A/ N: I'm really sorry this took so long. Seriously. I suck. I really hate going without updating for more than a couple of weeks. School happened and then this chapter wouldn't behave, and it was all very frustrating. But please rest assured that I will work to get you the last few chapters as soon as I reasonably can. :)

Also: thank you all so much for your incredible response to the last chapter - I am overwhelmed with Romione love. You're all so awesome, and I've really enjoyed hearing from and chatting with all of you. It's been really cool as well to meet some new people on tumblr as a result of this fic - my url is ronaldweasleycountmein, please feel free to message me anytime about anything. :) I love you all, internet strangers/friends. You're making me really sad that there are only four chapters left of this story to share!

By the way - for those of you who may not know, I posted a short outtake a couple of weeks ago. It's called "The Rest of Our Lives," if you want to check it out. It is definitely part of the Firsts and Lasts world; I just couldn't find anywhere to put it in the actual story.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but I did recently download a different version of Word to my laptop and it's really throwing me off because it doesn't do dashes right. This may be my computer's way of telling me I use too many dashes.

"The Last Night in Grimmauld Place"

9 March 2002

Ron sighed dramatically as he tossed the last of his clothes into his Hogwarts trunk, which his mum had dug out from who-knows-where at the Burrow so that he'd have something to throw all of this things in as he moved from Grimmauld Place into Hermione's flat. While most of the essentials had been there for a long time, it turned out he had a lot of belongings tucked away in the corners of his room that needed to be either moved or thrown away. In the two weeks that had passed since they'd officially decided to live together, Ron had hauled three trunks full of stuff over to Hermione's flat. Naturally, she'd convinced him to throw away about two-thirds of it, because "really, Ron, at what point in your adult life will you need your 1989 Marvin the Muggle comics?"

Now, Ron had taken some of the things that were meant to be thrown away back to his room at the Burrow for safe keeping, including the comic book, which was actually called "The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle" and was really quite valuable, whatever Hermione might have thought. At any rate, the whole thing had been a tedious process and he was quite glad to be finishing up the last bit of packing before they added his name to the lease on Monday morning, at which point he and Hermione would officially begin cohabitating.

In some ways, Ron couldn't believe it had only been two weeks since she'd asked him to move in with her. In a lot of ways, he couldn't believe it had been two weeks since he'd asked her to marry him. It seemed to Ron that things had always been this way, in a manner of speaking. He'd been staying most nights at her flat for years, and really, he was always going to marry her. But now, everything was official in a way that was strange and brilliant and somehow, completely and utterly normal. Nothing was really changing, at least not yet. Ron supposed some things would be different when they got married, but only in a good way. But for now, at least, the only things that had changed were that he could now refer to Hermione as his fiancée and that he would no longer have to pop back to Grimmauld Place, which he had already begun referring to in his head as Harry and Ginny's place, to get some clean clothes every now and then.

Nevertheless, Hermione had insisted that he spend one last night at Grimmauld Place before the move became official. She had been very vague as to why, something about "fitting" and "old time's sake," but Ron had his suspicions that it had more to do with the gossip gathering she was hosting at their flat at the moment. Of course, he'd got an earful when he'd made the mistake of referring to it as a "gossip gathering" in front of her, but that was in essence what it was. She'd invited Ginny, Angelina, Audrey, and even Fleur over for the night. Hermione insisted it was a celebration of Fleur and Audrey's recently announced pregnancies, but Ron knew better. The mere fact that they had strictly forbidden any men from attending told him all he needed to know: it was a gossip gathering, and there was nothing Hermione could say to convince him otherwise.

At any rate, Ron's plans for the night included finishing up the last of his packing and going to bed early. It had been a long week at work, after all; at least, that's what he told himself to explain why he, a twenty-two year old man, was planning to go to bed at eight-thirty on a Saturday night. Nevertheless, Ron was willing to happily follow through on his plan, and at twenty past eight, was even about to change into his pyjamas. That is, until Harry barged in at about eight-twenty-two.

"Ready, mate?" Harry asked, a wide grin on his face.

"For what?" Ron asked bemusedly as he threw the last of his jumpers into his trunk.

"Your stag night," Harry replied, as though it were obvious. "Didn't I tell you?"

Ron stared blankly in response, blinking very slowly. "Come again?"

"Stag night," Harry repeated, more insistently this time. "Guess I forgot to mention it. Oh well, you know now, so hurry up. We're meeting your brothers in about ten minutes."

"Stag night?" Ron replied incredulously, making no move in Harry's direction. "You do realize the wedding's more than a year away?"

"Yeah, but you're moving in with Hermione tomorrow," Harry replied with the tone of someone talking to an ignorant child. "Your life as a bachelor effectively ends tonight. Besides, all our wives are at your fiancée's flat, so we were going to go out anyway."

"I've never had a bachelor's life," Ron muttered, trying in vain to recall the last time he'd even wanted such a life. Nevertheless, he followed Harry out the door and down the stairs. A drink with his brothers didn't sound half bad, after all. One slightly uncomfortable bout of Apparition and a short walk later, they found themselves walking into the Leaky Cauldron to be greeted by a loud roar from the far left corner of the pub.

"I think they've been here awhile," Ron remarked, grinning as he took in the slightly slurred voices and over-excited expressions that characterized his brothers at the moment.

"Must have done," Harry chuckled. "Go on, I'll bring you a drink."

Ron knew it was no use arguing to pay his own way tonight, so he followed Harry's instructions and made his way toward the four redheaded men seated in the corner.

"I didn't even know you were in town, Charlie!" Ron said accusingly once they were within earshot.

"Surprised Mum and Dad last night!" Charlie replied triumphantly, rising from his seat to give Ron a one-armed embrace. "Least, that's why I'm here as far as they know. Bill owled me a few days ago about this do and there was no way I was gonna miss my baby brother's stag. Could have done with more warning, though."

"I had no idea myself," Ron replied, sliding into a seat beside Bill, who ruffled his hair affectionately. Ron would have reminded him that he was twenty-two, but he knew it'd be no good anyway. "This doesn't make any sense, you know. I'm not getting married for - "

"More than a year, we know," Bill said, rolling his eyes. "But this was most convenient, so this is what you're getting, at least for now. Where'd our brother-in-law run off to?"

"Drinks," Ron replied shortly.

"Perfect," George said triumphantly. "OI! HARRY! Bring another round for all of us, will you?"

"Really now?" Percy scolded half-heartedly. "Some of us have wives to go home to tonight..."

"But Ron doesn't," George said. "And that's the point of this whole thing, in case you hadn't noticed. Celebrating Ron's last night of freedom!"

"Come off it," Ron groaned. "I've essentially been living with Hermione for months now-"

"Oh, Ronnie boy," George sighed, shaking his head. "So naive, this one. Tell him, Bill."

"Ron, it doesn't matter when the wedding date is," Bill said knowledgably. "The second you've completely moved in with Hermione, your domestic life begins."

"And we aren't saying that's a bad thing," Percy said hurriedly, looking over his shoulder as though he half expected Audrey to be standing behind him with a pitchfork.

"Not in the least," Bill affirmed. "It's wonderful, really, but it's different. Ah, there we are; thanks Harry!"

The conversation paused for a moment as they all took a drink. Ron chugged nearly half of his firewhiskey in one go; he had a feeling he'd be needing it for the conversation that was to follow.

"Anyway, be prepared is all we're saying," Bill said emphatically as he put his drink back on the table.

"Prepared for what?" Harry asked as he took a seat across from Ron.

"Domestic life," George said knowingly. "When Angie moved in, I tell you - "

"You and Angelina are living together?" Ron interrupted incredulously. "Managed to slip that one past the rest of us, did you?"

"Well, we didn't want to make a fuss," George replied defensively. Though George had often been the type to stick his nose into everyone else's business, he had always kept the nature of his relationship with Angelina quite private. However, he had confessed to Ron a few months prior, at Harry and Ginny's wedding, that he intended to marry her someday. Even if he hadn't announced that he and Angelina had moved in together, it didn't really surprise Ron one bit.

"And what you're doing for me now, is this not a fuss?" Ron asked skeptically.

"Ron, this is your stag night," Charlie cut in exasperatedly. "Don't fight it."

"I'm not getting married for - "

"A year," the others chorused.

"Just shut up, Ron," George advised. "Now, as your older and wiser brothers, we ought to offer you a bit of advice, I'd say."

"Harry's younger -"

"And he's also married. To our sister, so no specifics, Potter," Charlie said, throwing Harry a warning look. "Bill, start us off?"

"I'd be honored," Bill said solemnly, and he turned to face Ron. "Little brother, I've been married for what, five years now? And it's brilliant. Fleur's a great girl, you know, I've got a beautiful daughter, and another on the way - proof that I still get laid, see."

At this, Charlie guffawed loudly and George let out a catcall. Percy looked merely amused, and Harry laughed uncomfortably.

"My best advice to you might be to marry a veela," Bill continued matter-of-factly, "but since you seem to be pretty set on Hermione I'll just tell you this: when your wife is happy, you're happy. Don't piss her off over things that aren't worth it."

The others muttered their agreement, but Ron privately disagreed. He'd never admit it out loud, especially not to his brothers, but he sort of liked getting Hermione riled up every now and then. So long as he didn't push it too far, she looked brilliant with her hair all wild and her eyes all fiery - and generally, she could see right through him and it led exactly where he wanted it to.

"I may not be married," Charlie cut in, interrupting Ron's train of thought, "but I like to think I know a thing or two about women."

"Oh no," Percy muttered under his breath, but Charlie valiantly ignored him.

"Right, so you and Hermione have been fucking for how long now, three or four years?"

"Okay, you're done!" Ron bellowed, his short temper getting the best of him. "Me and Hermione's sex life is not up for discussion, not now, not ever!"

"Little defensive there, aren't we Ronnie?" George smirked, taking another swig of his firewhiskey.

"This is what a stag night is for, Ron," Charlie insisted.

"Rag on me all you want. She's off limits," Ron replied firmly. "Besides, we'd all regret that conversation in the morning," he added, glancing at Harry's slightly revolted expression.

"Unlikely," George said flippantly.

"Whatever," Charlie continued. "Not as if I'm going to go into detail, mind. All I was going to say was you oughta shake things up a bit now and then, yeah? 'Specially once you enter this domestic phase."

"What he's saying does have some merit, Ron," Percy added sincerely. "Perhaps he could have been less crude, but it's important to do something romantic every now and then. For example, Audrey loves theatre, so we go to a play together every month or so. It's quite nice, really."

"That," Charlie said emphatically to the general laughter of all, "is not what I was saying at all."

The evening continued on pleasantly. Ron specifically ignored all of George's attempts at advice, and laughed at Harry's blatant attempts to avoid talking about his own marriage in the presence of all of his wife's brothers. Firewhiskey was consumed all around, and eventually the conversation turned to the much-safer topic of Quidditch. Naturally, after awhile things began to get hazy and words began to slur.

"Hermione's so...soft," Ron found himself saying sometime in the middle of his third drink (or was it the fourth?), though he wasn't entirely aware that words were actually coming out of his mouth. He was speaking only to Harry at this point, as the other four were playing a game of exploding snap at the next table over. "So soft and pretty and warm and nice."

Harry had a goofy grin on his face. "Yeah, mate, but she's like...my sister, or something."

"What?" Ron said slowly, for he had forgotten for a moment that he'd been talking to Harry at all. "No, you married my sister. I don't know why though, she's mean and her hair is really boring."

"Oi," Harry slurred indignantly, leaning over the table to bop Ron on the head. "Don't talk about my wife like that."

"You even act like her now!" Ron moaned. A thought occurred to him then: "Hey...Harry. Harry."

"What?" Harry asked, leaning in intently.

"Do I act like...like her?" Ron whispered urgently.

"What?" Harry repeated insistently.

"Do I act like her? Hermione?" Ron asked again, more loudly this time.

"Of course you like her! You're marrying her, anyway" Harry answered confusedly, finishing off the last of his drink. "What?"

"Never mind," Ron replied, furrowing his brow as he tried to remember what exactly he'd asked in the first place.

"Ron!" Harry suddenly exclaimed with a sense of urgency that nearly knocked Ron off his seat.

"What is it, mate?" Ron pulled his wand out and turned about, brandishing it wildly as he looked around for any sort of threat.

"You're going to live with Hermione!" Harry said, slamming his hand down on the table to emphasize his point.

"Well, yeah!" Ron replied, pocketing his wand after one last look around the pub.

"That means you aren't living with me then, are you?" Harry finished dramatically, banging the table once more for good measure.

"Well no, not unless you move into Hermione's too!" Ron said, still not sure where Harry was going with this.

"No, no, no, I live with Ginny!" Harry explained impatiently. "And you're living with Hermione! And we aren't living together!"

"But - oh," Ron said suddenly as it hit him. He and Harry had been living together for more than a decade, ever since their very first night at Hogwarts. "That's sort of strange then."

"You can come visit when you piss Hermione off," Harry told him sincerely.

"Hermione," Ron said, smiling at the sound of her name. "I love Hermione."

Harry started laughing maniacally at this. "What's so funny?" Ron insisted. "Harry, what's funny?"

"You and Hermione are getting married!" Harry replied in between guffaws. "Like me and Ginny, but you and Hermione!"

"Hermione," Ron said again, his grin widening.

"Ron and Hermione Weasley!" Harry chipped in, still laughing in earnest. "And you're going to live together and be married and have all frizzy-haired ginger babies!"

"What's so funny?" Ron asked. "Babies? Babies are funny, yeah, but I'm not having any yet!"

"Nothing's funny, it's brilliant!" Harry exclaimed, reaching down the table to grab two half-finished drinks and offering one to Ron. "To you marrying Hermione!"

"Hermione!" Ron repeated unwittingly, clinking his drink with Harry's before downing it in one gulp.

The Next Morning

Ron groaned as he shifted a bit in bed. Everything hurt. Especially his head. He wasn't entirely sure where he was or how he got there, but the thought of opening his eyes to check was far too much to contemplate at the moment. He vaguely remembered firewhiskey - a lot of firewhiskey. Oh yeah, it'd been his stag night. All of his brothers had been there. That explained the amount of firewhiskey, anyway. Harry had been there, too...where was Harry now? Where was he?

Somewhere beyond the world of his pounding head, Ron could hear the sound of a door opening and closing. A moment later, he felt the mattress next to him sink a little and someone's hand running softly through his hair. He managed to smile despite the aching of every muscle in his body.

"Water, dear?" came the voice attached to the hand.

Ron nodded and reached blindly toward the voice, which then chuckled a little. "You'll have to sit up, love."

"Hermione," Ron croaked in recognition.

"Yes, that's me. Sit up, please," she said kindly but firmly.

"No," Ron replied petulantly.

"Just enough so you can take a drink," Hermione persuaded.

"Ugh. Drinks," Ron moaned, remembering the source of his current pain.

"Water will help," Hermione said sympathetically, bringing her hand to the side of his face. Ron could feel the cool silver of her engagement ring against his cheek, and this gave him the strength of mind to open his eyes. Ouch. Light hurt. A moment later, things began to slide into focus and he saw Hermione's face smiling down at him.

"Morning," Ron said hoarsely.

"Water," Hermione replied insistently, and Ron obediently began to pull himself into a sitting position, a task that took far more effort than it probably should have. Once he'd managed it, he reached out toward Hermione once again. This time, she handed him a glass of water, which he downed in one gulp and handed back to her for a refill. She made quick use of the Aguamenti charm, and he gratefully drank another glass.

"Had a good night, then?" Hermione asked when he'd finally finished attempting to rehydrate himself.

"No idea," Ron quipped.

Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Harry said you all overdid it a bit on the firewhiskey."

"How's he?" Ron asked, rubbing his temples slowly.

"Only a bit better than you, last I saw him," Hermione replied. "He's actually been down to the kitchen this morning, though I think he'd have stayed in bed if he'd had his way."

"Ginny?" Ron guessed.

Hermione nodded. "He said last night was meant to be your stag night."

"Apparently," Ron said. "Bit ridiculous, isn't it?"

"Yes, considering there's more than a year left until the wedding," Hermione replied. "But Harry claims they're going to throw you another, when the actual date gets closer."

"You're kidding?" Ron groaned. The thought of consuming any more alcohol, ever, was downright abhorrent at the moment.

"You'll have changed your mind by then," Hermione said with a laugh.

"Dunno. I had a lot," Ron said, his eyes widening a little as he strained to recall just how many empty glasses had been on the table when they'd left the pub. "This hangover may well last another year."

"Oh, stop," Hermione laughed, moving so that she was sitting next to him against the headboard. "You'll survive."

"Debatable," Ron muttered, but he moved his left hand so that it was intertwined with her right.

"What's this?" Hermione asked interestedly, bringing their clasped hands to her face so she could examine them more closely.

"What's what?" Ron asked, sliding his eyes shut again.

"This," Hermione insisted, poking at his ring finger.

"What?" Ron repeated, opening his eyes to see for himself: on his left ring finger was a mess of spellotape and string, and it was all marked up with some sort of black ink. "I've got no idea."

"How did you not notice?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"I might have, y'know, if my head hadn't been throbbing," Ron replied sarcastically.

"That's your own fault," Hermione said dismissively, pulling his hand closer to her face. "What on earth?"

At that moment, a knock came from the door and Harry ducked his head in. "Alright, mate?"

"No," Ron said pointedly, glaring at his best friend as he moved across the room to take a seat on the edge of the bed. "How come you haven't got it as bad?"

"Ginny got me a potion," Harry replied. "She's got an agenda to accomplish today, apparently, and it didn't involve me lying in bed with a hangover."

"And of course you didn't," Ron said, turning to face Hermione. He tried his best to look annoyed, but he knew he was probably failing miserably. Hermione, however, didn't even glance in his direction, still enthralled with the mess on his ring finger.

"No, those are far too much money. We're meant to be saving for our wedding," Hermione replied absently. "Harry, do you remember where Ron got this?" she asked, brandishing Ron's left hand in Harry's face.

Harry frowned for a moment, then began to laugh. "Oh, I almost forgot about that!"

"Mind filling me in? I don't remember shit," Ron asked, a bit agitatedly.

"Well, George tried to get us to go to one of those...y'know..." Harry cast a wary glance at Hermione before continuing. "Gentlemen's clubs."

Hermione only tutted disapprovingly, but Ron groaned loudly. "Naturally, that fucker. Did we though? I think I'd remember as much."

"Nah, you threw a fit," Harry said, grinning broadly at the memory. "I believe your exact words were, 'the only tits I want to see are my fiancee's.' Sorry, Hermione," Harry added apologetically, the tips of his ears darkening.

Hermione, for her part, managed to remain unflustered - or not noticeably embarrassed, at any rate. "Right, so then?" she prompted, tapping Ron's ring finger again.

"Well, like I said, Ron didn't want to go. Then George, or maybe it was Charlie, I dunno, made some stupid comment - said something like they didn't see a ring on his finger. Well, that pushed Ron off the deep end, so he went and asked Tom, the barkeep, you know, for a ring. He didn't have one, of course, but Ron came back with a roll of spellotape and wrapped it around his finger, as you can see. Conjured the string for good measure, stole a quill and tried to write 'Property of Hermione' on it as well, but that didn't work out either, clearly. It was hilarious. Even better, turns out George was never completely serious about the club, either," Harry said, laughing at the memory. Ron, on the other hand, was mortified.

"You're kidding," he said in denial.

"Afraid not," Harry replied. "Anyway, Ginny says you two ought to come by for dinner tonight. 'To celebrate Ron finally moving out,' she says."

"What a gem," Ron said sarcastically, rolling his eyes at his sister's sense of humor.

"We'll be there," Hermione told Harry.

"Great. I'll leave you to it, then," Harry said, grinning broadly at his friends before leaving the room.

"You're sweet, you know," Hermione remarked conversationally once they were alone, leaning her head onto Ron's shoulder as he began to unravel the string from around his finger.

"I'm a blathering drunken idiot, is what you mean," he replied, grappling on the bedside table for his wand; the spellotape wasn't budging. He tapped the wand on his finger experimentally, careful not to blow his hand apart.

"No, you're sweet," Hermione insisted. "Lots of men would use their drunken idiocy as an excuse to go to one of those clubs, but you didn't, and I very much appreciate that."

"Well, I didn't want to go," Ron said dismissively. "Besides, I can't possibly be sweet for something I don't remember doing."

"Well, I think it's nice that you tried to make a ring," Hermione argued. "They have a point, you know; the fact that only women wear engagement rings is a bit sexist, isn't it? The man is just as much betrothed as she is, after all."

"What are you on about?" Ron asked bemusedly as he finally dislodged the mass of string and spellotape from his ring finger, only to find more ink. With an exaggerated sigh, he siphoned it off with his wand and wiggled his finger around a bit. It was quite stiff.

"Never mind," Hermione said. "Just take the compliment, will you?"

"I dunno what you're even complimenting me for," Ron replied, sliding his eyes shut and wrapping one of his arms around her shoulder and using the other to rub at his head again.

"You're a good person, Ron," Hermione said after a moment of silence. "I'm glad I'm marrying you, that's all."

"Mm. Me too," Ron said absentmindedly. "My trunk's all packed, by the way."

"Yes, that's why I came over here in the first place," Hermione replied. "I figured we could bring the last of your things over to the flat, and then..."

"Then what?" Ron asked, frowning as she trailed off. He reopened his eyes and turned to appraise her expression; she was blushing lightly and looked a bit sheepish.

"Well, I had some ideas," Hermione began, bringing her free hand up to his chest and fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, which he had evidently not bothered to shed before collapsing into bed the night before. "You know, to...christen the place."

Ron was quite certain his ears must have perked up comically at her suggestive tone. "Yeah?"

"I understand if you're knackered, though," she continued, but Ron interrupted her by leaning over and planting a brief kiss on her lips.

"Reckon I can work up the strength," Ron quipped. "I'm curious though, haven't we christened just about every corner of that flat?"

"Not quite," Hermione replied mischieviously, her blush deepening. "Like I said, I've got some ideas."

"I love it when you have ideas," Ron said, a grin spreading on his face. The headache didn't seem to matter anymore, not in the least. "Shall we?"

"Alright then," Hermione agreed, her eyes twinkling. "To our flat, then."

"To our flat," Ron said contentedly, leaning in and kissing her once again. And they would make it to their flat...eventually.

A/N: I can't say this has been one of my favorite chapters. It gave me a lot of trouble, and I'm still not thrilled about it. However, I think a bit of a light-hearted interlude fits at this point in the story in some ways. This is sort of a filler chapter between the high excitement of the proposal chapter and the plot-driven, slightly dramatic next chapter. Only three chapters left now! I'm excited about the chapters that are coming up, but it's bittersweet to see this fic enter the "beginning of the end" stage. I've been working on it for about ten months now, and it's sort of become my baby.

Anyway, as always thank you all for your outstanding support and all the kind words you've shared with me. I promise the next chapter will come faster than this one did - and I anticipate better quality as well, to be quite honest. Thank you :)