Author's Note: The title is like “New Beginnings”, except its “SPEW Beginnings”. Get it?! It's so punny! Bahahaharharr! …sorry.

- - -

Harry waved his wand, revealing to Ron what he had hidden.

“Please tell me you're kidding.” Ron's jaw dropped. “This is a joke, right? You're going to kick me in the jewels any second now and it's not going to hurt because I'm dreaming all this.”

“I'm not kidding,” Harry said excitedly, quickly pulling Ron along towards the large building towering over them. “And it would most definitely hurt.”

“I cannot believe this.”

“Believe it, mate!”

“This can't be real.” Ron insisted again as he stared and was dragged underneath the huge sign over the door. Harry paused a moment and stopped tugging on Ron's arm, accidentally letting his momentum slam his best friend into the crystal-clear double doors of the facility. Barely noticing Ron stagger back to his feet, Harry put down the large cardboard box he was holding and whipped out a camera, snapping a picture of the sign.

“How much is she going to love this?” Harry held out the picture as it slid out of his camera.

In large, shiny black letters trimmed in lustrous gold the sign boasted, “INTERNATIONAL S.P.E.W. HEADQUARTERS.”

“Okay, let's go,” Harry said, not even giving Ron time to rub at his sore nose. They entered past the vestibule and into a simple but elegant atrium with a 6 foot statue of Dobby the House Elf standing proudly at the center. No one had intended for Dobby to become the unofficial mascot for the organization, but there was no question that he was one of the biggest influences. The elf had no problem with it, though, being so flattered and gracious that he would have flung himself off a bridge had Harry not pulled him out of the air by his ankles.

Ron dropped the wine bottle he had been carrying. “Oi, Harry! Merlin, would you just slow down for one second?”

“Slow down?! We haven't even decorated her office yet! She'll be here in one hour!”

Ron grunted as he stooped to pick up the bottle. “Okay, Harry? It's nice of you to take Hermione's little `hobby' out of her teeny, dusty office in the Ministry, but don't you think it's enough that you built her a huge-ass office building? You have to throw her a party in it too?”

“It's not going to be a party,” Harry said as he led Ron down the hall. Its shiny floors squeaked against their sneakers and their reflection gleamed back at them from the golden trim on the edges of the walls. Harry held his arm out to stop Ron and he pushed a small yellow button in the wall. It lit up and a door opened before them.

“What's this?” Ron wondered as they stepped inside. “A really fancy broom closet?”

“A lift. Like the one in the Ministry.”

“Cool, how'd you manage to get one of these?”

“Made it myself,” Harry said triumphantly.

“What kind of magic is this?”

“Fred and George used the same charm to lift Percy's new house into that tree.”

“Oh, yeah.” Ron grinned. Good times.

Harry pushed the golden button with a deep red “5” emblazoned in it. Immediately the lift began to move.

“Bloody hell!” Ron dropped the wine bottle again and braced himself on his hands and knees. The lift seemed to be skyrocketing at supersonic speeds and Ron practically felt his cheeks flapping in the zero gravity. He tried to dig his fingers into the floor, grasping it tightly for all that was good and holy. Harry didn't seem to notice, tapping his foot impatiently as if that would speed the lift up.

Ding! The elevator stopped with a jerk, causing Ron to flatten his face into the floor, and the mirrored doors opened. Harry looked at him, as if just noticing his best friend was hyperventilating into the linoleum.

“Oh, yeah, the lift still needs a bit of work.” Harry took Ron by his trembling hand and pulled him down the left side of the hallway. The first door on his right, room 501, was partly ajar.

“Is this were the party is going to be?” Ron wondered, finally catching his breath as Harry pushed it open and dragged Ron inside.

“I told you, Ron, it isn't a party! It's just you, me, and…Hermione.” Harry set down his box and Ron put the bottle of wine on the polished mahogany desk. The office was very large and housed two ridiculously massive bookcases that would have put Hogwarts Library bookshelves to shame. Ron looked closer and found that all the books had been magically thinned to fit more on each shelf. He stared at Harry, wondering if he had finally gone completely insane. The boy had been dating for Hermione for a while; it was bound to happen sooner or later.

The desk itself was large as well, big enough for almost four people to sit comfortably. It was lined with color-coded desk drawers that had blank label holders, presumably for Hermione to fill in herself. Even Ron knew Hermione enjoyed anal and bothersome things like that. She had such a grand time labeling their mailboxes at their respective flats, using special engraving charms that she invented herself, that Ron had suggested she see a therapist. Hermione had suggested he shut his mouth unless he wanted to wake up crippled and nose-less the next morning.

Behind the desk was a large leather chair that Ron made himself comfortable in.

“Wow, Harry. This is like rubbing a cloud on my arse.”

“Um, okay?”

Ron wiggled a bit, to get the full experience of the chair. Harry shot him a dirty look.

“What are you - get the hell up off her chair. I don't want your freckly ass-prints all over it.”

Ron removed himself from the desk chair and inspected the office some more. On the walls hung several pictures of Hermione, themselves, and their other friends and her family. A framed picture of Hogwarts hung above the window, which looked out on the Muggle streets of London, since the new S.P.E.W. Headquarters was invisible to the Muggle eye. To them, it appeared to be a locked apartment building and garage.

“What the…?” Ron pointed at the random picture of a flower nearby. It was pink.

Harry looked up from unpacking streamers from his box. “Oh. Yeah. Hermione's a girl, so I figured there should be a picture of a flower.”

“I admire your reasoning skills.”

“Thanks.”

Ron eyed the balloons Harry was filling with air using his wand. “Not a party, huh?”

“Seriously, Ron. It's just us three. Oh, and Luna.”

“Luna?!”

“Luna Lovegood.” Harry got up and walked over to the desk. There was a small black button next to the golden eagle quill and inkwell. He pushed it. “Luna, can you come in here one moment?”

Ron stared incredulously at the little black button and then at the door as Luna Lovegood walked in, dressed in a neon green sweater vest and a dress shirt printed with chickens and cows. Her skirt was so bright red that Ron, who came from a generations and generations of obscenely red hair, had to squint.

“Hello, Harry. Hello, Ronald. You called?”

Harry grinned at Ron. “Luna agreed to be Hermione's part-time assistant and secretary.”

Luna nodded as she picked up Hermione's shiny nameplate from her desk and inspected it.

“My father is putting my column on hiatus, since his discovery of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack is going to be taking up the next few issues,” she explained. “When I get it back, though, I think I'll stick around anyway. My office here is quite nice and full of euphorious ephrogenitisinists.” She put the nameplate down, having confirmed it free of whatever imaginary creature she had been looking for.

Harry and Ron shared a look that Luna dismissed entirely. “Do you need help with those decorations?” she asked eagerly.

“Sure, Ron's no help.” Harry handed Luna a roll of crepe paper. She promptly tucked one end into her skirt and began to wrap the paper around her. Harry and Ron just stared.

“I think Hermione's going to love her new secretary,” Ron said dryly. Luna giggled graciously. She and Hermione had always had an interesting relationship.

“Well, I'm not all gushy, fluffy boyfriend,” Harry grinned cheekily. “I do have a sense of humor.”

“Okay, so we're decorating her office with party decorations and we have wine but this isn't a party,” Ron said skeptically. He sniffled, mildly allergic to something in the room, and noticed a spare napkin in the box. He blew his nose loudly, causing Luna to giggle some more. Harry looked horrified for about a split second, but then looked away. Ron wondered what that was all about but Harry didn't look like he wanted to talk about it.

“What's wrong, Harry?” Luna asked.

“Leave the boy alone, Luna,” Ron insisted. Luna's dreamy expression faltered a bit as she took offense.

“The girls were right, you do have the emotional range of a teaspoon,” Luna said thoughtfully, simply making an observation.

“Anyway…I just want it to be a little festive,” Harry said quickly. “Maybe it is a little bit party-ish, but - ”

“Hang on, then! Let me invite more people!” Ron started for the marble fireplace Harry had installed on the right wall and stuck his hand into the polished stone bowl on its mantle for the Floo Powder.

“No! This is, um, this is kind of a personal…gathering,” Harry said slowly.

“I'm honored!” Luna exclaimed as she wedged balloons in between the shelves of the bookcases.

Ron looked at Harry curiously.

“I couldn't just ask her to leave,” Harry whispered. “She was so excited about her own bloody office. Plus, she helped me a bit with…something…last week.”

“With what?”

Harry blushed and looked down.

“Okay, whatever. But why is this such a `personal gathering?' What are you going to do, propose to Hermione?” Ron joked.

Harry blushed darker.

“What?”

“Ron - “

“MERLIN'S BALLS!!”

“Ron, please - “

“YOU'RE GOING TO - !?“

“Hey, Harry!” Luna called, waving a red balloon around from her perch on top of one of the bookcases. Her head was scraping at the ceiling. “Have you got that ring we picked out?”

Ron turned on Harry. “You let Luna pick out a ring for Hermione?!”

“The only other girl that knows Hermione well enough is your sister, and she's off boinking Neville on a hammock somewhere in the Caribbean!”

“I hate you,” Ron sniffed, unpacking the glasses Harry had brought along for the wine. That was an image he could have lived without. He firmly believed that his sister and her new husband planned on playing chess and eating at Chinese buffets for the entire duration of their honeymoon. Nothing else. Ginny and Neville Didn't Do Stuff And Kept Their Clothes On At All Times. That was his life's cardinal rule. “Well, let's see the ring, then. It's not alive, is it? It hasn't got anything weird like little nargle-people trapped in the rock, right?”

“The nargles don't live in precious stones,” Luna said dreamily, starting to climb down from the bookcase. “Though it would be quite wonderful if they did…”

Ron turned on Harry in disbelief, just as Luna began to magic Hermione's name into the ceiling in floating blue letters. “Bloody hell, Hermione is going to kill you,” he hissed. “I could have helped you!”

“Right. Like Hermione would like a big Snitch or Quaffle on her ring.” Harry rolled his eyes.

“I'd quite like a snitch on my engagement ring.” Ron and Harry jumped as Luna came up behind them without their noticing, still wrapped in crepe paper. “It could flutter a bit as well. Maybe my fiancé would just let it flutter right onto my finger.”

Neither boys knew quite what to say about that, so Harry just pulled a small black box from his pocket and opened it up, revealing Hermione's engagement ring.

Ron whistled. The moderately sized diamond sat on a simple platinum band with a light design etched into it. For all Ron knew, it was some ancient rune or something else Hermione liked to drool over. Besides that, there was nothing particularly remarkable about it, and Ron knew Harry had done that purposely. Hermione never was one to flaunt her jewelry. In fact, the only other piece of jewelry she wore often was Ravenclaw's bracelet, a deactivated horcrux Harry had given her. But Harry was right. Ron didn't know anything else about the ring besides the fact that it was really, really shiny and if he was a girl he would definitely want one of those. He kept those thoughts to himself, though.

“Isn't it pretty?” Luna gushed. “It's got Jumarga's bounes all over it!”

Choosing to ignore that comment, they set about once again hanging decorations from the ceiling and Harry enchanted confetti to flutter down when Hermione set foot in the room.

“I wonder, who's going to bring Hermione in here?” Luna asked suddenly as she sprinkled silver dust in Ron's hair. Ron, who was decorating the window, tried to shake away. “Stop moving, Ronald! Don't you know how to decorate?”

Harry snickered as he inflated more balloons. “Oh, Hermione's going to get here on her own. I've got the building charmed so it looks like a regular Muggle building. In about half an hour I'm going to meet her outside. Then, off comes the charm and out comes this.” He tossed the little black box in the air and caught it.

“But what happens if Hermione comes early?” Luna asked more insistently.

“She's right, mate. Hermione does like to get places early,” Ron said worriedly.

Suddenly confetti began to fall from the ceiling.

Harry and Ron froze.

“Yes, I do.”

Harry and Ron swiveled around in surprise. Luna, who had been facing the door all along, smiled and waved from the stepstool she was using to reach Ron's head.

“Hello, Hermione!” Luna called. “I wasn't sure if I was allowed to say anything. I thought maybe it was a game.”

Harry and Ron glared at Luna, who merely hopped off the stepladder, stood on one foot, and raised both her arms in the air.

“Surprise!” she cried happily, looking utterly ridiculous wrapped in purple with rainbow streamers protruding from her head. Harry and Ron looked at Hermione sheepishly, Ron shoving hands in his pockets and Harry accidentally letting his balloon go. It flew around the room in dizzying circles until it landed flat on the desk.

“Yeah, surprise,” Ron said, not quite as excitedly as Luna.

“Uh, surprise,” Harry chimed in. “Uhhh…How'd you know which room we were in?”

Hermione put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at him. “There's a plaque in the lobby that says `Hermione Granger, Room 501.'”

“Oh. Right,” Harry said. That had obviously slipped his mind during the planning stages.

“Um, I've got to use the loo,” Ron said suddenly. He grabbed Luna by the hand. “Come on, Luna.”

“Oh, you silly, I'm not allowed to use the Men's - ahh!” Ron pulled Luna away, but instead of leaving the room, he ducked behind a bookcase and tugged Luna down with him.

“Shhh,” Ron whispered.

“This is called eavesdropping, Ronald,” Luna said, affronted.

“Leave, then.”

Luna looked torn. She started to get up, but knelt back down hesitantly beside Ron. “Well, I can't just leave you here. I saw tons of book fargies while I was putting these balloons in. But I've got natural immunities so - “

“Shhh!” Ron strained to see what was going on, but Hermione's books were packed too tightly. “Luna, can you see?”

Luna stuck her hand into the bookshelf and pulled out a green balloon. She tossed it aside and peered through the hole she had opened up. “Yes, I can.”

- - -

On the other side of the room, Harry was blushing furiously. It wasn't going quite as well as he had initially planned. Then again, when did anything ever go his way? He was Harry-bloody-Potter, and on many occasions he just forgot that the universe hated him simply on principle. Things that did go his way, such as befriending Hermione after nearly being killed by a troll or learning he was good at Quidditch by fighting with Malfoy, were pretty rare. Plus, the events associated were rarely pleasant.

But good things did happen to him, and the clear evidence of that was standing right in front of him, tapping her foot and impatiently waiting for an answer.

“So what am I doing here, in this obviously disguised office building?” Hermione raised an eyebrow. “With my name on the directory sign. And why on earth is there a big golden sculpture of Dobby down there?”

“Uhhh…I was supposed to let you in,” Harry admitted. “I didn't think you would come this early.”

“I always come early.”

“Apparently,” Harry said dryly.

It was embarrassing, how hard he had worked on this perfect moment, and how it was very rapidly blowing up in his face. Harry suddenly felt like an 11-year-old Ron trying to do a Wingardium Levi-oh-sa.

“Well, okay the surprise was effectively ruined, but…here.” Harry took his wand and lifted the charm off the building. “We're going to skip Step One of Operation: Surprise Hermione, which was to unveil the building to you. So um, here's the summary.” He held out the picture he had snapped earlier of the S.P.E.W. Headquarters sign.

Hermione stared. She blinked, rubbed her eyes, and then stared some more. She stared at Harry.

“What…what is…why does this say S.P.E.W. Headquarters?”

Harry chuckled at her shocked expression. “Because this is the new location of the Society for the Protection of Elvish Welfare.”

“Did you…?”

“Build you a five story office building for S.P.E.W, hire Luna as your part-time secretary, organize a surprise, get it ruined, but figure it's still the thought that counts? Yeah.”

“You didn't!” Hermione gasped, tears beginning to well up.

“Sure, I did,” Harry said proudly. If he had learned one thing from being with Hermione for so long, it was that there were good tears and bad tears. He could tell, by experience, that these were of the “good” variety. The kind that used to be so annoying when they were teenagers, but he had come to love and even find endearing as they got older. The kind that meant as soon as she stopped he was in for a well-deserved, hard-earned snogging.

“How…why…oh my God…Harry…” Hermione stared at the nameplate on the desk. “That's my name.”

“Who else's?”

“That's us.” She pointed at the wall at the many pictures hanging.

“Yup.”

“That's…oh, Harry, the books!”

“Only the best!” Harry grinned. Hermione seemed to be in utter disbelief. She had the biggest “pinch me I must be dreaming” look on her face, and Harry beamed in the fact that he was one of the few people that could still astound the well-learned, war-experienced, infinitely-knowledged Hermione Granger.

“There's a chair….and an eagle quill, oh, Harry…”

“That's not even the best part.” Harry's smile widened as he opened the bottom desk drawer and pulled out a picture frame, housing a moving picture. He handed it to Hermione, whose eyes bugged out.

“Oh, my,” she gasped, staring at what she and Harry were doing to each other in the photo. She remembered that night well.

“For those long days at work…”

Hermione blushed. “Well, then this is going to have to go here then…” she replaced it in the top drawer. “I don't want to have to bend all the way over to the bottom drawer every five minutes.”

Harry squirmed, fighting the inappropriate urges that Hermione was no doubt very intentionally drawing out of him. She was a naughty, naughty little witch.

“Oh, Harry…everything is so…so…”

“Good?”

“Perfect!”

“Good.”

“No!” Hermione shook her head, finally wiping the tears from her eyes. “Not good. It's too much, Harry, this must have cost you a fortune. Why did you do this? The office at the Ministry - “

“Was about this big.” Harry held his hands six inches apart. “And smelled like Ron's oldest, rankest pair of socks. After they've been sitting in the sun. On top of a pile of garbage. That Grawp held in between his - ”

“Harry?” Hermione squeaked in a tiny voice, the tears starting again. The good kind. Harry wrapped his arms around the love of his life and she laid her head on his shoulder.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

- - -

“Luna, can I - ?”

“Shhh, Ronald.” Luna shushed him as she peeked through the space where the green balloon had been wedged. Ron tried to squeeze in next to her but she brushed him aside tolerantly.

“Well, at least tell me what's happening,” Ron complained.

“I think Hermione is crying. But it's the happy kind of tears, like when you find out that the other side of your pillow is still fresh and cold so you flip it over and it feels so nice against your cheek.”

Ron stared at her. “Um, okay, so what are they doing now?”

“Hermione said she loved Harry.”

“I heard that. What are they doing?” Ron asked impatiently. This was the biggest moment in his best friends lives, and he wanted to see it. They'd gone through too much, and he'd witnessed way too much, for him not to see this moment. Years and years of unwavering friendship, immature uncertainty, sexual tension, and not to mention the whole bloody war. Ron didn't just see this as the most important moment in their lives. To him, it was his reward for not beating sense into the two of them with a well-aimed Bludger.

“They're hugging real tight. Goodness, now they're kissing. It's like watching the mating of two grindel-gophers. They mate through their oral orifices, you know.”

“Luna, budge over and let me see!” Ron cried anxiously, afraid that he would miss the popping of the question because of Luna's random commentating skills. If she mentioned some kind of Lurgey, he swore, he would -

“Oh my, Harry's got her on the desk now. He might as well, though. This floor reeks of phantom recklomania. You don't want to kiss on a surface like that. Might get Lover's Lurgey…”

“Bloody hell, Luna!” Ron shamelessly tore books from the bookshelf, opening up his own viewing passage. Luna looked mildly surprised at the loud noise for about a split second before returning her gaze on Harry and Hermione. The two of them had gotten up from snogging on the desk and now Harry was holding Hermione's hands.

Then he got down on one knee.

“Whoa,” Ron murmured. This was it.

“I know, I think Hermione has an ink stain on her skirt from that quill,” Luna observed.

“Not that.”

“Oh, I suppose Harry's bending over to wipe the stain away? He should know better. That stain isn't coming off without a good blasting spell.”

- - -

“Harry, what's that?” Hermione asked, almost fearfully as Harry knelt down on his knee and held out the little black box he had been holding the entire time. They both heard two breaths inhale sharply from the bookshelves. Harry was well aware that they had an audience, and while he did want everything to turn out a little differently, he knew he wanted his best friends - his family - to be there.

“Hermione, I love you. I love you more than anything else in the world and…well, I suck at words. You know that, and that's what I love. You know me better than anyone else. You know what I want, what I need, and what I should be doing even if I'm too stupid to know myself.”

He opened the box, revealing the small platinum ring set in the white satin. Hermione was practically bawling now, distracting Harry just a little, but Harry blundered on, hoping what was coming out of his mouth was at least a little romantic.

“Um, it's unfathomable how much I love you. It's like…humanly impossible to comprehend…and…well…put into words. Not even Shakespeare, Elizabeth Barret Browning, Catullus, Sappho, or those Shi jing Anthology guys could have ever hoped to write something like the way I feel about you.”

Hermione sniffed, the tears stopping temporarily as she stopped to ponder where Harry had learned about all those poets.

“I, uh, needed help and I used the internet to find love poems,” Harry explained.

“Ohh,” Hermione giggled a bit.

“But trust me, none of them were good enough. Look, okay, I don't know any nicer or more romantic way to say this,” Harry admitted. “I had a speech memorized but I can't remember it at all anymore. I had it written on a napkin just in case, but Ron blew his nose on it.”

They heard Ron and Luna gasp from wherever they were hiding.

Hermione laughed, the sound coming out more like a sob. She was crying again. Harry felt his bravery weaken.

“You walked into the room and all the thoughts just fell out of my head like horde of sprayed doxies. And to be honest, you're not making it any easier. If you don't stop crying I think I might actually start to tear up a bit as well - “

Hermione pulled Harry up from his one knee.

“Harry, I love you more than you will ever know,” Hermione said quietly.

Harry gaped at her for a moment and then laughed weakly. “Well, if I'd have known that's all I had to say…”

“I don't need fancy words, or a fancy office,” Hermione whispered. “You don't need to give me anything for me to want to marry you.”

Harry wrapped her in his arms tightly and Hermione buried her face in his neck. “Though all that nice stuff plus the really pretty ring don't hurt.”

Harry laughed. “So you're saying…”

“Of course, you idiot!”

“Sorry, a bloke likes to hear the words, you know!” Harry grinned as he plucked the ring from the box and placed it on Hermione's finger. As it was charmed to do, the bottle of champagne popped itself and it began to fizz up so violently that it tipped over and spilled all over the desk. Harry groaned. Ron was supposed to be holding it, in the original plan. Harry really just wasn't cut out for this planning business.

“It's okay, Harry,” Hermione placed her hand under his chin. “Just kiss me.”

From behind the bookshelves there was a loud whoop and the sound of a balloon popping.

- - -

“ALL RIGHT!” Ron whooped, pumping his fist in the air as Harry did his duty and snogged his new fiancé well and good. His boy had done him proud. Especially that whole love poetry thing. Or the attempt, anyway. Apparently girls were really into that.

He jumped up so suddenly that Luna fell back on top of the green balloon and it popped loudly.

“Sorry,” Ron pulled Luna up. “I was just excited.”

“I know, it is wonderful, isn't it?” Luna said, her light blue eyes glazed over underneath the purple crepe paper. Now that the tension was over and done with, Ron finally found the time to laugh at how ludicrous Luna looked. She seemed nonplussed and instead gave Ron a tight hug. Ron stopped laughing, stunned for a moment.

“You've got very nice eyes, Ronald,” Luna said matter-of-factly. “Did you know they were blue?”

Ron stared. “I guess. My dad's eyes are blue. And my brothers all have blue eyes, except Percy.”

“Well, yours are the nicest,” Luna said sincerely. “I always thought so, even when we were in school.”

“Thanks, uh, you've got a nice…skirt,” Ron pointed. Luna nodded and laughed.

“Thank you! I collect skirts, actually. I much prefer them to trousers. I like a healthy breeze round my privates, you see.”

Ron turned bright red at the confession, but he also couldn't help but remember hearing those words before.

“Luna, what did you say your father's name was again?”

“Archie.”

“Ahh,” Ron nodded. “He likes flowered nighties, doesn't he?”

“Classic Muggle wear,” Luna nodded happily. “He wore his favorite one to the Quidditch World Cup before my third year. It was ruined in the Death Eater raid. He was so upset about that. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Ron laughed. Luna, who seemed a little confused, decided to laugh as well. Ron noticed in spite of himself that her eyes were also blue, and quite nice. They were bright, even brighter when she was laughing. He was always laughing when she was around. She had a knack for putting him in a good mood.

“Say, Luna,” Ron said conversationally as they crawled out from behind the bookshelves. “Have I ever told you that I'm into poetry? Particularly the works of Shakespeare.”

“Who's Shakespeare?” Luna asked. “Oh! Do you mean the famous Klamagi hunter?”

Ron shook his head, smiling widely. Luna was definitely his kind of girl.

“Ron, Luna, come out here!” Hermione called. Ron got to his friends, giving Harry a good hearty pound on the back. Luna hugged Hermione as well.

“Atta boy, mate! Oh, here's your speech. Sorry,” Ron said. He pulled a wadded bit of tissue from his pocket. “Probably can't read it anymore. Not that you would want to, I think I might be coming down with the flu.”

“Thank you for helping Harry set this up,” Hermione said, hugging Ron after Luna released her. She had been keen on inspecting Hermione's hair for something and as much as Hermione liked Luna, she wasn't too interested in hearing about the creatures that lived in her bushy mane. “You're wonderful. And Luna, the both of you.”

“Yeah, well,” Ron shrugged pompously. “Not to toot my own horn…”

“Hey, can you come over here for a minute?” Harry didn't wait for Ron to answer. Instead he took him by the elbow and tugged him aside, back to the ingenious hiding spot behind the bookshelves. “You know, they had the Quidditch rings.”

“What?”

“The store. Not engagement rings. But there were silver rings with tiny golden snitches on them. The wings fluttered and everything,” Harry whispered.

“Okay?”

Harry looked pointedly in the direction of Luna, who was standing still as Hermione patiently unwrapped the purple crepe paper from her body.

“Oh. I'm not sure - “

“Just a suggestion,” Harry winked as he walked back to the girls. “I got my woman. I reckon it's your turn.”

He walked away and rejoined Hermione, his arms going around her waist. Luna looked a bit put out that Hermione had unraveled her, but when she looked at Ron the smile grew back on her face as she waved him over.

“Snitch ring. Hmm,” Ron said softly to himself as he made his way over. “Good to know.”

- - - THE END! - - -

End Note: This was betaread by Amethyst **pimps** Please read and review honestly! And sorry again for the punny title :-\