Misconceptions

Ron Weasley. Underestimated, Underappreciated, and Misunderstood.

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Hermione took a bite of her food, chewing slowly as she was trying to decide what to tell Oliver. She wasn’t one to try and overstep bounds, or say something that would be taken the wrong way. “He danced with me when we had a dance at school. He was one of the Triwizard Champions, and they were all required to dance at the ball. I was never really sure why he’d asked me but it was a fun night.” She laughed a little before taking another bite, smiling at the memory. 

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Ron cleared his throat of a laugh and shook his head. Everyone but Hermione seemed to grasp that Krum fancied her. She was the person he would have missed most, she didn't see that. They were only friends now and Ron knew that.

"Triwizard...I've heard that before...Mom used to talk about it...said she was in her seventh year when that happened..." Oliver crinkled his nose. "No one would tell me about it though...I didn't even know that was a dance."

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Hermione’s cheeks twinged pink. Her and Viktor had really been nothing more than friends of sorts but that was neither here nor there. She turned to look at Oliver before she spoke. “He’s quite quiet actually. We would study together in the library. So fun in an intellectual way, not necessarily your traditional way.” She didn’t want to disappoint Oliver, but when she was actually speaking she thought that perhaps she knew a side of Krum that most others might not have. “Oh, and he’s almost duck footed, a fun dancer to be sure, but he tends to slouch a lot to cover up his gait.” Hermione realized she needed a drink and didn’t want more wine in the moment so as she raised her wand and twirled the tip, water poured into the empty glass in front of her and she took a sip to wash down her words. 

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Ron nodded when she spoke, though not as confirmation. He didn't know much about Viktor, actually. Ron let the two talk, listening while he took a bite of his food.

"Wait, he dannnces?" The boy exclaimed. He seemed interested in what was happening. He took a bite before speaking again. He swallowed and continued. "What kinds of dances? I always danced with mum and she said the best kinds of people danced! I bet he can dance a lot, probably."

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Hermione took a seat and found herself sitting opposite Oliver as he started talking about their sport. She knew of Krum’s accident, he’d written her about it and she felt terrible. Cracked his skull it did, he still tended to weave when he walked. “I’ve met Krum before, he’s a pretty decent guy. He’s not overly fond of the Americans though, so I’m sure he got a bit anxious if they tried anything. He’s not big on the Irish either.” She laughed, it was soft, and she looked over to Ron and smiled, it was almost comfortable, this moment. She hoped it would last. 

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"Hermione and I have met Krum," Ron half bragged. "He was my favorite player some years back, when I was in school. He came to Hogwarts for a bit our fourth year and he got to know Hermione pretty well." Ron looked over at her as he took a drink or water and felt a smirk pull across his lips. "Why don't you tell Oliver a bit about Viktor," he added.

"Yeah!!! Tell about him Hermione! Is he fun? And cool? I bet he is just as tough as the pictures! Does he really run as fast as he flies?"

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Sometimes life gives you a forced perspective. You are shown what there was, what there is, and what there would be. Hermione’s thoughts were compounding as she thought of everything in the past, and how it affects the present, as well as everything that’s happening in the moment… every single decision… would affect the future. She could take a step to the left, and it could change everything, even though it seems like a harmless thought or decision. The fact she was making a decision could change everything. 

The fact that Ron promised Hermione something… changed everything.

She laughed at Oliver’s tone, it was almost incorrigible. “I’m sure I can Oliver… I’m sure you can get away with almost as much as I can.” She said with a wink as she looked at him. “I think right now, I want to hear about the quidditch match you were listening to. Can you give me the highlights?” She wasn’t much for quidditch, but she thought he might perk up a bit at telling her about it. 

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Ron pulled out two chairs for them and nodded before sitting down in his own. The table was small and there was barely room for two, but for some reason the table felt like home. Maybe it was the lack of elbow room. He looked to his left for a second and then down at his plate listening to the two of them talk. Family dinners used t be routine. Fred on his left and then George after that. To his right was Percy, only so the twins couldn't put beetles in his mashed potatoes.

"Krum was officiating this game because he's not playing this season...bludger accident last season wasn't good for his flying....so I was more interested in that than they game. The Americans were playing the Irish, so it's not worth listening to...the Irish will cream them!" 

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Hermione sighed. Ron’s mum wasn’t the topic she wanted to discuss, even though she had started it. “I didn’t know what happened to you. No matter what I tried, I couldn’t get to you.” She stopped. She couldn’t make him feel bad for doing what he needed to do. She wouldn’t. It was in the past, and couldn’t change. Hermione just needed the reassurance that the future would at least be different. His words hit her harder than she thought they would. He gave her his promise. “I will Ron.” She would do her best to talk to him when it came to different things. “I don’t know that I can stop my friends, not that I have ever told them anything that mattered. I have a feeling they read more into things than they were actually told. I tend to be a private person.”

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Oliver being here put an end to any serious conversation that they were having was gone. That would be an interesting change in lifestyle. Just shows that I literally know nothing about having a kid. He shouldn't have been thinking like that, but he was. Second thoughts weren't there, just last minute concerns.

"I promised Hermione here that she could come hang out with us whenever she wanted," Ron told the little redhead with a bit of a laugh.

"Ron, can't Hermione Granger do anyyyything she wants?" Oliver clearly knew who she was, though, who didn't?

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"I knew you left. You didn’t tell me where, you didn’t write. What I heard was from your mum and she was pretty tight lipped about it. You know she thinks it was my fault. Not that I told her anything different." Not that I believe anything different. She thought and paused. “Make a difference here, work on the politics, work on the rules, start that here and use this place as an example for the ministry. That new rules can work. We have a pretty good group of people here, at least an assortment of backgrounds. It could work.” She looked towards the hallway, away from him, trying to sort through the rest of it. She was terrified that she’d fail again, that she wouldn’t be good enough again. That they wouldn’t make it. “You ended things Ron. I’m not bitter about it at all. I understand why.”

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His mother was always overly protective, not that she was faulted for it. Her lover for her family was overwhelming, but it was accepted, appreciated, and returned. Ron knew that his mother was probably curt with Hermione. "I didn't tell my mother anything about it, even when she asked. It wasn't her business, it was ours." Not that I really made it yours. It was mostly mine. 

He picked up the pan and took it across the small room to the connected dining room and put it down where the young boy had put them. He looked back at her and shook his head. "No, it wasn't your fault, it wasn't anyone's fault. I needed time and I needed to understand myself. It's bullshit and cliche, but I couldn't handle anything. I wasn't sleeping or eating. I had no contact with my family because when I did I almost passed out. Hermione, I didn't leave because I wanted to run...I left because I had to find something...you were all I knew to run to and I didn't know how to live without you. I needed to find it...then I figured out that I don't want to. What I needed, what I still do, is to spend time with you, to be with you, and to let it be on our terms, not the terms people think it should be." He paused and inhaled slowly. "I won't leave, not unless you want me to.  want to talk to you, but you have to talk to me...and keep your friends out of my business..." Her friends were nosy. "So, yes, I promise."

In that moment Oliver ran in, his red hair falling in his eyes, and stopped. "What do you promise, Ron?" he asked. There was a slight instant when Oliver looked so much like Ron, with his fringe, his lanky arms, and his little laugh, that there could be a paternal assumption made around town. Ten years ago, Ron had that same spark in his eyes as Oliver. 

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Her cheeks were flushed, she was counting to 4 to keep her breaths even. Hermione was completly flustered. She wasn’t sure what she wanted, and didn’t want to be put on the spot. It felt like if she didn’t give the ‘right’ answer he would leave and the thought of him leaving terrified her. “Why is it impossible to be my friend? Why can’t we take it slow and make sure that we don’t mess up again? Why can’t I feel like I’ve changed and this time I won’t be so much of a mess you leave again? I’m not asking for a guarantee on anything, but honestly, has anything really changed? Have we really changed? Or are we still reacting to what life throws at us, instead of going after what we truly want? Do you truly want to move in together, have kids, cats… a life with me? Do you?” She looked up to the ceiling, trying to count again, she wasn’t upset, just overwhelmed, and didn’t want him to think he’d upset her. Everything was just a flood of confusion, she had to process it. 

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"Did you know I moved back to London?" he asked her. No answers to any of her questions, just another statement of fact. "I got an apartment in the city and looked into the ministry. I've been wanting to see what I can do about government policies on pardons from the war so I wanted to get a position there. I set up an interview, got into the Alley, and walked past the pet shop. I saw the ugliest cat I've ever seen and all I could think of was how awful you looked as a cat. I pictured your eyes green and narrow and your cheeks striped like the cat at school and remembered that you were always there, you were always it...so, I missed my interview, packed my shit, and came back to this dump of an apartment to run a bar because, no, I can't be your friend. Slow is acceptable, but it's not good enough. Maybe things are on a whim, but at least they're honest and passionate. We need something unexpected and good, so why not keep each other?"

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Hermione smelled the chicken as he pulled the pan from the oven. “Ron, do you regret coming here?” She asked as he turned to her. His words hadn’t fully registered with her yet, Hermione was focused on whether or not Ron actually wanted to be here. She needed to know. She didn’t want him to regret anything, most of all being with her. Then the rest of it hit her, harder than she wanted it to. Hermione was confused why he said he was pretending to be her friend, the word stung. She couldn’t hide it in her face. “Pretending?” 

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"No, I don't regret coming here," he countered. He stepped away from the stove and looked at her. It needed to cool anyway. "I don't regret it. I came here for you. No, I don't really have friends here, but I have you...I had you...once...and a bar. I can't pretend to be your friend when we both know it's impossible. Slow or not, we have to decide what's happening or neither of us will ever know how to live. Say we're friends, then I'll leave and you can have this place...but if we're not friends, if we are going to love each other and move in together and have kids and stupid cats, then I'll stay. I won't stay and be miserable watching you here...I can't do that."

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Do it.

A. WHY MY LAST RELATIONSHIP ENDED.

B. FAVORITE BAND.

C. WHO I LIKE AND WHY I LIKE THEM.

D. HARDEST THING I’VE EVER BEEN THROUGH.

E. MY BEST FRIEND.

F. MY FAVOURITE MOVIE.

G. SEXUAL ORIENTATION.

H. DO I SMOKE/DRINK?

I. HAVE ANY TATTOOS OR PIERCINGS?

J. WHAT I WANT TO BE WHEN I GET OLDER.

K. RELATIONSHIP WITH MY PARENTS.

L. ONE OF MY INSECURITIES.

M. VIRGIN OR NOT?

N. FAVOURITE PLACE TO SHOP AT?

O. MY EYE COLOUR.

P. WHY I HATE SCHOOL.

Q. RELATIONSHIP STATUS AS OF RIGHT NOW.

R. FAVOURITE SONG AT THE MOMENT.

S. A RANDOM FACT ABOUT MYSELF.

T. AGE I GET MISTAKEN FOR.

U. WHERE I WANT TO BE RIGHT NOW.

V. LAST TIME I CRIED.

W. CONCERTS I’VE BEEN TO.

X. WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF (…)?

Y. DO YOU WANT TO GO TO COLLEGE.

Z. HOW ARE YOU?

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Hermione looked down for a few moments. She was conflicted, completely. “We always do protect those we love.” Her voice was soft, and she meant more in those words than she had most of the night. She took a deep taste from  her glass, plucking up the courage to say what she needed to. She set the glass down and looked over to him. “You do know that I’d do it again without a second thought. That it was never about being strong, that it was always about making sure you were okay. That you’d go on. That you were more important than anything, please tell me you know that Ronald.” Her lip quivered, she didn’t want to be known for doing the right thing, she needed to feel that she did it for the right reason. This, this moment, was the right reason. 

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"I know, Hermione," he said softly. The bell rang at that and he turned to the oven to pull the food out. The steam came from the pan and he sat it on top of the stove with his back turned to her. "I know that you'd do it again...and that I would do it again. So would Harry and mum and George. We would all do it again, but the difference between all of them and us," he turned around and looked at her. "Is that their lives kept going and the only thing I could think of doing was following you, here, to this place...and now, I don't even have what I was fighting for. I'm here, pretending to be your friend and making you dinner like I can just forget why I did everything." 

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Hermione looked up at Ron, how casual he had spoke and she was a bit shocked, hoping her face wouldn’t show anything. “Ginny, you boys always underestimated her. She’s quite a force to be reckoned with. I know your mum always wanted a girl, and she got quite a girl.” She smiled at the thought of when Ginny had shown off a bit in the D.A. People seemed to respect her a bit more after. “Well, for once being an almost squib, you’ve surely turned a lot of things around.” Her smile was genuine, she knew how strong Ron was, and powerful in what he could do, but she couldn’t say that to him. There was just never a place to do that. 

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"I never underestimated her," he said shaking his head and looking up at her. "Nor did I you. Everyone knows that both of you are strong, but that didn't mean that we weren't any less protective. We protect the important so they don't have to remind us how strong they are." Ron looked away and picked up a towel. "That was the one thing I knew I had to do...make sure you all didn't have to prove to the world your strength in adversity. I just didn't want you to have the adversity...except it all ended up turning around and you being strong for me."

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"I bet your mum loved that." She laughed, but it was dry. Hermione was constantly reminded just how different her world was from his when things like this were brought up. She wasn’t a pure blood, she never would be, and there were some things she’d never know. But there were times it felt like those things were being thrown in her face. 

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"Ginny was the one to piss gonlins because of it," he said shrugging. "Mum was glad I was showing signs. Fred and George were showing signs at about 4...I didn't start til I was six. I think for a minute she thought I was a squib." For the first time in years, Ron's voice didn't catch at the name of Fred and he noticed, and he was sure she did too. His cheeks turned a red and he looked at his hands. "I don't know when muggle-borns start showing signs and all."

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She wrapped her fingers around the stem of the wine glass, trying to find something nice to say. She asked a question, and he left her feeling completely silly. There was a part of Hermione that just wanted to give up, on everything. Spin on her heel and leave. She wouldn’t though. Doing so would never be as easy as she wanted. "I had assumed he was on the list for Hogwarts, but I was just wondering if he had been showing signs. He’s still a bit young, I wasn’t showing much at that age, I’m not sure if you were either." The phrasing flowed from her mouth and as she finished she took another sip of the wine, trying to prepare for an evening she didn’t expect. 

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Ron wanted to make it stop. He wanted to make the conversation speed up and he wanted to stop her from rambling. The only time that she rambled was when she was uncomfortable–he didn't want to be the one to make her feel that way. "When I was eight I was accidentally turning my sister's hair green," he said laughing a bit. "Purebloods are more likely to show signs when they're younger simply because they're raised around it." This was true, while there were outliers with those kinds of things. 

Ron felt uncomfortable only because he felt like she didnt want to be here. Maybe he shouldnt have asked her simply because she felt uncomfortable at this point.

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Hermione was trying to push the feelings of being out of place from her mind, but it was difficult. Just being here she saw how much things have changed, but she wasn’t sure if she had changed as much as he had. “Hogwarts will be good fro him. Has he shown any signs of magic yet?” She wasn’t sure if Oliver had his bouts of magic that most wizarding children had, but perhaps a spark or two had flared up, or would while he was here. 

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"He shows signs, yes," Ron said stepping around the kitchen and pulling out three plates and glasses for the small dining room table he had a room over. He would need to get a bigger one for the new place. Maybe he'd make one, he liked doing things with his hands. "He is a Weasley though, he's on the list. Pure blood. He's been known to set things on fire when he's mad, mainly chairs....so, we're pretty sure he's destined for the magical life." Ron laughed a bit. "And he loves Quidditch too much to be a squib."

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Tracey moved closer in response to the scarf being gently tugged, nodding ever so discreetly. “It’s as if they were made for the holly jolly spirits.” She grinned, looking up once more. Everything, this was all so very surreal to her, just months ago, she would’ve more than likely sent a curse in retaliation at someone even mentioning the possibility. Yet, here she was. “Is that you hinting at something?” 

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His foot stepped back and he tugged her forward just the same. "See, I love the pitch, but sometimes there are just better places to be than here....especially when it's colder than Draco Malfoy's heart outside." Ron was obviously never a fan of Malfoy, that was no secret. "I like warmth...and you, so since I am staying here over the holidays I figured we could to the warm thing...and the holiday thing...together....not outside. How's that sound? I could even teach you how to play chess."

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Smirk remaining as he took her hand, eyes never drifting away from him. “I’d say that’s a bit of a scary thought.” She teased gently, her hand warming as his hot breath lingered briefly. “Well, it is Scotland, one must find a way to grow used to the unavoidable cold.” She noted, running her tongue along her bottom lip as she finally tore her eyes away and glimpsed at the combinations of scarves. “It matches the season.” 

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Ron tugged on the end of the scarf and chuckled lowly. "It does match Christmas, doesn't it?" He looked back up at her with a small, playful smile. At sixteen Ron was lively, it was one of the traits he shared with the twins. "I know a few other places that look like the holidays...inside, where there is a fire and some cookies."

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Ron noticed the slight change in color and laughed a bit. “I mean, I do spend more time with Hagrid than I should…animal knowledge comes with the territory.” He lifted a hand and pushed a strand of hair back and shook his head a little. “You aren’t timid…don’t...

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He rolled his eyes and moved his hand down to take hers. "I know you better than you think," he told her. He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. When her skin touched his lips he shivered. "My cold blooded monster seems to be getting cold, hmm?" He laughed and pulled his red scarf from around his neck and put it around with her green one. For some reason it looked good together.