A/N: Internet hugs to all, and to all a good night. Also – go watch A Very Potter Senior Year.
Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine.
"The Last Double Date—At Least, So Ron Hopes"
10 August 2001
"This is the first Friday night I've been off in more than a month, Hermione," Ron whined as he pulled a pair of jeans off of the stack of clean laundry that lay in the corner of his room. "We should be naked by now."
Hermione didn't look up from her book as she responded, "Continue down that road, Ron, and there won't be any of that naked business for quite some time."
"I just don't know why we're doing this. Are you expecting to have fun?" Ron asked as he threw his work robes in the corner that was housing his dirty laundry.
"I'm sure we'll have a nice time," Hermione said evasively as she carefully placed a bookmark in the novel she was reading and set it on Ron's bedside table.
"That's convincing," Ron muttered sarcastically as he turned to the mirror to finish dressing himself.
"Didn't you like Christine and Jeremy?" Hermione asked, getting up from his bed and moving toward the door. "And pick up your clothes, by the way, will you?"
"They were fine," Ron said distractedly, obediently waving his wand to move the dirty clothes into a basket and the clean ones onto his bed.
"Well then, tonight will be nice," Hermione declared. Ron simply rolled his eyes as he followed her out the door.
He had only met Hermione's cousin Christine and her husband Jeremy once before, on the first Christmas Eve after the war. Since then, Christine and Jeremy had always been traveling for the holidays and unable to make it to the Grangers' holiday party. But this weekend, they were staying in London for some conference he hadn't bothered to get the name of, and apparently Christine and Hermione had decided that they simply must see each other. Ron didn't remember the couple in question well enough to have a real opinion of them, but he knew that he would much rather spend tonight in bed with Hermione than out with strangers.
"Where are we going, anyway?" Ron asked as they reached the landing, looking in the pile of shoes by the door for a suitable pair of trainers.
"We're meeting them at a pub; it's just a short walk from here," Hermione answered, stepping out of the way as the front door swung open to reveal their disgruntled-looking best friend.
"Hi, Harry!" Ron said cheerily. "We're headed out for the night, you and Ginny care to join us?" he asked, ignoring Hermione's glare. The outing would surely be more bearable if people they actually knew tagged along.
"Can't," Harry said shortly, kicking off his shoes and throwing them in the pile, which did nothing to appease Hermione. "Ginny and I are doing the invitations tonight."
"Why? You aren't getting married for months," Ron complained.
"They're having a wedding, Ron, not a dinner party," Hermione said exasperatedly, grabbing him by the wrist and leading him out the still open door. "We'll see you later, Harry!"
"I suppose it's a muggle pub we're going to," Ron grumbled, sliding his hand so that he was holding Hermione's—the vice-like grip she'd had on his wrist simply wouldn't do. They looked to make sure there were no muggles watching before stepping out onto the street. 12 Grimmauld Place was still under a Fidelius Charm, which had caused Harry and Ron several awkward situations in the past when they'd walked in or out of the house in the middle of the day, forgetting that to everyone else, they'd seemed to appear or disappear into thin air.
"Well, we can't very well take them to the Leaky, can we?" Hermione shot back, though she gripped his hand in return. Ron took this as a sign that she wasn't really upset with him for his pessimism.
"S'pose not," Ron replied. "You know, I honestly can't remember a thing about them."
"Well, Christine teaches in a primary school, and Jeremy's a doctor, so they're quite well off. They've been married…four or five years now, I think. I didn't go to their wedding, I was at school…they haven't got any kids yet; they got married very young, you know. Well, she was young; Christine's only a year older than I am. Jeremy's a bit older," Hermione said, walking a little closer to Ron as they passed a rowdy group of university students. "Honestly, it's not even eight o'clock yet," she muttered.
"What are they like, though?" Ron pressed, ignoring the echoing catcalls. "I don't remember much from that Christmas; your grandmum and dad were really all I could focus on."
"Christine and Jeremy are a bit quieter, I suppose," Hermione answered, "at least by comparison."
"So what are they like?" Ron implored. He'd gained a lot of patience over the years regarding Hermione's habit of not really answering his questions.
"Well, to be honest I don't know Jeremy very well. I've only met him a handful of times," Hermione said as they turned left at the end of the road, "but Christine and I got on well when we were younger. We both preferred books to chatter, so we'd often spend holiday parties reading together instead of talking to our relatives."
"So she's just like you, then?" Ron asked, trying to decide whether this was a good thing or a bad thing.
"She was always a bit less bossy, I suppose," Hermione admitted.
"So you admit you're bossy, then?" Ron grinned widely.
"When I was ten, yes," Hermione replied warningly. Ron decided it was best to swallow his retort if he wanted any chance of ducking out of the night's events early. "Ah, here it is, I told you it was a short walk."
The pub was a bit dodgy looking, which caused Ron to drop Hermione's hand and instead walk behind her, placing his hands possessively on her waist as they entered. The ceiling was low and the place was crowded with what Ron could only assume were escaped convicts, based on the look of them. He squeezed Hermione's waist tighter as she led them toward an empty table in the back.
"Great place, this," Ron said sarcastically as they sat down on the side facing the door. "Tell me, have you ever stepped foot in here before?"
"No. I just knew that it was close," Hermione said defensively. "What's wrong with it, exactly?"
Ron simply raised an eyebrow in response, to which she stuck out her tongue in protest. Unable to resist, he leaned in and pecked her on the lips. She wrinkled her nose, but smiled all the same. He sighed happily. Maybe he was making too big a deal of this, he thought as he smiled back at her; at least this Friday, he was with her instead of stuck at the office like the past few weeks.
"Hermione!" a voice called out over the din, causing Ron and Hermione to snap out of their momentary trance.
"Christine, Jeremy! You remember Ron?" Hermione waved as she called back to the couple approaching them. She stood up out of her chair and nudged Ron to do the same, and hugs and handshakes were exchanged all around. Ron called over the nearest employee and ordered four of whatever drinks were the special on Fridays; he was sure he'd need it soon enough.
Christine was petite and blonde; although she was wearing what looked like uncomfortably tall heels, she was still an inch shorter than Hermione, who wasn't exactly tall herself. Jeremy wasn't terribly big either; he came up a solid half a foot below Ron and seemed to already have a bit of a receding hairline. Ron was only a bit ashamed to admit that even being in Jeremy's presence made him feel quite confident in his own physical appearance, which was not something he was often assured of.
As the group settled down to the table with their drinks and the greetings died down, a bit of an awkward silence fell. "So how have you been?" Hermione asked a moment later in an unnaturally enthusiastic voice.
"Oh, we've been doing very well," Christine said politely, taking Jeremy's hand atop the table and fixing him with a nauseating gaze. "We love to travel, you know, and we've just been to Venice. It was so romantic."
"Oh, how lovely!" Hermione gushed. "I wish we had the time to travel more often, but our jobs are really quite demanding."
"We went to Australia after Christmas," Ron pointed out.
"Of course," Hermione said, "and that was our first holiday in ages!"
"What do the two of you do that keeps you so busy? I don't think I've seen you since you left school, Hermione," Christine said, again taking an overly well-mannered tone that Ron found a bit unnerving.
"I work in the legal department of an animals' rights organization, and Ron works for the police," Hermione answered, spouting off the white lies they told all her muggle relatives.
"Oh, I can certainly see how that would hinder travel! I get summers off, so it's significantly easier for us to get away," Christine said, again beaming at Jeremy, who had yet to speak a word. "We're doing this as much as possible while we're young; we're going to start trying for children soon, so it'll be a bit more difficult then, I imagine!"
"Congratulations, that's quite exciting!" Hermione enthused. Ron, on the other hand, was a bit appalled to receive such personal information from someone he considered to be a perfect stranger. Though Jeremy's face was hard to read, Ron reckoned he looked a bit uncomfortable as well. Women were barmy.
"Are the two of you trying yet?" Christine asked, in a manner that suggested she thought she was being courteous. Ron nearly choked on his drink.
"Not yet," Hermione said as she rubbed Ron's back soothingly. "We'd prefer to get married first, you see."
"Oh, you aren't married yet? I'm sorry, I should have known; you aren't wearing a ring," Christine apologized.
"Well, I'd have told the two of you if I'd got married, of course," Hermione said warmly. "I wouldn't have neglected to invite my favorite cousin to my wedding!" As far as Ron knew, this wasn't much of a compliment considering Hermione's only other cousin was someone she described as "a misogynistic prick," but again, he kept his mouth shut.
"Of course, how silly of me!" Christine replied kindly. "It's just you've been together what, three or four years now? Jeremy and I could hardly wait; we got married hardly a year after we met!"
"We wanted to establish our careers first," Hermione explained. "Steady source of income, and all that."
"I wouldn't want to give this one a shoddy ring; she's too important," Ron added in a determinedly lighthearted tone, feeling inexplicably as though he had to defend himself.
Ron couldn't help but cast his mind to the decidedly not shoddy ring that was hidden in the drawer of the otherwise useless desk in his room. He'd magicked the drawer in question shut just to be on the safe side; only he knew how to open it, when the time was right. It had been sitting there for over a month now, but he opened it at least once a week to check on it. It was a lovely ring—three relatively small but brilliant diamonds set on a white gold band. He'd even had the inside engraved with their initials, which was something the jeweler had probably suggested in the interest of making more money, but Ron had quite liked the idea of personalizing it. Anyway, it wouldn't do to lose something that valuable, especially considering what its purpose would be.
"That's sweet of you, Ron," Christine gushed. "Jeremy was the same way." She held up her left hand for them to examine—on her ring finger was possibly the largest diamond Ron had ever seen. He wondered briefly if it weighed her hand down to wear it.
"That's lovely," Hermione said, though Ron could tell from her expression that her thoughts were not far removed from his. "So Jeremy, what type of doctor are you? I know you've told me, but I'm afraid my memory's a bit lacking right now."
"I'm a neurologist," Jeremy answered, speaking for the first time all night. His voice was a bit high and nasally, and it was all Ron could do not to laugh.
"That's impressive!" Hermione said. "I've always wondered about neurology; I've read a couple of books over the years in my spare time…"
The group settled into a borderline-comfortable pattern of awkward small talk. Christine and Hermione did most of the talking, neither of them switching from their overly polite tones. Ron added a comment when he thought it necessary, and Jeremy spoke only when spoken to. A bit surprisingly, Christine was the only one drinking much; Hermione rarely did, of course, and Ron had decided after his first sip that muggle drinks were rubbish and refused to have any more. Jeremy had barely touched his either, but Ron wouldn't be surprised if he would only drink when told to do so.
Somewhere around Christine's third refill, Ron began to lose track of the conversation. Not that he'd ever been paying much attention in the first place, but it had become progressively more nonsensical as time went on. Instead, he began to contemplate exit strategies; he had come up with three possible excuses to get himself and Hermione away and two possible routes to the door when he was roused from his thoughts by a comment from Christine, whose voice was getting progressively louder as she consumed more alcohol.
"I'm telling you, Hermione, you don't know what you're missing with this marriage business."
Ron couldn't help but groan. If he heard another word about getting married he swore was liable to move to Belize; didn't people realize that he would propose when and how he damn well pleased? These people were putting ideas in her head, and he wanted it to be his idea when it happened—he didn't want it to look like he was simply fulfilling somebody's expectations. He was angry now, and was just about to open his mouth and say something undoubtedly self-destructive, but luckily, Hermione beat him to it.
"I'm sure it's lovely," she said diplomatically, reaching for and squeezing Ron's hand under the table, causing him to calm down a little.
"Yes, but—" Christine looked at Jeremy furtively before leaning across the table and stage-whispering, "Ron's a good-looking bloke! How have you kept your hands off him?" She pulled back, giggling as she went.
A look at Hermione told Ron that she was just as dumbfounded as he was. Jeremy was frustratingly impassive; Ron was almost one hundred percent sure now that he was one of those robot thingys from the film Hermione had let him see the week before.
Christine wasn't done, though. Leaning close to her husband this time, she continued in a low voice, "And Jemmy, if you were Ron, surely you wouldn't be able to resist Hermione?"
Jeremy coughed awkwardly, but Christine seemed to take this as affirmation. "There! See, you ought not wait any longer! It's wonderful, it is."
Ron and Hermione sat there in silence for a moment. Ron could feel himself reddening under Christine's eager gaze. He could think of nothing to say; he certainly wasn't going to tell this woman that the waiting boat had sailed two years ago. Jeremy coughed again. "I think you've had a bit much to drink, dear," he told his wife softly, gently pushing her glass away from her.
"You don't say," Ron muttered under his breath. Hermione laughed uncomfortably.
"The marriage bed is a beautiful place," Christine continued serenely, completely oblivious to those around her.
"So we have to get going," Ron said loudly, standing up abruptly. He was relieved to see Hermione copying his actions. "Lovely to see you," he continued shortly, giving a mock salute as he guided his girlfriend toward the exit, giving her time to say no more than "safe travels" before they made their escape.
"That was the weirdest fucking experience of my life," Ron said once they finally made it around a group of people, all of whom smelled like an assortment of the muggle drugs he'd once confiscated off a wizard in Bristol.
"I'm sorry, Ron, I had no idea she would be that…unhinged," Hermione replied, taking his hand as they began to walk back toward Grimmauld Place.
"You should have. Your relatives are not normal, Hermione," Ron said emphatically. "I've got trouble believing any of them are real people."
"Well, she was perfectly nice before she started getting those refills," Hermione replied defensively.
"And he was downright creepy," Ron insisted.
"I don't remember him being quite so soft-spoken," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Or maybe I'm just used to a man that voices all his opinions."
"You like it better this way," Ron teased.
"I do," Hermione affirmed, squeezing his hand.
They walked in comfortable silence for awhile. She was seemingly lost in thought, and Ron took the opportunity to take frequent glances in her direction. The dim streetlights cast a pretty glow on her face, and her curls were particularly boisterous from the humidity of the crowded pub. Ron sighed; sometimes he couldn't believe that someone like her was with someone like him. It wasn't that he was ugly; it's just that she deserved the best, and he was far from it.
She deserves to be someone's wife. Perhaps she would reprimand him if she knew what he was thinking, or maybe she'd call him sexist and inform him that women didn't need to be wives, but Ron didn't particularly care. The biggest part of getting married was being loved, forever, and she deserved that. And for whatever reason, she seemed to want to be his wife. Now I just have to get my head out of my arse and ask her already. If only it was that simple.
"I'm sorry I'm such a shit boyfriend," Ron said conversationally as they rounded the last corner, needing to say something regarding the thoughts in his head but not wanting to reveal all just yet.
Hermione stopped in her tracks, and her face fell immediately. "What are you talking about?"
Ron hesitated. "Nothing, forget I said it."
"Ron, you're a wonderful boyfriend!" Hermione insisted, turning so she could wrap her arms around his torso. "What's brought this on?"
"Really, it's nothing," Ron said hastily, returning her embrace comfortingly. "Just in general, you know."
"I don't understand why you insist on tearing yourself down," Hermione reprimanded sadly.
"It's really nothing, Hermione," Ron said firmly before kissing the top of her head, hoping she would drop the subject. He knew he shouldn't have said anything.
"Okay," she said reluctantly, pulling away and giving him a searching look.
"I just—I love you," Ron declared, taking her hand again and leading her toward number twelve. "I don't ever want you to doubt that, you know?"
"But why would I doubt it?" Hermione asked, frowning. "I haven't, not since the first time you said it."
Ron looked at her quizzically. "I think I was still with Lavender the first time I said it, wasn't I?"
"The first time you said it and meant it," Hermione amended as they neared the steps.
"Well, I meant it that time too," Ron confessed with a grin.
Hermione just smiled widely at him in response. They'd reached the steps now; looking around briefly and not seeing anyone, they climbed to the top step. Ron tapped his wand in the right pattern, and the door opened for them.
"I'm not done asking what you're on about, though," Hermione insisted as they took their shoes off in the entryway.
"I'm really not on about anything," Ron replied impatiently. "Please just drop it."
Hermione scowled. "I hate it when you shut me out."
"I'm not," Ron claimed loudly. Out of habit, he glanced at the empty portrait frame that Mrs. Black had once occupied. It had been three years since Harry had managed to drive her out for good (though he wouldn't tell anyone how he'd done it), but Ron still half expected her to scream every time he came through the doorway.
"Look, I'm not trying to shut you out," Ron said more gently, placing his hands on Hermione's upper arms and looking her in the eyes. "It's just that it's really nothing this time. A passing thought. Okay?"
"Okay," Hermione said simply, though she didn't look entirely convinced. Still, she stood on her tiptoes and gave him a lingering kiss. Before he could deepen it, though, she pulled away and tugged on his hands. "I'm hungry; we didn't eat at all during that ordeal."
"So you admit it was a bad idea?" Ron teased, following her toward the kitchen.
"Yes, your idea was much better in retrospect," Hermione admitted, turning around to give him a cheeky grin. She would be the end of him, she would.
In the kitchen, they found Ginny hard at work with hundreds of invitations scattered about the table. Harry was sat at the other end, snoring loudly atop a stack of envelopes. His head shot up comically as Ron slammed the kitchen door loudly behind him.
"Getting a lot done, eh mate?" Ron asked, whacking him on the back of the head as he made his way to the cupboards.
"Harry, really—" Hermione began her reproach, but Ginny interrupted her.
"Don't bother; he's useless anyway," she declared, looking up from the long list of wedding guests she'd been poring over.
"I can't win with this wedding business," Harry complained. Ron laughed as he began to prepare some sandwiches for himself and Hermione, who had taken a seat at the table and begun to help Ginny sort through the invitations.
"Sure you can," Ginny said, smirking in Harry's direction. "You get to marry me when all's said and done, and you've hardly got to do anything between now and then, really."
"Then why do you make him sit there while you do it?" Ron asked.
"He's nice to look at," Ginny quipped, causing Ron to grimace.
"It looks as though you're almost done, at least," Hermione said as she finished reading Ginny's list. "Are you really considering inviting Rita Skeeter, though?"
"She'll probably find a way in anyway," Harry said dejectedly. "At least this way we'll know and we can keep an eye on her."
"Fair point. Oh, thank you Ron," Hermione said, smiling up at him as he handed her a plate with her sandwich on it. He smiled back before taking the seat across from her at the table to eat his own supper.
"So how was seeing your cousin?" Ginny asked Hermione as she stacked the invitations into semi-organized piles.
"Awful," Ron answered. "She was a lunatic and the husband probably wasn't human."
"Ron!" Ginny admonished, but Hermione shook her head.
"He's not being too terribly harsh, really," Hermione admitted. "It was a rather uncomfortable experience. I honestly don't remember them being quite so…"
"Mental?" Ron supplied. "Least she thought I was good-looking, though," he added as an after-thought, grinning smugly in Hermione's direction.
Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry made a confused noise that went largely ignored.
"Yes, you're very pretty, Ron," Hermione said sarcastically as she took a large bite to finish off her sandwich and stood up to take her plate to the sink. "But she'd not have said it if she hadn't been sloshed."
Harry and Ginny snickered. "Oi!" Ron shouted indignantly. "First off, I'm not pretty—"
"No, you're not," Ginny interrupted rudely. "So why did Hermione's cousin think you were? Was her husband a troll?"
"No, not nearly tall enough. He did have a receding hairline, though," Hermione answered cheekily, but she made her way over to Ron and kissed him lightly on the cheek, and he knew it was all in jest.
"Well, I've got to be off," Ginny said apologetically as she finished sorting the last of the invitations. "Mum made me promise I'd come home tonight. I expect you'll all be there bright and early for the party we're not having?"
"How'd you find out?" Harry asked, standing up from the table and crossing the room toward his fiancée. Ginny's twentieth birthday was the next day, and Mum had insisted on throwing a party despite Ginny's protests that there was quite enough else to be getting on with, considering the wedding was to happen in four short months.
"Well, you just confirmed it," Ginny said, shrugging. "You can come with me, if you'd like. Mum would probably try to make you sleep in Ron's room, though."
Ron snorted. "We haven't kept to our own rooms at home since we were seventeen."
"You don't mind if I go, then?" Harry asked Ron, with only a little uncertainty mixed into his sarcasm.
"Well, I suppose you are marrying her," Ron joked. "We'll be there tomorrow morning at about ten, for strictly unrelated reasons."
Hermione rolled her eyes as she picked up Ron's plate from the table for him. "Good night, you two. And happy early birthday, Ginny."
Harry and Ginny collected their invitations and bade their goodnights, and at last Ron and Hermione were alone. "I really am sorry tonight was so unpleasant, Ron," Hermione said as they made their way out of the kitchen and began to climb the stairs. "I just thought it would be a nice thing to do, you know, as a couple."
"There are nicer things we can do as a couple," Ron replied, rolling his eyes, "but it's fine, really."
"I just meant that couples go out with other couples all the time," Hermione clarified. "That's why I thought it might be a nice thing to do."
"We go out with Harry and Ginny plenty," Ron said, pushing open the door to his room.
"I know. It's going to be different now, though, that they're getting married," Hermione insisted. She quickly crossed the room to the wardrobe, stripping off various outer articles of clothing as she went.
"They'll still be Harry and Ginny, though," Ron said confusedly.
"Yes, I suppose they will. Never mind," Hermione said, her voice muffled as she searched through her section of the wardrobe for something to wear to bed. The fact that she was wearing only a bra and her unbuttoned jeans was distracting Ron quite a bit.
Ron sighed heavily as he sat down on the bed, knocking the clothes he'd left there earlier onto the floor carelessly. He wanted to know what the hell she was actually on about, but stopped himself from asking so directly after remembering their conversation earlier. If he was allowed to take back some of his stupider thoughts, she should be allowed the same—although Ron was quite sure Hermione never really had stupid thoughts, per se. "You sure?" he asked hesitantly.
"Yes," she said, emerging from the closet with one of his t-shirts. "Guess we've both had some silly thoughts tonight," she said playfully, echoing his reflections.
"Well, the silliest one is the idea that you'll need that," Ron replied, gesturing toward the shirt. "Now get over here, will you?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, but nevertheless, she put the shirt back in the wardrobe and walked toward him in a way that was probably unintentionally seductive. "I never could keep my hands off of you, of course," she said, winking exaggeratedly as she stopped inches in front of him.
Ron laughed happily and wrapped his arms around her torso. He turned his head to rest his cheek against her bare stomach, closing his eyes contentedly as he felt her fingers in his hair. After several relaxing moments, he turned his head and tilted it up, pulling her down so that he could capture her lips with his own.
"I love you," he murmured against her mouth.
"I love you," she repeated in kind before kissing him deeply, thereby making all conversation negligible.
Ron's last coherent thought before the rest of their clothes came off was of the ring that was, unbeknownst to Hermione, waiting in the desk drawer just a few steps from his bed. He knew he was going to marry this woman; now, all he had to do was find the courage to ask her properly.
A/N: Hmm. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this one, to be honest. I looked in my notes a week ago because this was one of the chapters I hadn't written yet, and all I had down for it was "last something cute – summer." I didn't really help myself on that one, did I? The next two in particular are both much better developed, thankfully.
Just to clarify a little: yes, the "when is Ron going to propose already?" storyline is meant to be getting a little tiresome. They're taking everything fairly slowly, I think, as they did in the books. Also, since we didn't see Hermione's thoughts here, her line of thinking in the last bit was also about getting married, how it changes things, etc…so basically, they both want to get married, and Ron needs to ask already. Let me know what you think, and fret not – he's got the ring, so it can't be much longer now. ;) Oh – and, here's a link to a picture of the ring I based Hermione's off of, if you're interested - just take out the spaces: www . rothemcollection productcart / pc / Classic-Trellis-Three-Stone-Diamond-Engagement-Ring-0-80ct-tw-p649 . htm