The air in Hogsmeade was crisp — tinged with the early promise of autumn — golden leaves swirling down narrow cobbled streets as Hermione and Draco walked hand in hand.
It had been years since they'd come here together like this. No disguises. No rushing. No tension in their shoulders. Just time.
"Still smells like Honeydukes and roasted chestnuts," Hermione murmured, her fingers laced through his.
"Still reminds me of freezing my arse off in fourth year," Draco said with a grin. "Except now I get to keep warm with you."
She rolled her eyes, but smiled anyway.
They wandered the village slowly — browsing the shelves of Tomes & Scrolls, sipping butterbeer from mismatched mugs at the Three Broomsticks, laughing over silly trinkets at Zonko's. A few students had waved. A couple even whispered. But no one stared anymore.
They were just them now. Not Malfoy and Granger. Not enemies. Not war-scarred legends.
Just Hermione and Draco.
As twilight fell and the gas lamps flickered on, he steered her away from the village center toward a quieter trail — one that wound behind the shops and toward a wide hill overlooking the lake.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"Just a little further."
They stopped at the top, breath misting in the cooling air. The view was stunning — warm orange fading into indigo skies, the lake shimmering beneath it like melted silver.
Hermione sighed. "It's beautiful."
Draco didn't respond right away.
When she turned, he was already on one knee.
Time stopped.
The breeze stilled. The air went quiet. Even the rustling leaves seemed to pause.
Draco looked up at her with eyes that were nothing like the boy she'd once known — but everything like the man she'd grown to love.
"Granger," he said softly, his voice shaking slightly, "I waited far too long to call you that without venom. And even longer to call you mine without shame."
Hermione's breath caught.
"You have rebuilt me, piece by piece," he said. "You gave our daughter the world and never stopped fighting for it — even when it spat on your name. Even when you didn't have anything left to give."
His voice cracked.
"And I… I never thought I would love someone so fiercely it made me want to be better every day. But here you are. And here I am."
From his coat pocket, he pulled a small velvet box — charmed not to freeze in the chill — and opened it.
Inside was a delicate gold ring, shaped like a laurel leaf wrapped in a circle, with a tiny diamond at its stem. Simple. Timeless.
"Will you finally, finally, marry me?"
Hermione's hand flew to her mouth, tears springing to her eyes.
"You idiot," she choked out. "Of course I will."
He stood up, and she flung her arms around him. They kissed as the stars began to bloom overhead.
It wasn't a perfect fairytale.
It was better.
Because they'd earned it.