It was one of those rare perfect summer days: beautifully warm without being too hot, the sun bright in a cloudless sky, the lightest of breezes barely making the leaves on all the plants in Neville's garden quiver. He pushed his trowel into the earth, smelling the good rich smell of it as he coaxed the weeds to come away. Magic was all very well for some things, but there was nothing as satisfying as doing this by hand.
A shadow fell across his body and he looked up, squinting at the tall figure silhouetted against the blue.
"I'm nearly done," he said.
Percy nodded, squatting down next to Neville. His lanky frame looked all knees and elbows so, especially in Muggle clothing. He braced himself on the grass, using just the fingertips of one hand, and leaned a little awkwardly to brush a kiss over Neville's temple.
"There's no rush. I just came to tell you that everything is ready to go when you are."
Neville grinned at him. Percy wasn't really the picnic type – too much dust, too many ants – and it had taken Neville some fast talking to get him to agree to the idea. He was glad that the weather had been cooperative; even on Midsummer's Day there was no guarantee of that, but asking Percy to be with him for the rest of their lives deserved the finest day imaginable.
"Ten minutes," he promised.
Exactly nine and a half minutes later, he had put away his tools, washed his hands, and Apparated with Percy to the spot he'd chosen, under an ancient oak overlooking a stream. Percy set down the picnic basket.
"Yes?" Blue eyes met brown.
"It's been an amazing three years with you." Percy took a deep breath. "I'd like to make it forever. What do you think?"
A bubble of happiness rose up inside Neville. "I was going to ask you exactly the same thing today."
The lunch that Percy had carefully prepared wasn't eaten until more than an hour later. They had better things to do.