#roywrites
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shifting
a wip in which Harry and Ron get together and the trio has to navigate the shift in their friendships
“It’s not the same-“
“Did you think it would be?” Her tone was critical. She felt blamed for handling this wrong. “Did you really think it would be Ron?”
“I didn’t do anything wrong-“
“No, you didn’t,” Hermione agreed, “But neither did I-“
“You don’t talk to us, you barely sit with us you, you’re barely our friend Hermione.” Ron shouted over her. “What did I do so wrong to lose you?”
She glanced over at Harry, wishing he was gone and equally glad he was sitting there, staring at them like a frightened child. The same look he’d had for so many of their fights as if afraid they might never speak again. Hermione forced herself to calm. This fighting would get them no where.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Hermione said, “Things are just different now. I wasn’t expecting this and you have to give me time to-“
“Wasn’t expecting what?” Ron interrupted again. “God, Hermione why can’t you just be happy for me when I fall in love?”
Her eyes darted to his face but he wasn’t blushing, wasn’t embarrassed. Of course they were in love. Everyone knew it. She knew it. But to hear him say it so unabashedly, to declare it.
“I’m happy for you,” she said, hating how wounded she sounded. She swallowed and tried to sound more convincing. “I really am, but I-“
Yet, Hermione could not find the words to go on. Her throat swelled around the words she wanted so desperately to say and her will to make him hurt, hurt as much as she was, vanished.
And the words slipped from her lips. “But I was in love with you.”
It came crashing down on her. The things she’d been afraid to admit even to herself. She loved him. Still. And it was unfair and selfish but she did. Hot tears filled her eyes and she bit down on her lip to keep from sobbing. She was in love with her best friend. The best friend who was the boyfriend of her best friend and the boyfriend of her best friend.
She turned away, hiding her face and winding her arms around herself. She just wanted to sleep.
Hermione had always prided herself on being so logical. How could she have ended up here? How could she have allowed her feelings to go unchecked for so long that they’d bubbled up to this point?
She heard her name murmured yet she didn’t dare look up. Didn’t want them to see what a mess she was.
“Hermione,” Ron whispered again and when she turned he was there, his arms open.
For once she didn’t resist the comfort, laying her head against his chest, tucking herself small. Just as she had all those times in the tent, at Shell Cottage, all of those moments that she hadn’t known to cherish because she’d thought she’d have them forever.
She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t rely on his shoulder to cry on. She had to move on. Yet when she tried to pull away, intent on a scolding shower and a long night’s rest, Ron did not let her go.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped, shutting her eyes tightly, trying to cut off one of her senses as shamed filled her. “I’m sorry.”
They didn’t ask what for. Instead, as she sobbed onto his chest, she felt another hand, another body wrap around hers and for the first time in a long time was surrounded by their embrace. The three of them. The way she had always wanted it and had spent months pulling away from.
In their embrace she felt something in her break, release, the tension she’d been holding on so tightly to, felt she had to hold onto on her own all along when she’d only needed someone else to help her release it. Finally, when she had cried herself out and wanted nothing more than to finally, finally, be alone, they did not let her go still.
“I’m fine,” she whispered, pulling out of their tight grips at last.
Yet she could feel their hands lingering as if they were afraid to let her go. She could feel them staring at one another, a private conversation she was not privy to.
“Come to bed,” Ron murmured.
“What?” she asked, blinking up at him with swollen eyes. She glanced over at Harry and he stilled his hand at the small of her back, urging her to follow.
“Come to bed,” Harry echoed, and he didn’t sound hesitant.
She turned to him, wanting to make sure. “Harry I-“
“I knew,” he told her, giving her the grace not to name the thing she didn’t want spoken again. “And I’m sorry too.”
She slipped her hand into his and he gave it a little squeeze and a little grin and she followed them through the common room, leaving behind the bottles and litter, slipping up the stairs and into a room that smelled so familiar.
Their beds had already been pushed together and Hermione was not the least bit surprised. Nor did she feel any form of shock when they led her over and tucked her into the covers beside them. It had been how they’d lay those weeks before they’d pulled apart. Only now it was Ron’s arms around Harry rather than hers. But it didn’t feel so different.
It was sleep. It was rest she that she had not known since that first night after the battle when they’d cuddled just as close and she had not yet known what awaited her. And it was glorious.
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🚨🚨🚨LINK IN BIO🚨🚨🚨 PRESSURE OUT NOW!!!!! Directed by @flightboymusic
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#roywrite #roywritemusic #roywritepressure #sbe #shadowboxerent ——————————————————-
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hi! can you do the 71. “How’s the weather down there, babe?” with romione? thankyou!
Ron,
Do you remember second year when you got in trouble for driving that car to school and I was cross with you for it? I don’t know that I’ve ever told you but the real reason I was cross was because I was worried sick. I spent the whole train ride terrified something had happened to you and Harry. I just about drove Neville mad talking about it.
My second train ride without you was marginally less melancholy. Ginny and Luna kept me company. People kept walking by our cabin before Luna had the idea to draw the shade. Staring at us as if we were something special. I suppose we are. Hopefully, it’ll die down soon enough. I didn’t come back to be gawked at.
Anyway, I’m here, sitting in the common room after the feast. The food was better than I even remembered. It was weird you not being there on the train. Or at the sorting. It’s weird you not being here now. I keep looking up and expecting you to be trying to distract me only when I peer over my book the view is much less exciting.
The castle is healed. It looks nothing like this summer. Banners and suits of armor back in their proper places. It doesn’t feel real though. Like a mirage. I turn my head expecting to see blood upon piles of rubble but when I look it’s not there.
It’s almost midnight. I tried going to bed but I couldn’t sleep. Kept tossing and turning and wishing it was last night with you there to ease me to sleep. Bit pathetic isn’t it? How much I miss you when I’ve only been gone a day. Yet I want to know everything.
How’s the weather down there? How was work? Did you and Harry get tickets to that match?
Do you miss me? I hope you do.
It’s going to be a strange year, I’m certain of it. I think I’m going to spend a lot of it counting down the days until I get to see you again. No, I don’t know the Hogsmeade schedule yet. I think I’ll save my pestering about it for next week, once classes have started. In the meantime, I’ll be missing you.
Love,
Hermione
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a is for (not an) anniversary
On Ao3 here.
Ron knew he shouldn’t be the least bit excited about this day. And he wasn’t. He’d rather it be any other day, could feel the sadness and grief spilling out from the day meant to memorialize it. May 2nd. Only one year since. Yet, as he woke before dawn and showered and dressed, all the while watching Harry from the corner of his eye for any sudden outburst, Ron found a part of him (no matter how hard he tried to suppress it) looking forward to this day.
“Ready?” Harry asked of him, speaking his first word of the day.
It was early. Too early, for their arrival but somehow Ron didn’t think anyone would say anything to them. He nodded, taking a good look at his best mate, and fought against asking him the stupid question of if he was alright.
“Yeah,” Ron nodded, and together they rose from the dining room table, leaving behind their half-drunk cups of tea, and followed him out towards the fireplace.
“Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley” McGonagall greeted them.
It was even darker this far north, at least the morning rays of sun had started to illuminate their flat’s kitchen, but McGonagall looked just as sleepless as they, sitting at the Headmaster’s desk, a quill in hand.
“Sorry to bother you so early,” Ron excused them both.
She forgave them with a quick shake of her head. “It’s no trouble, I expect you two won’t be the first to arrive ahead of schedule. The Great Hall is open if you care for something to eat.”
They hesitated, and Ron didn’t want to be the one to ask.
“And Remembrance might be the word you’re looking for should you happen to wander elsewhere.”
She gave them a sly smile, a look Ron was still quite unused to on his Professors face.
“Thank you, Professor,” they said in tandem and as she looked back down at her papers, they turned away, avoiding the prying eyes of the prior Headmaster and Headmistresses.
They’d been back to the castle of course, spent half the summer repairing bricks and desks, but it had been a year since they’d last taken this particular journey. He could remember the exhaustion acutely, his body finally shutting down as they, at last, journeyed towards the promise of a hot shower and a long nap. Well, a several days sleep in fact.
Just as a year ago, they did not share a word, silent in their companionship with only their echoing footsteps and distant chirping of birds to fill their ears. Within no time they found themselves outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, looking regal and alert.
“I’d hoped you’d visit,” she said to them.
“Anyone left yet?” Harry asked of her.
She shook her head, “No, all’s been quiet.”
The portrait swung open and Ron followed Harry through the hole, dropping down on the other side to an empty room. Ron frowned, looking around. He, as well as Harry, had hoped, really….
A lamp flickered on to the right of them and they both spun around to find Hermione sitting there, her legs crossed and a sly look on her face. Ron immediately grinned, the shadow of her surprising them in this very way in their first year, entering his mind.
“I was wondering when you’d get here,” she said, standing up and then, giving up all pretense, threw herself at them both, the three of them caught in a hug.
It had been a long time since they’d clung to one another so desperately. Ron had hoped they wouldn’t have to again, never the less it felt right to be here, with them. Several minutes might have passed when at last they gave signals of detangling, though Ron didn’t let his position of an arm around Hermione go, sneaking in a quick peck as Harry pulled away.
“Is Ginny-“
“Should be down any moment,” Hermione told him, studying him.
Ron could feel the question on her lips and didn’t think if very wise for her—or anyone really—to ask and set about distracting her.
“And here you say you don’t throw yourself at people,” he teased her.
“How should I hug you then?” Hermione demanded, taking his bait.
“Oh, no I’m not complaining, just pointing out that you have this habit of throwing yourself at me,” Ron said.
She blushed, a healthy color he’d been worried about not seeing today, and shook her head. He bent down, giving up all pretense, and gave her a proper greeting. Beside them, Harry turned away tactfully, though Ron caught his annoyance as he did so and they only pulled apart when the thundering footsteps of another interrupted the quiet him of the common room. They turned as the door to the girl’s dormitory opened and there stood Ginny.
She sighed, giving an amused smile at the sight of them, “Well, you were right Hermione, guess they do manage to get up when it matters.”
She turned to Harry, her smile turning brilliant. “I swear I was going to be your greeting committee.”
“Well, I still need greeted,” he replied, the closest expression Ron had ever seen on his face to cocky and Ginny rolled her eyes at him even as she closed the distance and Ron had to look away from their reunion for his own sanity.
“All been well?” Hermione asked of him quietly, reaching up to pick some imaginary lint from his shoulder.
“Better now that I’m with you,” he tried but Hermione merely laughed, allowing him only to kiss her cheek. “It’s been fine, just, don’t ask, alright?”
Hermione didn’t look too happy with his analysis but accepted it with a reluctant nod.
“I’m fine,” he told her, trying to put as much conviction in his voice as he could muster. He didn’t know who his request for her not to ask would benefit more, he or Harry who’d been on an alarmingly short fuse all week. “How about you?”
Her smile faltered a little and worry infected him.
“It’s the same,” Hermione answered, not meeting his eyes. “As the summer, it’ll always be the same nightmares I think.”
Ron pulled her in closer and kissed her forehead, wishing that she wasn’t so far away. Perhaps this would be easier to talk about if the moments they were with one another weren’t so fleeting.
“I’m starved,” Ginny announced and they looked up. “Practice ran through dinner last night.”
“You say that like you’re not the captain,” Ron argued and Ginny grinned at him. “Why on earth would you make them miss a meal?”
“You don’t become school champions by giving up just because you’re cold,” Ginny shook her head. “Our match is next week, do they think it’ll be hot by then?”
It was funny how easily they slipped back into it. And for the walk down to the great hall, it was easy to forget why they were there, who they were. For that moment they were merely school children, teasing and laughing, emotions that for the rest of the day would be considered inappropriate. Ron cherished every second of it that he could. God, he wished it were a different day.
“Feels like we’re back in school,” Ron muttered, leaning back in his chair to catch Harry’s ear.
He gave him a smilier, bored, and slightly exasperated expression. “Who knew we’d be getting a lecture on the recovery of international potion trading?”
“They’re lobbying you know,” Hermione whispered all without taking her eyes off the podium turned lectern.
Harry raised his eyebrows at her.
“Lobbying to who?” Ron exclaimed as quietly as he could.
“To everyone,” Hermione answered. “This might be the most important gathering this year.”
“They shouldn’t be,” Harry said, suddenly angry. “It shouldn’t be about that, not today.”
Hermione glanced over at them at last, worried but Ginny beat them all to it, squeezing Harry’s hand. “No, they shouldn’t, of course not.”
Harry let out a sigh and Ron felt them all tense.
“Do you wanna go?” Ron asked after another minute.
He could feel Harry considering it but at last shook his head, checking his watch. “No, it’d make too much of a scene. Though I wouldn’t say no to taking our lunch outside.”
“Did you bring the cloak?” Ginny asked him. “Or I could sneak in-"
“We should just ask one of the house-elves,” Ron offered and Harry nodded. He felt him relax and it felt safe enough to look over at Hermione who was wearing a funny smile. “What?”
She didn’t say anything, just giving him that smile that made something inside him swell and he put his arm around her chair as she leaned into him.
It felt wrong, to be smitten in such a place. Though Ron reasoned, he’d spent years waiting for the right time. If he just kept waiting around he might never get to feel so lucky.
They weren’t alone for long. It had been nice, sitting on the banks of the black lake, hearing the sounds of the forest and watching the clouds drift overhead.
But as the lunch hour trickled on it seemed others had the same idea as they. Groups of two or three, walked out the doors, the same annoyed look on their face, same quietly seething rage that Ron had felt in flashes. And then they would draw closer and spot them and someone would give them a wave over and that anger, that exhaustion would ease. First Neville and Luna, Dean and Seamus.
Before Ron knew it the whole of Dumbledore’s Army had found their way to their previously private spot.
“Did you know Collin almost got expelled?” Dennis pipped up from the far end of the circle. Heads turned as Seamus finished telling his tale of Umbridge’s interrogation of him.
“No,” Ginny said, shaking her head, “you’re lying.”
Dennis shook his head, grinning like he had this great secret. “Cross my heart.”
He was a good storyteller, Ron realized, holding the tension until the most penitent moment.
“He’d been doing magic all his life you know. But of course, we didn’t know. Little things, funny tricks. Could never keep still, if I didn’t know better he’d learned to apparate before even coming to Hogwarts, you’d blink and he’d go from one side of the room to the other.”
They all chuckled, shaking their heads.
“So, he’s been doing these little spells all his life, and then he gets a name for it, comes to school, learns even more of it and then they just send him home with a slip saying he had to stop it all, bit cruel really, he just wanted to show us.”
Beside Ron, he heard Harry snort commiseratingly.
“The first one was on purpose, when you’re twelve and they tell you they’re watching you you have to test the rules a little, figure out if they’re lying and they weren’t.” Dennis said, “He’s sitting there, making papers fly around the room when an owl swoops in and drops a letter in his lap, gave me and dad quite a fright, though I’m still not used to owls dropping things in my lap, really, we’ve had centuries to figure out how to get letters without the chance of dung falling in your porridge.”
He looked over at Padma who blushed scarlet and laughter rang out. A joke that Ron did not know, but did not feel outside of.
“And Collin, so excited to be getting a letter, I don’t think he even saw the ministry seal, just ripped it open, expecting it to be a letter from a friend and I swear, I’ve never seen his face change so quickly. Straight from bursting with excitement to no color at all to threatening to put all over the table.”
“So he put it away, locked up his wand, and cried because you couldn’t take that away from him, magic. He’d never loved something more.” Dennis’s face wavered and grief passed over them all. He sniffled and gave a watery smile. “Summer goes on,” he continued, eyes wet, “Goes full muggle with me. Telling me everything that had happened and God was I happy to have my brother back. And for a few weeks, everything is fine, sure he’s acting out stories every chance he gets but it’s not real magic….exactly.”
“The second letter comes in the middle of the afternoon. We’d gone out to the creek and he’s telling me about quidditch, jumping over rocks and branches, acting it out, when, there it is again, from nowhere an owl swoops in. Now, we’d gotten used to them. But it was always the same owls he was writing through. This time, however, Collin hesitated.
“I wasn’t even doing anything wrong, he said, and he wasn’t. Just making jumps higher than any child could. So he opens it and there it is again Second infraction. We couldn’t figure out what he’d even done and now he’s paranoid. He couldn’t get kicked out of school, not with only one year, not with a whole life….” Dennis paused again, and the grief rippled out, “Not with a with a whole lifetime of magic ahead of him.”
There was no stopping it this time, he covered his eyes with his hands, falling forward and beside him, Seamus reached out, laying a gentle hand on his back. Hermione reached for Ron’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
“But remember what I said,” Dennis burst out, tears rolling down his face and Ron could see he was trying to smile through them. “Collin had been doing magic his whole life, he didn’t need a wand. It was something deep within him, little spells, little bursts of-“
Ron felt his own eyes mist as Dennis dissolved completely. This was how it was supposed to feel, Ron thought. Sadness, yes, but filled with laughter and stories of the fallen. A day in their memory.
It went on and on. The speeches and the handshaking and the tearful thank yous. All of it, Ron knew was supposed to mean something but after their picnic by the lake, it felt so…so disingenuous. He found he wanted to be anywhere else, talking about anything else, dreading the next person to approach them or the next person to get up or even whisper his name.
He knew he was being unfair. It had been all of their war. But he wasn’t crying, and he’d been through the worst of it. Somehow he managed to keep it under control, to listen to the tearful stories, to allow his mother to fuss over him.
It was near sunset when they made their next escape. Dinner finished people, beginning to trickle out of the castle and towards Hogsmeade where the memorial was promised to continue. They’d gotten separated from Harry and Ginny. His sister he spotted across the room, sitting with Angelina and George and another handful of older Gryffindors he only recognized on-site, but the former.
Ron scanned the crowd for his best mate, worry beginning to infect him. He didn’t like not knowing where Harry was, particularly not today when a year ago-
“Come with me,” said a voice in his ear, and relief coursed through him. At once they stood, leading the way out of the great hall and up the stone steps. Last year, when they’d made this journey, glass had crunched beneath their feet but in its proper place, the decorative glass made pretty patterns on the floor.
Once out of sight Harry whipped off the cloak, his hair ruffled and exhaustion tinting his eyes.
“Where to?” Hermione asked, sounding as relieved as Ron felt.
They all sort of looked at one another for a moment before Ron suggested, “Astronomy tower?” and they set off without a word of protest.
It felt good, moving. Not used to the many Hogwarts staircases, Ron found his legs burning a little by the time they reached their destination.
It was beautiful, up here. They could see nearly the entire grounds, the black lake golden and the treetops of the forbidden forest painted red by the dying sun. In the distance, he spotted Hagrid lumbering back to his hut as if it had been any other day and he was retiring. It was strangely comforting, seeing something so mundane as the gamekeeper returning to the home that a year ago had not existed.
Suddenly, a lump conjured itself in his throat and it was very hard to swallow. Ron glanced over at Harry and wether by Hagrid of another stimuli he found him just as affected, his jaw working as he rested his elbows on the railing.
A year. Only a year since they’d been here. Sometimes Ron felt the war was still on their doorstep threatening to burst through.
Hermione sniffled, moving closer and he couldn’t bear to look at her without crying out himself. She tucked herself against his chest, his arms wrapping around her without thought, holding her close as he rested his chin on the top of her head.
The sun bathed them in red and then gold and still they did not utter a word. Did not need to. It was enough just being there, the three of them, knowing there were two others who felt exactly the same tight feeling, the same grief, the selfish joy of being here today when there were so many others that couldn’t be.
If they had asked, at that moment, Ron would have been able to say he was fine, contentment in his bones, spreading with every squeeze of Hermione’s arms around him. With every little breath of Harry’s proving, he was still there, still breathing. They were alive. It was a gift enough.
“I think I’m going to take a walk,” said Harry when the last few rays of light shone over the tips of the trees, making the forbidden forest look as magical as Ron had ever known it.
Ron nodded, for the first time that week not afraid to watch his best mate leave the room. “Alright, see you in a bit.”
They watched his retreating form down the stairs and back into the lamp-lit castle.
“Is he going to be alright?” Hermione asked once certain he was out of earshot.
“Yeah,” Ron told her, tugging on her hand so she turned to face him. “As much of any of us will be.”
She turned her eyes away and onto him. It was their first moment alone, Ron realized, as she put her arms around his neck and stared up at him. He braced himself for her to ask how he was, not wanting to lie, not sure he could even conjure the truth but she merely stated, “Today’s been harder than I thought.”
The tension inside him released and he let out a long breath, nodding.
“I’ve felt it all week,” Hermione went on as he put his hands on her waist and pulled her closer. “Been short with everyone, I keep dreaming about-“
“Yeah,” he said as tears dotted her eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Hermione thought for a moment and then shook her head defiantly. “No, I don’t….do you?”
“No,” he agreed, “I just want to enjoy being here, with you.”
That smile that made his heart swell was back and the worry eased from her face.
“I miss you,” Hermione agreed. “A stupid amount really.”
He ducked his head, kissing her cheek, a slow kiss, and felt her cheek twitch with delight, and then it was her turn, inching closer to his, soft and tender.
“Do you miss me?” she murmured, her lips brushing against the corner of his mouth.
He pulled back long enough to look her in the eye, to show his sincerity when he told her. “Terribly.”
It was sometime before either of them spoke another word.
“It’s been a year,” Hermione pointed out in a hesitant tone as they descended back down towards the great hall in search of Harry.
“Oh, has it?” Ron teased.
“Obviously,” she rolled her eyes, “I mean since we-“
“Since you threw yourself at me?” Ron went on and before she could say _did not! _In that squeaky huff, “And I quite literally swept you off your feet.”
Hermione blushed, closing her mouth, and then said, “Yes, that you did.”
They stopped and he let go of her hand so he could put his arm around her before continuing.
“It’s too morbid,” Hermione went on, pondering. “To call it our anniversary.”
“Perhaps,” Ron told her. He’d thought about it quite a bit. Wavering back and forth. Whenever they told the story everyone agreed it’d been terribly romantic, but to say it outright felt a bit crass. “But I’m glad we did, that we didn’t wait any longer.”
They slowed and Hermione didn’t meet his eye. “I thought I was going to die that night, I was prepared to and I…”
“Hey,” he said, waiting for her to look up. “You didn’t, I didn’t. We’re still here, Hermione.”
She nodded, “And we’re happy.”
He agreed with a grin. “And we’re happy.”
“And we’ve been happy,” Hermione continued. “For a whole year.”
“Well…” he teased and she nudged him. “Yeah, we’ve been happy for a whole year.”
“I love you,” she said tenderly.
He couldn’t help but say it back. “I love you too.”
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Give us a Weasley siblings moment please 🤗
“James Sirius Potter,” George said critically as he passed off his newest nephew to Charlie. “And how did Harry win that one?”
“Oh, hush, I like the name,” said Ginny, “Besides, Sirius was good to us.”
Ron and George shared a look and shrugged.
“Yeah, he was.” George agreed. “Could tell a good story too.”
“I’ve heard those stories and my son doesn’t need to any time soon,” Ginny wanted him strictly.
George merely grinned, winking at her. “Got to get to know his namesake somehow.”
Percy cleared his throat. “Sorry, er, just to be clear, we are talking about Sirius Black, right?”
Everyone looked up at him in surprise.
“He was cleared of his charges,” Ron reminded him.
“Yes, but, how do you-?” Percy looked around, searching for a face that shared his confusion and found none. “Did you all know him?”
“We lived at his house,” Bill told him. “Summer of ’96, after you-he lent it to the Order, we had Headquarters there.”
Percy’s mouth fell open and it took him a moment to compose himself. “Well, I’d, I’d no idea.”
“Has Teddy come to see him?” Ron asked, moving the conversation along.
“Andromeda brought him yesterday,” Ginny said, “Didn’t think much of him.”
“Victorie and Dominique were all over him though,” Bill put in. “Were begging to take him home, said he was much better smelling than Louise.”
The siblings shared a laugh.
“Bring them over for nappy change and they’ll change their minds,” Ginny said dryly. “Or better yet at night, poor Harry was up half the night trying to get him back to sleep.”
“He doing alright?” Ron asked.
“Doesn’t want to put him down,” Ginny said. “He’s just so happy to be a dad. Though between him and mum James will never learn to sleep on his own.”
“Mum was like that for us too,” George put in. “Though she was right about the noise thing, babies don’t like it when it’s too quiet.”
“Worse yet they’ll get used to it and when the second comes along they’ll never sleep again,” Bill added. “It’s amazing the girls are friends, really. Victorie had it out for Dominique the first few months of her life.”
“You going to have another?” Charlie asked, still staring down at his nephew, fast asleep in his arms.
“Oh, don’t you start,” Ginny warned. “Harry wants to have a whole quidditch team, as if I don’t already play for one.”
“Oh, what’s the fun of growing up without siblings?” Ron teased.
“You don’t get to talk,” Ginny told him. “Have one of your own first.”
“Mmh,” Ron said with a mischievous look, “maybe we will.”
“Are you?” Ginny asked, looking excited.
“Oh, no, we’re not,” he said evasively. “Yet.”
George shook his head. “It’s not news until there is one.”
“And how about you, due for a second aren’t you?” Bill asked.
George pulled a face. “And when did we get so nosey into one another’s sex lives?”
“That doesn’t answer the question.” Percy pointed out.
“It’ll happen when it happens,” George shrugged. “Shall I keep you all in the loop with a weekly update?”
“Don’t be crass,” Percy said, looking disgusted. “And with that, I think I’ll take my leave.”
“Oh, do take something home with you,” Ginny said as stood, coming over to kiss her cheek. “We’ve gotten so many baskets we don’t know what to do with them, all of you I mean it. Bill, there’s one with cookies in the shapes of animals, the girls will enjoy them.”
“Alright,” Bill agreed, standing too and hugging his sister. “You’ve made a lovely baby.”
Ginny chuckled. “Thank you.”
“Good time for us too?” Charlie asked, looking to George whom he was staying with.
“Alright, Ron?” George asked, nodding towards the door.
“I’m staying for a bit,” Ron said, holding out his arms for James as Charlie walked over slowly, cradling the child as if he was made of glass. “Hermione’s due any time now with dinner.”
“Good job Ginny,” George said, hugging his sister. He looked over at the baskets and had a thoughtful look. “You know, it’s not a bad idea, baskets.”
“Not for new mothers,” Ginny told him. “Half your products scream and the other half smell.”
“Mmh, probably not, Ron?”
“Graduation?” Ron suggested, but his attention was otherwhere. “I’ll think on it.”
“Right,” George nodded, waving at “See you tomorrow.”
With them all gone Ginny sighed, closing her eyes and resting her head against the back of the couch. “I didn’t know they’d all be coming at once.”
“I don’t think they planned to,” Ron replied, glancing over at her. “Charlie invited Bill and George invited Percy without asking one another. Too much?”
“No,” Ginny said through a yawn. “No, it was nice. Can’t think of the last time it was just us.”
“You can nod off if you’d like,” Ron told her. “We’ll keep dinner.”
“My son will wake me in half an hour wanting his,” Ginny said, settling in. “But I might sneak a nap in, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not,” Ron said, tossing her a blanket. “You rest, I’ve got this.”
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Could we get some fluff of Harry and Hermione talking about her and Ron after the battle? Major “she’s like my sister” vibes. Love your work!!
This is such a cute idea! Thanks!!!
______________________________
It was the middle of the afternoon when Harry returned from the loo to find his two best friends lounging together, Hermione a book in hand as Ron sleep soundly, his head in her lap. When she spotted Harry approaching, Hermione blushed, shutting her book and removing her hand from Ron’s hair.
“It’s alright,” Harry told her, sitting down on his own bed. “I did see you two kissing after all.”
“Things aren’t going to be weird are they?” Hermione asked him.
“Probably,” Harry said and then grinned at her as she rolled her eyes knowing he was teasing. “I mean, no weirder than things had already gotten with the two of you dancing around it.”
“Well, Ron got used to you and Ginny,” Hermione pointed out. “Least you can do is return the favor.”
“Fair enough,” he said, and his smile relaxed a little. Hermione’s eyes drifted back down to Ron’s head in her lap and she stared fondly at him.
“Do you think it’ll work?” Hermione asked him quietly. “Me and him?”
“I don’t know that I’m the best judge on relationships,” Harry said, feeling put on the spot.
“Well, no one knows Ron better than you,” Hermione argued, looking up at him again and he could see the vulnerability in his eyes. “And I’d like to think you know me pretty well, so, be honest.”
“He makes you happy right?”
“Yeah,” Hermione nodded.
“And he’s been fond of you for….well a lot longer than he’ll probably admit to you.” Harry said honestly, not wanting to betray his friendship. “Well, maybe for as long as you’ve been fond of him.”
Hermione blushed, looking pleased. “And what about all that other stuff?”
“What other stuff?” Harry asked.
“You know, the fights. Lavender, Victor. We’ve said some truly terrible things. I sent canaries after him.”
“But you always forgave each other, right?” Harry questioned.
“Yes, but…” Hermione let out a sigh. “To be honest he and I have been putting it off for awhile. Since he and Lavender ended things and I can only speak for myself, but it’s always frightened me a little, the rows being apart of our relationship. I know how angry I can be at him, how awful I can be to him when he’d just my friend. I’ve always been terrified that dating would just exacerbate things.”
Harry took a minute to think it over. “You’re not fifteen, or sixteen, or hell, even seventeen anymore. He’s grown up a lot these past few years and so have you.”
“We’ve had to,” Hermione told him heavily.
“Yes, well, I mean it’s been more than just all this.”
“How do you mean?”
He hesitated but his sleepless brain got the better of him. “Can I tell you something that you promise to take to your grave?”
Alarmed, Hermione nodded.
Harry paused, lowering his voice though they were the only two ones conscious. “Last year he got a book titled 12 Failsafe Ways to Charm Witches.”
“What?” Hermione asked.
“He wanted to be with you, and wanted to be good for you so badly that he read a book on how to do it.”
It took Hermione a moment to process this information and her hands stopped moving in Ron’s hair. “He read a book.” She repeated slowly. “To get with me?”
It took another minute and Hermione’s smile spread across her face again, looking at Ron with a tender expression that Harry had seen her give him one too many times before. This time, however, she didn’t stop there, bending down to press her lips to his forehead.
“So, as long as you bring that to the relationship,” Harry said, “Wanting to get better, I think you’ll be just fine.”
My ask box is open!
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Ron receiving fan mail from an overly excited woman, and a picture of a half-naked woman falls out of it. Let's just say, Hermione is beyond furious.
“You’ve got mail,” Hermione said, gesturing over to a stack of letters. Ron kissed her, throwing his cloak at his hook and looking at the pile with suspicion.
“Why?”
Hermione didn’t reply, raising her eyebrows and nodding him over. Reluctantly he crossed the room and picked up the pile, flipping through them and not recognizing any of the handwriting through it was all alarmingly loopy, hearts or else glitter decorating the outside of the envelopes.
“I’m going to pitch them,” Ron decided.
“Oh, come on, let’s see what they have to say,” Hermione said, giving up the pretense of working entirely.
“I’d think you’d be more upset about all this attention,” Ron replied. “You know it’s just going to be people flirting with me.”
He was still convinced that the whole thing had been one big joke pulled off by George and his sister. (He had half a mind to accuse Harry too, but his best mate had never been able to keep anything from them). Prank or not, he Ron Weasley had been named winner of Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile Award. And the response had been, overwhelming to say the least.
“It’s a letter,” Hermione argued. “And you’re in love with me, aren’t you?”
“For now,” he sighed, bringing over the letters.
“Come on, let’s have a laugh,” Hermione said, “Goodness knows I could use one after today.”
“Bad day?” he asked, trying to distract her. “Because if you don’t feel like cooking we could order out-“
“Pizza’s already on its way,” Hermione said, “Now come on, I want to hear what the world really thinks of my fiancee.”
“Fine,” he sighed, throwing himself into the chair beside her and picking up the first one, which so happened to be the one covered in glitter. He ran his finger under the seam and, alarmed, watched as glitter burst out, coating their table.
“Is that supposed to be sexy?” Ron asked in alarm as Hermione, though fit of giggles, pulled her wand and began to siphon it up. “We’ll never be able to get rid of it!”
“Oh, so glitter doesn’t turn you on?” Hermione teased. “Guess I’ll have to return that nightie-“
“The only exception,” he told her sternly, but even he had to crack a smile as he remembered how she’d emerged from the bathroom wearing only-
“What’s it say?” Hermione interrupted his daydream.
He cleared his throat, unfolding the parchment.
Dear Ron Weasley,
He began in a mocking voice, finally getting into it.
Congratulations, on winning Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile Award. I was never really one for the gossip rag-
“Likely that, she seems like their ideal demographic,” Ron added in. “Glitter, pink.”
Hermione giggled. “Go on.”
But when I saw your face smiling at me from the newsstand my heart about jumped out of its chest. I never knew a smile could be so charming. I couldn’t stop wondering what could inspire such a smile. Made my mind race to all these different places on how I could get you to smile like that for me.
“This is vile,” he begged, tossing the letter at her.
Hermione picked it up and scanned the letter, her face changing from amusement to shock as she read on, her lips moving. “Oh, God,” she muttered, her hand covering her mouth. “She has quite the imagination doesn’t she?”
“There’s a PS on the back,” Ron pointed out and Hermione turned it over, reading out loud.
If this hasn’t put a smile on your face maybe the photo I’ve enclosed-
Hermione’s eyes threatened to burst out of her head as she scrambled for the envelope, fishing around inside and emerging with a glitter-covered picture in which the woman was wearing-
“This is pathetic,” Hermione hissed, glaring down at the photograph Ron wasn’t trying very hard to get a look at.
“See what I’ve been dealing with?” Ron said, feeling vindicated.
“I have half a mind to-“ she hissed, looking down and shouting out. “Who sends something like that? She looks like she’s about to- ugh!”
“Burn it,” Ron advised, “Burn them all.”
“I have half a mind to burn her,” Hermione muttered, gathering the rest of them up and sending them to the fire.
“Don’t tell me you’re keeping it as a souvenir,” Ron commented when only the opened letter remained.
“No, I’m keeping it so I can give this child a piece of my mind.” She said and Ron couldn’t help but smile over how heated she was getting.
“Thought you wanted a laugh,” Ron pointed out. “Come on, Hermione, you know I’m in love with you.”
“You’d better be,” Hermione said crossly, allowing him to take the letter and picture from her hands. He only glanced down at it for a second, feeling disgusted that a woman would photograph herself like that for a stranger. And how had she managed that alone?
“Now,” Ron said, “Can we be done with all this?”
“No,” Hermione said stubbornly. “Not done.”
He turned to calm her and found her standing up. Before he could say anything Hermione had grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down, kissing him deeply and for a moment he forgot what they’d been arguing about anyway. When she let him go he gave her a stupid smile and pulled her towards him again.
“You smile like that for anyone else and I’ll hunt them down, you hear me?”
“Which smile is that again?” he teased and she shook her head at him. “Just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”
Their lips crashed together again and he lifted her off her feet, her legs wrapping around him as they started stumbling towards the bedroom.
“That one,” Hermione said when he broke apart to make sure he didn’t smash her against the wall. Her thumb traced his lip. “This one right here.”
He winked at her. “Yes ma’am.”
Part II here. // Send me a prompt!
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never
14. “Don’t you dare just walk away right now!”/ Romione, please? @blimeypeople
“I have to go-I-“
The panic that shot through her burst from her in the form of tears.
“Ron,” she begged, gripping onto his arm with both hands so tightly that when he stood he lifted her from the bed for a moment. “Ron! Don’t you dare just walk away right now!”
“I’m not,” he hissed, whipping back around back around. “I’m—I’m-“
She could see it in his eyes. The same mania that was causing her hands to shake and her heart to pound in her ears and she needed him, here.
“Please,” she whimpered, tugging at him still to come back to her. “Please.”
Heartbroken, he sat back down, his left arm going around her as she refused to let go of his right hand, holding it close to her chest as she sobbed, bleeding and broken on him. She did not care that he was needed elsewhere, did not know what truly lay outside the cottage bedroom she had awoken in. For the only thing real was Ron. His heartbeat, his chest, the arms that under her hands were bloody and bruised because he had saved her.
“Hermione,” he murmured finally, just as desperate as she. “I thought-“
And he did not need to say it because she had too. Never before had she been so close to death. If only seconds had been stolen from them then she very well might have bled out on the ball room floor…or worse.
“You saved me,” she gasped and her throat hurt when she spoke. “I thought but…you saved me.”
His arm around her tightened, her whole body moved closer to his. He might have enveloped her completely and it wouldn’t have been enough.
“Never,” he whispered back, his throat just as mangled and raspy. “Never, Hermione. Never.”
prompt list // ask box
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Hi! Can u pls write 68 for Romione, pls?
Hermione felt a shadow in her door and looked up to find Ron there, looking at her with an I told you so expression. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Hermione glanced at her watch and tried not to sound guilty as she fibbed-“I was just wrapping up.”
“Mmh,” Ron made a disbeleving noise, shutting the door behind him as he entered.
Hermione furiously scribbled the last line before casting the parchment aside.
“I’ll be home by seven,” Ron said in a mocking, but not unkind voice. “I swear it!”
“And I still can be,” Hermione told him, packing away her things with haste.
“I’ll be home before you, dinner will be started.” Ron continued as he picked up her cloak and held it out so she could stuff her arms into it. “I’ll-“
“Are you done?” Hermione asked, turning around to face him. He grinned at her, picking up her bag and putting his arm around her.
And just like that, she could barely remember what she was working on.It was stupid, after all these years, but she still felt like a besotted schoolgirl when he carried her things and marched her down the halls.
’“Careful, someone might think you actually like me.” Hermione teased, putting her arm around his waist.
He grinned down at her, knowing, at last, he had her full attention. “You have me right in the palm of your hand and you know it.”
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#72 for romione, pleasee
Ron’s hand that had been resting on her thigh traveled down suddenly, and his thumb swiped over a scar. “I don’t remember this one.”
“Hmm?” Hermione asked, peering over the book she’d been reading. “Keep track of my scars do you?”
“It’s a fruitless effort,” Ron replied, smiling at her. “Seriously, how’d you get this one?”
“Believe it or not it was before your time,” she answered, closing her book.
“Really?” he looked surprised. “Go on then, is it a good story?”
Hermione gave a little laugh, “Not particularly. My parents took me snorkeling and I cut my leg on a rock. Didn’t notice because I was in the water and it left a scar.”
“Ah,” Ron said, running his finger over it again and met her eyes. “How brave of you.”
“Don’t mock,” Hermione said, crinkling her eyes.
“I’m not,” he told her earnestly. “Honest, I want to know.”
“About my scars?”
“Everything,” he answered. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting to learn things about you.”
She felt her heart flutter and leaned forward, kissing his cheek. “Alright, any other scars you’re curious about?”
prompt list // ask box
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11. “I will leave now, or I’m going to say things I will regret later.” for rarry please!
“Having fun?” a voice in Harry’s ear caused him to jump.
Although he’d done nothing avoid staring at Ron all night, he was still surprised to find he’d snuck behind him.
“Yeah.” Harry said, trying to put as much pep and cheer into his hollow voice.
Ron frowned at him.
“What are you drinking?” he leaned even closer and Harry caught a whiff of his cologne and his heart skipped a beat. “Is that your first cup? Come on, it’s a party!”
Harry feared his smile was more of a grimace as he raised his glass and drank dutifully, finishing the half full glass of luke warm beer.
“There we are!” Ron cheered, plucking the glass from his hand. “I’ll get you another. Not a party until we’re putting on a show! Hermione’s hoping for a our moves last month.”
Alarmed, Harry stared after him as Ron winked and headed back towards the kitchen. His eyes sought Hermione, half expecting her to be glowering at him but she was deep in a giggly conversation with Ginny. Ron surely couldn’t have meant what he’d said….could he?
Despite his best intentions, Harry found himself struggling to keep both eyes open and the room from spinning at the same time. He felt himself leaning and sought the warmth of the body next to him.
“Having fun?” Ron’s voice repeated, an arm going around Harry as he lay against his side.
“Brilliant.” Harry heard himself slur and felt Ron chuckle as they settled in. “Have a good birthday?”
“Good friends, no poisoning,” Ron answered and then, leaning closer so Harry could feel the breath on his ear. “And it’s about to get more brilliant.”
Harry blinked up at him with the shift in tone and found Ron’s expression leering. He couldn’t mean…surely… But when he had the sense to follow his eyes, he found Hermione across the way, wearing a matching look and as their eyes met she had the decency to blush.
Of course.
He’s been careful not to drink around him since…well.since. Since that night when they’d danced together as a joke and somehow his hands had gotten tangled with Ron’s hair. That night that he’d nearly fallen over drunk and Ron’s strong arms had kept him upright. Since the night they’d somehow made it home and into the same bed and Ron’s scent had imprinted on sheets that Harry had yet to wash. Since the night that everything had changed. But only for him.
For he was still Ron.
Still engaged to the same woman he’d been dating since nineteen and working the same job and laughing that same laugh that caused Harry’s heart to flutter. The same. Just now so different.
“I’d better go,” Harry said, trying to get up but Ron laughed and tightened his arm around him.
“I told you, Hermione wants her show.” Ron whispered again, teasingly and this time Harry really did pull away in alarm.
“I’ve got to go,” he said hasty and suddenly felt very sober.
“Stay,” Ron begged, reaching for him.
“Have fun,” he said with a wave and, avoiding his eyes, made for the door but Ron was too quick.
For Harry found arms around him once more, and he was afraid the sensation was becoming familiar. And in a low begging voice. “It’s my birthday.”
It was impossible to resist. Impossible to let go of the moment that had pounded in his brain asleep and awake. The two of them pressed together. He wanted to kiss him. Wanted them to be in the same position without a stitch of clothing between them. Wanted his name to be begged.
“I need to go,” Harry said again and Ron pouted. “I will leave now.”
Perhaps it was the strange factual way that he was speaking that finally got through for Ron’s teasing mirth disappeared from his face. “Why?”
“I’m going to say things I will regret later.”
Harry could feel the courage swelling in his best mate. Watched the boldness creep back into his eyes, the determination.
“Then don’t regret them.”
prompt list // ask box
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75 Hinny?
“You can’t keep doing this,” Harry groaned as Ginny’s lips trailed his color bone.
“Doing what?” she asked, a familiar mischievous look in her eyes that made Harry have to bite his lip, distracted. She ducked her head once more, her eyes never leaving his as her lips resumed the slow, painfully erratic “This?”
“No,” Harry breathed, “Don’t stop that.”
Victorious she began kissing up his neck, coming painfully close to his lips before diverting away. She was going to drive him insane, she really was. He managed to regain his train of thought and tugged on her hair to get her attention.
“No you can’t keep doing this…all this… and then leaving.”
She made to kiss him again and he tightened his grip on her hair. She let out one of those noises- breathy, needy- that drove him wild and bit her own lip.
“And what else am I supposed to do?” she asked of him. “You’re the one that didn’t want to move in together.”
“I-“ he stressed, “was the one that didn’t want to move in with you and your brother.”
“Mmh, this sneaking around has been fun,” she answered him.
He relaxed his grip on her hair, running his fingers all the way to the ends. “How about it then? We’ll get a place of our own? Then you’ll never have to leave.”
From her expression, he could tell she was delighted, but in her typical Ginny way (the way that he loved) she didn’t give in all at once.
“I’ll think about it,” she said after a minute pretending to ponder while he took his turn exploring the tender surface of her neck. “Perhaps you can give me a reason to stay.”
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morgana’s curse
“It’s midnight!” said Ron suddenly with alarm. He glanced over at her and then, threw a hand over his eyes dramatically. “I’m not supposed to see you.”
Hermione giggled, pulling at his hand even as he peeked through his fingers at her. Those blue eyes she loved twinkling with joy.
“We’ve been together almost every day since we were children, I don’t see how us speaking to each other today is going to change anything.”
Ron gave her a serious look. “Now now, we can’t just laugh in the face of tradition. You have heard of the curse of Morgana, haven’t you?”
Skeptically, Hermione shook her head.
“And they say you read,” Ron teased seriously. “Morgana and her betrothed wanted to see each other before the ceremony so they tired sneaking off to meet in the early morning hours. She slipped back into the castle but he got locked out. He froze to death and to ensure no bride would feel her pain Morgana cursed all couples who dared to see one another before they were wed.”
“You can’t be serious?” Hermione asked alarmed.
Ron held suspense for another breathtaking moment and then shook his head. “Nah, but how else would we scare young girls into purity?”
“The wizarding world is so backwards sometimes,” Hermione rolled her eyes, “It doesn’t even make any sense, why would she curse brides?”
Ron chuckled and after a moment Hermione let the humor infect her. “I don’t know about a curse but I do fear my mother catching us together. She can be so old-fashioned sometimes.”
They swayed in place together for a moment, staring at one another.
“Can you believe in just twelve hours, we’ll be married?” she asked.
“And then you’ll have to spend the rest of your life with that rude boy who called you a know it all.” Ron told her.
“And you’ll have to spend your life with that know it all,” she teased back.
“Well, Miss. Know-It-All, are you ready?”
“Of course,” she answered, “I’ve been ready, for a long time.”
And she was going to marry him. And he would be her husband and she would be his wife. And they would live a long and happy life together.
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b is for bored
a is for (not an) anniversary
To nearly universal delight, the middle of May had brought with it a heatwave which made it difficult to be anywhere but out on the grounds enjoying the tease of spring. It was known that it wouldn���t last, being so far north promised at least a week longer of drafty corridors and jumpers, but the momentary reprieve had been welcomed. Particularly after the somber mood which had infected them all not so long ago.
It had been a fortnight since the anniversary. All of that pain and relief and joy (god she felt horrible still for how much laughter there’d been). Weeks spent dreading it, winding herself so tightly her shoulders had ached and with her jaw clenched. But it had come and gone and with Ron and Harry there, everything had been okay.
Yet still she found she couldn’t shake this feeling of lethargy. Yes, she was sleeping through most nights and yes she was much less irritable with…well…everyone, but there was still something off. Had to be. Never before had she sat in a lecture (Defense Against the Dark Arts no less) and feel her eyes blur.
“Hey,” Ginny hissed, nudging her. “You alright.”
“What?” Hermione asked, blinking as the haze disappeared. “Yeah, fine.”
And she was. For a moment. Should she go to the hospital wing? She hadn’t felt this way since the tent what if….
Hermione blinked, trying to focus, aware of Ginny still staring at her from the corner of her eyes and she forced herself to pay attention long enough to write something down. It was only once Ginny was satisfied enough to return to her own work that Hermione felt herself drifting once more and it was as thoughts of lunch and fond remembrances of her boyfriend that it hit her. For the first time in her magical career, no, for the first time in her life while in a classroom Hermione was bored.
Oh, if Ron and Harry could see her now. The looks on their faces nearly made her burst out in laughter and she disguised the outburst with a sputtering cough. Hermione Granger. Top of her class. The girl who had come back to Hogwarts even though she could have had any job she wanted. Bored.
She considered doubling her focus but they were only reviewing Dementors and other O.W.L. Level creatures she had long since encountered. Indeed as Hermione snuck a glance around half the class was glassy-eyed and half asleep.
Perhaps, Hermione reasoned, Just this once, it wouldn’t hurt to let her mind wander.
Carefully she settled back in her seat, quill still posed over the paper so should anyone notice…but already with the simple permission her mind was miles away. Hundreds in fact. Right back in the flat where she’d spent her Christmas holiday. With the wooden floors that creaked and the fireplace with a roaring fire to minimize the draft. To the couch, second hand and lumpy and the feeling of being home.
She’d missed them so much that by the end of last term it was like having a constant stomach ache though she hadn’t been able to diagnose the cause. Then she’d seen them, laughed herself off the train before it had even come to a stop and at once the feeling had dissipated.
It had been the perfect holiday. Every second of it. Even the sad parts.
Even having just seen them she missed them. Yes, she and Ginny were closer than ever but it wasn’t the same. And neither her, nor Harry’s company compared to at last, being alone with Ron.
Only six weeks remained in the term. Forty days and then graduation, the traditional ceremony of those oarless boats propelling them across the black lake, back to the station where friends and family would be there to greet them and then….then it would feel like that all the time. Not having to be apart if they didn’t want to.
The thought wasn’t as scary as it might have been a year ago. Perhaps she had never been scared of loving him. Spending the rest of their lives intertwined. The notion of waking up next to him. Celebrating milestones and heartache (though she thought their respite from hard times was well earned).
Date night. Coming home at the end of a long day. Finding his smile around every corner. His lips just there for her taking.
“Hermione?” Ginny hissed, forcing her to shake her favorite day dream.
It was hard not to glare at her for interrupting but to her alarm it had been a warning.
“Miss Granger?” the elderly, retired auror who’d been roped into teaching them asked.
“I’m sorry?” she asked, doing her best to resist a blush as Ginny gave her a knowing stare. “What was the question again?”
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Ron winning “Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile Award” was hilarious 😂 Can you do a sequel where he gets mobbed in Diagon Alley/at the Ministry and Hermione throws a “keep your hands off my man” fit in front of people? 😅
Part I here.
“Ah, there he is,” Hannah said, a shit-eating grin on her face. Ron grimaced but waved at her, coming over to the bar she was working behind. “So nice of you to grace this little establishment.”
“Hello Hannah,” Ron said and she chuckled. “Seen Hermione?”
“She ran through a few minutes ago, said she needed to pick something up and would meet you back here,” Hannah said, nodding at the entrance to Diagon Alley. “Can I get you a drink while you wait?”
“Sure,” Ron said, sitting down. “Discount for the most charming smile award?”
“You wish,” Hannah laughed, “Usual?”
“And a red for Hermione,” Ron answered, “And how are things with Neville, all settled in?”
Hannah nodded and then leaned in. “I had no idea how tidy he was. I thought it was just for show when I visited his flat but no, the man won’t let a mug sit in the sink.”
“He always folds his socks too,” Ron told her in a low voice.
The horror showed on her face. “I’m living with a psychopath.”
They shared a laugh after a moment. “No, really, things are good. When he’s in school I barely see him, this way I at least get to say good morning every day before he runs off. Always brings me tea. I don’t have the heart to tell him I fall asleep after and have to warm it up.”
“You both seem really happy,” Ron said.
“We are,” Hannah said, beaming. She looked around and nodded at another customer, tapping the bar in front of him. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Before bustling off.
Ron smiled after her. It had been a bit of a surprise to them all, Hannah and Neville, but a welcomed one. He glanced around the room, hoping to spot his own fiancee, and was dismayed when he met eyes with another witch. Politely he nodded and she took it as an invitation, coming over and standing far too close to him.
“Is this seat taken?” she asked.
“Oh, er-“
“Great,” she said before he could finish, brushing up against him as she took the empty chair next to his, resting her feet on the bottom of his barstool and facing him. “Heather Davies,” she said, gesturing to herself. “Did I hear right that you’re the winner of Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile Award?”
“Yes, that’s me,” he replied shortly.
“It’s him!” she said suddenly, turning back to her friend who, with a giggle, came over, making the small space even more crowded.
“I told you,” her friend said, “Martha.”
“Hello,” Ron said, trying to push himself back but finding the pole behind him blocking his exit.
“Well go on then,” Her cooed.
“Sorry?”
“Flash us that smile,” Martha went on, hitting his arm playfully.
“I don’t-“
“Please,” she pouted, her hand still on his arm. “For me?”
“No, I-“ Ron said, trying again to stand up. “Please, I’m here to-“
A hand shot out from behind the two women, pulling Martha by the shoulder and causing her to stumble back several steps. It was Hermione, her face as angry as Ron had ever seen her. She turned on Heather.
“I believe you’re in my seat,” she said shortly.
Ron had to give Heather credit. There were not many people, he included, who would dare to argue with Hermione in this mood. Heather gave a condescending smile, looking Hermione up and down. “It was open when I got here.”
Hermione kicked the foot that had been on the footrest of Ron’s chair and inserted herself in the marginal space between the two chairs. “It really wasn’t.”
Heather looked to Ron pleadingly, as though he was going to stick up for her and when he didn’t, she made a dismissive noise, throwing her hair in Hermione’s face as she turned away, walking back to her chair with a bit of a limp.
“Hermione I-“ Ron said, defending himself at once. “I swear I-“ He sighed in relief, taking her hand and squeezing it. “I’m never going anywhere without you again.”
“These women have no respect for themselves,” Hermione said angrily, plopping herself in the now vacant seat and dropping her shopping in the empty chair next to hers to create a barrier. “Honestly, cornering someone in a bar and telling them to smile? They’re like vultures.”
“Drink?” he offered, pushing the wine he’d ordered for her towards her.
She smiled gratefully, taking a healthy sip and it was only once she swallowed that she sighed, the angry expression melting from her face.
“You alright?” she asked, looking at him worriedly. She reached out, putting her hand over his.
“It’s alright,” he assured her. “Glad you came when you did though.”
“Men pull that sort of thing all the time, why is it acceptable when a woman does it?” Hermione asked with a sigh. “Terrible.”
“Terrible,” he echoed. He glanced around and found the pair that had accosted him looking disgusted at the other corner of the bar. “Anyway, what’d you get?”
“Oh,” Hermione said, brightening. “Do you remember that Peruvian wizard that had published a new arithmancy theorem?”
Ron nodded vaguely.
“Well, he published a new book and it’s supposed to redefine how wand movements are calculated.”
“Really?” Ron asked, settling in for what was bound to be a long and exciting story that he didn’t understand half of. “Do tell.”
Send me a prompt!
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I imagine Rose being an accident. Can you write Hermione and Ron finding out that they are expecting without having tried for a baby?
“I’m what?”
“Pregnant, Mrs. Weasley,” the healer repeated. “Congratulations.”
“I’m not,” Hermione argued.
The witch frowned down at her paper. “Well, actually-“
“No, I’m not,” Hermione said, “We’re not trying, I take the potion every month and we—I’m not even late!”
“You’re actually in your second month,” the healer said. “Bleeding is very common, especially during the first cycle-“
“You don’t understand, I didn’t come here to be told I’m pregnant.”
“Yet you have, Mrs. Weasley,” the witch was clearly becoming annoyed. “The symptoms you described to me, the exhaustion, nausea, are symptoms of illness, but in your case, your pregnancy is to blame.”
Hermione’s mouth fell open and she could not think of a single response.
“I’m going to make an appointment with a maternal healer,” she said, “but in the meantime, get plenty of rest and eat well, you know, all those stereotypical things.”
Still, she said nothing, her brain miles behind. The healer stood, giving her a fake smile. “Congratulations, Mrs. Weasley.”
Hermione didn’t remember leaving St. Mongos. Didn’t remember arriving at home yet here she was, sitting on the couch, the word bouncing through her brain. Pregnant.
~~~
They’d had a plan and that plan had said that they were going to wait until they were in their thirties. Until they were settled into their careers and could afford all of the things they wanted to give their children. Sure, the birth of James last year had made them discuss having one sooner, but when neither of them could decide to quit their jobs (another thing they could both agree on, wanting to have at least one parent at home part-time), they’d fallen back on their original plan.
And Hermione wasn’t thirty. And she still had a stressful job that took her around the world and placed her into all sorts of situations. And so did her husband for that matter. What were they going to do?
“Hermione? Are you there?”
She turned and was surprised to find Ron walking in from the kitchen.
“What are you doing home so early? I thought you were working late?”
“I went to St. Mongos,” Hermione told him, her eyes wide.
His face paled. “Oh, God, Hermione, what did they say?”
“That I’m pregnant.” Usually she said it sarcastically.
“Really?” he asked, clearly thinking it was a joke. But when she didn’t crack a smile his face fell. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” Hermione said, scratching her forehead. “Six weeks along.”
“Oh,” he repeated.
“Sit down before you faint,” Hermione instructed and he obediently came over, falling down next to her and staring into his hands.
“Should we be happy?” Ron asked.
“I’m not,” Hermione said. “I mean, I am, of course, I am. I want kids, I want us to have kids I want your kids it’s just not…not-“
“Not now?” he finished for her and she nodded. He looked over at her, his face still in shock. “It’s not such a bad thing, though, right?”
“No, of course not,” Hermione said, continuing their game of chicken. “We’re just not in the place I’d thought we’d be.”
“Right, yeah,” Ron agreed. “I mean at least we having some savings.”
“Savings for trips, not for a child,” she argued.
“Yeah, I really wanted to go to Italy next year,” Ron sounded disappointed. “But that’s alright.”
“We have good jobs.” Hermione pointed out.
“That one of us is going to have to quit.” Said Ron.
“That one of us is going to have to quit,” she repeated, burying her face in her hands. “Oh, God. I thought I’d be happier than this.”
“Yeah,” Ron echoed numbly.
They lapsed into silence, staring at one another and around the room as if their joy could be found there.
“Hermione?” he asked after several minutes of listening to the fire crackle.
“Yeah?” she asked, turning her head to look at him.
He didn’t speak at the once, instead gathering her hands in his, kissing both of her palms and holding them gently in his. “I’m glad it’s you.”
Hermione let out a long breath, nodding. She focused all of her attention on his crooked smile, on the way he was staring at her, the way his hands were holding hers, grounding her.
“I love you,” she told him, the anxiety gone from her voice, her hands no longer shaking.
“We’re going to have a baby,” he said, but it wasn’t in the hurried anxious tone that had played in her mind all afternoon.
For the first time something giddy inside her and she couldn’t help but echo. “We’re going to have a baby.”
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