The Plan

The Plan.

Chapter 2

Hermione entered the living room and stopped in surprise again. If she thought cooking, the bathroom and the bedroom had been a huge gesture on Ron's part. It was nothing compared to the sight before her now.

The tiny flat they shared didn't have its own dining room, not even a table to eat at actually. Usually they balanced their meals upon their laps or, if Ron felt like being particularly annoying or suicidal, he would neatly stack her books up and use them as a makeshift table. At such times, he announced that if there weren't so many books heaped around the flat, they'd be able to fit in a table. Which, much to her eternal annoyance she had no argument against, as it was possibly the truth.

On this occasion, Ron had balanced a long wooden board and used her precious books as legs. The board was filled with so much food that it dipped precariously in the middle and the practical side of her nature cringed, waiting for the masses of delicious looking food to fall to the floor.

A huge roaring fire blazed in the grate, casting flickering shadows on the walls and on the layers of red and white flower petals on the floor. The room was very warm and had an inviting ambience to it. She realised that he'd put a lot of effort in to achieve this, the lengths he had gone to, to have every last detail perfect...she didn't think she had loved him more than she did in that moment.

The effect was dizzying, but what was Ron playing at? He moved to stand behind her and kissed her neck lightly.

"What do you think?" he whispered in her ear, causing her to shiver.

"How?" she managed, "Why?"

"Why do you think?" he queried in an amused voice.

Now she was very confused, nobody created such a romantic setting to break up with you.

"I thought...but..." she said, annoyed to hear her own voice catch.

He pulled her around to look at him and his brow furrowed when he looked at her expression.

"Love, is everything Ok?" he said.

"No, everything isn't okay," she said, frustration turning in to anger.

"What is it?" he asked, a worried expression on his face, "I know I've been occupied the last week or two, but..."

"It isn't you, well it is, but it's not... I'm so confused! First you're going to leave me, then you do this!" she said arms indicating the room, "And I don't know whether I'm coming or going! I...I... Ron, if you are going to leave me, just tell me," she said finally, crossing her arms.

He looked at her as if she announced she was going to run off to the Bahamas' with Voldemort.

"Don't look at me like that!" she said, her hands shaking with restrained emotion.

He shook himself, then asked in a puzzled voice.

"What are you talking about? Why the bloody hell would I leave you?"

"I don't know! But I heard you and Harry at the party...You where talking out the back, I HEARD YOU! Never considered any other options my ass!" she shrieked.

Ron just looked at her incredulously; "You heard us...?" a thoughtful expression creased his brow. Then he chuckled.

Raw hurt clawed its way through her heart. He must have seen it on her face because he stopped immediately.

"Wait love, you don't understand!" he said, amusement gone.

"You're damn straight I don't," she said, more hurt sounding in her voice than she would have liked.

"I wasn't talking about leaving you!" he said in a hurry reaching for her, but she pushed him away.

"Then who...?" she started.

"I wasn't talking about leaving anyone! There isn't anyone else, there never has been!" he said, frustrated.

"But..." she started persistently.

"Will you stop thinking for 10 seconds and listen!" he said loudly, silencing her protests, "I'm not going anywhere without you, I'm leaving the Aurors!"

She ran it through her brain, leaving the Aurors, he was quitting his job, not her. So that meant...that meant...she was a complete and utter idiot, that's what it meant. He ran his hand through his hair, making the once tidy hairstyle look endearingly messy.

"But..." she put hand over her face in embarrassment, "I thought you liked being an Auror."

"Yeah, but I'm always working... I never get to see you anymore love and I'm so fed up with fighting the darkness out there," his voice sounded tired, "Harry and me both, so we've decided to quit."

"Why didn't you mention it earlier?" she said feeling a little guilty at having missed his unhappiness.

"You've been looking so tired and... troubled. I didn't want to give you something else to worry about," he explained.

"Oh. So you're not leaving me then?" she asked sheepishly.

"Only if you want me to love, and even then I'd scream and beg you to reconsider the whole way out the door."

"I don't want you to go," she said fervently, "besides, I'd starve to death if you left me to fend for myself." It was a well-known fact that Hermione could concoct the most complicated potions in Britain, but ask her to bake you a cake...and trouble really brewed.

Ron pulled her into a tight hug, kissing her forehead, which conveyed more than words ever could.

"Harry and I were also..." his voice took on a nervous edge, "discussing something else."

"Oh?" she asked, worried.

"Yes," he said reaching into his pocket, "Harry did me a favour. I had so much to plan I didn't have time to pick this up, and he did..."

Out of his pocket, he produced a small velvet pouch. He reached for her hand, tipping the pouch out on to her palm, his eyes never leaving her curious gaze.

A cold metal band landed on her palm. She stared at in surprise.

"It's...its white gold, the best I could buy," he stuttered, "I wanted you to...marry me."

"Ron, I..." she stuttered after a few minutes, eyes wide.

"I mean we've been together forever and I know we're only 22, but...well, I love you."

"Yes," she said firmly, smiling stupidly, "I love you too!"

He looked very relieved, and he leaned forward to kiss her deeply.

"Ron?" she said, pulling away.

"Yes?"

"I'm absolutely starving."

Laughing, he pulled her down next to him at the table.

"Okay, I know you didn't cook all this by yourself," she said, grinning stupidly.

"Well maybe Ginny helped a bit...," he murmured, spearing a sausage with his folk.

"Oh, what did she cook?"

"The steak, the vegetables, the rice, the lamb, the sausages and those potato thingies over there."

"Oh...So what exactly did you cook?"

"The salad, the cottage pie, the chips...and dessert," at her raised eyebrows he looked indignant, "I've been busy! She had me running all over the bloody country looking for Crayons!"

"Crayons?" she asked curiously.

"Yeah, apparently there made of wax and you colour things with them...weird what these muggles come up with."

* * *

Several helpings later, they both lay across the floor, heads resting against the cushions.

"Ready for dessert?" he queried.

Hermione groaned, rolling her eyes.

"Do you have some extra stomach that I don't know about?" she asked amused.

"I'm a growing man!" he exclaimed.

She rolled on to her side to look at him, his eyes where shut and there was a contented smile on his face. It was now or never, she realised, taking a steadying breath.

"What ever happened to my plan?" she said.

"Hum?" he said.

"I was supposed to be Head Librarian, get married, buy a nice house," she paused hesitantly.

"And?" he asked, opening his eyes.

"And then... have kids."

"Seven or eight?" he joked, "Or maybe just three or four, wouldn't want to cut into book time now, would we?"

"Three or four...?" she said stunned, and layback against the pillow.

He smiled and his eyes danced, "We can have seven or eight if you really insist..."

She smiled slightly but didn't answer.

"Well we can wait until your Head Librarian to get married if you want," he said seriously, shifting on to his side to look down at her, "You're nearly Head Librarian anyway, we could start looking around at houses now and then have kids."

Hermione smiled distractedly, chewing her lip and avoiding eye contact.

"Hermione...what's wrong?" he said, tugging her hair affectionately.

"I don't suppose you've seen Neville since the party? I was going..." her sentence died off. She should have known that they'd been together far to long for him to be fooled by her changing the conversation.

And now he was using that look on her, an intense, determined gaze, the one that made her feel like she had no secrets from him...or soon wouldn't.

"Well, I...a couple of months ago...well actually three months ago," she stuttered, very interested in the hem of her robes, "I was quite busy, you know what with that whole fiasco over Mrs. Malkin's potion getting mixed up and we all thought the affects were permanent and she was going to prosecute the library. Anyway...I forgot to pick up my potion from the apothecary...which is really unlike me...but I didn't even think about it until last week... "

"Hermione..." he said in a very commanding voice. She raised her eyes to his. "Are you...Are you pregnant?" he asked.

To be continued...