A/N: Title from a lyric in "Kisses Sweeter Than Wine" by The Weavers, though I'm most familiar with the Peter Paul and Mary recording thereof. Also, there might be a Calvin & Hobbes reference that I snuck in. Internet cookies for anyone that spots it.

X-X-X-X

September 2002

Pulling on her coat, Hermione turned to her best friend. "What exactly are these errands you so need my help for?" It was a Tuesday afternoon, she was done with class for the day, Luna was at the Quibbler offices with Teddy who – even at four - loved to 'help' his godfather's girlfriend work at the paper, and Fleur was on shift at St Winifrede's until midnight.

"You'll see." Harry buttoned his coat, and checked his pockets for keys as well as wallet. "Come on. We have a lot to do." Sighing, she wound a light scarf around her neck and followed Harry out the door towards the tube station.

She slid her arm through his, matching his stride, and let him take the lead as they worked their way through the thin crowds of a weekday afternoon. "Will you tell me, eventually?" she asked, as they meandered.

He looked over at her, smiling. "I need your help to pick out a ring. For Luna."

"A ring?" Her eyebrow quirked upwards. "You mean… a ring?" She stopped briefly, in surprise, tugging him to a halt, before moving again. "I'd think you'd want to give her an heirloom ring. Don't the Potters or Blacks have something that would work for this?"

"They do," Harry grinned, "But they're all rather… stodgy. And Luna isn't. Besides, while we're out and about, we can look for a ring for you."

"A ring for me? I'm quite sorry, Harry, but I don't date within my family," Hermione grinned.

"For you to give to Fleur. I noticed you've been following the news regarding gay rights in that vein rather closely the past few months," Harry replied softly.

Hermione huffed, "It's still years away, optimistically. And who knows how long it will take before the Queen forces the change on our Ministry." She shook her head sadly, "It's a pipe dream."

"You're forgetting several things – whether our Ministry accepts it in a timely fashion or not, you're Muggleborn, and Fleur's a halfblood like me, so she has muggle documentation. You can take advantage of that for once, when it happens. And it isn't always about the law. If you want to give your girl a ring, you can give her a ring. It'll matter to her and you, and me and Luna. To Teddy, and all our friends. Besides, I looked. The magical vows don't specify any genders. The Ministry might not recognize it, but magic itself will and what higher authority can you find? I know, I know it's not a perfect solution, because you deserve to actually have your rights – laws and taxes and everything - but waiting for that when you've got a girlfriend – a partner - who'd make those vows in a second? Not worth it," Harry grinned at the look of wonder in his best friend's eyes.

"Harry…"

"So, should we look for some rings?" he asked, pulling his best friend along after she'd stopped in her tracks.

A brilliant smile lit Hermione's face, "Yes, I think we shall."

Harry led them to a small, out of the way storefront. As they opened the door, Hermione felt the presence of several low-level wards. "Harry? Is this a magical shop?"

He nodded, quietly explaining as he held the door for her, "A muggleborn took over his family's store a few generations ago, and has since expanded his clientele to include the, shall we say, discerning magical customer. The family fled during the War, but they've rebuilt. Uncle Tim recommended this place; he was at Hogwarts with the owner's son."

Hermione relaxed – Luna's uncle Tim knew all the best muggleborn, halfblood, and liberal pureblood businesspeople, as he'd networked with them for years upon opening his own bookshop. "So the rings can be properly enchanted?" she asked. Though the fully magical ceremony wasn't as common as it had been in the past, with the rise of divorce in the magical world, it was something aspired to even if the ceremony was a simple civil one. As a sign of a magical wedding vow taking root in the soul of a witch or wizard, the rings were enchanted to remain warm to the touch as long as both spouses were alive, no matter the distance between them. Though the woman's ring was traditionally presented at the engagement, both rings were bought together and enchanted at the same time, only fully activated by the verbalization of the vows during a ceremony that required at least one magical witness as well as a bonder – much like an Unbreakable Vow in form though not in content, and the wedding vows could be rescinded if divorce became necessary. Special training was required to make the rings used in the ceremonies, and she was shocked a non-pureblooded shopkeeper had managed to learn it.

"Yes. My great-grandmother was a pureblood and her family had books on the subject that she took from the family home before eloping with my great-grandfather," said a tall, thin man from behind the counter. "They were somewhat self-taught, but we've perfected it in the subsequent years. And we make it a point to sell our wedding rings at an affordable cost to muggleborns and halfbloods who otherwise wouldn't be generally able to purchase magical jewelry of this type." He smiled thinly, "That's why we've been targeted so often by the shall we say more conservative purebloods. How dare we muggle filth besmirch their traditions, eh?"

Hermione laughed, "How dare we indeed!" Squeezing Harry's arm in hers, she separated from him, and moved to shake the man's hand, "Hermione Granger, pleased to meet you," she offered.

"Reginald Young, Ms Granger. It's a pleasure to meet you two. Tim was telling me you might stop by for some browsing." He shook her hand, and then gestured to the cases around the shop. "Take a look. Just about any ring we make can be properly enchanted for a marriage band."

She grinned, and turned to Harry. "So. What were you planning for Luna?"

He grinned back, and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm not sure. Just… nothing traditional."

She harrumphed. "Of course. So that's why you brought me, brother dear? You needed a girl?"

Harry laughed, "Well, I'm rather rubbish at all this as you well know. But I want it to be perfect for her. It should mean something."

Hermione looked at him, seeing for a moment the scared skinny boy she'd befriended on the Hogwarts Express eleven years before instead of the grown adult actually standing in front of her. "We'll look together then. You know Luna best. I'm sure you'll know it when you see it."

It took approximately half an hour of carefully studying the many rings available before one just clicked as something their quirky Ravenclaw friend would wear. In a delicate silver band made of Celtic knotwork sat a pale rounded moonstone carved to resemble the actual moon – they could actually make out the craters and mountains in excruciatingly tiny detail. The matching spouse's band was simpler and had small chips of moonstone set regularly in the silver, runes for happiness, fertility, long life, and family carved into it. Their eyes met over the case, huddled together as they stared at the perfect rings. Modest and beautiful, full of meaning, and with a touch of whimsy. The siblings grinned at each other.

"Mister Young, I've found my rings," Harry said, smiling at the quiet man who had sat in the corner waiting for them.

He put down the paper he'd been reading – the previous issue of the Quibbler – and barked a laugh. "Well, that was one of the faster choices this week. Your young lady is unique, I know." He came up to them, and saw the rings Harry had pointed out. Chuckling, he moved to take the set from the case, "Well now, this was a bit of an experiment and a bit of a pun. It's my sister's work. A moonstone, shaped like the moon, eh? Set in our best silver, and a resizing charm already applied. I'll need a few hours to get the enchanting done for the bonding. It's a multistep process."

"That's perfect, Mister Young. Though we've still got rings to find, for Hermione," Harry replied as his best friend blushed. "If we find what we want today, could we pick both up tomorrow? I know how draining enchanting can be."

Reginald grinned widely. "Of course." He set Harry's choices aside, and returned the rest of the display to its case. "Let me know if you need anything," he said before returning to his chair and his reading.

Silently, the two went back to their silent language of looks and gestures, scanning the next case in their quest for a ring for Fleur. Twenty minutes later, Hermione gasped as she spotted two matching red gold rings inlaid with runes of dark amber. A smile stole across her face, and Harry would have sworn she glowed as their eyes met. He grinned, and called Reginald over again. Within twenty minutes, Harry had paid – to Hermione's protest – and they had arranged to pick up the rings the next day, after both sets had been enchanted for the magical wedding vows, as well as a protective charm, especially given the relative softness of amber as a stone. They were grinning like fools as they left the store, stopping in front of the door to don their coats given the harsh wind that had whipped up out of nowhere as they'd shopped, other shoppers on the street outside huddling against it. As they went to step outside, Reginald called out, "Miss Granger?" They turned to look at him curiously, and a small smile stretched across his face. "I wanted to thank you. My eldest son is a fourth year Puff. He and his boyfriend are dating – openly, and thank you for the ability to do so. Things are much different than I remember, that they can do that. So. Thank you."

Hermione blushed. She'd never thought to be a role model in that way, but knew it was true, due to the honest coverage the Quibbler gave of her taking Fleur to a few public events, and the more salacious coverage of the Prophet that blatantly toed the line of the new slander laws. "You're quite welcome Mister Young. Tell your son he's certainly braver than I was at that age." She smiled at him, and ducked out into the street, Harry right behind her.

Harry grinned at her as they walked down the street. "That's true. Fourth year you were on the arm of Mister Masculinity himself at the ball, weren't you?" He laughed. "The only Champion you haven't been linked to in the press is Cedric, isn't it?" He sobered at the thought of his fallen comrade. "Well, given what I recall, he might have found that rather funny."

Hermione nodded, "That's the impression I have as well. His journals are full of wry, witty observations." She glanced over at her brother, noting the faraway look in his eyes, and linked their arms together. "But let's not dwell on the past. The future is much more important. Have you any ideas on how to ask Luna? Because I'm rather drawing a blank on how to ask Fleur."

X-X-X-X

Fleur settled into her favorite spot in Grimmauld Place's library – a thickly cushioned loveseat near the window and right below a lamp. It was the perfect reading or contemplating spot and she intended to enjoy the quiet evening ahead of her. She and Hermione had the house to themselves for the evening, as Harry was taking Luna and Teddy out to the cinema, then dinner. She loved all of them, but a four year old boy was sometimes taxing on her energy reserves after a long shift at St Winifrede's.

She was in the midst of a particularly difficult part of her training – not that any part could be considered easy by any stretch of the imagination – but she was finally able to fully specialize. Which for Fleur Delacour – Triwizard Champion, top student of her class at Beauxbatons, and War Hero – meant two specialties. Out of necessity during the War she'd taught herself a good deal of Trauma Healing, with a bit of tutoring from Poppy Pomfrey on the sly, and had decided to make that official. But her desire had always been to work as a Childbirth & Pediatric Healer. That specialty alone was the elite of the elite, and to have her Trauma work on top of it? Sometimes Fleur wondered what madness had propelled her down that dual career path.

Then she recalled her genius girlfriend was doing three Masteries at the same time – one of which included a Muggle undergraduate degree as part of her focus – all scheduled to be finished in a total of five years including her foundation year. Granted, Hermione was in classes year-round, but a less brilliant student would have required at least seven years if not more. She occasionally wondered how Hermione had managed to stave off the boredom of a traditional Hogwarts education until she recalled all the death-defying adventures her girlfriend had been a part of, as well as the copious extra reading Hermione had managed around her regular homework and bouts of defying Voldemort. All that extra studying paid off, given it had allowed Hermione to test out of multiple courses at university.

She sighed. Three solid, happy years as a couple, and though they spent all the time they could together, it never seemed like enough. She tried to turn her attention back to the rather fascinating book in front of her, on treatment for incorrectly cast spells – but her mind wandered. Their time together was often spent cuddling while both read from their respective books, or even just being in the same room as they did their work – Fleur researching a procedure or Hermione writing a paper. Not that they didn't have what Hermione called quality time as a couple. A free weekend, or evening, or a rare afternoon spent going to museums, restaurants, or just curled together in bed, talking and making love - when family commitments didn't interfere - wasn't uncommon.

Perhaps her craving for Hermione was a sign of how much she needed and loved her girlfriend. They both had plans for the future that didn't include all their time being taken up by school or work. Once Hermione finished her degrees and Fleur her training, they had discussed a trip or two. Further in the future they both wanted children. But that future they imagined was so slow to arrive. Fleur was frustrated. Was it too much to ask for some time with the love of her life?

She checked the slowly ticking clock. Hermione should have arrived home half an hour ago. Senses heightened. Perhaps she had stopped at one of the university libraries for a text, or at the grocer's. Fleur shook off her unease. The vast majority of Death Eaters and their supporters had been either thrown into Azkaban, or quietly pressured to behave. Several families had even left England for the more conservative areas of the Continent – generally those near Durmstrang, as Victor had noted with disgust in a recent letter. Minus the threats and scattered violence that had erupted for two years after the war was over, Magical Britain had been generally peaceful. Of course, Hermione could have been hit by a muggle lorry. Fleur set aside her book, and paced to the window. The library overlooked the street, and she could see her girlfriend walking towards home. Hermione was carrying her normal enchanted knapsack as well as a large takeout bag. Fleur smiled. The last evening they'd had alone together, Fleur made bouillabaisse for them and they'd enjoyed a quiet candlelit dinner before heading up to bed. It had been a divine evening, one that had left them contentedly sated – and Fleur sporting a rather prominent love bite on her throat the next morning. As Hermione was most certainly not allowed to cook after the noodle incident, she obviously wanted to return the favor with their favorite takeout.

Fleur opened the door before her girlfriend had to struggle with her bags as well as the door. Gently pecking Hermione on the cheek, she relieved the other woman of the takeout, "Shall I set this out for dinner while you freshen up, love?"

Hermione smiled brightly at Fleur, "Yes, please. I'll only be a few." With her now free hand she closed the door behind her, heading up the stairs to deposit her bag, wash her face, and grab the ring box she'd hidden in her underwear drawer the week before. Tucking the small box into her jeans pocket, she headed to the bathroom to run a comb through her curly hair and brush her teeth. Crookshanks was sprawled on the bed she shared with her girlfriend – their separate rooms swapped for one the previous year. "Tonight, Crooks, I think," she remarked to her familiar. He blinked up at her, offering only a swish of his bottlebrush tail as comment.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione went into the kitchen, her girlfriend making tea as the cartons holding their dinner gently steamed on the table. She might have gone a bit overboard in her purchases, but the leftovers would not go to waste. Fleur had spread out the mix of Westernized and traditional offerings that the Gold Bowl two blocks over made, having set the table with plates, chopsticks, soup bowls, and spoons. Fleur turned as she entered the room, her expression soft and affectionate. "Hungry this evening? We'll have leftovers for days."

She chuckled, nervousness creeping in. "I just wanted all our favorites, I couldn't decide!"

"You bought half the menu, it seems. But everything looks delicious." Fleur set their tea down next to already full water glasses, pulling Hermione into a gentle embrace once her hands were free.

"Set aside some lo mien for the elves. You know how they enjoy it," Hermione remarked, nodding towards the icebox.

"Already done, and some beancurd as well. Winky's become rather fond, I noticed," Fleur replied.

"Where are they tonight, anyway? I haven't seen either in days."

Fleur ladled some soup into her bowl, "Kreacher is at Andromeda's, of course, and Winky had some administrative duties in Godric's Hollow that's kept her busy for awhile. She said she'd be back tomorrow sometime."

Though the most well known Potter property in Godric's Hollow had been mostly destroyed in 1981 and then seized as a historical monument by the Fudge administration, there were still the handful of buildings further out of town – most notably a pottery as well as a carding mill that processed the wool of the many sheep the Potter family had traditionally raised. The Potters, never a politically powerful family, had nevertheless been fairly prosperous, producing fine pottery and wool for the magical economy for centuries. Though the pottery and carding mill, as well as the barns for sheep and a small cider mill, had languished after James Potter's father had been killed and before Harry had learned of his inheritance, several were now busy again, staffed with a mix of squibs, muggleborns and free elves supervised by Harry and Winky, who were together taking a series of correspondence courses in business.

Hermione nodded, sitting down across from her girlfriend. "She's been trying to get the cider mill up and working again, I think. There are so few people left who can rebuild or maintain machinery of that vintage. I think she mentioned something about interviewing staff eventually, but I hadn't realized she managed it so quickly."

Fleur laughed, "The Potter businesses – the only ones where the first round of employment interviews are conducted by an elf. It must make the more conservative types sputter in indignation at the very notion."

She grinned, "Well, if they can't work with an elf or a muggleborn, they can't work for a Potter business. Why do you think I'm the one who conducts the second round of interviews? In obviously muggle clothes?"

Fleur reached out with her free hand, lacing their fingers together as they ate, "And the only Potter woman is careful to make sure her family's businesses are running smoothly, oui?"

Hermione blushed, "Well, there's tradition to keep in mind. The Potters have been known for their pottery and wool for a dozen generations. Who are we to destroy that legacy?"

"I am in love with a farmer, aren't I?" Fleur teased.

Hermione nodded, "Every Hogwarts uniform cloak used to be made of Potter wool. Someday soon it will be again!" she said. "Harry is very close to making a deal with Madam Malkin's to restore that tradition."

"I did not realize you had so many sheep in your flocks already."

Hermione grinned, "Winky is an expert negotiator for buying livestock. She's more used to cattle, apparently the Crouches had a small dairy before the first War, but has adapted admirably these past couple of years."

Fleur shook her head good-humoredly, "I know you sleep, I'm in bed with you, but my love, how on earth do you have time for all this? Student, businesswoman, and I know you've been teaching Teddy his letters."

Shaking her head, Hermione said, "I don't know, Fleur. Harry hasn't let me do much for the business while I'm at university, mostly he leaves the interviews to me and asks advice, but I can't wait to be done with my education. I want to take you on a trip." She set down her fork, and reached into her pocket. "Perhaps a honeymoon?" She set the medium-sized box on the table between their plates, opening it so that Fleur could see the two wedding bands on simple gold chains. Between the proposal and the joining, couples would wear their future spouse's ring on a chain around their necks so that the rings would be matched to each other's magic.

"Hermione," Fleur breathed out softly, squeezing her girlfriend's hand and staring at the rings in front of her.

"Fleur Isabelle Delacour, will you marry me?" Hermione's voice was quiet, gentle, and almost terrified.

Their eyes met, blue to brown, and Fleur's smile became radiant. "Of course, my love. Of course." She gripped Hermione's hand tightly before rounding the table to pull the other woman into her arms. Leaning down, she kissed her fiancée.

fin.