Dejana's Writing

An Honest Proposal
a Harry Potter fanfiction by Dejana Talis
-not to be used without permission-

It should've happened somewhere else.

It should've happened over dessert at the finest restaurant in London with a chandelier sparkling overhead and violin music singing in their ears. It usually did, when Harry dared to imagine the scene. She'd be sitting there across the table in a sleek black dress, her hair a bold burst of flame. She'd smile and laugh as they chatted and ate, and he'd watch her face change from shock to delight once he'd pulled the box from his pocket.

If it had to happen outside in winter, it should've at least come at the end of a romantic sleigh ride. They'd be huddled together against the cold beneath a shared blanket, cheeks rosy from laughing in the wind. He'd whisper a spell to warm her out of the earshot of their Muggle driver, and she'd scold him with an elbow to the ribs but praise him with shining eyes. They'd glide over the snow to the sound of jingling bells, and he'd lean close to her ear and ask her.

Of all the scenarios that had flitted through Harry's mind, any of them seemed ideal compared to this. They had been on a simple walk through Godric's Hollow. There was nothing particularly special about this evening. Still, as the warmth of her hand seeped through the layers of their gloves, he felt he could not stand another day without her. So much sadness had happened in this place, but with her beside him, there was only peace in his heart. The thought of returning to his flat alone even one more time was unbearable.

There was one small blessing. As winter evenings went, he couldn't have asked for a more perfect one. It was chilly, but not overly so, and the air smelled crisp and clean. The cloudy sky was grey with reflected light and swirling snowflakes. Crystals of white drifted around her and settled in her hair, reminding Harry of glistening jewels. He squeezed her hand every few minutes to reassure himself that she was still there and not some angelic vision of his dreams. There was a time when he had hesitated to touch her, hold her, kiss her, but if his experiences had taught him anything it was that moments were not to be wasted.

This moment was one of those. With a few words, it could be transformed from a forgettable evening into a cherished memory. Simple magic, requiring no wand to perform. He had heard that men anguished over this decision, worried and wondered until they doubted if they should proceed at all. In this moment, Harry felt no uncertainty. They had already gone through so much. They had already spent so many evenings talking about the past, working through the shadows that haunted their memories. Death itself had faced them down, and they had survived. Compared to the power of the Dark Lord, things as trivial as chores and shared bills seemed unlikely to separate them.

They stood gazing up at the stone faces of Harry's parents and talked about family. Only with hers had he ever felt part of one. She was a piece of that joy, a fire to warm his heart always. She looked at the image of the child he had been and spoke of a love so deep it had defeated an unspeakable evil. Where others did so with awe, in her voice it was a goal, an ideal to be recreated. In her, Harry found an echo of the strength that had made his parents Gryffindors, the power to stand with the people you loved no matter the odds. With her, he had someone who understood, someone who burned where he was dark and anchored when he threatened to drift away.

The words were in his throat before he had a chance to reconsider. His lips parted, and then it was too late to turn back; with his next breath his heart would do the talking. Her eyes were locked on the bewitched statue, filled with the familiar fire of determination. Snow sparkled on her hair and eyelashes and rosy cheeks, and even in her secondhand coat Harry thought she had never looked more beautiful.

He didn't even have a ring. It was too soon; not even a year since the war ended, and things had only just begun to settle down. Despite it all, Harry felt that if they were not ready now, they would never be. He had long since learned that sometimes the worst thing to do was wait. Sometimes you had to take a leap, ready or not. She was still and silent beside him, as if she expected something to happen. The world itself was silent, as if it waited with baited breath. In all eternity, there was no better moment than this.

"Ginny... will you marry me?"

The End
Harry Potter and its associated characters and canon are the property of J.K. Rowling.
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