You always have the best French bread. I've begun to suspect you kidnapped a French granny and are holding her down in your basement and forcing her to make a loaf a day."

He nearly laughed. "Bread and butter, dear," he corrected. "Don't forget that the French also churn exquisite butter."

She laughed and had to hold her stomach. "Could I have some water, actually?" She asked.

He fetched her a glass and started a kettle for tea too.

"Do I need to disembowel Potter for sending you back here sick to your stomach?" He asked.

She shook her head. "No. It was my own fault. I poured the rum. I drank it. Besides, Ginny did send me back here, at least."

He paused at that. "Oh?"

Hermione nodded and caught his eye at last. "She told me I was being stupid," she explained. She looked away suddenly. "You left things alone those three weeks because you knew I'd be back eventually anyway," she said.

He sat down across from her but she was fixated on her crystal glass. It was Waterford. He pulled the glass from her hand gently and squeezed her fingers but she still couldn't bring herself to look at him. "There was that. But also, I was afraid to push too hard. I understood you wanted more time. I didn't. But I understood that you did. And I didn't want to push you away. I knew the Marriage Law was coming. And I needed the door to be open for you when it did."

She closed her eyes. "When did you know?" She asked.

"Blaise wrote me a few—"

"No," she cut him off. "when did you know you wanted to marry me?" She clarified.

"In the minute between when you peed on that stick, and when it turned blue instead of pink, I thought about how Scorpius would be a perfect name for a boy. And that was when I knew."

She finally looked at him. "That was over two months ago."

He nodded. "Right after felt too soon, and then Blaise owled me, and then I tried, and then you tried, and now, here we are." He paused and summoned his own Gryffindor courage. "Why did you say no, Hermione?" He asked. "Do you just need more time? Do you not see this, us, headed the same place I do?"

She shook her head and her hands trembled. "No, I do," she insisted. "I told you. I wish I could explain it better but I can't. It's everything I want, really. A husband and children. A family. A family with you. But I just wasn't ready. I don't know why."

His thumbs rolled over the back of her hands in soothing circles. "We don't have much more time," he said. "Just a little over a month. Until the law takes effect. If you wanted to go to Australia still, I would understand. I could go with you, if you wanted. Or, if you wanted to stay here, we could get married in name but go on living fairly separate lives until you're ready."

She was trembling and she wasn't sure if it was the aftershocks of the alcohol or if she was just overwhelmed. She would put her money on the latter.

"You would always wonder," she said finally.

He gave her a wry smile. "There are worse fates. I'd still be spending the rest of my life with the woman I love. But I won't trap you. I won't force you. You have options. You'd still be choosing me."

She began to cry for the second time that day. "I'm so sorry," she murmured. "I'm so sorry. I do love you. I don't know why… I don't know why I'm not ready yet." It had been tormenting her for months. Even before he had asked. She loved him. She'd be devastated to lose him. She wanted to spend almost all her time with him. But the thought of forever made her panic. She hated that reaction but she couldn't fight her.

He dropped her hand and she knew he was leaving. She'd hear the snap of the door at any second. But then suddenly he was all around her, her face cocooned in his neck and his hands rubbing soft circles on her back.

"It's ok, Hermione," he whispered. "It really is."

"It's not," she cried, her snot and tears mixing into his shirt. "It's not fair to you. You deserve better."

He shook his head. "Fuck what I deserve. This is what I want. I'm not a boy. I can suffer a little light rejection. I can be patient."

"I can't let you do that," she whimpered.

"You don't let me do anything," he insisted. "I'm my own person."

Suddenly he was kissing her despite all the snot and tears. "You are such an ugly crier, Granger," he muttered, but he was teasing. "Please marry me."