For the drunk prompts, I just totally see Hermione saying this to Ronniekins"I've always loved you. But I will never tell you."
Hi there, anon! Thanks so much for this prompt. It took me a while but here it is!
I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy reading 😊🍻🍹🥃
Prompt: “I’ve always loved you. But I will never tell you” from @creativepromptsforwriting’s drunken love confessions prompt list here
Amidst the neon lights
Summary: Ron experiences the challenges of keeping his partying friends in check, especially his girlfriend, who experiences her first episode of excessive drinking.
Amidst the neon glow of the club and the smell of alcohol lingering in the air, a lively atmosphere filled with laughter and music enveloped the small group of friends. The past months had been tough on everyone, Auror Training and N.E.W.T.S. had taken a toll on all of them, and tonight was about letting go.
As the night unfolded, Ron watched how Hermione found herself lost in the rhythm of the music, swaying to the beat with an almost contagious energy.
Happy Friday! This week, I picked the theme "Whispers" and here are a few fics that fit that in different ways.
Please give the authors some love! Some of the stories are a little older but they still deserve to hear if you enjoy the stories!
Next week's theme is mail. If you have any favorites, put them in my ask!
Fall Into Place by cirque A one-shot post DH AU where Percy leaves the Weasleys but finds his way home eventually again.
Skin by Will_Solaces_sister Dean overhears a conversation between Ron and Harry.
Rumors by @mertronus A little 6th year AU where Ron hears some whispers about himself and Hermione
Loud As a Whisper by ThisIsMyTruthTellMeYours A great Harry and Hermione friendship during the Horcrux hunt fic with no romantic pretense and no Ron bashing.
The Darkness Doesn’t Seem So Bad by Dunderklumpen A little pre-relationship interaction in the middle of the night between Ron and Hermione
Our first story on Day 1 comes to you by @zurisenchantedquill !
Title: Air
Author/Artist: zurimadison
Pairing: Romione, side Hinny
Prompt: Rock Concert
Rating: Teen, borderline Mature?
Trigger Warning(s) (if any): bit of snogging :)
Full disclosure, I was inspired by the song "Stay Next to Me" by Quinn XCII and Chelsea Cutler
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Ron
“You have ten minutes,” Ginny says, smacking her gum as she stares at me. “Harry will be here soon.”
I don’t move from my seat on the couch. “So let me get this straight, not only are you forcing me into going to this concert tonight, but you also invited your boyfriend to my flat?”
“You like Harry.” She checks her phone. “Nine minutes.”
I do like Harry, but I’m not going to admit that to her right now. I try a change of tactics. “I had plans tonight, Gin. You can’t just show up unannounced and expect me to drop everything to go out with you.”
“Laundry is not a plan, Ron,” she says, texting furiously as she plops on the other end of the couch. “Mum says I need to get you out of the house because you’ve been moping since your breakup, and I knew that if I gave you warning, you’d find an excuse to bail.”
I can’t help but wince, reminded of both the recent end to my relationship and the correct assumption that I’m hiding away because of it. “I just need some me-time right now.”
She looks at me, cheek lit by her phone screen, and smirks. “Eight minutes.”
Whoever said Weasleys are pushovers has never met my little sister.
Actually, probably no one has ever said that.
I sigh and stand, making my way to my bedroom to change.
“Comb your hair or something, while you’re at it,” she calls. “You look a mess.”
“Thanks Gin,” I yell back, but then I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Sheesh, she wasn’t kidding.
Seven minutes later, dressed and groomed enough to be presentable, I set off down the road with my sister and her boyfriend.
“Go on then, who are we seeing tonight?”
“The Black Keys,” Harry answers, grinning. “I’ve been dying to see them for ages.”
I’ve never heard of them before, so I ask, “what kind of music is that? Rock?”
“Technically, more Indie Rock,” Ginny answers, and I can’t stop the small snort that escapes me. She shoots a glare that very clearly warns me not to take the mickey, so I hold my arms up defensively and clear my throat.
“Oh, sounds...erm, fun.” It’s lame, but Harry nods and starts rambling about his favorite songs. For all my trouble, Ginny graces me with an approving quirk of her eyebrow. Thanks Sis.
The venue is close to my flat, so it isn’t long before we’re through the doors, pushing our way into the crowd.
It feels like even less time before Ginny is snogging Harry, their bodies swaying in time to the music as her drink slops unnoticed on their shoes. They break apart every now and then to sing a lyric or two, then they’re right back at it.
I try to ignore it as I down my beer, but the venue is so congested that I’m constantly jostled into them. Not that they even seem to notice, mind you, but as much as I don’t care what Ginny does on her own time, it’s another thing entirely to literally have it shoved into my face.
My bottle is devastatingly empty, so I mutter an excuse and snake away through the crowd, not finding it at all dispersed as I move further from the stage. I spot a bar in the back corner and fight my way over to it, feeling like a hero returning home after battle when I’m able to place my order with the bartender.
It happens as I’m waiting for my beer. I glance down the length of the bar, more out of idleness than anything else, and I see her.
She’s got dark curly hair that’s highlighted with honey, a red strapless dress that could bring a man to his knees, and, unless I’m much mistaken, she’s holding a book in one of her hands as she leans across the bar to be heard above the music.
I am struck with the impulse to know the color of her eyes.
She seems to be alone, and is the only person in the venue actually sitting on a stool. I’m not altogether surprised when, after receiving her drink, she opens her book. She’s so absorbed in her reading that she doesn't notice the people bustling around her. She doesn’t even look up when the bartender hands a drink to someone over her head.
It takes me two more beers, alone in the corner, watching this woman who has such impressive focus, before I work up my nerve. There’s a small opening in the crowd, so I decide it's now or never and throw myself through it. I slip to her side and deliver the almighty line that I’d been working on for nearly twenty minutes.
“Whatcha reading?”
I honestly expect her to ignore me or maybe genuinely not hear me, but to my surprise, she looks right at me.
Brown. Her eyes are chestnut brown, with a dark ring around the outside. They appraise me before the corners of her round lips turn upwards almost imperceptibly. “Treasure Island.” She has to shout to be heard above the music.
“No way,” I exclaim, bemused. “That’s one of the few books I’ve actually read! Isn’t it crazy that Ben had the treasure the whole time?”
“He what?” Her eyes go wide as she gazes at me, slack jawed. “Seriously?”
“Wait, you didn’t know?” I ask, clapping a hand over my mouth. “I’m so sorry, I thought-”
“Just kidding,” she interrupts me, then begins to giggle at what I can only assume is my idiotic expression. “I’ve read this a million times.”
Her laugh is infectious, and I silently swear to make her do as much of it as I can. I lean against my forearm on the bar and turn sideways so I can view her better. Something about the way she’s looking up at me makes me feel brave. “What’s your name?”
“Hermione.”
“Ron.” I extend my hand. She slips her tiny palm into mine. I shake it, but then I don’t let go.
A drunk patron knocks into me, pushing me closer to her. I can almost see down her dress, I’m standing so close. “It’s too crowded in here,” she shouts as she glances over her shoulder. “So many random bodies pressed together.”
“We should go somewhere.” I’m not sure what’s gotten into me, but I don’t mind it when she rewards me with a tiny smile.
“Where? Outside?”
“I don’t care,” I say. “Your choice. I’ll follow you.”
She surveys me, looking as though she’s deciding. “Aren’t you going to miss the show?”
“No,” I laugh. “I don’t know this band at all.”
“Me neither,” she admits. She’s nearly knocked off her stool by a surge of the crowd around us, and this seems to seal the deal. “Ok, let’s go.” She stands and winds through the crowd, never releasing my hand.
_____
Hermione
I lead my tall, red headed stranger to the back patio, feeling instant relief in the cool night air as we step over the threshold. The music is much less loud out here, and it’s not as crowded. I drop his hand as I perch myself on the patio railing, sighing in contentment as my overstimulated senses are satisfied by the calming change in environment.
Ron flags a server for us, so I take the opportunity to examine him while he orders. He’s broad in the shoulders but narrow in the hips, though the shape is flattering in the way his t-shirt pulls across his chest. From underneath the material on his left arm, a full sleeve of tattoos runs enticingly to his wrist, leaving me with a burning desire to see the obscured designs.
Tattooed and bearded. Just how I like 'em.
The server leaves and he turns his gaze back to me, reminding me of the thing so far that I like the most about him.
His eyes.
They’re almost turquoise-y blue, and seem to ripple like water. That alone would be sexy enough, but there’s something about the way they make me feel. They’re...kind.
He leans his back against the railing where I’m sitting, close enough that my leg is brushing his arm. “So, did you come to this show tonight because you like a little background music while you read?”
I laugh. “No, my friends dragged me here with them, but I lost track of them pretty much the moment we arrived. Hence, this.” I hold up my book. “What about you? You said you don’t know the band either.”
“Nah,” he agrees. “I was also forced to come out tonight. But, I don’t fancy watching my sister snog her boyfriend all evening so…” He shrugs. His hair moves gently in the night breeze.
“Well look at us,” I say. “A couple of third wheels.”
The server comes back with the drinks: two shots of whiskey and two beers. I thank him as I take mine, and Ron raises his shot glass.
“Left your boyfriend at home, then?” He’s holding the whiskey expectantly, smirking while he waits for my answer.
I roll my eyes. “Very subtle.”
“Oh, you saw what I did there?”
“I did, believe it or not.” I hold my whiskey out as well. “To being single?”
It’s phrased as a question, and there’s a triumphant sparkle in his eye as he clicks his glass against mine. “To being single.”
“Cheers.” We throw back the shot. The alcohol hums just under my skin.
Ron doesn’t return to his previous position, but instead stands in front of me so that his stomach is against my knees. He places his free hand on the outside of my bare thigh, sending tingles down my spine. He meets my eye for a moment, as though asking if I mind, and in response I lean forward and place my free hand on his chest.
The full, lopsided smile I receive in return is worth it.
“What do you do for a living, Hermione?” His voice is gravelly now.
“I’m in microbiology,” I answer. “I work in a lab.”
“Wow,” he lets out a low whistle. “Smart and beautiful.”
I laugh again. “What about you?”
“I’m a nurse,” he says, puffing out his chest. “I work in the ICU.”
Somehow I understand the kindness in his eyes even more. I’m so distracted by looking into them that I accidentally spill some beer all over my lap. “Oh no, I’m sorry!”
“Watch yourself,” he says, laughing as he grabs a napkin and dabs off my legs. “Why is your drink so full anyway?”
“Yours is just as full,” I argue, offering my beer as evidence.
He looks between our two glasses and shrugs. “Maybe, but I can drink faster, so it doesn’t count.”
“How do you know that?” I demand, holding the beer up now as a challenge. “Chugging contest?”
His grin is evil and beautiful. “You’re on.”
“Three, two…” We both begin to drink as quickly as we can, though it becomes apparent to me that I’m quite outclassed. His Adam’s apple bobs distractingly and I reach out, tracing my finger down it before I can stop myself.
I freeze, my hand again on his chest, fingers grazing the skin above his neckline. When I meet his eye, he puts his glass on the railing and steps between my legs, wrapping his arms around me to bury his hands in my hair as he pulls me in for a kiss.
The way he feels is so distracting that I drop my own glass, still half full, on the outside of the patio, where it spills in the grass. I’m sure we could get kicked out of the venue for that, but right now I don’t care. I kiss my new friend Ron for all I’m worth. He tastes like whiskey and every flick of his talented tongue ignites tiny fires all over my body.
We snog for I don’t know how long, until we’re forced to come up for air. He doesn’t step away from me, but keeps his face close to mine as we pant.
“I can’t waste another second here, can you?” His whisper tickles my cheek.
I run the analysis, weighing my options even as my head spins from the snog. I grip his arms tighter. “We should go somewhere.”
In honor of our dearest's birthday, I've written this sweet little thing for the original Romione shipper :D
HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY JAMES POTTER!
Enjoy your gift *teeheehee*
TW: mention of sex/sexual encounters (non-explicit)
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“Our first kiss was after the Yule Ball. We argued, and then stormed off to bed, but I couldn’t sleep so I went back to the Common Room to look for my book from earlier. Ron was there staring at the fire. I could tell that the will to argue was gone from him as much as it was from me so we sat and talked. I confessed that I had wanted him to ask me and when he didn’t, I said yes to someone else. He said he wanted to but was afraid, so I told him to grow some bollocks...and he did. He leaned in and kissed me.
Things were pretty awkward for a bit after that. In fact, we didn’t kiss again or even talk about the kiss until we were on the train heading home. He pulled me into an empty compartment to talk about Harry - we were so worried - and that led to him confessing that he was worried about me heading home. Meanwhile, I was afraid for him being in the Wizarding world while I would be essentially hidden in the Muggle world. We were both pretty unwilling to separate.
‘I’ll miss you,’ he said to me.
I smiled up at him and said, ‘I’ll miss you too.’
‘Be careful,’ he practically whispered. ‘Come to the Burrow as soon as you can.’
I promised I would, and he kissed me.
By the time I joined him that summer, we were all heading to Grimmauld Place. We spent a good amount of time alone - Harry had yet to arrive and Ginny was chasing after the twins as the three of them tried to eavesdrop on Order meetings. So, in our solitude we took up snogging in Ron’s bedroom and even started exploring each other a bit - nothing below the waist at my insistence, of course. Once Harry came - and almost caught us - we had to stop. We wanted to focus on Harry anyway.
Fifth year we got lost in a world of supporting Harry. There was so much anger and confusion and fear...our only moments of reprieve were during prefect rounds. Whenever Harry had detentions we were way too worried to snog - I was at least. Ron wanted the distraction but he understood that I was too worked up.
When he gifted me the perfume for Christmas that year, I chastised him later, I’ll admit. I told him that he would give us away, and that was why I acted indifferent towards the gift. The truth was...I loved it. I told him that the homework planner wasn’t my true gift, but that I needed to give him his real gift in private. I uh...fisted him for the first time that evening and had to tell him to stop smiling so hard for several days.
He wanted to reciprocate, but I was in the middle of my monthly ‘curse’ as I sometimes call it. He didn’t get to return the favor until a couple of months later. We were in the Room of Requirement following a D.A. meeting.
We went all the way that summer at the Burrow - in his room before Harry arrived. We only had that one chance that summer, as it is quite hard to facilitate a task like that with Ron’s mum always on guard. We didn’t get to enjoy such intimacy again until after rounds at the start of term. We made use of an empty classroom a couple of times those first few weeks...until he started to pull away and act distant. He denied all of my advances and I had no idea what I’d done to deserve it.
Unfortunately, he didn’t deny the advances of my own roommate. He told me later that he knew it would hurt me as much as I had apparently hurt him - not that I knew I’d hurt him, of course. But by the time we were able to sort that out, it was months later.
Anyway, I allowed him to have his tantrum, but I did write him a letter telling him that the way I saw it, he belonged to me. And that if he so much as looked at her body, or allowed her to so much as look at him, that I would never, ever, forgive him.
Apparently, despite her best efforts, Ron had already decided that the two of them would never go past snogging.
It still hurt, he was right to assume it would, and I attempted to get him back with Cormac but that was its own near disaster. After that, I just acted like I didn’t care. I knew that if he thought I didn’t care what he did, that he would feel even worse.
Godric, we were such children.
I did care, of course, as everyone saw plainly when he was poisoned. I ran to him. When he woke up, I confessed how afraid I was as well as how much he hurt me, and he confessed to his hurt - he thought that he was my second kiss, and not my first. I straightened that out immediately and he felt quite daft. I, in turn, apologized for the birds and the other ways I hurt him.
I didn’t pressure him to break up with Lavender, but he knew what I wanted. I just figured that I would give him time - I knew it was hard for him. He started avoiding her and even promised that he wasn’t snogging her, but eventually I’d had enough and told him to break things off with her or I would.
He actually tried at one point, but she didn’t take him seriously and tried to kiss him, so he fled. I almost felt bad for him. Almost.
Just when I thought I would have to do something drastic, the incident with the Invisibility Cloak happened. A week later, we reunited properly after rounds on the Astronomy Tower. Then again in a broom closet. Then once more in his dorm since we found it blessedly empty.
By the summer, after everything happened, we knew we needed to keep ‘us’ under wraps. We would begin a mission with Harry soon, and had no idea how long it would take or where it would take us, and we wanted to focus on Harry and the task at hand. We also didn’t want him to feel like a third wheel and do something thick like try to go at it alone.
We tried, but I know we slipped up a few times. I was way too outwardly worried about Ron the night we got Harry from the Dursleys, but I figured that I was worried about all of us. Ron and I danced way too much at the wedding. We even made plans to slip away but thank Merlin we never did. I still shudder when I think of what could have happened. And then we fell asleep holding hands and I really think Harry noticed.
We tried to keep our distance, but the pull to one another was too strong. We made a habit of stealing time together whenever Harry was watching the Ministry or at night when we were sure he was asleep.
Of course, that locket changed everything. It completely morphed Ron’s perception of why I was adamant we keep us a secret - he thought I was ashamed or worse: that I wanted to be with Harry instead! I mean, honestly.
In turn, the locket made me think that Ron was only using me, first for my brains, then for my body. When he left, he broke my heart for a second time, but I didn’t realize just how broken his was too...for so many reasons.
When he returned, I was torn between forgiving him and taking him into my arms, or remaining angry and letting him suffer. I chose the latter, for a bit, but forgiveness eventually won. We took things slow, and also had to be mindful of the close quarters we were sharing with Harry. We shared a few stolen kisses in the tent and the forest, but nothing else until during our stay at Shell Cottage.
We confessed everything - all of our misconceptions and miscommunications, all of our insecurities and second-guessing. And, we shared our true feelings for the first time. Ron told me he loved me on the beach near Shell Cottage, and after I said it back, we made love under the stars.
But, we still had a mission to complete, and we were so close.
‘Just a little while longer,’ he told me that night. ‘I can feel it...we’re almost there.’
‘When this is over, we’ll tell everyone,’ I told him. ‘I don’t want to hide anymore.’
It was so hard to hold it in. I wanted to tell everyone that this gorgeous, witty, loving man was all mine. Now that everything had been truly said, I couldn’t stop seeing all of the reasons that I loved him. During the battle it all added up - his brilliant ideas, his almost flawless impersonation of parseltongue, his strength, his courage, his faith in my abilities...his compassion. Suddenly, I didn’t care anymore. I needed to publicly show my love for him before it was too late - before one of us was gone.
‘Now or never.’ He had said it that day, didn’t he?
He was right. We had spent so many years hiding - not just from others, but from ourselves. We were done hiding. We were ready to live and come clean. So...that’s why we decided to tell you everything.”
Harry looked between Ron and Hermione gobsmacked, his eyes blinking rapidly. Ron was bright red, but happy that he had Hermione do all the talking. Ginny, sitting beside Harry, looked amused but not entirely surprised. Impressed, maybe?
“So,” Harry started slowly, “you’re telling me, that the kiss in the Room of Requirement during the battle, wasn’t your first kiss?”
Ron smiled shyly. “Nope. Far from it, mate.”
“All those times, all these years...Grimmauld Place, the dorms, while you were on rounds…” Harry sat back, deep in thought. “When I came into Ron’s room, just before the hunt, and Hermione you were sorting books…”
Hermione nodded. “Yup. You’d almost walked in on us.”
“That time that I swore Ron was in the loo but it turned out to be you?” He said to Hermione.
“Ron was in the loo...he had your cloak,” Hermione smirked.
“Figured it best that she be the one to leave...so she wouldn’t uh see anything.” Ron shrugged.
“Ta, good thinking mate,” Harry deadpanned. “When I thought I heard Hermione’s voice in the dorm, and Ron you said it was a dream?”
Another shrug. “Yeah, mate. Sorry. We forgot the muffliato.”
“Harry, if we went through all the times you almost walked in on us, almost caught us, we’d be here all day. And I would like to have some cake.”
Harry still sat and stared at them both in disbelief.
“Harry,” Ginny touched his arm, “are you really that surprised?”
He turned to his girlfriend. “Are you really not?”
She shrugged. “I knew they were likely shagging like rabbits.”
“No you did not!” Hermione said indignantly.
“You two were pretty obvious,” Ginny laughed. Then she glanced at Harry. “At least, to anyone who was paying attention.”
“Oi!” Harry yelled, “I pay attention! I was just...preoccupied.”
Hermione reached a hand out and placed it on Harry’s. “It’s alright, Harry, we don’t blame you for not knowing - that was our goal, wasn’t it? We just really wanted to come clean about it all.”
Harry shook his head. “And you felt that today of all days was the day to do that?”
Ron smiled. “Happy Birthday?”
After a brief silence, Harry grabbed the pillow that was resting behind him and threw it at Ron. Laughter and pillows filled the air of the Burrow’s topmost bedroom, until the sound of Mrs. Weasley’s voice could be heard calling them down for cake.
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What? It could have been. Do we really know that the kiss we witnessed through Harry's eyes was actually their first kiss?!?! No....no we do not. And I will stand on that hill forever. LMAO!!!
Edited to add: Dear gentle readers...when I wrote this originally, I had Hermione use an awkward term for an act that she did to Ron ...when it was brought to my attention what it would be read as, I attempted to change it, and the entire Discord server jumped me, so I left it. However, when Hermione says she uh...fisted Ron...she's referring to a hand job. I feel better now. Thanks for reading. Back to your days citizens. :D
I’ve been waiting about a month to post this fic. It was written for the 2020 HPRomione Discord Secret Santa Exchange for @gurinpotte ! I really enjoyed writing this Shell Cottage fic that explores where Ron and Hermione’s relationship stands. I know it’s not Christmas related, but I hope you enjoy this fic filled with nightmares, pining, angst, and fluff (with a teensy bit of some side hinny as well). I promise the title will make sense once you get to the end!
Please like and reblog/leave kudos on Ao3
Also stay tuned for my Hinny Incognito Elf fic that will be posted soon, too!
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Hermione assured him she was fine. That he could go take a break. Eat something, have a shower. Get some sleep of his own. Fleur had just given her a new dose of potions, and had changed her bandages, and Luna would be sleeping in the extra bed. So at her insistence, Ron gave her some space when he saw Luna come into the room to settle in for the night.
He turned back to Hermione, who smiled and gave him a firm, “go,” and he turned to exit the room, swapping places with Luna. But Luna didn’t enter right away. Instead she shut the door and looked at him pensively.
“You truly care for her, don’t you?” she asked.
“I- yeah,” responded Ron, a bit taken aback.
“She cares for you, too. And I don’t think she really wants you to go, but she’s worried about you just as much as you are for her.”
Ron looked at Luna in confusion. “She doesn’t need to be worried about me. I’m fine, I’m not the one who was tortured,” he said low in his voice.
“No, but you haven’t slept, you’ve barely eaten and no offense, Ron, you do have a smell to you. Hermione probably feels guilty that you’re so focused on taking care of her that you are forgetting about yourself. You will make her feel better if you take some time for you. I’ll keep an eye on her, and if she needs you, I’ll come find you,” Luna told him.
She really was brilliantly insightful, even if she came off as rather aloof much of the time. “Thank you, Luna,” Ron said sincerely. “I’ll be-”
“Downstairs. Now go on, so I can tell Hermione all about the plimpies in the pond near my house.” Luna smiled happily as she turned to enter the room.
Ron found himself wandering into the bathroom first to take a long, hot shower. He didn’t entirely believe Luna when she said he smelled, but just in case. He turned on the faucet, undressed and stepped into the hot water, which admittedly felt good against his skin. Ron began thinking about what Luna said. That Hermione was just as worried about him. She didn’t need to be! He could take care of himself just fine. It was her who needed the attention.
He’d never admit it, but he was afraid that something would happen and she would relapse into unconsciousness again if he was gone for too long. Plus, he wanted to care for her, show her how much she meant to him. He needed to tell her how he felt. Time was proving much too short, what with his close call running into the snatchers after he’d left, and now their capture and her subsequent torture. The likelihood that they were going to make it out of this alive seemed to become slimmer with each passing day.
Ron turned the water off and stepped out with a new resolve. He’d figure it out. He’d find a way to tell her. Maybe tomorrow, when they both were fresh off of a steady sleep. He couldn’t say good, not when the nightmares of her screams taunted his mind. After he’d toweled off, he’d summoned a fresh outfit, and got dressed. He went downstairs and attempted to eat some more of the leftover supper Fleur had made earlier, and then tidied up so she didn’t have to worry about it.
Dean and Harry were laying on their respective sleeping bags as Ron grabbed a blanket and flopped onto the sofa. “How’s Hermione doing?” Dean asked.
“She’s okay. Insisted I leave, so here I am,” Ron sulked slightly.
“Everyone likes their space now and then, I reckon,” Dean offered.
Dean had a point, and maybe Hermione just needed some space. Maybe he was smothering her a bit. Not that he cared. He made a vow that he’d never leave her again, and he wanted to be there for her, especially right now. Ron still felt guilty about his abandonment, even though she told him she’d forgiven him. He figured he’d never make it up to himself for doing that to her, and wasn’t everyone their own worst critic?
Ron looked at Harry, who was laying there quietly, staring at the Marauder’s Map. “Harry…” Ron said slowly.
“I know. It’s just a habit,” he said as he tapped it and put it back in his mokeskin pouch silently. “Are you staying down here, then?” he asked.
Ron felt slightly guilty. He’d been spending so much time at Hermione’s side that he’d neglected his best friend. Sure, he’d gone out for Dobby’s burial, but his mind had been distracted. Hermione hadn’t woken up yet, and he kept looking up at her window, half expecting Fleur to come open it and summon him in.
“Yeah,” Ron said slowly. “Listen, Harry, I’m sorry I’ve-”
“You don’t need to apologize, Ron. I get it. I’d have done the same thing,” Harry said, giving him a hard look. They didn’t talk much about Ginny, but he knew that’s what Harry meant. “Just, when Hermione is well enough, we should discuss next steps.”
Ron gave Harry a curt nod. “Yeah, alright.”
Harry then waved his wand to extinguish the lights, which meant he didn’t want to talk anymore. Ron was perfectly fine with that as he rolled over and figured he should at least try and get some sleep. He chanted the same mantra in his head to help him relax. Hermione’s safe now. No one is going to hurt her here. She’s safe upstairs…
Ron wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he was awoken to the sounds of blood curdling screams. He wasn’t sure if he was even conscious as he found himself running up the stairs. Luna was on her way down to get him and he almost bowled her over. “What happened,” he said in a panicked voice.
“She’s having a nightmare. I can’t get her to wake up,” Luna called after him since he didn’t bother to stop.
Ron tore into the small bedroom to find Hermione thrashing wildly in the bed. As soon as he’d broken the barrier of the silencing charm Fleur must have cast seconds ago to keep the rest of the house quiet, Hermione’s shouts of terror and screams hit his ears.
“I don’t know anything! Please, no! I don’t know anything!” More screaming ensued as Ron went over to her.
Ron let his instinct take over, and sat on the side of the bed. He placed his hands firmly on her shoulders to help steady her and stop the wild movement. He began speaking softly to her.
“Hermione, it’s okay. It’s just a nightmare. It’s not real. Not anymore. Please wake up.” Her screaming dulled to a whimper, and he watched her eyes scrunch tighter than before. “Hermione, wake up. It’s alright, you’re alright,” he reassured her until finally he saw her eyes open.
Ron watched as it took her a moment for her vision to adjust. The look on her face said it all as he helped her sit up. “It was a nightmare, that’s all. She’s not here, she can’t hurt you.”
Hermione nodded as understanding began to flood her system. She looked around the room and noticed Bill, Fleur and Luna looking on in concern. That’s when the tears started to flow down her face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I probably woke the entire house up.” She placed her head in her hands.
“Hermione, you don’t need to be sorry,” Bill said immediately. “You just went through a terrible trauma. It’s normal. I’ll admit I had nightmares for a spell after Greyback attacked me. I’d turn into a full on werewolf at the full moon and I didn’t know.” Bill shuddered at the reminiscent thought as Fleur rubbed his back consolingly.
“ ‘Ermione, are you sure I cannot give you dreamless sleep? It eez no trouble,” Fleur offered.
“You didn’t take any tonight?” Ron asked her.
“No. I’m trying to wean off the potions. I don’t want to become reliant on it,” Hermione told him.
“But-”
“No, Ron.” Hermione then looked at Fleur. “I’ll be okay.”’
Fleur nodded reluctantly. “Let us know if you need anyzing,” she said as let herself and Bill out of the room.
“I’m going to go downstairs for a bit,” Luna said, wanting to give Ron and Hermione some privacy.
Ron was just realizing as Luna shut the door that his arm was still around her shoulders, and she was leaning into his side. “What do you want me to do, Hermione? I’ll stay if you want. I can sleep in the chair again. It’ll be fine. Please let me-”
“Ron, you’re not sleeping in the chair,” Hermione started.
“Fine! The floor then-”
“Will you let me finish?” Hermione interrupted him again. Ron stopped and looked at her. “I want you to stay. I was stupid to think I didn’t need you here.” She turned her head away from him.
“So the floor, then?” Ron asked.
“N-no. I was hoping that you’d...that you’d…” Hermione’s face turned pink at her cheeks.
“Where do you want me, Hermione?”
“Next to me.” Ron didn’t need her to gesture to the bed to know what she meant.
“Yeah, of course,” he said without thinking. He gently released her as he stood up while Hermione moved over and held back the blankets for him. Ron climbed in, hardly believing that he was about to spend the night in a bed with her. It didn’t even matter that it was only because he wanted to provide some comfort for her if the nightmares started again.
“Thank you,” Hermione said as Ron lifted his arm up and she gladly settled into his side. She felt so right there, almost as if she fit like a perfect puzzle piece. He breathed in the scent of her hair as he committed this very moment to memory.
You should tell her, he heard his brain murmur. Maybe it would help comfort her to think about something happy. Well, he hoped it would be a happy and welcome thought. He really needed to stop over analyzing things and just go for it.
“Hermione, I’ve been so stupid,” Ron heard his voice say. What the hell was that? That’s how you’re choosing to start your profession of love to her?
And yet, her response surprised him more than he surprised himself. “So have I.”
“I should have been more obvious-”
“Me too,” she agreed.
This was going to be harder than he thought, not that he was complaining about her interjections. But he kept going. “I promise I’m always going to be there from now on. You’ll have to hex me away. I shouldn’t have even left you tonight-”
“I’d never hex you away,” she said. Hermione adjusted her body as she turned on her side to face him. He rolled over to meet her.
“Er, Hermione, I hate to break it to you, but you have done before,” Ron smirked, flashing his famous lopsided grin.
“I won’t anymore, how’s that?” She smiled shyly back at him.
“I suppose that works. Hermione, I’ll- I’ll respect whatever you want, but I need to be honest with you and- I don’t want to waste any more time. I know we’re in the middle of the war, and helping Harry is our main focus, but I can’t let this go any longer without telling you-”
Hermione raised a finger to his lips to stop him. “I don’t either, but Ron….”
Ron kissed her finger as he lifted up his own hand to gently move hers away. “Don’t. Don’t think of all the reasons it’s not the right time. Feels like we’ve done enough of that already.”
“I know…”
Ron could tell Hermione was thinking intently about something. He was holding his breath, waiting for her to go on. Maybe he hadn’t outright said it, but he knew deep down that she understood him, so the quaffle was on her side of the pitch now.
“I want this. I really do,” her eyes were pleading with him. “But I’m scared. Scared of losing this before we’ve even had a chance…”
He knew what she meant. He feared the same thing. “Me too,” he admitted. Then he had an idea. “So, what if we don’t give it a title. At least not until the war’s over. Y’know, so it doesn’t feel like we’d be losing anything if...if…” Ron couldn’t bring himself to say it.
Hermione nodded slightly. “O-okay,” she said.
Whether they decided to put a title to it or not, it was clear they were past the point of ‘just friends,’ what with the fact that they were about to fall asleep in the same bed. Without thinking, Ron leaned in and kissed her on her forehead. They lay there quietly for a while before Hermione reluctantly turned over to make herself more comfortable. Ron kept his arms around her as his fingers interlaced with hers. He closed his eyes and listened to the steady sound of Hermione’s breathing as he fell asleep.
When he woke up again, the sun was shining brightly into the window. For a moment, he forgot where he was. It took a moment to realize he was lying in bed, his arms still wrapped around Hermione, who had shifted at some point in the middle night. Her head was nestled in the crook of his shoulder and her arm was draped around his stomach, her legs tangled with his. He smiled at the sight of her there. He turned to check the watch on the bedside table. It was 8:00. He’d slept through the night. She’d slept through the night. As he adjusted himself to sit up a bit, he must have disturbed her.
He felt her stretch out, and her eyes opened lazily. It took her a moment to realize he was there. “Morning,” he said, his voice deeper than usual from sleep.
“Morning,” she returned. “What time is it?”
“Eight,” he said. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Y-yeah, actually, I did,” she said surprised.
“So did I.”
Hermione sat up in bed. “So...it appears sleeping together keeps the nightmares away.”
“Yeah,” Ron agreed. “Or maybe it’s just a fluke?”
“Maybe.” Hermione pursed her lips as she thought for a moment. And then a smile crossed her lips. “But we should definitely try again tonight to see.”
“That sounds like a brilliant plan,” Ron grinned back at her as he heard Luna call for them on the other side of the door. For the first time in a long while, Ron had something to look forward to.
*******************
Looking for more great romione SS fics? Check these out and give them a like/reblog, too!
Hi! Could you please do Harry hearing Ron and Hermione use endearments for each other for the first time? (Him hearing Ron call Hermione 'love' or something like that) Thank you!
Hello! So sorry it took me so long to answer - I hope this little bit of fluff (with a side of Hinny whaaaaaat) was worth the wait! Thanks for the ask, I had a lot of fun with this one :)
Pumpkins & Buttercups
“Okay, then we need one and a half cups of sugar stirred in with the butter.”
“You could just dip your finger in there, my sweet little sugar plum.”
“No, you’re the sweet one, my ginger-bread man.”
Ron turned and shot a lopsided grin at Harry. “She calls me that ‘cause of my hair.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Right. Got it.” Beside him at the table, Ginny snorted a laugh. “You two aren’t planning to leave me with any appetite for the cookies you’re baking, are you?”
Ron shrugged unapologetically. “More for us, then.”
Harry turned to Ginny, who was flipping through her new Charms book, and changed the subject in an effort to tune out his nauseatingly-in-love best friends. “Are you looking forward to going back?”
Ginny’s brow furrowed. It hadn’t been easy, that summer, rebuilding any semblance of a relationship after being apart for a year, and a part of Harry had considered returning to Hogwarts just to salvage the momentum they’d been slowly gaining, but Kingsley’s offer to start Auror training without the typically-requisite NEWTs was too good an offer to pass up. He knew it was, because Hermione had accepted his and Ron’s decisions not to finish school without any argument.
“It’s weird, really. If we’d had Quidditch last year, I’d probably bail out with you and Ron, but I need my seventh year to show off to the scouts.”
“And for your education, of course,” Hermione put in from the stovetop.
“Of course,” Ginny echoed, before giving Harry a conspiratorial eye roll. “Plus...I dunno. I don’t want to remember Hogwarts the way it was last year. And I don’t want my last memories to be of the Battle.” She sighed. “It’s a silly reason to go back, I suppose.”
“I don’t think that’s silly at all.” Ron slid the tray of cookies into the oven and then took Hermione’s hand to lead her from the kitchen. “Where are you two going?” Harry asked.
“To snog while the cookies bake,” Ron replied matter-of-factly.
Harry groaned as they disappeared and dropped his head to his arms on the table. “It’s not just me, right?” he muttered. “They’re disgusting.”
“It’s just you,” Ginny laughed, “because they are totally taking the mickey.”
Harry raised his head to look at her. “What? You don’t think they’re really sneaking off for a snog?”
“Oh, that they definitely are. But you don’t really think they call each other those goofy pet names, do you?”
“I guess I just assumed they were making up for lost time or something.” Harry cast a longing look over at Ginny, who had gotten quickly reabsorbed in her book in a fine imitation of Hermione. “But yeah, your reason makes much more sense.”
If the proper bake time for a sugar cookie were any longer, Harry would have had serious qualms about hiking up the stairs to Ron’s room to retrieve them, but he reckoned he wasn’t likely to be interrupting anything too intimate after only eight minutes. He stopped short a few steps from the top when he realized they had left Ron’s door cracked open and fought against the instinct to shield his eyes, just in case. But they seemed to just be talking, as Hermione’s voice floated out to the landing.
“I’m just going to miss you so much,” she said softly. “Maybe I don’t need to go back.”
“I’ll miss you too, love, but of course you’re going to go back,” Ron replied. Harry hesitated; had Ron really just called Hermione love? “Besides, I’ll be at every Hogsmeade weekend. You won’t even miss me.”
“I know you will, darling, but—“ Darling?! “—I just don’t know if it’s really worth us being apart.”
Harry retreated back down a few stairs, suddenly feeling like the moment he’d accidentally overheard was much more intimate than if he’d walked in on them snogging. And apparently, Ginny was right—the silly nicknames were for him; the terms of endearment, the ones they truly meant, were just for them.
He made a point to stomp back up the last few stairs, calling as he did, “Ron! Hermione! The cookies are done!” He heard the shuffling from Ron’s room as they emerged, holding hands.
Ron gestured for Hermione to go first. “After you, buttercup.”
“Thank you, pumpkin, you’re such a gentleman.”
As Harry followed them back downstairs, he smiled to himself. He was happy that they were finally happy, and perhaps they weren’t so disgusting after all.
Someone in the HPFC discord got me thinking about Remus gardening while wearing baby Teddy and talking to him like a little adult (because he so would) and I had to write some domestic in-universe fluff. I wouldn't call this spoilers, exactly, but it's a HC I play with sometimes that has no bearing on where my plot is actually heading lol. Scene below the cut.
"I reckon we're in for a tidy yield this time; what do you think, Ted?"
The baby cooed brightly from his sling, his hair turning as blue as the sky above their heads. Fine days like this were a rarity in the Valleys, and Remus was determined to make the most of it. He tied his hair back, dropping to his knees in the soft soil of the garden with his son tucked snugly into his chest.
"See this? First tomato of the season. Une tomate. Your mam will be thrilled," Remus said dryly, showing the offending fruit to the baby. The little boy's hair had turned a matching shade of red. "Oh! Well done." He pressed a kiss to the baby's hair, smiling widely. "Your mam actually hates tomatoes, she does. But that's alright because I need them for things she does like. Like... I dunno, pizza, or bolognese or something. Couple of curries." He snorted. "Actually, there's a lot of things she likes that use them. Bit silly. But maybe you'll like them. I hope you'll at least try them when you're older. Should try everything at least once."
Remus hummed as he checked the remaining fruits on the vine; the rest were still green.
"Needs some more time, this one. See?" He tilted his body slightly so Teddy could see the unripe tomatoes, blinking up at them with newly green eyes. His eyes. The baby wrinkled his nose, his hair turning the same bright green as the tomato his gaze was fixed on.
"You're getting quite good at this, aren't you now then?" He resisted the urge to tap his son's nose; his hands were already covered in dirt. "Next thing you know you'll be morphing your face into Harry's and mocking him at the table."
They worked like that for some time, Remus keeping up a steady stream of easy chatter, informing his son of all the best ways to grow a variety of vegetables and herbs and showing off each in turn as he harvested. Naming them in three languages. Teddy, for his part, watched with slightly unfocused but still-curious eyes, his hair colour shifting with each new treasure his father showed him.
"We've got some nice leeks coming in now then. That's called cennin in Welsh, but the French call it poireau. Bit stuffy, if you ask me." He pulled one of the onions out of the ground, gently shaking the excess soil off the roots. Teddy giggled, shaking his fists, his hair turning a dark brown. "You like that, eh?"
Remus looked down at the basket of vegetables and herbs, taking inventory and making a mental note to check with Molly if she needed any asparagus. The bloody plant had been producing more than any sane man knew what to do with, and he was running out of ideas.
"Might be I could make that risotto again. Seemed like it was a hit — oh! Careful there," he admonished softly, pulling Teddy's tiny hands away from the fennel greens he'd been attempting to stuff into his mouth. Thus foiled, the baby shoved a tiny fist into his mouth instead. Remus sighed.
"I should probably be discouraging this, but as you're already fond of chewing on your own toes I'm going to let you have this one."
The air was split suddenly by the sound of clanging metal, flapping wings, and vicious swearing; Remus looked up just in time to see Sirius running out of the garage like his hair was on fire, pursued by a large and angry goose.
"Looks like someone got on the wrong side of Moriarty again," Remus whispered conspiratorially to his son. Teddy stared, wide-eyed, his hair a shock of yellow so bright it almost hurt to look at him.
Almost.
Remus hauled himself to his feet, brushing the dirt from his jeans and making sure Teddy hadn't grabbed anything else untoward (he had not).
"Suppose we ought to go rescue him. Your mam will have something to say if she comes home and I've let Pads get eaten by the goose again. Do you remember what we call Moriarty in Welsh?" Teddy made a sort of grunty noise; Remus nodded seriously. "Good effort. He's called gwydd. Or oie, in French."
A long string of expletives echoed out over the yard as Moriarty continued his furious pursuit.
"Don't call him that, though," Remus warned. "Your mam and Pads will have to hide for laughing, and I'll be stuck having to pretend to be cross with you."
Between the five of them — Harry and Ginny included — it was almost a guarantee that Teddy's first word would be something particularly foul. Remus sighed, making his way towards the house, whistling sharply.
As expected, Moriarty came waddling over, acting as though butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Remus pulled a bit of lettuce out of the basket, offering it to the little menace who plucked it cheerfully from his fingers and toddled off, clearly satisfied.
"Don't tell Pads I'm encouraging him," he stage-whispered, and Teddy cooed up at him cheerfully. Moriarty was the only one of their animals that wasn't enamoured with Sirius, having decided that Remus was His Person almost out of spite. It gave Sirius something to do, though, spending hours figuring out how to ward a goose out of his workshop through trial and error. The error, in particular, granted Remus and Dora both endless hours of entertainment.
He stopped at the door, looking out over the garden, the garage where old Baglan's tractor was being repaired. The field where the sheep were grazing. Inside, Sirius was at the kitchen sink, muttering darkly as he washed the motor oil from his hands with the soap that Dora had brought home last week, the one that smelled of oranges and seemed to be working a treat. Dora was due home in an hour, likely full of stories about the newest batch of recruits she was "training." Remus would have called it hazing, but she insisted it was a part of the education that Mad-Eye had given her, and she was intent on keeping his legacy alive. Harry would be working late, bouncing between working at the shop with the twins and trying to find a premises for his own venture — which he still wouldn't divulge any details of to anyone, insisting that the surprise would be worth it. Remus suspected that it was music-related, given Harry's sudden interest in where he'd sourced his record collection.
They'd all worried that after all those years of chaos — of war — they would struggle to settle down. But as always, life surprised them. Things were peaceful, yes, but certainly never boring.
