Dinner with the Grangers on Saturday went without incident. They didn't see them nearly as often as they saw Ron's side of the family so there was a lot of catching up to do, not just the news about the baby. They too were happy to know that they would soon be grandparents. They admitted that they were beginning to think they wouldn't be around to see any grandchildren; they were quite a bit older than Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, they were getting on a bit when Hermione was born.

Ron liked Hermione's parents but couldn't help but think they were a bit…well…boring. She was they only child of two dentists and honestly, the Weasley's were more fun to be with; even Hermione thought so, there was never a dull moment at the burrow. (But how could there be? There was almost never less than seven people there at once.) And although her father never said anything about it and was always very nice to him, Ron always got the feeling that Mr. Granger could get into his head and know exactly what Ron had been doing with his only daughter or that he was not good enough for her. That feeling started when Hermione moved into his apartment, before they got married. But maybe that was just Ron's own insecurity.

It was now six o'clock Monday morning and Hermione was scrambling to get ready and to work early; Ron was still in bed.

"Ron, have you seen my black pumps? I have a meeting today and--" Hermione yelled to him as she dug through their closet. "Ron? Ronald?" She looked over to the bed where he was still snoring, "Oh, honestly!" She went over to the bed and shook him.

"What? Whatsamatter?" He said with a groan. "I'm up, I'm up. I won't be late, don't worry."

"Have you seen my black pumps?"

"Your what?" He looked at very confused, and still groggy.

"My black high heel shoes," she said impatiently.

"You woke me up for that? No I haven't seen your shoes, maybe you should keep track of them." That was it, she yanked the covers off him and the cold air hit his nearly bare body. "Oi! What're you doing!" He jumped up.

"Keep track of my things?" her voice raised. "The only reason I can't find them is because they're buried in you're mess!"

"Well maybe you should clean it," He knew as soon as he said it that he shouldn't have.

"Me? Me?" her tone was harsh and dangerous now. Ron braced himself. "I can't—Urgh!" She grabbed a pair of black flats instead and disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Ron let out an exasperated sigh, and went to the closet to find something to wear; there was no point in going back to sleep now. He dug through the pile Hermione had been in and at the bottom found one of the shiny black shoes she had been looking for. He grabbed it. "Found one!" he called to her and moved toward the bathroom, trying to step over the piles of clothes that were strewn across the floor. He tripped over something. "Found the other one!" He tapped his knuckles on the door; she had locked it. There was no answer. He tried again. She flung the door open, glared at him angrily, snatched the shoes from his hand and slammed the door in his face all before Ron could say anything to apologize. He rolled his eyes and went to go get something to eat.

Hermione left for work a half hour later; Ron was sitting at the table with his tea and copy of the Daily Prophet in hand. She didn't say anything as she brushed by him and stumbled into the fireplace. She didn't know was that he had no intention of going to work that day. He had been thinking about it since Hermione had told him she was pregnant; their one bedroom apartment was too small. He was going to buy a house.

He was meeting with the real estate agent, a witch who was to help him find a home in one of the mainly wizarding communities, at nine o'clock; he apparated into her office at nine sharp. She was a short middle-aged witch with brown hair tied back into a bun and small tortoise shell glasses. She reminded Ron of a much younger version of Professor McGonagall. "You must be Mr. Weasley," she said very politely holding out her hand. He shook it. "And where is you're wife?"

"I've decided to surprise her." She just nodded.

"Well then I found three homes, for today, that I want to show you, in the price range and areas we spoke about over the floo."

"Alright, let's have a look then..." She grabbed his arm and spun on the spot.

The first house, just outside of Ottery St. Catchpole in the opposite direction of the burrow, was not very large and needed a lot of work. Not to mention it was just a little too close to the Burrow. The second, was a little larger and about an hour outside of London. The village it was in was made up primarily of Muggles, but had a few other wizarding families. Ron knew that this wouldn't be a problem for Hermione, but he on the other hand feared that he would make their muggle neighbors suspicious.

By the time that they were heading to the last house Ron was already feeling slightly disappointed having not liked the first two at all. He knew it could take weeks or even months to find a house, but was never a very patient person. When they arrived at the last small village, Ron recognized it instantly. Ever since the war had ended He, Hermione and Ginny had joined Harry on Halloween, Christmas and his birthday to lay fresh flowers at his parents grave. Ron had purposed to Hermione in the pub right down the street.

---

It was Christmas Eve, Ron was twenty-one and he and Hermione had been together for almost four years. The four—Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny—decided to get a drink in the pub they had past by on so many occasions during their visits to Goddric's Hallow. They spent a few hours there, drinking eggnog and reminiscing about their school days and the war—paying no attention to the fact that muggles inhabited all of the other tables in the crowded pub.

Soon they began to talk about Harry and Ginny's wedding which was just a few months earlier and had been quite beautiful. Hermione, slightly hazy from the drink, began to talk about the kind of wedding she'd wanted since she was a little girl. "It will be perfect…"she had said rather dreamily. Then something clicked in Ron's head; "Now!" he thought. Ron had the ring in his coat pocket; he didn't have it planned, he carried the ring around with him waiting for the perfect moment and that was it. He suddenly began rummaging through his pockets.

"Ron," Ginny looked at him like he was mad, "what are you doing?" He ignored her. He finally found the small velvet box and launched himself down on one knee in front of Hermione. He opened the box and looked up at her startled face; he was suddenly nervous and his own face was very hot and he knew, very red.

" 'Mione," He started trying to shake his nerves, "I have loved you for as long as I can remember." He paused and a huge smile appeared on her face, there were tears in her eyes; that made the nerves disappear completely. "I have been waiting to do this since, honestly, since we were eleven. Yeah, even then I knew. Hermione Jane Granger, will you marry me?"

There was a long pause. Hermione jumped from her chair and threw herself at Ron, landing on top of him, having pushed him to the floor. "Yes!" She said, kissing him. "Of course I will." She said more quietly. They got up from the floor, both Harry and Ginny were grinning at them. And the whole pub began to clap as the couple returned to their chairs and Ron slid the diamond and white gold engagement ring onto her finger.

---

'Not the most romantic, but it worked,' he thought as he real estate witch led him down the street and right past that little pub. The house was on the very outskirts of the village. Before even going inside he knew; it was a stone cottage, not terribly big but not small by any means and had a beautiful front garden. "It's perfect, I want to put in an offer," Ron said immediately, looking at the house feeling satisfied and rather excited.

"But Mr. Weasley you haven't even seen the inside."

"I know; but I can tell. It's perfect and she'll love it."

"Well, if you insist." She flicked her wand and a few pieces of parchment appeared, along with a quill. "Sign here, here and initial here," she pointed to various spots on the parchment. He did as she said. "Well, I will let you know in a few days," she held out her hand and shook Ron's again. "Good luck, it was nice to meet you."

"You too," he said and she disapparated with a 'pop'.

Ron stood looking at the house appraisingly for a few more seconds. He made a mental note not to tell Hermione he hadn't even gone inside. He couldn't wait to show her though, he new she'd love it. It was perfect.

Thanks again for all the reviews. I'm glad everyone likes the flashback idea and everyone seemed to the first one was funny—I was laughing when I wrote it; I could picture it happening.

I really didn't think of Bill as doing that either but I needed someone to join in George's ridicule without Fred there [ :o( so sad and for some reason after thinking about it I decided on Bill. I could picture him usually being the nice, laidback one who really just couldn't resist the opportunity to for once mess with his little brother. I think what happened is Ron may have accidentally walked in on Bill and Fleur (There is no privacy in that family!) and he needed to get Ron back for it. ;o)