A/N: I don't own anything except the plot-less plotbunny who spat out this drabble on my keyboard. Ick. Now I need a new keyboard. And if you believe I own this, I have a wonderful beach house in Antarctica that I'm sure you'll love. =)

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Ron was steadily turning greener by the minute. It clashed horribly with the shade of red his ears were moving towards; it was like the time in fourth year when Ron had put on the green Chudley Cannons hat Harry had given him for his birthday.

“You must be joking,” he forced out weakly.

“Look, Ron,” Hermione snapped at him. “I’m subject to this absurd law just like every other Muggle-born, and I’m not snapping my wand and running off to New Zealand just to avoid it.”

“You could marry me,” the redhead replied sullenly.

“Oh yes, and how would you feel a few years down the road when you want enough children to start a Quidditch team, and I want to do some travel and research?” Hermione pressed. “The Marriage Law only requires one healthy magical child before all obligations are dropped. Unfortunately, marriage in the Wizarding world can’t be annuled. And then there are the fidelity charms.”

“I- I was going to propose to you at the end of seventh year anyways,” Ron stuttered. “I figured you would come around. I mean,” he said, as he saw the expression on Hermione’s face twist dangerously. “You know, once you got used to the idea of having kids, you’d settle down, raise the family, support me and my Quidditch career… you’d like it, ‘Mione.”

“No, Ron,” Hermione said exasperatedly, trying to get him to see her point. “That’s your idea of a wonderful marriage. I want to travel, see the world. I want to make discoveries, and working with Professor Snape as his apprentice and wife is ideal. He’s going to Egypt next week, and he’s willing to take me with him regardless of my response to his offer.”

“So you’re saying marrying Snape would be your idea of a wonderful marriage?” Ron looked utterly disgusted. “Are you blind, ‘Mione? I know you’ve become friends since the war ended- saving a bloke’s life does that- and I know he’s brilliant and all, but look at him! He’s a greasy git. He’s got a temper. You’d be miserable.”

Hermione pursed her lips. “I’d be more miserable living my life as a housewife and broodmare. I’m sorry, Ron,” she said, “but I just can’t marry you. I love you as a friend, but I’m not in love with you. And I was somewhat attracted to Severus before this insane law was even passed, so there’s a chance of this working out.”

“So you’re going to marry him, then?” Ron asked, his voice a mix of sadness and resignation.

Hermione smiled. “I’m going to accept his proposal right now.”