"And then I said, 'Is this the moment?'"*

The crowd erupted in laughter.

"The whole effing Death Eater army is descending on us and this git decides to snog his witch!" Harry clapped his hand on Ron's shoulder, a huge smile covering his face.

"Oi! She snogged me. Get your facts ssstraight, Chosen One!" Ron slurred through his smile.

"Me thinks the Mighty Ron needs another drink! Rosmerta, if ye'd be ever so kind!" Hagrid bellowed, good-naturedly. "Matter o' fact, 'Arry could use another too!" He slapped two Galleons on the bar, which shook under the force of his large palm.

"For these two, the Old Ogden's is on the house," Rosmerta said, to cheers around The Three Broomsticks.

"Still have to Apparate home," Harry cautioned.

"We'll get ya' home, young masters!" one of the patrons shouted.

"Aye, but in what state!" Ron responded to more laughter.

"Harry and Ron," Hagrid said somberly, raising his glass, "on behalf of all of us fools and drunks," that drew another round of chuckles, "we thank ye fer yer selfless sacrifice and wish ye and yer lovely ladies all the best!"

"Slainte!" all the patrons of The Three Broomsticks shouted.

Harry and Ron downed their shots and, warmheartedly accepted the thanks and praise from the crowd. The two had hoped for an evening of quiet conversation after what had been a harrowing week. A week that had led to yet another confrontation with the Death Eaters that simply refused to give up. But the past hour had been anything but quiet. Even now, four years after the Battle of Hogwarts, their fame had not faded. It didn't help that the Guerilla War that followed the Battle had routinely resulted in Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny being the center of attention in nearly every weekend edition of the Daily Prophet.

Emptying his tankard of ale, Hagrid eyed his two former charges, and knew, instantly, that they desperately needed some time away from the spotlight their fame had forced upon them.

He smiled and dropped a wink at Harry. "A'right ye blokes! Let's let these two have some peace."

A collective groan came from the crowd. "I din't say ye couldn't keep drinkin'! Jus' that ye need to give 'em their space! Ya ruddy drunks!" Hagrid growled.

The bar responded with more laughter and more raised glasses. A few of the crowd approached Harry and Ron to tink their drinks against theirs, offer their thanks and handshakes as well as their best wishes, which Ron and Harry humbly returned. Slowly, the crowd cleared, no longer expecting the two members of the Golden Quartette to regale them with stories of the Battle of Hogwarts, the Battle of the Pitch or the Guerilla War that was still raging in fits and starts since Voldemort's death and Yaxley's escape from Azkaban.

Once they were relatively alone, Ron sighed. "I'll never get used to that."

"Welcome to my world," Harry retorted, taking a swig from the mulled mead Rosmerta had set in front of him as the two best mates retreated to a table in one of the secluded corners.

Ron sat and slowly swirled the contents of his tankard in his hand as he slurred, "Mate?"

"You're drunk, Ron."

"Does it matter?"

"No. But I have this odd feeling you're about to say…"

"I'm sorry I never really understood what your fame was like."

"You've told me."

"I didn't understand that…"

"We've done this before, mate. Merlin, how much did you have tonight?"

"Well, there were the shots when we came in and the crowd shouted 'thanks' for the last batch of renegade Death Eaters we rounded up. Then Hagrid forced some mead into my hand…"

"You're soused."

Ron set his drink on the table and glared at his best mate. "That a crime? Dammit, Potter, even Aurors get a night off!"

"Not us."

"Bollocks! You pompous ponce! Besides, it was your idea coming here." Ron turned away from his best mate, raising his empty tankard, signaling to Rosmerta that he needed a re-fill of mead.

"No, mate. It was yours."

"Was it now?" Ron asked with a cocked eyebrow and then fell silent.

Harry eyed his best mate and then said, in a placating tone, "Something's on your mind. Gonna say it or just sit there like a Flobberworm?"

"I didn't come here to fight," Ron responded.

"Coulda fooled me after the free drinks stopped flowing." Harry downed the rest of his mead. "Rossssmerta! Another for me too, please."

Ron was glad to hear that his best mate's speech had started to slur as well as his own. "Well, well, decided to be one of us mere mortals now?"

"Bugger off." Harry broke into a smile and Ron started to laugh. "Alright, mate," Harry said good-naturedly, nodding to Rosmerta as she set the drinks in front of them with a smile and turned to walk back to the bar. "What'd you wanna talk about?"

Ron took a deep breath. "I think…Well, I've been thinking…Ya know, it's been four years since the Battle and…It occurred to me…We really should…after all this time, it's just that…"

"Ronald? Is there a complete sentence in there somewhere or are you just gonna fumble around until we're totally pissed?"

Ron smiled in exasperation; then it all came out in a rush. "I-think-we-should-propose-to-the-girls."

Harry's mead was half-way to his mouth before his brain finally interpreted Ron's sentence. Slowly, he set his drink back down on the table. "We talked about this."

Ron nodded sheepishly.

"We've talked about this a lot."

Ron nodded again.

Harry sunk back into his chair. "I can't…I won't make Ginny a widow."

"I've heard this before, too," Ron responded before taking a gulp of mead.

"Ronald," Harry fixed his best mate with an exasperated glare.

"What?"

"Yaxley's still out there. There were two attacks this week, one the week before and another the week before that. Kingsley's got the Auror Corps on full alert."

"Merlin, Potter, he's had us on full alert since he dragged us both into the Corps. This isn't news."

"That's my point!" Harry had started to get worked up and took a calming breath before he continued. "We're always in the front any time there's a problem..."

"Hard to lead from behind," Ron interrupted. "Incidentally, the rumors have started again that King's gonna finally make it official and name you Head Auror."

"Brilliant," Harry said with a shake of his head. "If he does, I'm not doing it alone. You know that."

"Assistant Head? Guess we might as well have the titles and the raise since we've already been doing the work for the past three years," Ron said with a smirk.

"The work," Harry shook his head. "That's the problem. Until we finally get this mess of a guerilla war under control, there's no point in this discussion. So, brother of mine, what in the name of Merlin's engagement ring has changed since the last time we went over this?"

Ron seemed to sober as he reached into his robes and pulled out a piece of parchment. He slid it across the table to Harry. "Hermione gave me this just before I dragged you here."

Harry adjusted his glasses as he started to read. His eyes got wider as they scanned the parchment. Then he looked up at Ron, a huge grin covering his face. "Merlin's turncoats!"

"That was my reaction, too. Calls for another drink, eh? Rosmerta! If you please," Ron said, indicating they needed another round.

The two sat in silence until the mead was set on their table.

"The question is…" Harry began.

"Can we trust the git?" Ron finished. "What d'ya think?"

Harry pondered it. "He wants a pardon for himself and his father," Harry said, gesturing to the parchment. "If we dangle it in front of him…Yeah, I think he'd be as trustworthy as he can be."

"'As he can be.' That's not very reassuring," Ron countered.

"With Malfoy, that's as good as it'll ever get."

Ron shook his head. "Not good enough."

"And the alternative?"

Ron hesitated. "I was really hoping you'd say something else."

"Like what? That I thought he'd turn over the entire underground Death Eater movement to pay us back for saving his life four years ago?"

"Yeah. Actually, that was exactly what I was hoping you'd say." Ron's mirth had dried up in the face of his partner's cynicism.

Harry shook his head. "Draco's not capable of gratitude, only self-interest."

Ron's heart sank.

Then Harry smiled. "But that'll be enough. For him, that's nearly the equivalent of honest-dealing." Harry raised his mug. A lopsided grin began to cover Ron's face as he raised his in return. They both drank.

Harry continued, "Well, Mr. Chessmaster, we'll need a solid plan to exploit this. Any ideas?"

"Now that you mention it, I thought we might have Malfoy tip them off that the two of us had gone out for a drink after work, without protection. See if that goads the gits into coming after us in force." Ron's smile only got wider.

Harry's eyebrows shot up in alarm. "Ronald!"

Ron started to laugh when he realized what Harry was thinking. "Not tonight! I haven't acted on this yet. You didn't think…?"

Harry let out the breath he'd been holding. "You're George's brother. I wouldn't put anything past you."

The two Aurors shared a laugh.

As Ron set down his drink, he eyed his best mate. "This changes things…with the girls, I mean."

"Does it?"

Ron wasn't expecting that answer. "Well…yeah. We can have all the renegade Death Eaters in the bag within a month."

The prospect was tempting. "An end to the war. Gods, Ron."

"It's right here in this parchment," Ron said, tapping the letter from Malfoy.

Harry cocked his head as he contemplated the possibilities. But then, his caution got the better of him. He shook his head at the redhead sitting across from him. "And what if…"

"Don't! Don't say it, Harry!"

"If you already know what I'm gonna say, then you've already thought it yourself."

"Oi! Don't 'Dumbledore' me!"

"Ron, we agreed that until this bloody war was over, we wouldn't propose. It hasn't ended yet."

"But…"

"No buts. We're close. That's all this means." Harry tapped the letter again.

Ron frowned, and changed tactics. "It'd make Mum happy if we proposed now."

"Don't start that. I got an earful at dinner last Sunday."

Ron mustered a horribly bad falsetto imitation of his mother. "'Harry dear, you've been living together for three years. It'd be nice if you finally made an honest woman of my daughter.'"

Despite himself, Harry chuckled. Then the two stared down into their drinks.

Ron broke the silence without looking up. "I don't wanna wait anymore, mate."

Harry lifted his head. "I don't either."

"Then why..?"

"You know why!"

Ron was about to raise his voice, then stopped himself. "Harry?"

The raven-haired wizard shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "What if it doesn't work? What if Malfoy does everything he's promised to but the plan fails and then this godsawful war drags on? Or worse. Do you really want to leave a grieving wife behind if the bastards finally do get us?"

Ron let out a breath. "No."

"Well then…"

Ron cut him off. "Do you really want to keep your life, and mine and Hermione's and Gin's on hold forever? Merlin! It was bad enough when you dumped her before the Horcrux hunt!" Ron had said this a little more forcefully than he'd intended. His words cut Harry to the quick.

Realizing that, Ron raised his hands in a calming gesture as he continued. "It's been nearly eleven years since this whole mess started, brother," Ron said somberly. "Sooner or later, we have to start our lives. I won't do this unless we do it together. You know that; we've been over this. But…It's time Harry. After everything we've been through, it's time."

Harry was about to retort, but bit his lip and slowly nodded. "I walked in on Ginny crying last week."

Ron stared at his best mate in shock.

"I know. Gin's not usually the crying type…" Harry trailed off. "She wouldn't tell me what was wrong. But I know."

Ron whispered, "The link?"

Harry nodded. "She didn't block me out of her mind soon enough." Ever since the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry and Ginny had shared a psychic link. Hermione was still trying to suss out what had caused it, with little success.

Ron dipped his head. "'Mione's been…different lately. I can't read her emotions the same way you can read Gin's, but I'm pretty sure I know what's bothering her." After a moment's hesitation, Ron motioned to the parchment again. "I know this doesn't make an end to the war certain, but it's close enough." Then he locked his eyes on Harry. "And I know you know that, too."

A thousand objections ran through Harry's mind, a thousand reasons why they shouldn't make plans for the future yet. But, for the first time in his life, he decided to ignore them.

"Let's do it."

"Yes?"

"You heard me. Overeating hasn't made you deaf, has it?"

Ron's grin was a mile wide.

Harry cocked an eyebrow at Ron. "Your brilliant plan here does have one small flaw, Mr. Tactician."

Ron was just about to take a celebratory drink of mead when his hand faltered. "I missed something?"

"What if the girls say 'no?'"

AN: This story was originally a stand-alone one shot called "Best Laid Plans." It leads into my short story, "The Proposal." However, I've decided to combine the two, making this one shot the prologue. For continuity purposes, what is now chapter two of this tale takes place two weeks after chapter one.

Thanks for reading!

Eldy

*Quote from J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, page 625 (Scholastic, Inc., 2007) The toys belong to JKR; she just lets us play with them!