Ron felt very out of place as he entered the jewelry shop with Harry. It was lunchtime and the store was full of people. Long lines had formed at the glass cases as the jewelers serviced each person in turn.
There was not a single item available for purchase that was not locked behind glass; only the very best items were sold at Kirkwood’s Jewelry, a relatively new addition to Diagon Alley.
“Should we get in line or ask a clerk where to find them?” asked Harry, who looked about as intimidated as Ron felt.
“Dunno,” said Ron.
He looked around for an employee, but they all seemed to be busy behind the counters.
“May as well get in line,” said Harry.
They stepped in behind an elderly witch who was bejeweled from head to toe with rings, necklaces and bracelets. Perhaps she was intent on buying out the entire store, piece by piece.
“So are you”you know, nervous?” asked Harry awkwardly.
“Kind of,” said Ron. It was an understatement. He found it difficult to keep his knees from knocking together.
“I think it’s”you know, I think it’s great,” said Harry. “Do you know how”?”
“No,” said Ron. His mind was entirely blank. “Do you have any ideas?”
Harry’s brow furrowed. “You could go out for a nice dinner or”something like that.”
Ron had a fleeting (and rather horrible) image of getting down on one knee in a fancy restaurant. “I don’t want to do it in public,” he said. “But it should be special, right?”
“I’m sure she’ll think it’s special however you do it,” said Harry without much conviction.
“I could get her a book and stick the ring in it,” said Ron, though it sounded stupid the minute it left his mouth.
The truth was, he was scared. Asking Mr. Granger had been one of the most singularly embarrassing moments of his life, not helped by the fact that it had been over the telephone, a Muggle method of communication that Ron had never mastered. He had been shouting his request at the top of his voice when Mr. Granger asked him to speak normally.
But now he was so close to the Moment that he could almost touch it and he was still getting no burst of inspiration, no perfect moment when he knew what to do.
When he and Harry reached the glass cases, a bald, bespectacled jeweler in a peach jacket walked over, mopping his sweaty forehead. “What can I do for you gentlemen?” he asked.
Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Harry stepped in.
“My friend would like to look at the engagement rings.”
The jeweler groaned. “Third one today. Come on, follow me.”
Harry and Ron followed the jeweler into a small room off the main shop with a glass-topped desk in it. Underneath the glass were several dozen engagement rings, each one winking up at Ron like a perfect little dewdrop.
The bald jeweler sat behind the desk and Harry and Ron sat in front of it, their knees squeezed up against the case.
“Are you looking for anything in particular, sir?” asked the jeweler. His nametag read Bob.
“Just a”regular ring,” said Ron. “But nice, obviously.”
Bob nodded slowly. “Well, we have quite a selection if you’d like to have a look. Just shout when you see something you like.”
He got up abruptly and left the room.
They all looked alike to Ron. “What do you think?” he asked Harry.
“They’re all nice,” said Harry lamely. Ron began to wish that he had brought Ginny on this expedition instead.
They were almost all diamond, though a few had other stones inset as well. Ron tried to remember Hermione’s birthstone and failed.
“That’s nice,” said Harry, pointing at an intricate golden ring. The diamond was held in the mouth of a roaring lion with emerald eyes.
Ron gave Harry a disparaging look.
“Well, maybe it’s a little tacky,” said Harry. “How about that one?”
That ring was plainer, a simple gold band with a large, sparkly diamond. Ron looked at the price and almost jumped.
“Why does it cost so much?” said Ron.
“Oh, it gives the wearer keen hearing,” said Harry. “I don’t think she’d particularly care for that””
It took nearly twenty minutes for Ron to locate a ring that looked good and wouldn’t cost him a fortune. It was simple and elegant, lovely really. Harry agreed it was something Hermione would like.
Bob returned a moment later. “Excellent choice, sir. Would you like a fancy velvet-lined box? Only ten Sickles more.”
“No, thank”” said Ron. Harry elbowed him. “I mean, yeah, of course I’d like a fancy box.”
Bob removed the ring, put it in a small velvet box and placed it on the glass. “I assume this will be all?”
“Yeah,” said Ron, taking out his wallet.
They left the shop ten minutes later, the ring in Ron’s pocket. He was still far from confident, but at least this first part of the mission was complete.
“Do you think she’ll like it?” he asked Harry.
“I really do,” said Harry. “I’m really happy for you two.”
“Thanks,” said Ron.
They went for lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, the subject of the upcoming engagement unmentioned. When they were done, they Apparated back to the Ministry, their lunch break completed.
Ron was distracted the rest of the day, unable to focus on work. He quickly typed up a report on a Dark wizard recently caught in France selling dragon eggs and then spent nearly half an hour composing a note to Hermione.
After several rewrites, the note said:
Hermione---
Could you come over tonight for dinner, around seven?
Ron
He tapped the note with his wand, which folded itself into a paper airplane. It zoomed off in the direction of the lift.
Hermione sent a note back moments later, saying that she would indeed come over for dinner.
Ron was almost disappointed. Postponing the proposal another day would have been a relief.
At five o’clock, he left the Ministry, Apparating first to a small restaurant in Diagon Alley that offered takeout food. He knew Hermione liked the place. He arranged for their dinner to materialize at Grimmauld Place (which he was currently sharing with Harry) at seven-fifteen.
Harry and Ginny were sitting in the kitchen when Ron appeared. Ginny immediately jumped up to hug him.
“I’m so happy for you and Hermione!” she said. “I can be maid of honor, right?”
Ron froze, wedding thoughts turning his insides to jelly.
“I’m sorry, it was a joke!” said Ginny, laughing.
His resolve shattered, Ron headed up to his room to shower and get dressed, taking especial care that he was neat. He wore a rather itchy sweater that Hermione had given him the Christmas before, hoping that it might further endear her to him.
By six o’clock he was pacing the entire house, fumbling with the ring box, frantically trying to come up with something to say.
He supposed he could try to think of some flowery adjectives with which to describe Hermione, but none came. Quoting poetry would be cheesy, and besides he couldn’t remember any. He knew she would not appreciate it if he tried to be funny.
“You have to calm down, mate,” said Harry, genuinely alarmed by Ron’s constant pacing.
“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” said Ginny. “And you know something else? I know she’ll say yes, too.”
“Yeah,” said Ron. “The ring is pretty good, I think””
Ginny sighed. “She’ll say yes to you, Ron, not the ring.”
The pep talks were not helpful. Ron actually considered having a glass of Firewhiskey to calm his nerves.
“Where are you going to be?” he asked Ginny. Harry had assured him that they would go out to dinner themselves, leaving Ron and Hermione the privacy of Grimmauld Place.
“Mum and Dad’s,” said Ginny. “Have you told them yet?”
“No,” said Ron. “And I want to do it myself, so don’t let on.”
At six-ten Harry and Ginny left.
“Good luck,” said Harry, patting Ron on the back. “I know it’ll go well.”
“You’re going to be so happy,” said Ginny, giving Ron a last hug.
They disappeared, leaving Ron alone in the kitchen.
He sat down, tapping his foot, drumming his fingers. He touched the box in his pocket like a tic, making sure that it was still there.
The clock was achingly slow, the suspense torturous. At any second Ron expected to hear Hermione enter.
And he did, four minutes after seven. There was a soft pop in the foyer and Hermione walked into the kitchen.
She looked beautiful. She had changed out of her work robes into a brightly patterned sundress. Her hair was uncombed and she wasn’t wearing any makeup, but Ron thought she’d never looked better to him.
“Hi,” she said casually, giving Ron a kiss. “Did you cook?”
“No, I’m ordering in,” he said. “You know, the place you like.”
Ron had temporarily forgotten the name.
“That’ll be great,” said Hermione, sitting down. “I spent the whole day down in Records trying to find a case of Muggle-baiting before 18 A.D. Most of the records are stone tablets, so I had a terrible time getting”what’s wrong?” she said sharply, interrupting herself.
“Nothing,” said Ron quickly. “Just hungry.”
“You look like you’re going to be sick,” she said. “Do you not feel well?”
“I feel fine. Great, actually,” said Ron.
He had to do it, had to do it soon. He could feel himself losing his resolve.
“If you say so,” said Hermione, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
Before he really knew what he was doing, Ron got onto his knee and said, much too quickly, “Will-you-marry-me?”
She looked at him blankly, hands at her mouth.
He wrenched the box out of his pocket and opened it up, displaying the twinkling ring.
“It’s”it’s always been you, Hermione,” said Ron, more slowly. “Since I met you, I always kind of knew. That you were”you know, perfect for me.”
The words came out much more smoothly then he had imagined, but Hermione was still just gazing at him in shock.
“I think it’s your turn to say something now,” said Ron. His knee was starting to ache. He had landed on it a little too hard.
“Yes!” said Hermione, tearing up. “Of course!”
She flung her arms around him and Ron felt a lump in his own throat.
Hermione loosened her hold on him and sank down beside him on the floor, her eyes swimming.
“I love you, you know,” she said. “A lot.”
Ron started to say “I love you,” but she interrupted by kissing him furiously. He returned her kiss, dropping the ring box on the floor.
An infinitesimal moment later there was a loud pop in the kitchen and they broke away, Ron expecting to see someone standing in the room.
It was the food, packaged in a brown paper bag and sitting on the table.
They both started laughing at the same time, for no real reason. Ron picked the box off the floor and offered it to her.
She gave a rather un-Hermione-like squeal when she saw the ring. Ron moved to put it on her finger, but it was too small.
He swore, mentally cursing himself for not thinking of size. Hermione laughed, pulled out her wand and tapped the ring. It enlarged itself and then hovered onto her finger.
“A perfect fit,” said Ron.
“Yes,” said Hermione. “It really is.”