It was a horrible day outside. It was one of those grey, dull days that made the British such tired, miserable, sarcastic creatures. One of those days when the skies were dark and grey and the rain beat down unrelentingly, monotonously beating against the windows and trying to lull you to sleep. People outside rush around like headless chickens to get out of the wet while other people stand in doorways for ages hoping that it would ‘ease off’ all the while knowing that they’re in for a long wait. Some more kamikaze sorts (those ‘gung-ho’ sorts the British are so proud of) just barrel out into the rain, walking down the street as if nothing was wrong. In a school playground somewhere a child is being told off by the dinner ladies for going out in the rain. She is told that ‘she’ll catch her death’. She replies that she doesn’t mind- when she’s sick her dad does her a tin of spaghetti shapes. Somewhere, a man drives exactly the same as always, unconcerned that the roads are slippery. Somewhere, a train is halted (delay: twenty minutes) because British trains aren’t equipped to deal with bad weather. And there are leaves on the line. And somewhere, a young man is staring at a young woman. The only way he’d notice the weather is if the river nearby broke its banks and he found himself wading through his kitchen.

Harry looked over at Hermione. She was, as usual, engrossed in the printed word. This time it was the newspaper and she didn’t even stop reading to eat her lunch. Today was her day off and it showed. Instead of the usual smart suit she wore into work, she was wearing a pair of old jeans and a slightly old Gryffindor Quidditch team t-shirt. Her hair was pulled back loosely into a ponytail and her lips were curled up as she read something particularly amusing. Her bare feet were up on the chair beside her and it was all he could to restrain himself from leaning over and tickling them.

It was a horrible day outside. It was one of those grey, dull days that made the British such tired, miserable, sarcastic creatures. Yet it didn’t seem to affect Hermione in the slightest as she read her newspaper, giggling over the latest bad-taste stunt from the Beckhams. Harry smiled: he loved that Hermione was determined to keep abreast of news in both the Muggle and magical worlds. If Hermione had her way, the two would be integrated again in perfect harmony. In her own mind, they already were.

Harry didn’t have the same luxury. To him, the Dursleys represented the Muggle world. Although he still had some links with the Muggle world, he wouldn’t call it home. He had only ever felt that he belonged with magical people. Perhaps if some Muggles were to prove him wrong, he wouldn’t mind. But the fact was, to him the Muggle world was grey and dull and the magical world was full of colour.

That said, he’d follow Hermione wherever she went, even if it meant leaving behind magic forever. To him, Hermione was magic. Hermione was the goddess he worshipped and the girl he loved. Hermione was The Reason. He had fought Voldemort for many reasons but when it came to the crunch, he did it to keep Hermione safe. He wanted her to live a fear-free life and so he fought to win. When he did triumph over the Dark Lord, he turned to Hermione to celebrate and recover.

“Hermione?” he asked. Her eyes flickered from the paper to his face briefly.

“Yes?” she replied, turning the page. He took her hand in his and looked into her eyes. He took a deep breath and asked her what was really on his mind.

“Will you marry me?” he asked with what he hoped was a particularly dashing smile. She said nothing and instead turned the next page.

“Harry, you asked me that yesterday. And the day before. And every day for the last week. Last week I said yes. Yesterday I said yes.”

“Yes, but will you marry me?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed. He grinned impishly.

“Good. Just checking.”

Hermione smiled. Of course the answer was yes. It was a horrible day outside. It was one of those grey, dull days that made the British such tired, miserable, sarcastic creatures. But if there was anything that could make her day bright, it was the sight of Harry Potter sitting opposite her.

All lyrics from ‘Love Me Tender’ by Elvis Presley. (Words and music: Matson/Presley)