8: Rung Four - Her

Disclaimer: Not mine. No money. Special thanks go to JKR for sanctioning HP fanfic.

Gobs of thanks go to my beta Southern Witch 69 and to my Brit-picker the amazing Saracen77.

8: Rung Four – Her

August 30th, 7:05 pm

I affix the final poster with a sticking charm; it and its brethren of famous Arithmantic predictions adorn the walls, their final lines of solution shimmering with magic. I’ve tried to include both positive examples, such as Sillinger’s work foreseeing the end of Grindelwald, and negative, such as Crestlebaum’s warning of the rise of Grindelwald. The fight against Voldemort proved we shouldn’t coddle children.

Brushing hair off of my face, I stretch my back and look around my redesigned classroom with pride.

It had been a bit plain, but that’s to be expected. Once life had returned to quasi-normal after the Final Battle, and Hogwarts had reopened, Bill had taken over the Arithmancy position. He’d decided to remain in England to be near his family in their time of grief, and Minerva had been more than happy to have him. But teaching was never his passion, and Gringotts wants him back badly enough to give him a London posting.

Now the room is arranged into four-desk stations for group work, although with built-in charms that will allow me to separate them easily for testing purposes. I also installed a magical projector so that I can prepare my lecture notes ahead of time – it’s faster than magicked chalk and will allow me to move around the classroom instead of barricading myself behind a podium.

I walk towards my desk to gather any paperwork I may want to look at later tonight. I’ve already prepared my lesson plans for the entire school year for each level – it was both grueling and exhilarating. It’s a good thing I kept all of my notes from Professor Vector’s classes and that I taught first and second years at Beauxbatons.

With everything finally ready, I can’t regret arriving at Hogwarts two weeks early to prepare, even if it meant cutting short summer hols with Ron.

Very conveniently cut short the time with Ron, that is.

I sigh – I’m meeting him for dinner at the Three Broomsticks in an hour.

The walk to my rooms in Gryffindor Tower is a blur. The familiar items of my life offer little comfort as I move through the sitting room to the bathroom. Standing under the hot beat of the shower, I’m overwhelmed with the thoughts I’ve been avoiding.

The awkwardness of Cornwall followed us home. It had been a year since Ron and I had spent that much time together, and that had been during the infatuation stage of the relationship.

We have nothing in common – admit it.

The water pounds on my skull as I stand transfixed.

And stop dawdling about already. Unless being late is the goal.

I turn off the water, perform a quick Drying charm, and enter the bedroom. Digging through my wardrobe, I discard two possibilities – both too smart for a night down the pub – and choose a simple chocolate-brown dress with cap sleeves and a full, knee-length skirt with robes to match. I keep my makeup light and my hair down.

Another distracted walk has me emerging from the castle’s entrance. The lake and grounds are beautiful in the extended evening of late summer, but prove too familiar to be diverting.

The sex felt awkward as well, but this was probably due to the fact that B&Bs don’t give you the anonymity necessary for good sex. You know you’ll be seeing the owner and the other guests in the morning over kippers and porridge.

Sure – that’s all that was wrong with the sex. How does that explain what’s been off since we got back?

I sigh – it’s not that the sex is bad. It’s that Ron only likes to move quickly, and sometimes I want something slower, something different.

Well, there’s one man you know of who’s willing to practice patience in bed.

I really don’t want to think about Snape.

What if he likes it slow and teasing? What if he draws it out over and over again until I think I’ll go insane if I don’t come? What if –

Shut it! Besides, sex does not a relationship make.

But it doesn’t hurt.

“Humph.”

And you’ll see him tomorrow.

With the gates in sight, I speed up, hoping to Disapparate away from my traitorous thoughts.

Ron’s waiting for me when I pop into existence outside of the Three Broomsticks. “Mione,” he engulfs me in a hug, “you look smashing.”

“Thanks, Ron. You do, too.” He’s wearing his nicest Weasley jumper with a pair of smart trousers all topped by a humongous grin.

He’s up to something.

“I’ve got a surprise, so close your eyes and I’ll Side-Along you.” His left arm wraps tighter around me, and I’m glad for it when I stagger a bit upon reaching our destination. I always find Side-Along a bit disorienting.

He continues, “Now, just stand right there for a minute and no peeking.”

“Ron –”

“Shhh, Mione. Trust me.”

I can hear faint noises around me, but they’re overrun by the sound of rustling cloth directly in front of me.

What is going on?

“Alright, Mione.”

It’s Ron in front of me.

“You can open your eyes now.”

And there he is – on bended knee, holding a ruby-set gold ring up to me.

Oh, shite.

I am gobsmacked – utterly gobsmacked.

He’s Apparated us right into the middle of the Burrow’s sitting room. The furniture’s all pushed back, and people line the walls. Straight on are my parents and the core of the Weasley clan: Mum and Dad look pleased and a little overwhelmed, Molly beams at me through a curtain of tears, Arthur looks truly happy for the first time in ages. As I turn my head to the right, I can see Percy, George and Parvati, Bill and Fleur – all smiling and watching. To the left are Colin, Susan, Ernie, Dean, Lavender, Cho, and Lee – Ginny smiles and gives me a little wave while Lavender makes a show of crying beautifully into a lace-edged kerchief. The lads shift uncomfortably but maintain their smiles.

Goddess – he’s invited everyone!

“Hermione.”

I turn back to Ron.

“I love you. Will you marry me?”

A quick glance confirms the expectancy on all of those smiling faces. And then there’s Ron looking up at me as if I embody all of his hope, his happiness.

There’s really only one answer I feel I can give.

“Yes, Ron. I’ll marry you.”

AN: “Ha, ha, ha. Mine is an evil laugh!” – Wash from Firefly