Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter, or Ron, or anyone else in this story. If I owned Ron, he would have been dead before the first book even started. Well, maybe a few pages in. If he died before the books began, then we wouldn't get to see him die, and there would be a huge void in my life.

Now, on with the story.

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January 1st

"3…2…1…Happy New Year to me!"

'This is the year.' he thought. 'I'm going to ask 'Mione to become my wife.'

After four years of dating, Ronald Weasley was almost completely sure that he wanted to think about asking Hermione Granger to possibly become engaged, in the hopes of getting married. Someday.

Always the decisive one he was.

'I wonder what she'll say.' Ron thought, nursing his firewhiskey. Almost every night, Ron could be found at the Hog's Head Pub after he finished his exciting day's work as assistant to the Head of the Department of Magic Misuse of Muggle Artifacts (aka his father). Hermione was practically the only good thing in his life, and he still couldn't decide if he wanted to marry her.

"Barrr-t-t-tenderrr! Annothhherr d-d-drink…pleeease?" Ron slurred.

"That's it. I'm cutting you off for the night."

"B-But, that's not…that's not…" Ron knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to say that it wasn't fair. Unfortunately, he was dead drunk, and his mind wasn't up to par. Of course, his brain wasn't normally what people would "call up to par" so he wasn't as out of it as one might think.

"I've got it! It'shz not freight."

'Yes, that's the word I'm looking for.' he thought. That'll teach him.

Tom the bartender just rolled his eyes. This was happening all too frequently. Night after night, Ron would come into the pub, and he always ended up the same way. Around one or two in the morning, Hermione would come and apologize profusely, then drag her unconscious boyfriend home. Tom knew that she deserved much better than that. She only stayed with him out of a confused sense of duty.

During the final days of the war, Hermione had been captured. The Death Eaters sent a ransom note to Ron, giving an address where they said he could meet them to negotiate her release.

Ron, always eager to save his own skin, tried to run away. As he was running through the country side, thinking what a shame it was that he had left Hermione to die, a storm broke out. What are the odds. Out of the corner of his eye, Ron spied a large mansion. One that looked as though it's owner would be rich, and be willing to supply a comfortable bed and a warm dinner.

Ron practically ran all the way up the narrow path. When he finally burst through the rather large oak doors, looking like the devil in all his rage, lo and behold, who should he find in the castle? Hermione and Gregory Goyle. Hermione was being pushed up against a wall, and struggling in vain against a man twice her size.

Although Goyle was strong, he wasn't the bright have been strong, he wasn't the brightest crayon in the in the box. No, he was probably light grey. Dark grey, the truly dullest crayon in the box was Vincent Crabbe. He strode through the door, looking utterly confused, having gotten his rather large fingers caught in a Chinese finger trap.

Poor, poor Hermione looked up at Ron as though he was God sent.

"You've come to save me haven't you Ron!" She cried, thankfully not living up to her reputation as brightest witch who every lived.

"Um…Of course I have." Stuttered Ron, too dumbfounded to disagree.

"O Ron! Harry always said you weren't that smart, but I guess he was wrong about you, just like he was wrong about Snape! You saw right through that phony letter they sent you, and you found where they really had me!"

Just then, the Order of the Phoenix, fully armed, burst through the door.

"Mr. Weasley!" cried a very distraught looking Minerva McGonagall. "You can't just take off all alone…"

Her voice trailed off as she saw the scene before her: Crabbe utterly stuck in his paper handcuffs, Hermione beaming at Ron, her savior, and Ron looking quite smugly at Goyle, knowing now that it was dozens against one.

Voldemort had been defeated a few days later. His Death Eaters were imprisoned for life, and Ron received an Order of Merlin First Class for his heroism.

Ron and Hermione had been going out ever since. Ron had come close to proposing on more than one occasion, but always found some excuse not to, or just chickened out.

One time Ron actually did get up the nerve to ask her. He was on a special medication after some oral surgery (Hermione's parents had nagged him about his uneven teeth for ages) and he was feeling rather carefree. Ron skipped (quite disturbingly literally) into Hermione's office (three floors down from his own), and tried in vain to get down on one knee. This resulted in Ron lying on the floor in a fit of giggles asking a very stunned and embarrassed Hermione to marry him.

Of course, Hermione said yes. Honestly, how could she say no when he made such a big deal out of asking her, and half her co-workers had heard. Still on a mega drug trip, Ron was determined to show Hermione a new room he had just found in the Department of Mysteries.

Against Hermione's wishes, she was dragged into the off-limits area. When Ron finally found the correct room, Hermione had to admit, it was breath taking. It was as though the northern lights had been captured and put on display just for them.

It was the first genuinely romantic thing Ron had ever done for Hermione. So romantic, that they barely noticed when the Unspeakables arrived. They didn't notice anything until they were grabbed from behind and obliviated. The entire day was erased from their memories.

Even until today, Ron thinks he went to the dentist, there returned home with a throbbing headache on May 23, 2000. Hermione remembers the same thing. She oddly seems to remember doing or saying something that she regretted, but according to her, that's impossible. She was home sick with Ron all day.

So, back to the present. Ron is currently drunk out of his mind, and, oh dear, he just fell off his barstool.

Tom rolls his eyes as if to say "not again" and goes behind the counter to get his smelling salts. Darn, out of smelling salts.

"I guess I'll just have to make my own." Tom mused out loud to no one in particular.

Hum… old milk, slug juice, peanut butter, and vinegar. That should wake him up.

"Come'on Mr. Weasley, just smell it."

Ron's eyes fluttered open then closed again.

"I didn't want to have to do this." Tom said while tilting Ron's head backwards and pouring the vile drink down his throat. "Drink up."

Ron's eyes shot open. He looked around then began to speak.

"Bloody hell, you couldn't find a better way to wake me up? What was in that bloody thing?" Ron asked, almost not wanting to know.

"Oh, just some stuff I found under the counter. Slug juice, milk, peanut butter and vinegar. Nothin' poisoned."

"You twit! I'm allergic to peanut butter!" Ron screamed.

With that Ron promptly keeled over, and a was dead just minutes before Hermione came to get him. Not surprisingly, Hermione took the news of her boyfriend's death very well.

"I had the terrible feeling that someday he might propose, and I just wouldn't have the heart to say no. He's a nice guy and all, he's just a loser."

End January 1st.