literature

I Choose You

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Literature Text

I get it. You choose him.

Hermione had never heard Ron say something so untrue. As she ran out into the night after him, screaming his name, all she wanted to do was tell Ron that she did choose him. She always had.

This memory came to Hermione as she lay in her bed, with Ron snoring loudly beside her. The sun was beginning to peek through the blinds of the window, and the room was slowly bathed in golden light.

As she continued to watch Ron sleeping, even more memories came flooding into her mind to complement the one from the Horcrux hunt.

She was in fourth year, and she was standing at opposite sides of the common room from Ron. Both of them were extremely angry...

"How can you have gone to the ball with that git Krum?” Ron was shouting at her.

“Well, if you don’t like it, you know what the solution is, don’t you?” It was naïve to the point of foolishness for her to believe that Ron actually did know what the solution was, but she shouted it anyway.

“Oh yeah?” he yelled back. “What’s that?”

She had not wanted to say it, especially not in the common room, but it was the only way Ron would know how she felt about the matter.

Against her better instincts, and already feeling the tears welling up in her eyes, she screamed at Ron, “Next time there’s a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!”

And with that, she ran up the stairs to her dormitory, the tears falling freely from her face now. Once she reached her bed, she pulled of her shoes and began to sob into her pillow.


...That was Hermione’s first attempt to let Ron know that she had chosen him. And because Ron was an immature little boy, he did not see it as such. As Hermione gazed upon the mature man sleeping beside her, she laughed and realized that he himself probably didn’t even know how he felt at the time.

Now, it was their sixth year, and she, Ron, and Harry had just extricated a Snargaluff pod from its stump. They began to talk about Slughorn’s Christmas party...

"And is this another party just for Slughorn’s favorites, is it?” Ron was saying angrily, still trying to puncture the pod.

“Just for the Slug Club, yes,” she replied as calmly as she could. She knew what she was going to say next, and it had taken her the better of two weeks to get the courage to do it.

Before she could even open her mouth, however, the pod had slipped from beneath Ron’s fingers and flown across the greenhouse.

As Harry fled to retrieve the pod, Ron rounded on her and said, “‘Slug Club?’ That’s what you’ve named yourselves now?”

“Look,” Hermione said, trying to force her annoyance at Ron to the back of her mind so she could focus on the task at hand, “I didn’t make up the name ‘Slug Club’─”

“‘Slug Club,’” repeated Ron with a sneer. Hermione attempted to speak again, but Ron was on a roll. “It’s pathetic. Well, I hope you enjoy your party. Why don’t you try hooking up with McLaggen, then Slughorn can make you King and Queen Slug ─”

“We’re allowed to bring guests,” said Hermione, practically shouting to be heard over Ron’s complaining and feeling her face burning at what she was about to say, “and I was going to ask you to come, but if you think it’s that stupid then I won’t bother!”

Suddenly, she couldn’t stand to be near Ron, or to even look at him. Twice she had put her feelings for him on the line, and twice he had been an insensitive prat and ignored them.

Vaguely, she heard Harry attempting to open the Snargaluff pod in a very noisy fashion. She looked up, going to hand him a knife to puncture it, when she caught sight of Ron’s face. It had an expression she had never seen on him: regret, mixed with a little shock. The longer she looked at him, the redder the tips of his ears became.

“You were going to ask me?” Ron said, in a tone completely different from the one he had used just minutes before. Their eyes met, and for a second, the whole world had disappeared.

Trying not to succumb to the blue of his eyes, Hermione reminded herself of how Ron had just behaved and said angrily, “Yes. But if you’d rather I hooked up with McLaggen…”

“No, I wouldn’t,” said Ron very quietly, a pleading look in his eyes.

She broke the eye contact; it was too painful to see him like that. The next moment, Harry had shattered the bowl in which he was trying to open the pod. Hermione mentally shook herself and her mind returned to the real world.


Hermione remembered being happier than she had been in a long time in the days that followed. No matter what Ron said or did after that fateful Herbology lesson, she knew that he liked her, or at least wanted to go with her to Slughorn’s party.

But the joy didn’t last long. Only a few days later, Ron had stopped talking to her altogether, and within the next week, he had started dating Lavender Brown. Once again, Hermione had told Ron that she had chosen him, but he ignored it, and went to someone who was eager to express her love, among other things, for him.

Then, of course, after he had been poisoned and awaking to find her crying at his bedside, Ron returned to his old self. He finally began to show that maturity she had always wanted to see in him. At Dumbledore’s funeral, when he held her as she sobbed into his shoulder, he truly became the man she loved today.

Throughout what should have been their seventh year at Hogwarts, Ron showed all the signs of loving her, even though no words of that sort had been exchanged between them. He would hold her hand when she was scared, and rush to comfort her the moment she appeared to be sad. It was his way of saying, “I choose you.”

And then, on that fateful night, Ron’s infamous jealously had gotten the best of him. After he spoke those words that were so untrue, he had stormed out into the darkness. Hermione had never needed his hand and his hugs more than that moment. But he was not there to help her.

Eventually, he did come back, and she was far too angry at him for leaving her to be happy at his return. Once some time had passed, however, they were able to become friends again. But that wasn’t what she wanted; she wanted Ron to be more than a friend to her.

Then came the battle of Hogwarts. After Harry had left with Luna, they had gone into the Chamber, fetched the basilisk fangs, and destroyed yet another Horcrux. She knew that time was growing short to tell him how she felt; either of them could be killed at any moment. So, Hermione had decided, for the first time, that she would follow her heart. She would know when the time was right to tell Ron.

Finally, as Ron voiced his genuine concern about the house-elves of Hogwarts, Hermione realized that the time was now. He had grown so much, both physically and emotionally, that she could not resist him any longer. She dropped the basilisk fangs and threw herself upon him, crashing her lips with his. It was her way of telling him that she chose him, not Harry. And there was no way that anyone, even Ron, could deny her feelings for him.

Thus began their wonderful life together, and Hermione allowed her present-day self to be engulfed by memories of her and Ron.

A few weeks after the war had ended, Ron and Hermione were alone at the Burrow...

Before she could register what was going on, Ron was pulling her up the stairs to his room, attached to her by the lips. As they fell on his bed, still kissing frantically, Ron began to remove his shirt and he tossed it to the floor. The rest of their clothes soon joined his shirt.

“Are you sure about this?” Ron asked as he lay beside her on the bed. The only item of clothing that remained on her was her underwear.

“Ron,” Hermione said, laughing slightly, “do you really think I’d let you get me down to my knickers if I wasn’t sure?”

She leaned in to kiss the huge grin that had appeared on his face. By letting him remove her knickers, she was telling him that she chose him.


A couple of blissful years afterwards, they were sitting in the living room of the Burrow. It was nearly noon, and everyone else had gone to Hogsmeade for the day. Hermione was sitting on the couch, her head on Ron’s lap, reading a book. Ron was watching her with admiration and love.

"How’s the book?” he asked her.

“It’s fascinating, now that you ask,” Hermione replied, eager to discuss what she had just read. “I can’t believe how ─”

“Hermione, can I ask you something?” Ron interrupted.

She sat up from his lap and twisted around. His ears were already bright red, but his face had a tinge of green to it. He looked extremely uncomfortable.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, afraid that something was wrong.

“Er, nothing’s wrong…I just…erm…just wanted to ─”

“Yes?” Hermione said expectantly.

He stood up from the couch and buried his hands in his pockets.

“I can’t do this,” he muttered, more to himself than to Hermione, but she heard anyway.

“Yes, you can, Ron,” she said consolingly, turning him to face her. She already knew what he was going to ask, but she wasn’t about to let him know that.

He avoided her eyes the best he could, but she turned his face to hers and looked him dead in the eye.

“Hermione ─” He paused, unsure of what to say next. “Um…er…─”

“Just propose to me already!” Hermione said out of frustration at Ron’s self-doubt.

Ron stood their shocked for a minute. “How ─”

“Oh, please, Ron,” she said, starting to laugh. “You know you can’t do anything in this house without everyone finding out about it! Now, get down on your knee and do this properly,” she added as she pushed his shoulders to the ground. “I’ve been waiting for this moment since I was fourteen.”

Ron smiled a great smile and took out a little box from his jeans pocket.

“Hermione Jean Granger, I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember.” Tears were threatening to fall from her eyes as he spoke. “Will you marry me?”

She pulled him back up and kissed him, letting him know for sure that she had chosen him, and no one else.


Six months afterwards, they were standing at an altar in the backyard of the Burrow...

All of their friends and family were around them, and it was a wonderful spring afternoon. Ron looked very dashing in his dress robes, and Hermione wore a beautiful periwinkle gown, reminiscent of the one she wore to the Yule Ball, instead of the traditional white. They read their vows, and tears rolled down the faces of every woman in attendance, including the bride. They exchanged rings, and when the same tufty-haired wizard that had married Bill and Fleur declared them bonded for life, they kissed for the first time as husband and wife. And with that kiss, Hermione said that she had chosen Ron, and would never choose another.

She rolled over to look at Ron. His red hair was a mess, and his bare chest rose in time with his sonorous snores.  She reached over and stroked his cheek.

“I choose you.”
Post-DH. Hermione thinks about how wrong Ron was when he said that she had chosen Harry over him.



This is something I came up with a one in the morning...I hope you enjoyed it!

Speak Portuguese? Check out "I Choose You" translated into Portuguese by the FF.Net author, Iris Diggory: [link]

(Ron + Hermione) CANON = :heart:

Illustrated by the wonderful *Chashirskiy!
© 2007 - 2024 gracelessnight
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GoldenPhoenix75's avatar
this is amazing. ron and hermione are my favourite couple ever and you have just shown their whole amazing relationship. it's amazing. well done!