It’s the Sweetest Thing, Remembering (Hermione/Ron)
Summary: Being married to your childhood best friend comes with some interesting consequences, like how he remembers all your embarrassing crushes, as well as all of your ticklish spots. (Happy holidays!! This is my Squealing Santa fic for...drumroll...@misssassyrox!! Thank you to our lovely host, @hypahticklish as well!! I hope the holiday season is lovely for you all, no matter what you celebrate!!)
Being married to her childhood best friend had its pros and cons, Hermione had realized. Of course, eleven-year-old Hermione had no way of knowing that the redhead boy sitting across from her on the Hogwarts Express would one day be her husband, and would probably have turned up her nose at the idea of it.
The pros of it included the familiarity, the existing bond between them, as well as the bonds with one another’s families, the mutual friends, the inside jokes, and having someone to understand the nightmares. The biggest con in her opinion was that Ron seemed to remember every embarrassing thing she had ever done, and loved to bring up those moments.
The teasing moments included Ron mentioning her past crushes on the likes of Viktor Krum and Professor Lockhart, or her know-it-all attitude (which had only faded slightly as she’d aged) or how terrible she’d been in flying lessons.
She teased back, of course. She’d shoot back with mentions of Fleur (who had since become his sister-in-law, only adding humor to the situation) or the arachnophobia he still carried.
Although Hermione was normally a no-nonsense type of person, Rob brought out the joking, playful manner within her. She still liked to pretend that she was above it all, but he always got her smiling in the end.
Which was precisely how they’d ended up with Hermione gently pinned to their sofa, giggling like mad. She had shot back to one of Ron’s quips with the memory of Fred and George tickling him to tears on more than one occasion. Her final comment had been something along the lines of: “At least I’m not as ridiculously ticklish as you are.”
Ron’s eyebrows had raised, although his freckled cheeks had turned a soft shade of pink. “Oh, you’re not ticklish? I remember differently…”
“I never said that,” she replied, voice wavering ever-so-slightly at the dangerous glint in his eyes. “I just said I’m not as bad as you.”
“I suppose there’s only one way to find out,” he said.
She took off down the hallway, but it was impossible to escape his long arms and quick strides. Soon, he grabbed her around the waist and wrestled her to the cushions of their sitting room couch and, well, the rest was history.
Long fingers danced from her hip to her armpit and back down, playing her sensitive spots like a harp, making undignified giggles pour from her lips.
“This is silly!” she managed to cry out between those aforementioned giggles.
Ron gasped in mock offense. “I thought you of all people, my little nerd, would find testing a theory silly. Who are you and what have you done with my wife?” he asked, bending his head to press a quick kiss to her neck. He hadn’t shaved that morning, and his stubble against her skin only made her laugh more, scrunching up her shoulder to protect herself.
But his hold on her was too generous, giving her enough room to gain full use of her hands and strike back, going for his belly, short nails scrabbling over the fabric of his thin t-shirt. His shocked gasp of laughter was music to her ears.
“It would be a faulty test if we didn’t consider the other alternative,” she said, grinning like a cat that had caught the canary.
Ron was still hovering over her, careful to not go crashing down on top of her, though the ticklish sensation was slowly turning his limbs to jelly. One arm kept himself upright by grasping the back of the couch, while the other moved to pinch at the horribly ticklish spot on her inner thigh, drawing a shriek from her.
When Ron had first found out that Hermione was ticklish, he was thrilled. It was the summer before their third year when he’d been pulling a stray leaf out of her hair and brushed against her neck, making her giggle. And while he usually went after Harry more often, Hermione often found herself giggling at his hand quite a bit. She, of course, had known he was ticklish almost from the beginning, not that it was something she would have considered if she hadn’t witnessed it first hand. Tickling was a common event in the Weasley household, whereas Hermione’s parents had stopped tickling her by the time she was ten-years-old.
Their tickle fights hadn’t been extremely common, but a few stuck out: The first time, after the leaf incident, which Hermione had lost without much of a winning chance; the battle over the last of Mrs. Weasley’s oatmeal cookies that had left Ron with a bloody nose when he went for her feet; the first time Hermione ever won, when she discovered how he crumpled when his ribs were tickled.
And, of course, the most recent one, the experiment that they were conducting as a newly-wed couple. No mercy was shown; Hermione went for his ribs while he squeezed at her thighs, and their laughter mixed like elements to a beautiful song until Ron cried out for a truce.
There was a small part of Hermione that didn’t want to settle for a truce, but her throat was growing dry and her belly ached from all the giggling, so she nodded her head vigorously and both of them slowed their tickling hands to a stop.
“I guess we are pretty even when it comes to ticklishness,” Ron said, still slightly breathless.
Hermione chuckled, shaking her head fondly. “I guess so,” she replied. “What an important discovery.”
Ron grinned, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. “Of course it is! Absolutely vital information.”
“Just some more blackmail that we have on one another,” Hermione added.
“Oh, definitely. My beautiful wife, with her ticklish thighs and big, fat crush on Gilderoy Lock—”
A quick attack to his neck had Ron stuttering an apology through a fit of giggles. Perhaps the pros of marrying her childhood best friend far outweighed the cons.
Summary: Harry and Hermione aren’t used to how the Weasley family operates. However, the family is more than willing to welcome them in their own special way. (Happy holidays everyone! This is my fic for Squealing Santa, wonderfully run by @ticklygiggles as usual. And my fic is for...*drumroll*...@misssassyrox!! I hope you enjoy it.)
Being with the Weasley family felt like a completely foreign world to both Harry and Hermione. There was rarely a dull moment in the Burrow and it was a huge difference from their mostly quiet childhoods.
Harry was of course an only child, but he’d grown up with Dudley. That hadn’t exactly been a fun, loving dynamic, but rather a torturous one for Harry, and he actually preferred the solitude of his cupboard than being with his aunt, uncle, and cousin. It got boring, but he had his own imagination and the welcoming arms of sleep to distract him.
Hermione was also an only child, and she didn’t have many friends at school, and so she spent most of her days reading, sprawled on various surfaces in her home, and while her parents were amazing, they were more quiet and reserved.
And the Weasleys were anything but boring, quiet, or reserved. And while it was a change, it certainly wasn’t a bad one. It started small, and it started with Ron.
Ron was a great friend. He was caring, always checking in, and he really wanted Harry and Hermione to like his family and feel safe and welcomed in his home. He gave Hermione encouraging smiles when she talked about Muggle technology with his father, and he gave Harry playful nudges when his mother insisted that growing boys needed second helpings of every meal.
Mr. Weasley was an oddball, but his curiosity was endearing and innocent. Hermione could relate to his thirst for knowledge and was entirely willing to explain things to him, even offering to bring him some Muggle non-fiction books next time she visited. To say that Arthur was ecstatic would be an understatement.
Mrs. Weasley was the loving, overbearing mother figure that Harry never had, always urging him to take another helping during meals and offering to sew up the holes in his shirts. Her fussing made his cheeks flush, but it also made him feel a warmth which he’d never quite experienced.
And all the other siblings had their own quirks and traits which made them unique and loveable. Bill wasn’t able to visit that summer, too busy with work, but both Harry and Hermione had seen photos and heard stories. Charlie was the same story, although they had met him back during the whole Norbert fiasco in first year.
Percy was more reserved, but never outright rude or unkind. He sort of kept to himself, although he and Hermione shared a general love of knowledge, and had discussed which classes Hermione should consider signing up for.
Ginny was a sweetheart, and was finally getting used to Harry being around without blushing like mad. She and Hermione shared a room and it was a welcome change to have another girl around for them both.
But the most eccentric treatment both Harry and Hermione had experienced at the Burrow was from Fred and George. The twins showed their affections in less obvious ways, favoring teasing and pranks over hugs and deep conversation. They ruffled Harry’s hair, made Hermione lose the page in her book, and poked plenty of fun at their two guests.
Hermione found it mostly bothersome, although a small part of her couldn’t help but feel pleased that they liked her. She would huff, roll her eyes, and tell them to cut it out or she’d hex them the moment they were back at school, but there would be a small smile curling on her lips.
Harry didn’t fight back or show any annoyance, he simply took it like a champ, cheeks flushed beneath all the attention.
However, both Harry and Hermione felt strongly about one Weasley initiation.
Ron had poked at them both back at school, and made the mistake of jabbing Harry’s side in front of the twins, and chaos ensued.
“Well, would you look at that, Freddie,” George grinned.
“Seems the Boy Who Lived is a bit ticklish,” Fred replied, his grin matching.
Harry felt like he should run, but his feet were frozen to the floor. The twins were by him in seconds. Fred’s hands flew to his ribs, prodding between the bones. George scribbled his fingers over Harry’s belly, and the apparent savior of the Wizarding World collapsed to the floor in a heap of giggles immediately.
“Guys, don’t kill him,” Ron said.
“Would you rather we go for you?” Fred asked.
Ron’s ears turned red, a grimace on his face. “Sorry, mate,” he said, looking down at his helpless friend.
Any protest that Harry may or may not have had died on his tongue, too busy giggling to say a word.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Ronald. Are you two going to let him breathe?”
“Careful Granger, or we might switch our attention to you next,” George said.
She scoffed. “Unlike your brother, I’m not scared of something so childish.”
It was the wrong thing to say. While George continued to tickle Harry, Fred sprung up and grabbed Hermione around the waist, squeezing at her sides. Her annoyed demeanor immediately crumbled into a scrunched up smile, complete with bubbly laughter as she squirmed wildly in his hold.
Ron observed the situation and decided that neither of his friends were in dire need of his help. As someone who had been on the receiving end of tickle attacks from the twins, he could tell that Fred and George were holding back. George was barely holding Harry’s body down, lightly scratching his fingers over Harry’s stomach. And Fred had Hermione in a backwards hug, but his arms were loosely around her, and his squeezing was soft.
It made Ron smile fondly to see his brothers welcoming his two best friends in such a ridiculous, but oddly sweet way.
And when Harry eventually begged for mercy, and Hermione had effectively smacked Fred in the face by accident, the twins backed off, leaving their two newly initiated family members in breathless heaps on the couch.
It was a completely different world than they were used to, but neither of them were complaining.
