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A spontaneous little thing for the @hinnyfest, prompt 5: A Missing HBP Moment. A tiny bit NSFW.
In the days after the Quidditch final, Ginny eventually had to admit to the Captain that she had stolen the Quaffle. Thankfully, he’d laughed.
‘How?’ he said admiringly. ‘How did you manage to walk off with that with no one noticing?’
‘I’m sure people noticed, but if you walk off with something with enough confidence, no one notices.’
‘Amazing,’ said Harry.
‘So can I keep it?’
‘No, Madam Hooch gave me such a lecture at the start of the year about replacing lost Quidditch balls.’
‘I was hoping we could all sign it and sell it off to the highest bidder,’ she said. ‘The team, I mean. Not you, you’re not well known enough.’
‘Of course I’m not,’ he replied, grinning. ‘Wasn’t even there, was I?’
‘Harry Potter who? I think you mean the stand in Captain until Ginny Weasley was ready.’
‘I’m sure that’s exactly what people have been saying, but even so, we have to return it to the store room.’
‘You’ve been hanging around with Hermione too long.’
‘Also true, but the point still stands. Walk down with me after dinner? We could go round the lake after.’
‘Go on then,’ she said, as though he had given her a tedious chore. ‘I’ll meet you there - enjoy transfiguration.’
‘Get through potions,’ he advised her cheerfully, and they kissed goodbye before parting ways, he heading to McGonagall’s classroom, she descending the steps into the gloom of Snape’s classroom.
She brought the Quaffle with her to dinner, placing it on the table between them, trying a last ditch attempt to persuade him to let her keep it. ‘Hooch won’t notice until next year.’
‘I’ll still be there then. So will you.’
‘We can blame it on the Ravenclaws. She’ll believe they’re sore losers, I’m sure.’
‘Like you said, people will have seen you walking off with it.’
‘He’s right, Ginny,’ Ron said. ‘You and Demelza were throwing it to each other across the common room.’
‘And if anyone snitches, I’ll see they regret it.’
But eventually, she had to concede that they were right; besides which it looked to be a glorious evening, and she was looking forward to precious time alone with Harry walking around the edge of the lake, rather than another painful few hours revising for OWLs.
They strolled down to the stadium, passing the Quaffle lazily back and forth to each other as they chatted. A murmur of starlings were dancing in the golden sky, the surface of the lake glistened.
At the doors that led to the changing rooms and store cupboard, Harry reached into his pocket for the keys granted to him by Madam Hooch.
‘When do you have to give those back?’ Ginny asked. ‘Do you get to keep them even out of season?’
‘Oh, er… I suppose so. She hasn’t asked for them back anyway.’ He hesitated, and she wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was. But he said nothing, and opened the door. It was fair enough, really, she thought as they were hit with the smell of leather and slightly stale air. They had only really been dating for three absolutely wonderful days.
It just felt as though it had been longer with Harry, not just because she had spent so many years imagining this and admiring him from afar, but because she had also spent those years getting to know one another far better than most. The awkward parts of dating felt skipped over; they had taken to the relationship like a kelpie to water.
He took the Quaffle from her and went to the store cupboard, pulling back the deadbolt lock.
‘How many people do you think have snogged in there?’ she asked.
He laughed. ‘What?’
‘That’s the cliche, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Snogging in a broom cupboard? One of those things that everyone supposedly does but I never actually hear about it happening in real life.’
He laughed again as he pulled out the trunk that stored the Quidditch balls and kicked it open. ‘Really? In muggle schools I think it’s meant to be behind the bike sheds.’
‘I’m sure if you’d gone to a muggle school that’s exactly what you’d have been doing; snogging girls behind the bike sheds.’ The bludgers were straining angrily against their leather straps as Harry replaced the Quaffle.
‘I very much doubt it, I can’t pretend I’m experienced with broom cupboards, clearly, so-’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘not yet.’
A burst of courage had overwhelmed her; she impulsively grabbed the front of his robes and hauled him into the broom cupboard. He was spluttering with shocked laughter. ‘Ginny? What-’
The rest of his sentence was lost to a slight hum as she pulled him down to kiss him fiercely, backing herself into the corner, bracing herself unsteadily against some dusty old Shooting Star brooms, letting his hands support her waist as he kissed her back. The moment she found herself suitably propped up, she let her hands roam too: up his sides and brushing over his shoulders and then into his hair - his gorgeous, thick, dark, ridiculously messy hair.
Their lips broke apart in shuddering gasps. ‘I’ve always wanted to do that,’ she murmured stupidly.
‘What? Snog me or snog in a broom cupboard?’
‘Both.’
His lips met hers again, and then followed the line of her jaw, and onto her neck. It was a sensation unlike she had ever experienced; Dean had kissed her neck, certainly, and it had been enjoyable, but Harry’s lips seemed to send jolts straight through her, seemed to command her head to fall back with a sigh. Now one of his hands was entangled in her hair - her own had moved quite of their own accord to slide down his lean chest, where her fingers fumbled over buttons.
He groaned slightly; she was quite sure he was entirely unaware of it, unaware of how he was pressing his body against her, how his knee had found its place between her legs, entirely ignorant of what he was reducing her to, how she was overwhelmed, this fantastic feeling building somewhere below her navel, something like anticipation.
Her fingers found the warm skin of his chest where she had undone his top two buttons, and her hand slipped beneath the fabric to rest over his beating heart. She felt him shudder slightly, but she knew, instinctively (though the way he clutched her even closer was a good indicator too), that it was very much a positive shudder.
Suddenly, his lips left her skin. He had fallen back just like her, exposing his throat as he tilted his head back and breathed out a long, slow breath. Her hand traced under his shirt. His eyes were fluttering closed. He was melting at her touch, that simple act of her palms against him, her gentle caress.
She continued it for what couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds, but Harry seemed to come back to earth, blinking rapidly, stepping back. ‘I-’ he began hoarsely.
‘It’s all right,’ she said swiftly. The rapid escalation of their kissing had surprised even her.
‘I’m - I’m not used to-’ he mumbled, and then, even in the dim light of the cupboard, she saw pink flush along his cheekbones.
‘Touch?’ she offered.
‘I suppose,’ he said quietly. ‘Yeah.’
‘We have time,’ she said, even quieter. ‘All the time we need.’
He nodded, and kissed her again; softly and slowly.
I've been out of town this past weekend, but I just saw your tag @voldemorts-tap-shoes 😂 well played. I'll share a little teaser of the next chapter of The Faith of an Auror, just for you. I'm the world's slowest writer, so you've definitely earned it! 💜
To her utter amazement, he seemed to light up at her response. “Suppose that it’s been so long, you’ve forgotten how to flirt.”
Hermione ignored the low chuckle that escaped the infuriating man at her side. “What would you prefer that I call you, then?”
“Oh, do I get to choose? I’d go with ‘handsome,’ or ‘sexy,’ or ‘my king’ in a pinch.”
“How about I don’t curse you into next week and we call it a day?”
"Well look at that, you do remember how to flirt.”
These were their favourite moments. In the quiet hours of dawn.
Wrapped up in each other's arms. Her head on his chest listening to his rhythmic heartbeat. Eyes closed, bodies relaxed. A small content smile on her lips as he traced gentle circles on her back.
These were their favourite moments. In the quiet hours of dawn where they were just Hermione and Ron.
word count 11638
Many thanks to @abradystrix for betaing!
Previously in Waking Up:
- The outing to the club goes poorly, and it ends with George getting kicked out of the club and being vicious with Ron
- Hermione and Ron have an intimate evening
- Next day Ron’s cooking lunch, Harry’s set off by some loud noises
- Hermione goes to find Ron- turns out Mrs Weasley is crying in her room bc George got arrested for breaking his parole- then Ron leaves the house with a pair of rubber boots in his hands and no explanation
Chapter warnings:
cursing, intense emotions, ‘doctors’ and therapy
CHAPTER 7 - PUBS AND WINDOWS
A cheap scratchy t-shirt and a flimsy apron were tossed his way. Ron deftly caught them, though his left arm ached at the sudden twist he had to do.
“We have chef’s trousers you can buy, so you don’t mess up your jeans,” he was told by Eckles, the pub owner who had hired him. He had a first name that no one at the pub knew. Ron was fairly certain they were too afraid to ask it.
“How much are the trousers?”
“Twenty pounds.”
That was worth a lot of groceries, if he remembered his Muggle money.
“I’ll stick with my jeans, thanks.”
Eckles gave him a long look before introducing Paul, a weedy twenty-something with the patchy mustache of a fourteen year old making his first foray into facial hair. Paul walked him through the back kitchen and dishwashing areas. The thin man enjoyed talking, which worked out well for Ron, who had little energy for minding his Wizarding references. He demonstrated how to use the automatic dishwasher, and Ron wished he had some parchment to write down all the random words Paul kept throwing at him.
A big shout out to @bluegreenandpurple for betaing!
AO3 FFN
Just like a butterfly's flapping wings can cause a typhoon, one small occurrence can change the trajectory of one's life. Ron and Hermione's lives are on track–they have found success in their careers and are starting to plan their future together. That is until shocking news turns their lives upside down, which sets a series of disastrous events in motion. Rated M
I started this fic for the Romione Trope Fest, and then life got in the way and I wasn't able to finish it on time. Better late than never! Enjoy my indulgent, silly little attempt at Marriage Law, and please don't think too hard about the world-building. ;)
---------------------------
The Law
Even though The Daily Prophet is as light as a feather, Ron feels like he's holding a brick. He scowls at today's headline.
Marriage Law enacted with a unanimous vote. Unless previously engaged, all pure-blood magical folks must marry within two months.
Fuck.
Luckily, Hermione is at work and isn't around to see him crumple up the newspaper and toss it into a nearby bin. But that doesn't mean she won't become aware of the news at her job. They've already faced so much marriage pressure from his mother, and they don't need it from the Ministry too.
"Something wrong?" asks Harry.
Ron's best friend stands at the kitchen counter pouring himself a glass of orange juice. Like Ron, Harry's still wearing his pajamas, but instead of blazing orange and studded with Chudley Cannons emblems, they're dark green with a repeating pattern of gold talons. If Grimmauld Place wasn't already full of Holyhead Harpies gear, Ron would think Harry had chosen to represent Slytherin.
It would have been a safe fashion choice, given the state of the Ministry.
"Oh you know," says Ron. "More propaganda." Ron clears his throat and puts on his best impression of Lucius Malfoy, assistant to the Minister of Magic. "One of the biggest issues facing the modern magical world is the slow dilution of magical blood. We must use all of our resources to combat this."
Harry snorts. "You know they're all talk."
To a certain extent, it's true. Ever since Voldemort 'won the war,' he's proven that his preference for winning is stronger than his penchant for ruling. Since his rise to power, disorganization within the Ministry has prevented any new bills from being passed into law. He's packed his speeches with empty promises to ensure the safety of all pure-blooded citizens by restricting the rights of half-bloods and muggle-borns, yet won't respond to the media's accusations of his own questionable blood status. His attempts to squash rumors of senility don't hold a lot of weight when he can't remember small details of the war, like where the battle took place, who he had been trying to kill, or the fact that he never actually won in the first place.
As it turns out, the best way to remove the threat of a dictatorship is to make them believe they'd succeeded. That way, no Death Eaters are running about hungry for revenge, and the magical world can see what a joke a Voldemort-run Ministry really is.
Harry reaches into the bin and smoothes out the article. "Oh darn. You have to get married. How sad for you."
"Shut up," says Ron, only to get hit in the face by a crumpled-up news article.
"It's not real," states Harry. "I mean... it is. To him. Not to The Order."
"But Harry, it was a 'unanimous vote'," says Ron, using air quotes.
"Who voted?"
"I dunno. Voldemort himself, maybe."
Harry takes a seat at the dining table and opens his laptop. He clacks away at the keyboard, most likely crafting an email to Kingsley about how the order would deal with this new "law." Ron's still impressed at Harry's familiarity with the keyboard — it was quite the learning curve for Ron when The Order transitioned to muggle technology. But he was willing to learn it, as it was the best way to remain undetected by the Ministry. Why would Voldemort bother with archaic means of communication when he could enact something fresh and modern, like a Marriage Law?
"Notice how it doesn't specify we need to marry other pure-bloods?" asks Ron. "Reckon that's an oversight?"
Harry laughs. "Either that or he'd have to make marrying your cousin legal first."
"Good point," says Ron with a chuckle.
Ron's laptop dings, indicating a new message. He's pleased to see that Kingsley has copied Ron into his response.
Harry - we've heard of the new law, yes. We'll have an Order meeting tonight to discuss the best way to handle it. Stay tuned for time and location.
"You probably won't have to get married," jokes Harry. Since you two are too cool for that."
Ron smiles at his friend, who's fiddling with the gold band on his left ring finger. Little does Harry know, it isn't the only ring in the house. Tucked away in Ron's bedside drawer is a blue sapphire on a gold band, safely protected by a velvet ring box and a disillusionment charm. One of the benefits of learning how to use a computer was the discovery of Hermione's Pinterest page, a blatant contradiction to her assurances that 'marriage is overrated anyway' and she 'doesn't need a fancy ring'. Discovering her account had felt like finding a clear, static-free radio station that hadn't existed before, full of fresh explanations to previously indecipherable mysteries.
"Thank Merlin for that," says Ron, breathing a sigh of relief that he can only hope is convincing. As the news sets in, Ron's palms begin to sweat and his jaw clenches and everything begins to feel less like a joke.
Of course, to The Order, this is a non-issue. Voldemort's laws don't hold any weight with 99% of the magical world — pretty much everyone looks to The Order for real news along with guidance on how to convince the Ministry they still have power. Within the next two weeks, there'll likely be a slew of fake engagements and falsified marriage documents followed by very real parties and celebrations, because why not? In general, the magical community loves how The Order strings the Ministry along like a hopeful suitor. It's childish, sure, but the war has stolen a generation's innocence, and this is their way of reclaiming it. Plus, tricking the dark side requires collaboration and unity. What better way to heal from the war's attempt to isolate and divide?
But Ron doesn't want a fake marriage. He wants a real one, one that isn't overshadowed by hoaxes or inspired by an archaic law. His heart sinks as he thinks back to the ring hiding in his bedside drawer. The thought of having to postpone his proposal or convince Hermione that he's serious makes Ron wonder if they'd truly succeeded in stripping Voldemort of his power.
"You okay?" asked Harry as he glances at Ron from the corner of his eye.
"Yeah. I'm fine." Ron's ears burn with heat and he knows Harry can see right through his response. He stands up from the dining table and pushes his chair back. "I'll be upstairs if you need me," he says as he brushes past Harry.
"Whatever you say," his best friend mutters before Ron proceeds to his bedroom to regroup.
------------------------------
Ron hadn't meant to fall asleep, and he nearly panics when he wakes up to see what time it is. Harry had confirmed the Order meeting at Grimmauld Place, and they will be over any minute, so he reluctantly rolls out of bed with a groan and hobbles to his bathroom to make sure he looks somewhat presentable.
When he deems his appearance professional enough, Ron leaves his bathroom and heads down the stairs, where he nearly collides with Hermione.
"Hermione, hi. What… what are you doing home so early?"
Hermione beams and flings her arms around Ron's neck. "Just wanted to see you."
Ron smiles back and tightens his grip around Hermione's waist. "I have an Order meeting, unfortunately."
"Oh, when?"
"Tonight," he murmurs into her bushy hair. "We're meeting here."
"What's the meeting about?" she presses. Her embrace strengthens, and Ron basks in the warmth of her body against his. Maybe he can miss the Auror meeting… Harry can fill him in later, right?
But he hesitates to tell her what it's about. It would change things
"I guess I'll find out soon," he says.
Hermione pulls away, her hands sliding to meet his. "Well, if you're meeting here, then it makes sense why the drawing-room looks the way it does."
"Huh?"
"Yeah. I didn't realize you decorated for Order meetings."
"Uh…we don't." As far as he's concerned, they've never done that. Ron peers over Hermione's shoulder to see a dimly-lit room. The light that emanates is a warm glow. Are those… candles?
"Weird, right?" chirps Hermione.
Why would the Aurors set up candles? Unless they really wanted to make a joke of the whole Marriage Law announcement.
Or…maybe…
"Hermione." Ron's voice cracks as though he's a teenager entering puberty. "What is this?"
"She meets his gaze and flashes a smile. "Something I should have done yesterday," she says as the tugs his arms toward the drawing-room.
Does she know about the law? Did Harry say something? "Hermione—"
Hermione clears her throat, and says in the most demanding, Hermione-like tone, "Ron, listen. Let me do this right."
When they enter the drawing-room, Ron is instantly reminded of their first date after the war. The first time they'd dressed up for a night out Ron had taken her to a candlelight muggle restaurant, a place where no one would recognize them. Complete privacy. With a flick of her wand, the drawing-room doors shut, closing them off to the rest of the world and its drama, conflict, and outdated laws. "What are you doing—"
"Ron,"
"What about the Order meeting?"
"RONALD."
When the tone Hermione usually reserves for sparking an argument surfaces, Ron quiets down. Hermione's mischievous smile confirms at least one thing, that there's no Order meeting here tonight.
Harry's such a git.
Hermione clears her throat and continues in a trembling voice, "I've been meaning to do this for ages. I mean, I've had the ring for months. But I kept talking myself out of it because I didn't want you to feel pressured, or I didn't want it to sound like an ultimatum, but with the today's news I didn't want you to think I felt pressured either, and Harry suggested—"
Git.
"Yes," he interrupts, his heart racing, his hair standing on end. There's a part of Ron that's annoyed, frankly, that Hermione beat him to the punch. Maybe his traditional upbringing had given him the idea that men were supposed to decide when to move things forward. But it had never been that way with Hermione. He recalls how she slammed into him and kissed him for the first time, her timid, yet confident tone when she asked him to Slughorn's party, and the way she called him out for not taking her to the Yule Ball. She'd always been the one pushing him further down the road while he hesitated, not because he wasn't ready, but because he didn't feel worthy.
Plus, that prickle of annoyance felt like the first time he met her. 'You've got dirt on your nose.' It made his palms sweat and his heart beat faster, like a young boy who doesn't realize he has a crush.
"Yes," he reiterates.
"Ron, let me finish."
The prickle returns, accompanied by an overwhelming desire to squeeze his girlfriend and bury his face in her hair, run his teeth along her skin, tracing the fine tightrope between anger and lust. It had always been like that with Hermione. "Okay, but the answer's yes."
Hermione beams as she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a ring box from her pocket. "Ronald Weasley," she continues in a cracking voice, "Will you marry me?"
She pops open the ring box to reveal a black band with a subtle orange stripe down the middle. Chudley Cannon's colors — just like the ring on his Pinterest board, the gallery he had made for himself when he found Hermione's.
"You saw my board?" he asks, knowing full well that his ears are glowing red.
"Yeah. You're such a dork," she says with a laugh. "So it's still a yes?"
"Yes. A thousand times yes," he says, rushing forward to embrace her and bury his head into the pillow of his hair. He thinks of the ring nestled in his top drawer, and is torn between running to retrieve it or living in her embrace forever, refraining from stealing her thunder. "I wanted to be the one to propose to you."
Hermione chuckles, then in a voice muffled by Ron's jumper, "You shouldn't have taken so long, then."
Normally, it pains him to admit that she's right, but once in a blue moon, she says something he simply can't argue with, and this is one of those times. He pulls her closer. "You're right. I shouldn't have taken so long."
The Disappointments of Cormac McLaggen
by accio broom
Cormac McLaggen has a hard life, made even worse when Ron Weasley starts stealing everything Cormac desires.
Words: 2705, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: F/M, Gen
Characters: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Cormac McLaggen, Original Characters
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Additional Tags: Hogwarts Sixth Year, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Minor Lavender Brown/Ron Weasley, Minor Cormac McLaggen/Hermione Granger, POV of Cormac McLaggen
The Delacour family has arrived at the Burrow for Fleur and Bill’s upcoming nuptials, and as both families prepare for the wedding, Gabrielle finds herself enamored with a certain member of the Weasley family…
Written for the Main Character March Challenge on the HPRomione Discord.
Words: 2692, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: F/M, Gen
Characters: Gabrielle Delacour, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley
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