The Workshop.
Ron yelled something to his mother about feeding the chickens and he and Harry went out the back door. The night was cool and silent. It was too early in the year for the chorus of frogs and crickets that would fill the air in a few weeks. They stepped around the usual array of old boots and rusty caldrons that littered the back steps and Ron led Harry across the yard. Harry had his hands crammed in the pockets of his jeans and-their breath formed little clouds in the cool night air. He glanced at the garden and, through the shadows, thought he saw one of the gnomes dash behind a spade that leaned against the fence. Their destination was a small shed attached to the chicken coop. The crooked door's rusty hinges squealed loudly when Ron wrenched it open.
Inside it was magically much bigger than it looked and it housed Arthur's workshop. It was pitch dark so, with a flick of his wand, Ron lit several old brass lamps that hung from nails on the walls. It was here that Arthur did his tinkering with Muggle technology, to Molly's continued distress. There was a work bench along one wall with shelves above it that held many dog-eared repair manuals and parts catalogues. Tools hung neatly from peg board hooks and various bits and bobs filled cans, jars, and other mismatched containers. The exploded remains of Hagrid's motorbike were scattered all over the shop. There were parts on the bench, in bins, and the larger ones were leaning up against the walls. Arthur had smuggled the bike in from the Tonks' bog, where Harry had crash landed the night he fled from Privet Drive, and had started the enormous job of restoring it to working order. He had meticulously tagged and cataloged each part with a description and a number. Harry glanced randomly at a few.
" Speed-O-Mometer #215."
"Ignitiation Lines #121".
The tag on one particularly mangled part said, "wonky black thing #43, might fit into wonky chrome thing #56?".
Harry smiled briefly at these, but it still hurt to remember that night. He pulled himself back to the present and wondered what this was all about, while Ron paced across the shop floor.
"Come on then, out with it," Harry finally said. "What's wrong? I've never seen you leave dessert."
"Well," Ron said, starting slowly. "I know it hasn't even been a year since... everything. And I just started at the joke shop with George and I'm still not contributing much yet. All I've done is help with the Owl Order side of things. But I think I've got a bright future there!" He perked up. "The business is booming! I guess it's true what they say, there really is no such thing as bad publicity..."
"Ron, is there a point in here somewhere?"
"Yeah, sorry, it's just…" He dropped his voice to a whisper. "I've never actually said it out loud before."
"Said what?" Harry asked, getting a bit angry now.
"Well, I think... I mean, I AM," he took a breath and blew the rest out in a rush.
"I'm-going-to-ask-Hermione-to-marry-me!"
The words "marry me" echoed against the walls of the workshop. Ron winced and glanced outside to be sure no one from the house had heard.
"Yeah," he continued, growing more confident as he talked. "I've got a job, good prospects, all that. The family's crazy about her, obviously. And I realized recently, with her career taking off and everything, we could end up going in different directions. I mean, she could decide she wanted something more than..." He waved his arm vaguely around the general area, including himself.
It was then Ron realized that Harry hadn't moved. He was frozen, staring at the spot Ron had been in when he announced his plan to propose. Ron had moved to the door to look back at the house and Harry's eyes hadn't followed.
"Well, don't just stand there, say something," Ron said sheepishly.
Harry slowly turned towards him. "My two best friends in the whole world are going to get married." He said it very calmly, like he was coming out of a trance. His smile built slowly and continued until it stretched across his face.
"My two best friends...in the whole world...are going to get married! Yes!" He shouted and pumped his fist.
Horrified, Ron leapt at him and put his hand over his mouth. "Harry!" he groaned through clenched teeth. "Why do you think I brought you out here? I don't want the whole world to know yet."
Ron checked the house again, but miraculously there was still no sign that anyone had heard them. Harry laughed uncontrollably and stumbled around the room. Ron could only make out the occasional "Brilliant" or "Amazing".
"So, I guess you think she'll say yes then?" Ron asked, gravely.
That brought Harry up short. He was facing away from Ron now. His laughing changed to strangled coughing and then subsided all together. When he turned to face Ron he had, with great difficulty, regained control. He looked at Ron solemnly; arms folded, and started pacing slowly around the shop. Ron watched him intently.
"Now that you mention it," Harry said, seriously, "Hermione's my friend too. I need to look out for her best interests."
"What do you mean 'her best interests'?" Ron asked, confused.
"Well...obviously, if she says yes, that would be amazing for you. But…," Harry stopped and looked Ron slowly up and down. "…she could do LOADS better!"
He barely got it out before he lost it completely and fell to the floor, howling.
"Oh, lovely!" Ron growled. "Biggest decision of my life...and you're laughing."
Harry could barely see Ron through the tears that were now running down his face. It seemed like ages since he'd felt like laughing and, like a dam had burst, he couldn't hold it back. His sides hurt and he was completely out of breath, but he could hear the anxiety in his friend's voice. He raised himself up onto one elbow and wiped the tears from his eyes.
"Do I think she'll say yes?" Harry asked rhetorically. "Ron, you complete idiot, she's been in love with you since fifth year at least. I think you were the only one on the planet that couldn't see it."
"Really?" Ron asked, stunned.
Harry reached an arm up, they clasped wrists and Ron hauled Harry to his feet. They stood facing each other for a second until Harry threw his arms around the much taller Ron and lifted him off the ground in a crushing hug.
"Of course she'll say yes," Harry said after setting him back down. "Unless, of course, you botch it up so completely that she makes you wait another whole year just to teach you a lesson."
"Exactly!" Ron said, seizing the point. "Now you're getting it."
"Getting what?" Harry asked.
"Why you're here," Ron said, taking Harry's arm. "Besides the fact that I wanted you to be the first to know, of course, I don't want my future wife to forever remember the day her mental husband asked her to marry her and mangled it all up. I need your help, Harry!"
"What makes you think I know anymore about this than you?" Harry asked cautiously, not at all sure he wanted to get involved in this.
"Well, you've got to, don't you? Because I don't have a bloody clue," Ron said desperately. "Please, for Hermione's sake if not mine. Save her the crushing embarrassment of 'Ron Weasley left to his own devices'." He said the last part while making little quote signs with his fingers.
This made Harry laugh again. "Ok, I'll help with some of it. But it's going to be up to you to pick the time and place. And…" he looked at him significantly. "I'm not putting any words in your mouth. You're on your own there."
"But, you can...advise me, right? Make sure whatever I think up isn't awful?"
"Sure, I can advise," Harry mimicked Ron's finger quotes around the word 'advised'.
So, you've got a ring then?" Harry asked, getting down to business. He leaned back against the workbench and folded his arms.
"I thought she would want to pick it out herself," Ron answered, "after... you know... she said 'yes'. But, I don't have much money..."
"Some girls might like that," Harry said. "But not Hermione; she'll expect you to have put some thought into it, and the money won't matter."
It was then that Harry got the idea to have one more go at his currently vulnerable friend.
"And, of course, you have to ask her Dad for her hand."
"Ask her Dad for what?" Ron asked, appalled.
"You know, her hand in marriage. It's a muggle tradition. Very serious business. He might deem you unsatisfactory and that would be the end of that."
Harry had to turn away because he couldn't keep a straight face.
"See Harry," Ron said gravely. "I told you I needed your help. That would have been a disaster, forgetting something like that."
"Yep," Harry agreed, "total disaster." He seemed to have developed a cough again. When he had recovered he asked a serious question. "What IS your plan for the time and place?"
"No clue," Ron said dejectedly.
"Well," Harry said. "All I can say is, it better be better than somewhere between 'Good eggs, Mum.' and 'Pass the toast, Hermione' at the breakfast table." Harry was fully aware that that was a possibility with Ron 'left to his own devices'.
"What I'm trying to say is," Harry continued. "You have to make the moment…" he paused to get it straight in his head, "…worthy of the woman." He had never thought about it before and it surprised him.
"Moment worthy of the woman...," Ron repeated in a whisper. "Blimey."
They talked a while longer and decided to head back to the house. Ron, relieved to have shared his plans with someone, decided he might like some dessert now after all.
"So then," Ron said as they trudged across the lawn with their hands in their pockets again, "first thing we need to do is go talk to Mr. Granger."
"We?" Harry asked.
"Well," Ron replied. "I'll do all the talking but you'll come with me won't you?"
"Sure," Harry said with a sigh. "But remember, you're doing all the talking."
Molly asked Harry what he was grinning about when they made it back inside. Harry stammered something about being happy to see the motorbike coming back to life. She gave him an 'I think you're up to something' look, but let it drop. Harry thought she seemed relieved just to see him smiling again.