This is a rather short fanfic I wrote a while back--just dabbling really, but I hope you enjoy! This ship is so cute. Of course, I own none of the characters, all rights go to Joanne Rowling and their respective owners.
Hermione pushed open the door of the Three Broomsticks, glad for the rush of heated air that warmed her from the chill of the snowy outdoors. Rubbing her arms for warmth, she glanced down at the note she had found in her boot, making sure she was in the right place. The note was unsigned, only instructing her to, “Wait for me in the back booth of the Three Broomsticks. I have something to say.” So, Hermione made her way to the last booth, looking each way to see who could possibly have left the note. She slid onto the ripped leather bench, and the new witch waiting tables came and asked for her order.
“We’ll have two Butterbeers,” a familiar voice asked from behind the waitress.
As the witch strode off from the table, Ron stooped and sat down across from Hermione. “Oh, hey Ron, I guess it was you who wrote this?” Hermione said inquiringly, holding up the slip of parchment. “What did you have to tell me? Why was it so important that I had to come here?” “I just….wanted this to be perfect. Come with me, will you?” Ron asked as he tossed several knuts onto the table and reached down a hand to Hermione. She took it curiously, and let him lead her out into the cold winter air.
Stumbling through the snow banks, Hermione demanded, “What is it, Ron? I’m freezing,” but he just kept trudging through Hogsmeade until they were at the far edge of the village. “Well?” Hermione said once they stopped, annoyed at his silence. Ron took in a deep breath, and said, “Well, Hermione, I was just wondering….er, I wanted to know if you…I’ve been trying to….” Ron sighed, then gave up and muttered, “Just look.”
Ron pointed his wand into the air, uttered a short spell, and all of a sudden, the snow stopped falling, frozen and sparkling in mid-air. Hermione was astounded at his mastering of a spell she had just begun to learn. Glancing around at the beauty of an interrupted snowfall, she said, “But, Ron. Isn’t this spell only for….certain occasions?” Hermione gave Ron a quizzical look, still not understanding. “Bloody hell, Hermione, do I have to spell it out? I am in love with you."
Her mouth dropped open, but Ron plowed forward. "I love how you know every tiny insignificant fact from a History of Magic, and how your head tilts just to the left whenever you think I’ve gone completely bonkers. I love the frizz in your hair, and the way you still iron your clothes with a muggle iron because it reminds you of home. I love it when you blush, and the way you smile with just one corner of your mouth, and the way you laugh whenever I pronounce a spell the wrong way. But most of all, I love the way you’re looking at me, right now. You are perfect, and I want to spend my life by your side. Hermione Jean Granger,” Ron slowly lowered himself to one knee, pulling a small black box from his jacket.
“Would you bring me the greatest joy of all, and become my wife?”
Hermione gasped as Ron opened the ring box, revealing a simple golden ring, a small diamond glimmering in the bright December sun. She was stunned, unable to find the words she wanted to say. Ron got a little nervous, but Hermione, seeming to accept her loss for words, said the one word that would change both of their lives forever. “Yes!” Ron leapt to his feet and pulled Hermione in for a kiss. As they moved closer together, Ron’s spell began to fade and the snow gently fell on the embracing couple.
