Escape ↣ Harmione

Chapter Fifty

Chapter 50 - Betrothal

Harry took a breath of the sharp cold air in through his nose. He reminded himself that he had been sorted into the house of the brave, and it wasn't just because of his entanglement with a psychotic wizard. That he was nearly sorted into the house of the ambitious and resourceful, and he did not embrace everything about Slytherin, those were two traits he could use.

He stole a glance at Hermione who walked at his side, arm threaded through his as they meandered through the park. The sunshine on her hair caused golden highlights to flash in the curls escaping from beneath her knitted hat. He loved her. It was the warm feeling in his chest that kept him going when he didn't know how to. He couldn't imagine his life without her and didn't want to.

The park was doing him proud. The trees were a riot of vibrant reds, golds, and greens as they flaunted their autumn colours. The sun wasn't warm but it made everything seem crisper, brighter, and he felt like he could see colours he hadn't ever perceived before.

The duck pond was quiet, the shouts of children playing on the wide grassy areas were softened by the trees, a flock of ducks still swam out on the pond. They stepped up onto the ornate stone bridge spanning the pond and stopped at the peak of it.

He took another deep breath. Romantic location, check. Happy, contented girlfriend that had been taken for a nicer than normal lunch and let loose on a bookshop for an uninterrupted hour, check. He hadn't done anything stupid in the last twenty-four hours that she might suddenly remember, so he was probably ahead on points. Another breath in steadied his nerves, and he turned to face her.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?" she replied not taking her eyes from the milling ducks. "We should have brought bread."

"Uh, yeah. We can come back if you like," he agreed. He could feel the bead of sweat from between his shoulders under his layers and tugged her hand gently to get her attention. "Hermione," he said again.

She turned to look at him, and something in his face must have given him away because she turned away from the ducks to face him fully. "What is it Harry?" a small frown of concern crinkling her brow.

He swallowed and held her hand between both of his, locking his gaze on hers, refusing to let either of them look away. "You know I love you? And you know that for me, you're it?"

She nodded at the words, concern and worry starting to show on her face. "Harry?" she questioned, but he shook his head indicating her to be quiet.

"I know that what we have in front of us isn't going to be easy, and I'll admit it is a factor, it's not the reason." He sucked a breath in and wondered where all his saliva had gone. "Would you. Will you marry me?" he hurried on before she could form words, wanting to get everything out. "Not tomorrow, or next month, but will you marry me when you are ready? When you've done everything you want to do? Will you? Would you consent to give me that promise?"

He stopped, and waited, something in his head telling him to shut up before he made a mess of it and he watched her face. The way he could see her think about what he said. The way her eyes got a little moister than they had been from the cold wind, and the way she blinked quickly to stop the moisture escaping as tears.

Her lips started to frame her answer, and then they stopped. He saw her register where they were, the day they had spent together, and the sudden gleam as she understood he'd planned this and it hadn't been a spur of the moment thing. Something in her eyes changed then, and he was suddenly enveloped in a tight hug, her curls smothering him. Without being able to help himself he buried his nose in them, breathing in the scent of her. She pulled away slightly, and the tears had fallen making tracks down her face. She sniffed.