Twenty-three-year-old Ron Weasley sighed and looked up from his paperwork for what must have been the fiftieth time that afternoon. All-in-all, he thoroughly enjoyed working with George at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, but somehow, whenever it was time for taxes to be paid, it was he who was stuck going through the several boxes of receipts. It was especially hard to concentrate on this particular afternoon because he had just spent the majority of his lunch hour with Hermione having lunch in a muggle café that was a favorite of hers. The part of his lunch hour that was not with Hermione had been spent in the new jewelry story in Diagon Alley, examining their single-stone rings….

Deciding that thinking about earlier events of the day was not getting his work done, he looked down at the next receipt (two extendable ears and one love potion, most likely purchased by a young witch from Hogwarts) and began to copy down how much money they had received. Ron smiled as he thought that this little voice in his head sounded remarkably like Hermione's, and proceeded to look up from his work yet again and stare into the picture of her on his desk. Over the years, Hermione's bushy brown hair had lost some of its old frizz and became more of a cascade of stubbornly unruly curls that fell a few inches past her shoulders. In the picture, she was constantly turning around and holding up her hands like she did not want her picture taken, but was grinning and laughing all the same. Her light brown eyes were sparkling as though they were engaged in a conversation with Ron's that only he could understand.

Staring at her picture, Ron absentmindedly took a small, black velvet box out of a drawer of his desk and began to stroke it with is finger, thinking of what it contained. The thought simultaneously thrilled and terrified him. He'd do it next week, Ron decided, when he, Harry, and Hermione would be traveling on the Hogwarts express with the students returning from their Easter holidays to go to the school and give their annual talk to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. No, he hadn't exactly planned out all of the details, but hopefully things would fall into place when he was able to have a couple minutes alone with her when they were in a place where they had spent so many hours of their youth…

"Hey Ron!" Ron was jerked out of his thoughts by the sound of George's voice from the front of the store. "You finished those taxes yet?!"

"Almost!" Ron yelled back, scowling as he dipped his quill and began to attempt to the digits from yet another receipt to the previous count. Math never was his strong point. Maybe Hermione had enjoyed math when she was a kid, she always liked sensible and logical things like that. The only exception, Ron thought to himself, was when she kissed him out of the blue in the middle of the battle of Hogwarts.

Any thoughts or opinions? This is my first "original" writing in a few months, so I'm concerned as to how it turned out. Please review! Praise is always loved and accepted, and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!