Pumpkin Soup And Proposals
by Lissanne

Rating: PG13
Ship: Harry & Hermione
Canon: Books 1 - 7
Genre: Romance
Status: Complete
Length: 3,545 words in 1 chapter
Published: 5 Jan 2008
Last updated: 5 Jan 2008

Harry has an important question to ask Hermione, but has trouble finding the right time to ask.

From the Unofficial Portkey Archive: https://portkey-archive.org/story/7861/

------------------------------------------------------------------------

1. Chapter 1

Author's note: Thank you to Plumeria for the beta. Written for the Harry/Hermione Christmas Fic and Art Fest held on LJ.
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not
limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no
copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Feedback is appreciated.

~*~

Four weeks before Christmas

The green flames rose and brightened as Harry Potter stepped out from them. He gave himself a little shake and shed his
robes, the sombre mood of the day instantly lifted off his shoulders. He sighed, his entire body relaxing. He was home
now, and all his worries had been left in the office. He took in the familiar living room. The enormous, eight foot
Christmas tree heavily laden with lights and decorations took up one entire corner. The fireplace opposite the one he
stood in front of burned brilliantly, embers shooting at out regular intervals. Two stockings, hand knitted by Hermione,
were hung from the mantelpiece; one was scarlet with a gold `Harry' on it, the other gold with a scarlet `Hermione'.
Harry's stocking was already lumpy, indicative of Hermione's nature to be completely organised well ahead of time. He
smiled at the sight, although he would never have told the love of his life that he had snuck into the room when she
wasn't around to catch him so he could feel the gifts inside and attempt to guess what they were.

As he stepped across the room, he followed his nose to the kitchen, from whence delicious smells emanated. He found
Hermione standing next to the stove, nose buried in a cookbook. A large crockpot was on the top, a wooden spoon stirring
the contents all by itself. A small light inside the oven showed that it wasn't empty. Harry sniffed from the doorway a
few times; if he wasn't mistaken, Hermione was cooking pumpkin soup and a loaf of that crusty bread he absolutely
adored.

But not as much as he adored its maker.

“Hey,” he said, stepping into the large, airy room. Hermione didn't answer, obviously entranced in her reading. Harry
grinned and crept up behind her, and then leaned in to kiss the back of her neck. She shrieked and dropped the book, and
it was only because of his lightning reflexes that the heavy tome didn't squash his toes.

“Harry Potter!” Hermione scolded, one hand on her chest. “What on earth are you doing sneaking up on me like that?”

“Sorry,” he said with a grin, not in the least bit sorry at all. “I did say hello, but you obviously didn't hear me.”

Hermione scowled at him. “You know how I get when I'm reading.”

Harry raised a hand to her face and brushed away a stray hair that had fallen out of her ponytail. “I know. I didn't
mean to startle you.” He leaned in and pressed his lips gently against hers in apology.

Hermione's face softened as she took his hands, weaving her fingers through his. “You're late, I was starting to get
worried about you.”

Harry rested his forehead on hers and closed his eyes. “I'm sorry, I was going to owl but never got a chance. It's been
a long day.”

Hermione squeezed his fingers and moved her head so she could kiss him properly. Harry let himself fall into her,
revelling in the feel of her warm, soft lips and her tongue sliding against his. When she finally let him go so they
could both breathe, Harry smiled, his first genuine smile since he'd left home for work that morning.

“I'm so glad you're home,” Hermione said, beaming back at him. “I made us pumpkin soup and crusty bread for dinner.” She
kissed him briefly one more time and then let his hands go. “I even made you dessert. Banoffee pie.”

Harry's mouth was already watering. “You do spoil me.” He plopped himself down in the cosy breakfast nook. “Glass of
wine?”

“Oooh, yes please.”

Harry waved his wand and two glasses flew out of an overhead cupboard as the silver fridge door opened and a bottle of
expensive white wine came hurtling out of it. They met in mid air, the glasses keeping still as the bottle was upended
and the liquid poured out as though by an invisible hand. One glass then came to rest in front of Harry, the other going
to Hermione as the wine flew back to its place in the fridge door. Sometimes, Harry found, magic was extremely handy.

He sipped at his drink as Hermione asked him about his day. “I'd rather you tell me about yours,” he said, and Hermione
raised her eyebrows at him before deciding to let it go, launching into a detailed account of the day's events. Harry
tried hard to concentrate on what Hermione was saying, but found himself zoning in and out as she spoke.

“—Malfoy and I finally got the paperwork in the McGregor case, even though he's been in Azkaban for three months now— ”

He noted the mention of Draco Malfoy, who happened to be Hermione's partner. Hermione had landed a job at the Ministry
of Magic in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and nobody had been pleased when she'd
been assigned none other than Malfoy as her partner (least of all Malfoy himself, who had sworn the Ministry was
punishing him by putting him in that department). To everyone's surprise, though, they'd worked extremely well together
and, when their initial two year assignment as partners was up, neither of them had requested reassignment. Ever since
he and Hermione had finally succumbed to their feelings for each other at the beginning of the year and begun dating,
Harry had disliked it even more than he had before, but Hermione had reassured him on more than one occasion that Draco
Malfoy was actually quite all right to work with and if he did anything to annoy her, she would cast a Bat-Bogey hex on
him, one he was familiar with thanks to Ginny Weasley.

“—So we decided to celebrate by shagging on Malfoy's desk.”

“That's nice, love,” Harry said automatically. It took a few seconds before Hermione's words actually penetrated his
brain and he abruptly looked up at her. “You what?”

Hermione laughed. “You're not listening to a thing I'm saying, are you?”

Harry nodded automatically and then said, “No.”

She came over to where he sat and kissed his forehead, wrapping him in an embrace. “Why don't you read the paper while I
finish getting dinner ready, then you can relax afterwards.”

Harry breathed out deeply. “Sounds wonderful,” he admitted. He could have just summoned the paper, but slid out the nook
and went over to Hermione instead, kissing her neck. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear.

Hermione turned and flung her arms around his neck, holding him closely. “I love you too, Harry.”

~*~

Three weeks before Christmas

Harry shouldn't have been amazed by the scores of people who bustled about Diagon Alley, given that it was only three
weeks before Christmas, but he was anyway. He'd already had his foot stepped on at least half a dozen times by people
trying to squeeze past him because he obviously wasn't walking fast enough. Reaching into his robe pocket and pulling
out a small scrap of parchment, Harry studied his shopping list. He thankfully only had a few more things to pick up
before he could leave.

Despite the busyness, Diagon Alley was quite the sight to behold at Christmas time. All the shop windows were
colourfully dressed for the season; some of the animals at Magical Menagerie wore Christmas bows, while others had green
and red ribbons on their cages; Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions had Christmas-themed robes on display; and George
and Ron had gone all out for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Harry grinned at his friends' shop and went inside to see if he
could talk to Ron, but the shop was flat out with customers eager to snap up the newly released Christmas range of
products, which included Malicious Mistletoe (which sealed shut the mouth of the buyer's object of affection until they
were kissed by the unfortunate victim) and Blasting Baubles (which, when touched, would explode and shower the Christmas
tree with hundreds of tiny, multicolour shooting stars). Harry managed to chat long enough with his best friend to get
Ron's assurance that yes, he would be at their place for brunch on Saturday, before Ron was called back to work. George
smacked Harry's back affectionately in greeting as he passed, and shoved a few Patented Daydream Charms into his hand.

He left the shop and made his way to Flourish and Blotts, where he picked up half a dozen books that he knew Hermione
wanted to read. After shrinking the gaily wrapped package and putting it into his pocket, he wandered around a few more
stores to see if anything else caught his eye, but nothing did so he headed home to place the last of Hermione's
presents under the tree. He'd already put a hat, scarf and mitten set she'd admired under there, as well as some vanilla
and strawberry soap she loved and a rather sexy bra and pair of knickers he knew he'd enjoy taking off her even more
than seeing her in.

There was one present, however, that wasn't under the tree. It was safely tucked away in his sock drawer. A small blue
box that held a simple yet elegantly designed diamond ring. A ring Harry hoped Hermione would consent to wearing on her
left hand, after she agreed to marry him.

Marry him. Become his wife. Be known as Mrs. Potter.

Harry had been trying to find the right time to ask, but such a time had yet to present itself. So he waited, and hoped.

~*~

Two weeks before Christmas

“Do you want me to keep you some leftovers for dinner tomorrow night?”

Harry looked up from his newspaper and frowned. “Why, where are you going?”

Hermione sighed. “I already told you last week, Harry. Draco is taking me out for dinner tomorrow night.”

Harry couldn't help the scowl that appeared. “Why?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Oh, honestly!” Hermione said, the annoyed tone in her voice hard to miss. “Because it's Christmas, in case you'd
forgotten. Because he's my partner and he wants to buy me dinner. Besides, it'll be an excellent opportunity for me to
give him his present.”

Harry fought very hard to stop himself twitching. “You got him a present?” He kept his tone neutral.

“Yes, I did,” she answered crossly, slamming the oven door shut with her foot. “I got him one of those lovely silver and
green quills from Scribbulus Everchanging Inks. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, Hermione,” he said, sighing. Try as he might, he still didn't like the idea of Hermione's partner being Draco
Malfoy, but he did acknowledge that he was being a little irrational. Even if he kept it to himself. “No, it's fine. I'm
sure he'll take you somewhere nice and you'll have an excellent meal.”

Hermione glanced over at him and put down the dish she'd taken out of the oven, all of her ire gone. She went over to
where Harry sat and he pushed his chair back. She sat on his lap, smoothing some errant hair away from his forehead. “I
know you don't like Draco, but he's a good partner, Harry. We work well together.”

“I know you do. I'll owl Ron and see if he wants to go to the pub tomorrow.”

Hermione kissed his forehead. “That's a great idea.”

The next night Harry sat with Ron at their favourite haunt, enjoying a good meal and some lager. Harry chose to have
roast beef wrapped in a Yorkshire pudding, while Ron went for a chicken, ham and leek pie. They fell into easy
conversation as they ate, and it was while they were waiting for dessert that Ron finally asked what had been on his
mind all night.

“So, are you going to tell me why you wanted to have dinner with me, or are you going to just look forlorn for the
entire evening?”

Harry, who had been cradling his lager, pushed his glasses up his nose, his surprise obvious. “I'm sorry, I didn't
realise—”

“Mate, you don't have to apologise,” Ron said softly. “I know you better than most people, so it's plainly obvious to
me. You want to talk about it?”

Dessert arrived just then, so they waited until the waitress was gone before Harry said anything. He pushed his sticky
toffee pudding around the bowl for a few moments. “Hermione's having dinner with Malfoy tonight.”

Ron raised his eyebrows. “What for?”

Harry shrugged. “He wanted to buy her dinner because it's Christmas, or something.”

Ron eyed him shrewdly, his blue eyes sympathetic. “That's not what's really bothering you though, is it?”

Harry sometimes wondered if it was a blessing or a curse that Ron could read him so well. “I'm…” he trailed off, taking
a deep breath. “I'm nervous.”

“About what?”

“I want to ask Hermione to marry me.”

Ron's face split into a grin. “That's great!” He reached over and clapped Harry on the shoulder. “About time you got
your act together, mate. This one's for keeps, anyone can see it.”

“You mean that?”

“Of course I mean that. Why wouldn't I?”

Harry gestured nervously with his spoon. “You and Hermione have history.”

“Ancient,” Ron said with a laugh. “If it had been meant to work out between us, it would have. I love Hermione, you know
that, and I always will. But I love you, too, and I can see how happy you make each other. I think you'd be crazy not to
marry her.”

Hearing those words meant a great deal to Harry; although he didn't need Ron's blessing, he wanted it. “That means a lot
to me, you know.”

“I know.” Ron cocked his head to the side and studied his best friend. “You're not nervous about her answer, are you?”

Harry closed his eyes briefly, but they snapped open again when he heard the sound of Ron's laughter. “It's not funny!”

“Come on, mate, you can't be serious!”

Harry grinned, in spite of himself. “No, I'm Harry.”

“Wanker.” Ron picked up a strawberry off his plate and threw it at Harry, and it bounced right off his scar and onto the
floor.

“You're such a child.”

“And you're an idiot if you're letting that bother you. Ha!” Ron actually snorted at him. “There's no way she'd say no.
None whatsoever.”

“You mean that?”

Something in Harry's tone got to Ron, and he sobered immediately. “I mean it. Anyone with a pair of eyes can see that
she's completely head over heels in love with you, Harry, as you are with her. Stop worrying, mate,” Ron said in a
gentle tone. “Just ask her.”

~*~

One week before Christmas

Harry and Hermione were sitting on their living room table that had been transfigured into a large, comfortable
mattress. Facing each other, cross-legged and in their pyjamas, they wrapped the last of their presents for others the
Muggle way and placed them under the tree after tags had been written on. Harry had been amused to note that he was
signing his tags, “With love from Hermione and Harry”, whereas she had been putting, “With love from Harry and
Hermione.” Whatever way it was written, he secretly loved seeing their names together.

He put a present for Bill and Fleur's son - a toy dragon that breathed real but painless fire - under the tree, then
studied Hermione as she expertly wrapped Ron's Chudley Cannons season tickets. Her hair had been pulled back into a
manageable plait, and her pink and blue pyjamas with books that flew to and fro on them were a size too big, as she
liked wearing them loose. If you looked closely, you could see the smattering of freckles on her face. Hermione would
never be called a great beauty in a classic sense, but she was beautiful to Harry. He drank his fill of her as she cut
Spellotape and finished up Ron's gift, placing it under the tree.

“You're staring,” she said with her back to him.

“You're beautiful.”

Hermione turned back around and beamed at him. “You have to say that, you're my boyfriend.”

“Good thing it's true anyway.”

She leaned across the distance between them, her weight on her arms, and kissed him until he was breathless. “Flattery
will get you everywhere.”

Desire stirred inside Harry as he peered down her top, gaping open in front of him to give him a clear view of her
breasts. “Are we done with the presents? Because there's something I'd very much like to unwrap.”

Hermione just kissed in him response and hooked her finger in the top of his pyjamas, pulling him down on top of her.

Quite some time later, Hermione was snuggled up next to Harry. The fire and some warming charms meant they only needed a
lightweight blanket, and she'd pulled it up far enough to just cover her breasts. Neither of them had been bothered to
put their pyjamas back on, and Harry took the opportunity to lose himself in the feel of Hermione's naked body wrapped
around his.

They lay there together underneath the Christmas tree for quite some time in a comfortable silence. Harry stared up at
the tree and watched the lights as they continually changed colours. He ran a hand up and down Hermione's back lightly;
she had tucked her head into the curve of his neck, resting on his shoulder.

It occurred to Harry that now was as good a time as any, so he reached for his wand and silently summoned the ring. It
came hurtling through the air and smacked into his palm. “Sweetheart, can I ask you something?” There was total silence.
“Hermione?”

He shifted just far enough so he could see her face and found that Hermione was totally and blissfully asleep. Harry
didn't have the heart to wake her, so instead he watched her sleep for awhile, content to see her so peaceful in
slumber.

~*~

Christmas Eve

It was later than expected when they Apparated back into their living room. It had been snowing at Godric's Hollow,
where they had gone on their annual pilgrimage to James and Lily Potter's grave. Hermione had conjured up her wreath of
Christmas roses, which they had placed on the cold, white ground, and she'd clung to his hand as he'd spoken to his
parents.

Shaking off their coats, scarves, mittens and hats, they put them away and took off their boots. Standing in front of
the fire, Hermione held her hands out to warm them by the flames that almost leapt out to kiss her skin. Harry, who was
standing next to her, turned his head to say something, but his voice died in his throat when he looked at her and
realised that this was it. This was the right moment. Seeing his parents' grave had affected him, as it always did, and
it made him realise that he should honour the sacrifice they'd made for him and fully embrace his life. And he didn't
want to live that life without Hermione Granger in it.

So without any fanfare, Harry Potter took the small blue box out of his pocket, clasped Hermione's hand in his own, and
got down on one knee in front of her. It wasn't until he was on his knee that Hermione realised what was happening. She
turned towards him and gave him her full attention, and Harry could see the tears that were welling up in her eyes
through the smile she beamed at him.

“I love you, Hermione,” he said, his voice soft. “I don't know a whole lot about my parents, but I do know that they
made each other happy. And you make me happier than I ever thought it possible to be. Will you marry me?”

And as soon as he said the words, Harry realised it hadn't been so hard after all.

“Yes,” Hermione answered without hesitation. She pulled him to his feet and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him
enthusiastically. He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her tightly against him as their kiss deepened, and
neither of them made any attempt to pull back for a good minute.

Hermione pulled her head back far enough to look at him, her breathing quick and shallow, as Harry opened the box and
took the ring out. “Oh, Harry,” she said, her voice full of wonder. “It's absolutely beautiful.” And it fit perfectly as
she held out a slightly shaky hand and Harry slid it into place on her finger. He brought her hand up to his lips and
kissed it.

It was shaping up to be their best Christmas yet... the first of what Harry hoped would be many to come.

-->
