adenei

[adenei]

Wishful Thinking Pairing: Romione Words: 1.8K One-shot DH Era Rating: G Read on AO3 A slice of life from their life during the hunt. A slice of life from Ron and Hermione's life during the Hunt. There were little moments all through her life when Hermione fell in love with Ron a little more. This is one such moment but from Ron's pov.

***

The water tap in the kitchen sink continued to drip in the background. Ron would have thought that after 3 days, he would have gotten used to it, but he hadn't. Neither had Harry or Hermione. He had noticed his best mate glare frustratedly at the tap more than once; he had even tried a couple of spells on it without any result. Hermione had been heard tutting more than once as the annoying dripping noise filled the quiet of the tent while she was trying to read. The sun would set in another hour. Ron stretched his limbs and padded barefoot towards the kitchen. Just two days ago they had managed to find a small village market and a disguised Hermione had bought them two loaves of bread, some apples and eggs. They had left the location as soon as her little shopping expedition was over. Unlike their initial days when they would have had their fill, they had eaten half portions, focusing on saving the meagre rations as long as they could. He cut three thin slices and boiled some water for a weak tea. Once done, he carried the plate and mugs to the dining table. He picked Harry's mug and share of bread and went outside where the bloke was keeping watch. Ron would take the shift after sundown. When he returned, Hermione was sitting in the lone, tattered armchair, The Tales of Beetle the Bard, lay on her lap. The book, though shut, had her finger between the pages. He quietly wondered what else she was hoping to find in it but avoided voicing it out. He knew the book had become a comfort read for her.

When he carefully pried the book away from her hands, she looked at him but did not comment. Placing a torn piece of parchment as a makeshift bookmark, he closed the book shut and placed it on the table first before he handed her the cup and the slightly thicker slice of bread.

Their fingers grazed and he ran the pad of his thumb tenderly over her knuckles before pulling his hand away. Grabbing his own lukewarm mug, he signalled silently at her tea.

"Drink up,"

She took a small sip, bit on the bread and Ron vaguely remembered the time when they all sat in the Great Hall, savouring the feasts. Their food supplies were always low and as he watched her, he noticed that the familiar old jumper now hung rather loose over her even thinner-than-before frame. Her skin had lost the soft, supple appearance weeks ago; the lack of sun had not helped either. When she was done with the bread, he tore off half of his piece and handed it to her. Her chin angled up and those pretty eyes met his, tired and exhausted as they were, they still took his breath away.

"You've been eating too little," he told her, pulling away her left hand from the cup, prying the fingers open, placing the piece of bread and folding her fingers back again. His touch lingered just a little longer than necessary on her hands. "And you?" "Don't you think I've eaten enough the last six years?" he chuckled softly. "My body has reserves."

"Doesn't work that way," she told him, a tired smile glinting in her eyes. Still not eating, he noticed. He paused for a moment, trying his best to find suitable words for what he wanted to say. "Eat up," he managed to start with. But the thought had been bothering him for a while now. "My body doesn't go through what yours does every month," he finished. Hermione looked away. He noticed a faint blush creeping up her cheek. He probably shouldn't have said anything, he reckoned, but he was worried. They were travelling all over the country, choosing the most inhuman locations they could - it couldn't be easy for her. He didn't know what he could do to help. They never discussed this or considered her comfort - but surely, she would be having a harder time than both him and Harry. He wanted her to tell him - he would try to make it a little better if he knew what to do. "I haven't," she said softly after a while. "Haven't -?" he asked, feeling very dumb. "I-" she paused, bit her lip as if searching for the right words, and after looking at everything else but him, managed to meet his eyes. "I haven't - had my periods in months," she managed, speaking slowly.

"Oh... Is, is that normal?" "No..." She was his best friend, the girl he loved and cared for the most in his life. He placed his cup down and ran his fingers through his hair trying his best to remember what his mum had told them. He couldn't recollect anything that could help in this situation. Did this mean Hermione was hurting? Did she need to see a Healer? Or perhaps needed some medicinal portions?

"What should we do? What do you need?"

She let out a small sad chuckle but when their eyes met, he could see a strange softness and perhaps some sadness in them. "My body is probably utilising whatever little sustenance it gets to survive," she explained. "I think it realises I'm not in a state to make babies right now so no point -" she paused and took a sharp breath and looked away, blushing. Ron's brain was malfunctioning with so much candid information, but the more important bits were shining through. "I knew this was harder on you, Hermione, didn't realise it was so bad that it was impacting your body's primary functions."

He felt so guilty that he couldn't meet her eyes. Yes, she was the brains of the trio. Yes, they wouldn't survive a day without her. Yes, he was glad she was in front of him at all times now that everything in their world had come crashing down. But he should have done better, should have paid more attention in class, and studied harder. He would have had some options of sending her away to safety and be on the hunt with Harry alone. He felt her eyes on him and when he looked up, he found she had placed her cup and bread on the table. She left her chair to take her place next to him on the couch, scooting closer. He wanted to wrap his arm around her but resisted. Ever since his return he had ensured he gave her the time and space she needed to take him back - no matter how much he craved to hold her close. He placed his mug on the table too. Sometimes, most of the times rather, he found it hard to find the right words to express all that was going on in his head.

She rested her head against his shoulder and placed her hands in his, Ron scooted just a smidge to ensure she was comfortable and felt her body rest completely against him. "When all this is done, let's travel somewhere near the beach," she said softly, looking at the blank canvas ahead. "Mmm hmm," he agreed, "Somewhere warmer?"

"Yes,"

"What else?"

"A small cottage by the beach."

"We can have breakfast on the beach, watching the waves," he agreed. "And feel the warm sand under our feet," she added.

"At night, we can light a small fire and watch the sea and the stars. Will you like that?" He traced soft circles over her knuckles and wrapped his left arm around her, pulling her closer into his warmth. "Sounds nice," she replied, her words dreamy and happy. "How long would you like to stay there?" he asked. "Dunno, a month maybe? We'd have to return back eventually."

"Do we? We could buy the place eventually. You could turn one room into a library."

She chuckled. "We could, but I don't have enough books for a library."

"That's not a problem; we can order books by the crate till you feel you have enough."

"That we can," she sounded happy. "What if you get tired staying put?" she asked. "We could travel somewhere else," he mused. "We'll have to travel to Australia anyway to bring your parents back." She halted for a minute, and he felt her release a sigh. "You'll come along, won't you?" she asked quietly.

"What made you think I'll let you go alone?"

She moved, resting her head against his neck. "They must be safe, right, Ron?"

He ensured to thread his fingers through hers before he spoke. "I am sure they are." The leaky tap continued to drip in the background in the otherwise silent space. The lights dimmed as the sun settled down below the horizon and Ron's hand had found its way into her curls, cradling her head against himself as her breathing eased. It was only when he heard Harry's movement outside, he gently tapped her on her arms.

"Hermione?" She stirred after a while and nuzzled deeper before pulling herself away. "I guess I dozed off," she mumbled, words still laced with sleep. "Wanna lie down for a little bit?" he asked, pulling his right hand off to grab his wand and Accioed his blanket, catching it deftly as it flew towards him in a crumpled bunch. "No," she replied. "I'll sit with you outside for a bit." "It's cold outside and we can't light a fire," he urged, wrapping the blanket around her. She looked into his eyes and he knew there was nothing he could say that would deter her. She warmed their mugs and handed him the cup. "Drink your tea. Why are you barefoot?" she admonished softly. Harry padded in sometime later. He felt Hermione squeeze his hand for a moment before she scooted away and grabbed the now empty mugs. The breads would be stored back for later use. He pulled himself off the couch and on his way towards his bunk, patted his best mate on the back.Grabbing his shoes and socks from under his bunk, Ron proceeded to put them on and grabbed his jacket from the bed. Hermione took Harry's cup and moved away to place the cups back on the shelf. The bloke didn't comment but smirked a little as he noticed the two of them. Ron knew Harry would have noticed the closeness between them. There were no grand gestures but simple domestic intimacy which he reckoned he cherished a lot. Hermione returned from the kitchen and wrapped herself snugly with Ron's blanket and grabbed her book, walking purposely towards the tent flap. Ron smiled at his best mate and followed after her. The leaky tap continued to drip behind them but it did not bother him as much. For a while even the musty old tent felt like home.

[adenei]

Answers

by Reallybeth

Read on ao3

[adenei]

Echoes of a Forgotten Heart

Tittle: Echoes of a forgotten Heart 

Author: imnotfunnysblog/Iris_Blanche 

Trope: second chance 

Rating: teens and up 

summary: Ron has spent most of his life in love with the memory of someone that doesn’t exist. He’s shaped his life around avoiding the truth his mind has tried desperately to teach him. When that ghost finally shows up they must face this truth together, even if she’s so determined to push him away. 

chapter 1: I heard her scream before her voice

Haunting figures swish through the old growth, I’m struggling but not really. I know what I’m feeling, I know each movement I’ll take. I’ve been down this path before, and will be again. It’s dark when my arm is jerked back by someone I don’t recognize, but I do. It’s him every time. I don’t pay attention to the how anymore, just the feelings. The dread and fear, my voice is foreign. Like nothing I’ve ever felt, hot and angry and near murderous. 

“Get— off—her!” 

It’s always about her. She was being held down by men with eyes like wolves, ravenous, deadly. The conversation still doesn’t matter, the words are nothing and even after all these years they still don’t make any sense. A lie about names, a dark lord, something about the ministry. We’re in trouble and Harry looks the most nervous his breath coming in and out like he’s just caught a particularly nasty snitch. 

The name Malfoy always set me off, harsh and angry. Their faces were too old to compare to their real ones, sunken, cold, afraid. Crazed words and hollow meaningless drabble all collided in what can only be terror. Who’s more afraid I’ve never been able to tell. 

It all comes to a halt with my words, “No! You can have me, keep me!”

And her voice.  

Keep reading

[adenei]

We, the Willing

Fic Title: We, the Willing

Author Name: grace_under_pressure0510!

Primary Trope: Second Chance

Rating: Mature

Trigger Warnings (if any): major character death

Brief: AU Voldy wins. Hermione runs a refugee camp for displaced muggle borns, half bloods and resistance sympathizers. Ron is a soldier in a vastly reconfigured version of the Order. Their paths haven’t crossed in years, until now.

Written for the 2025 Romione Trope Fest. This is my very dark #Second Chance fic!

Sadly, this fic was inspired by images of real refugee camps on the news. Pray for peace.

We, the willing,

led by the unknowing,

are doing the impossible

for the ungrateful.

We have done so much,

for so long, with so little,

we are now qualified

to do anything with nothing.

Ron apparated to the edge of her wards. At the gate, he showed his ID to a guard who let him inside the camp.

The size and sheer chaos of the place, along with the multitude of smells, were an immediate assault to his senses. He kept to the narrow paths between the tents, trying not to bump into people, but being jostled by the crowds carrying all their worldly possessions while children ran about. 

He walked until he saw her. Hermione. Older, thinner, grittier. Still gorgeous and he could feel his heart pounding even though he’d stopped walking. She was really there, so close after all this time.

She was helping hand out food to some young children. She turned to see him standing there, staring at her. Her stomach lurched at the sight of him. Had he really come? His dark robes and red hair were a stark contrast to everything else around her that existed in shades of brown, dirt and despair.

She turned and headed towards her tent, knowing he’d follow.

“You didn’t answer my owls,” he said, keeping pace behind her.

“Yes I did.”

“Writing me back no over and over again doesn’t count.”

“If you want a different answer, then write me a different question.”

They’d reached the front of her tent and she turned on her heel to face him. He startled at her abruptness, and took a step back. He had to remember why he was here.

“I need ten of your guards.”

“You know I can’t spare it. Those guards are allocated here to protect the refugees, on Kingley’s orders.”

“You don’t understand. If you’d let me explain, please…”

“No, you don’t understand!”

Suddenly, she realized she was yelling at him. She hadn’t seen him in nearly five years, and within less than a minute they had slipped back into their old patterns.

“Come inside my office.” She gestured to her tent, and he followed her.

Inside, her tent was small but tidy. A large desk was set prominently in her makeshift office, and tables with books piled high sat at either end of the room. A curtain with a bed behind it proved the tent doubled as her sleeping quarters too.

Ron watched her, assuming she’d sit down behind her imposing desk, but she went to the small sofa instead and motioned for him to sit beside her. Now he was nervous all over again for a different reason. He sat down and hoped she’d hear him out.

“I’m putting together a team for a raid. I know, I know.” He held up his hand to stop her from interrupting. “I know there’s been dozens of failed raids over the years. Some of which have been absolutely disastrous for our side and all which have failed to kill the snake. But this time is different. I know exactly where You Know Who is going to be and I’m assembling a team.”

She huffed and stood up, pacing back and forth. Ron kept pleading with her.

“We’ll be able to breach his inner circle but I won’t take any chances. I need full hands, everyone on board for a final strike.”

“Ron – ”

“Hermione, you and I know this is the last horcrux. We could end things.”

Keep reading

[adenei]

Second Chance... To Infinity

by Squibnation10

Hermione has to make a decision, but anything she chooses will be wrong.

or

What happens when you're too afraid to face tomorrow?

Read on ao3

[adenei]

broken, not shattered

Author: taurusmoonchild

Trope: Second Chance

Rating: M (it could also classify as T, however the entire theme of this fic is centered around depression and mental health issues so I just want to be safe)

TW: depression, mental health problems, mentions of drinking, mentions of body issues

Brief Summary: Trapped in a place she never thought she’d be, she writes a letter she may never send—one that holds the truth she’s been running from. Elsewhere, he tries to forget, losing himself in fleeting moments that never last. But when the past finds its way back to him, will he finally face what was left unsaid?

chapter 1

Dear Ron,

I have always been better with my words on paper than in person. I doubt I will even send you this letter but it is something I have to do to help me move on.

I hate that I broke your heart. It was never my intention. I intended to be yours forever, but sometimes we sabotage ourselves over and over until disaster strikes. The night you proposed to me was the most important moment of my life. It solidified my decision to break up with you.

It sounds harsh, maybe a little funny, though there’s nothing funny about breaking the heart of the one you love the most.

I need you to know that I broke your heart that night, because broken glass, unlike shattered, can be put together again. You deserve to be put back together again. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. And you deserve to have someone be the best thing that has ever happened to you. It just couldn’t be me.

As I sit here, grey and cold concrete walls surrounding me, I often find myself thinking about you. About us. The way your hand always seemed to find the small of my back when you kissed me so deeply I could feel it in my soul. How your lips felt against my neck, soft and tender. The way your words always had a deeper meaning when looking in your eyes. Your eyes are the way to my soul, Ronald.

I miss them every day I am stuck in this lifeless hole of unseasoned meals and disappointing doctor’s visits. ‘She isn’t getting better,’ they say. Maybe I don’t want to get better. There’s no reason for me to get better. I already broke you so why do I deserve to get better?

I watched your tears run down your cheeks that night. Watched as your hands shook so hard you dropped the ring to the ground. Watched as you walked right out of my life because I refused to shatter it. Breaking your heart was the less hurtful option. I don’t think I ever deserved you, to be honest. I couldn’t give you the love you gave me. I failed to show you even just the smallest piece of what you meant to me. 

I still have the picture you kept of us in your wallet, by the way. It has faded a bit since then, just like our memories together fade into greater distance each day I continue to live in this huge, unfair universe.

Ron, I love you, still. I just hate myself.

Every day I wake up in this dark hole, demons surrounding me. They are worse than death eaters sucking out your soul. They attack your whole body. 

Sometimes I wake up and they are slightly less evil and I think I might be getting better, but then I realize I’m only better cause I dreamt of you. To be honest I am only still alive because the memories of you keep me going. 

It’s extremely unfair of me to tell you this. You have a heart of gold, Ron and I know you would do anything to bring me light so you could guide me out of this darkness, but that’s not fair. You deserve to keep your own light. You shouldn’t need to guide someone who didn’t deserve your light.

To put it into the simplest form of words: You are everything to me, Ron.

Breaking your heart was to make sure I didn’t ruin you. You are a part of me, I can’t change that and I don’t want to, but I don’t need to be a part of you. 

You are free, Ron.

In love, forever

Hermione

Hermione dropped her quill with a sigh. Her cheeks wet from tears she didn’t even realise she had shed. She leaned back in her chair and forced her hand to stop shaking. Outside, the wind roared, rain pounding against the small window of her room. She had never related to the weather more. 

“Miss Granger, Dinner is about to begin.”

“Thank you, Grace,” She smiled at the tiny woman in a white gown, “I’ll be right down.”

Hermione listened as the soft sounds of footsteps slowly moved away from her room and sighed again. She glanced at the letter wiping her tears and then she stood up and left.

She had always hated the bright yellow colour of the walls at St. Catherine’s. When she got here 3 months ago the head nurse Marin had explained that they had chosen this colour to brighten people’s days. Hermione scoffs at the memory. If anything these walls made her more depressed. They almost felt offensive to anyone who dared to have a bad day. And Hermione had only had bad days since she got here.

Entering the dining hall of the hell hole she put herself in, she was immediately overwhelmed by the noise. Cutlery scraping plates created a high-pitched noise which reminded her of the screams in her nightmares. People were chatting pretending they weren’t here because they were utterly depressed. She hated it when people pretended. 

She sat alone during dinner. She usually did. It left her alone with her thoughts that often made her feel even worse about herself. But she would rather feel horrible about herself than have to interact with people who would ask how she was doing. The doctors already did that enough.

“How are you, today?” has become her most dreaded question of every day. 

Hermione ate slowly. Some might say too slow. Her doctors did. She had lost weight is what they said. She wouldn’t know since mirrors are strictly forbidden. Though one time she found herself looking at herself in a tinted window and hating the person looking back at her. 

Once finished with her food she dragged herself back to her room, closing the door behind her, hoping the only people bothering her would be the characters of the book she had been reading. 

She sighed, she did that a lot these days. Looking around her room her eyes landed on her empty desk. 

  Shit.

  …

  Ron groaned as he stretched his limbs out. His head was pounding and every movement felt like a workout. The covers of his bed felt warm. Too warm. He huffed as he pulled the sheets off of him only for them to get stuck halfway. He rolled his eyes using more force to rip them off his body. He jumped when he heard a soft hum next to him. His eyes fell onto the brunette girl lying beside him. 

Fuck. Not again. 

Ron massaged his temple desperately trying to remember what had happened last night. He went out with Harry and George. He got drunk. Really drunk. And now he is in bed with some random brunette girl. 

This wasn’t new to him. If he was honest with himself this had been his routine for about a month. He wouldn’t say he particularly enjoyed it but feeling horrible was better than feeling nothing at all.

Ron slid out of bed, put on a fresh shirt and pants and went downstairs. Entering the kitchen he saw his sister sipping on a cup of tea while reading the newest edition of the Prophet“Anything interesting?”

“Harry and I got divorced again,” Ginny said.

“The third time this week. Is that a new record?”

“It is.”

“Bloody hell, Rita is getting more senile with the minute, huh?”

Ginny chuckled, “She’s been senile since the 90s.”

Ron opened the old cabinet above the stove and took out a mug, pouring himself a cup of tea as well.

“Brought home someone again?” Ginny asked, her tone judgemental.

“Come off it,” Ron spat, “it is none of your business.”“It’s my house, Ron.”

“Whatever,” he took a sip of his tea and cussed under his breath as he burned his tongue.

“Did you at least say goodbye to her?”

“You know I don’t. They’ll get attached.”

“You are disgusting.”

“Maybe I am.”

Ron didn’t care anymore what people thought of him. He spent too much time wasting that on the one person who broke him regardless.

“This is not you, Ron. I know you,” Ginny didn’t take her eyes off him.

“That makes one of us.”

“You need to get over her.”“I am.”

“Stop lying to yourself.”

“I don’t need your advice,” Ron jumped up and hurried out of the kitchen, not daring to look back at his sister. 

  They had had this exact conversation a lot ever since Hermione left him. Originally, Ginny was the one who held him as he sobbed into her. That night when he had nowhere to go but Grimmauld’s place, because he couldn’t stand being around Hermione for even a second longer. He never thought his little sister would be his rock, but she stepped up when he needed her most.

He didn’t understand what he did. He hasn’t figured it out yet. She didn’t tell him. She wasn’t obligated to, of course, but Ron had hoped 2 years of dating and 7 years of friendship would make him worth enough to receive an explanation. He sought her out, but she never spoke to him again. 

He spent weeks wondering what moments exactly had led up to his life falling apart and ultimately landed on him being too much. Too much for anyone. Especially her. 

Harry and Ginny were nice enough to take him in. Suddenly he found himself in his old bedroom at Grimmauld Place, feeling like he was 18 again.

Ginny’s comfort over time turned into honesty. She was one of the most grounded people Ron had ever known and deep down he knew it was only a matter of time before she tried to talk some sense into him. But he refuses to listen. Refusing to let anyone tell him he had to get back on track when he didn’t want to. He knew he lied when he said he was over Hermione. How could anyone ever get over the reason that kept you fighting through a war? She was his future, and he thought he was hers. Ginny knew this too. She can see through his lies like no one else. 

  Ron went to the bathroom and splashed water on his face. He thrust open the cabinet taking out pepperup potion to get rid of his headache. Turning on the shower to the hottest option possible, he got undressed and stepped into the stream of water. He hissed as his skin came in contact with the burning sensation of the water. He closed his eyes and let the heat run down his back. 

Closing his eyes he thinks about the summer after the war when he first moved into Grimmauld. He remembers how Hermione and he would constantly find themselves in this very shower. Back when they still had to figure out what the other liked and what didn’t. Back when the innocence of their brand new relationship overpowered the trauma they had gone through in the war. 

Closing his hand around his member, he remembers how Hermione would gently brush up and down his arm, making sure he would feel how sorry she felt for the scars she had caused him. He never blamed her for them, but that didn’t keep her from apologizing about it. He remembers how her lips felt against his. How her hair would tickle his face whenever she kissed him on the neck, trailing soft promises from his skin to his soul. 

He curses, slamming against the wall as he comes undone and he isn’t sure if the running water was the only reason his cheeks felt wet and his eyes felt red.

  He stepped out of the bathroom with only a towel and dragged himself to his room. His bed was empty and he felt bad for the girl that was kind enough to distract him from his pathetic life. He was sure she was nice, but he couldn’t remember. Ron put on another pair of fresh clothes when Harry shouted from downstairs, “Ron! You’ve got mail, mate.”

He grunted, “It’s Saturday, Robards can piss off, I am off duty.”

“It is not from Robards.”

This confused him, he only got mail from work. Making his way down the stairs he caught Harry’s suspicious look immediately.

“Who would write me?”

“Trust me, I was surprised too.”

“Is that why you look like you just saw a ghost?”

Harry sighed and handed him the envelope.

  Hermione Granger

32nd Haven Lane

Psychiatric Ward, St. Catherine’s Hospital

Shit.

[adenei]

Your Place or Mine

Title: Your Place or Mine

Author name: adenei

Primary Trope: Second Chance

Rating: T

TW: none

Brief Summary: In a world where Hermione’s parents force her out of the magical world, she loses the only person she ever loved. 10 years later, she decides to attend a Hogwarts reunion, but will it be too late if she runs into him?

_________

Come to the reunion, Padma said. It’ll be fun!

Hermione Granger could have stayed at the hospital, continuing with the research she’d returned to England to conduct. But no, she’d let the former Ravenclaw talk her into attending the Hogwarts’ Class of ‘98 ten year reunion. And so far, it was anything but fun.

Sure, it’d been nice to reconnect with some of her former professors and boast about all the strides she’d made in her career, but aside from that, she felt anxious. She knew why, of course. Not only had it been ten years since she’d graduated at the top of her class, but it’d also been ten years since she left behind everything she knew to return to the Muggle world and attend University to study medicine—at her parents’ request.

Well, it wasn’t so much a request as it was an ultimatum. Come back to the Muggle way of life and keep us in your lives. Stay in the Magical world and we think it will be best to go our separate ways. Gone were the days they’d been proud of having a magical daughter. Instead, they’d grown resentful. And Hermione understood—she hadn’t seen them for the better part of seven years. 

Apparently, that was too long. They claimed they’d missed her whole adolescence and didn’t want to miss any more. Hermione had felt incredibly guilty, and being that she was unsure which branch of work she wanted to pursue in the magical world, she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to go back and further her studies in the Muggle world. 

But it did hurt for one person. It hurt so much that it’d caused the biggest fight they’d ever had, and ended with a broken heart that never quite healed.

Perhaps that was the real reason Hermione hadn’t wanted to return that night. She couldn’t bear showing her face and risking a run-in with him. While he’d never given her an ultimatum like her parents had, it was clear he didn’t see a way for them to be together while he enrolled in the Aurors and immersed himself more fully in the magical world. 

That was how she’d lost her Hogwarts ‘Sweetheart,’ and the only man she’d ever truly loved: Ron Weasley.

So when she saw the flash of red hair out of the corner of her eye, she’d quickly ducked out of the conversation she’d been in with Professor Flitwick and escaped out the doors to the one place she could always find solace in: the library.

It was cowardly, sure, but she couldn’t bear to see him with any other woman, couldn’t bear to come face-to-face with the life she could have had. A life, if she allowed herself to admit, she still wanted. With him. 

But she’d let her chances fly away a long time ago. Often, she thought about writing to him—asking to reconnect—yet her parchment always remained blank. The thought had been in her head even more recently, now that she’d graduated from medical school and transitioned back into the magical world with her position at St. Mungo’s. 

Her parents didn’t know what she was up to, and Hermione was perfectly happy that way. She was twenty-nine years old now. She had her own flat. She didn’t need to abide by their rules—it was time to live her own life. And the position St. Mungo’s had created for her was exactly what she needed. A way to bring what she loved so dearly from both worlds together. If only she could bridge the gaping hole with Ron now too.

Owls flew both ways, though, and never once had he tried to contact her either.

Once within the library’s walls, Hermione felt she could relax. She let the nostalgia wash over her as she slowly browsed the dozens of shelves she’d been acquainted with so long ago. Memories floated in the forefront of her mind from when times were simpler, happier.

As she approached her favorite row in the very back, she hesitated. It wasn’t exactly a stack she needed to frequent for her studies, but still, she wrote Ron notes, slipping the parchment into his hand as she excused herself to go ‘look for something.’ Moments later, Ron would join her, and they’d tempt the harsh reprimands from Madam Pince for a snog neither could resist.

Hermione closed her eyes, mouth barely smiling as she remembered the one time they’d snuck in after-hours on Prefect rounds to do a little more than snog. She shivered. How could ten years pass and she still desired him so desperately?

“Had a feeling I’d find you here.”

Hermione froze at the sound of his voice, the shock of his presence rendering her speechless, though couldn’t say she was surprised. They always were drawn to each other.

She turned her head slightly so she could see him while not fully facing him. “You didn’t have to follow me.”

“Wanted to.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t think you’d show.”

“Neither did I.” She shifted her body now to face him, biting her lip as she took in all the ways he looked different—and how at the same time he hadn’t changed.

“How do your parents feel about it?” 

While he asked the question evenly, Hermione could sense the resentment behind it; not that she blamed him at all for it. She did her best to respond just as flippantly.

“They don’t know, and I don’t plan on telling them either.” Hermione could sense the way he stiffened though they were several paces apart, and it cut through to her core. “I shouldn’t have let them manipulate me so easily. But they’re my parents. I didn’t want to lose them. And I just thought—you were going off to Auror training, so you’d be busy anyway, and—” She stopped, shaking her head. “I don’t know why I’m trying to justify any of it. I shouldn’t have—I’m sorry.”

“I get that, but—you never gave us the chance to talk about it, Hermione. You just—decided for us.”

“No, I didn’t!” 

“Yes, you did. You took your parents at their word and cut off everything magical—including me, without ever trying to find a way to make us work.”

“Because I could never have asked that of you—”

“You wouldn’t have had to!” Ron ran his hand through his hair. “Fuck, Hermione—I would have been willing…I wanted us to work. I wanted to stay with you. But then you—well, you made it sound like you didn’t—”

 Hermione took a step closer to him, reaching out to grab his arm as she shook her head violently. “I did! I do.” 

A heavy pause filled the air between them. She hadn’t meant to make that admission—or any admission, really—but she never could quite keep her feelings to herself around him.

Dropping his arm, she looked pointedly away. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair of me. It’s been ten years, and you don’t need to hear how I’m still not over you. Not when you’ve probably found someone who didn’t feel like they had to choose between hiding you from the other half of her life or letting you go. I missed my chance and I won’t—”

“You haven’t.”

The rest of Hermione’s dismal apology and half-baked explanation died in her throat. Though she swore she heard Ron speak, his mouth had barely moved. Or maybe it was simply hard to see in the poor lighting of the library. Either way, she must have hallucinated it.

“W-what?”

Taking a step closer, Ron spoke again, confirming the words she couldn’t bring herself to believe. “I let you go because I thought I’d only make it worse if I tried to hang on. At least, that’s the conclusion I came to after I finally accepted you were gone. I was so angry, Hermione—at your parents, for making you choose, at you, for turning your back on the magical world, on us, and at myself, for not fighting harder to keep you in my life.

“I would have found a way to be okay with you going to University, to immersing yourself back in the Muggle world. We could have found time for each other but you never even gave me the option to say it. It sounded like you’d made up your mind and it was just a convenient excuse to be shot of me.”

“It wasn’t! No, Ron, that was the last thing I ever wanted. I cried myself to sleep for months, wrote half of a letter before realizing sending it meant having to go to Diagon Alley, and I—I couldn’t—if I went back, I don’t think I’d have returned.”

“But you came back tonight.”

Hermione nodded. “Because I finally realized I’m allowed to make the choice of keeping both. And I guess part of me was searching for closure.”

“Closure?”

“For us. I—we’re twenty-nine, Ron. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone, but I can’t seem to force myself to move on until I see for myself that you have too.”

Silence engulfed them until a small smile curled at the corner of Ron’s mouth. “Well, I’m sorry I can’t seem to give you the closure you’re looking for.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Thought that was obvious, wasn’t it? I haven’t moved on either.”

Hermione stared at him. “So you’re not…seeing anyone?”

“Nope.”

“But you’re also not in a long-term relationship or married or anything like that?”

Ron chuckled, inching closer. “I believe that still falls under the category of seeing someone too. So, no, Hermione. I’m not.” His hands brushed hers and she let their fingers intertwine, relishing in the warmth of his hands. “You said you’re integrating yourself back into the magical world?”

“I am.” She tilted her chin up.

“You don’t, er, need a guide or anything, do you? You know, to help you navigate what’s changed? Or what hasn’t?”

“That depends. Are you offering?”

Ron’s smile grew wider as he lowered his head until their noses touched. “Only if you—”

Hermione didn’t give him a chance to finish the rest of his sentence. She closed the rest of the gap between them, melting into his embrace as she kissed him, relishing in the way it felt like coming home. It didn’t take long for Ron to deepen the kiss, backing her into the shelf as they wasted no time rediscovering everything they’d lost ten years ago.

“As much as I love recreating our Hogwarts memories…what do you say we take this somewhere else?”

Hermione nodded as she asked, “Your place or mine?”

[adenei]

tell me 'bout the first time you saw me

Title: tell me ‘bout the first time you saw me

Author: babeausten

Primary Trope: Second Chance

Other Represented Tropes: All Grown Up (minor)

Rating: M

TW: n/a

Word Count: 10, 258

Summary: Ron Weasley first meets his new neighbor, Hermione Granger, at the age of eleven when she moves into his neighborhood. Through a series of vignettes, Ron and Hermione grow up, fall apart, and find themselves being given a second chance…if only they can get out of their own way enough to take it.

The first time he saw her was at the beginning of September. He was eleven years old.

Two houses down, huge white moving trucks pulled into the driveway. People removed large boxes and carefully wrapped furniture from their innards. Ron and his siblings were out in the yard, playing football. They’d just stuck the youngest (and only) sister in goal, and she was complaining loudly.

“Shut it, Ginny!” ordered Fred, one of the twins.

“Yeah, we’re trying to play!” agreed George, the other twin.

Ron wisely said nothing. Being the second youngest, it hadn’t been too long ago that he was the one stuck in goal.

Sweaty children jostled one another in the autumn sunshine, and jumpers were shed and flung to the makeshift sidelines. Ron eyed the movement at the other house, wondering what kind of neighbors these were. Wondering if there were any kids his age, and if they were any good at football.

A sedan pulled up, and a man and a woman got out. The man opened the boot and pulled out a trunk while the woman spoke with the movers. Ron’s interest immediately waned. How disappointing: two adults.

Then, a back door opened. A streak of orange, followed by a shriek: “CROOKSHANKS!”

Ron’s head snapped around. A girl. Perhaps his age.

An interesting development.

Keep reading

[adenei]

Oh my god this was everything! haha pun intended. Love that this was a fluffy start to the day!

Everything

Fic Title: Everything

Author Name: Mertronus

Primary Trope: Second Chance

Other Represented Tropes (if any)

Rating: T

Trigger Warnings (if any): none

—

Ronald Weasley had seen and experienced a lot in his short nineteen years of life. He’d fought to protect his best mates, he’d fought in a bloody war, he’d lost his own brother and countless friends, acquaintances and classmates in said war.

He’d played and defeated a life-size chess game that almost did him in, he’d learned that he’d spent much of his life sleeping with a full-grown wizard disguised as a rat curled up on his chest, he’d summoned brains to himself that left him scarred and susceptible to thoughts and feelings…

But this? This was a new and excruciating torture. This was the moment his life would surely end. On this beach on the island of St. Croix in the United States Virgin Islands, watching a bikini-clad Hermione Jean Granger suck on the seed of a mango. It was an image that he would never be able to obliviate from his mind.

Not that he’d ever want to.

Bloody hell.

“Ron, you left so much fruit on yours!”

Ron looked at the fruit in his hands, his fingers sticky from the sweet nectar, then glanced back at Hermione’s, which was white and sucked almost completely dry.

He shifted on his beach chair to make more room in his swim trunks and leaned forward to try and hide his erection as her pink lips wrapped around the seed. He quickly looked away, towards her parents, but thankfully neither seemed to notice his current state. Jean Granger was engulfed in some muggle novel with an embracing couple on the cover and Hugo Granger was snoring on his lounge chair. To avoid watching Hermione, Ron refocused his efforts on finishing his own mango.

When the Granger’s had gifted Hermione a trip for her graduation gift and said she could invite a friend, Hermione had admitted that she was torn in her decision—Ron and Harry had been her best friends since first year, and Ginny had become like a sister to her, especially during their final year at Hogwarts. Thankfully, Harry had offered to cover his and Ginny’s way if the Grangers were alright with them tagging along—which they were—so that left Hermione to bring Ron as her guest. With Harry’s contribution, the Grangers were able to upgrade their villa to accommodate them all. It was all perfect.

And it was all the most magnificent torture.

One kiss. They’d shared one kiss during the battle at Hogwarts. One kiss that he would never forget. He had, after all, been in love with his best friend for years. With that one kiss, Ron had been sure that he’d finally gotten his girl—if they survived.

And survive they did…barely. But so many did not. Including Ron’s brother.

Admittedly, Ron was not himself for quite some time…no one was, really. But, looking back, Ron could see how he pushed everyone away, including Hermione. Everyone except for George. After some time, Ron and George were able to bring each other out of the shadows.

By then, Hermione had left for Australia. Harry had gone with her, the guilty little sod. He’d pulled away from everyone too—holed himself up at Grimmauld Place to avoid everyone. Refused to come to The Burrow for dinner no matter how many times he was asked. Accompanying Hermione to Australia was probably the best thing for him. Ron was sure that was Hermione’s plan all along when she guilt-tripped him into going.

“I put them there so I could help you! The least you could do in return is to help me find them and bring them back!”

Harry returned first, once Hermione’s parents were found. She remained in Australia to work on her relationship with them, meanwhile Harry worked on repairing his relationship with Ron, with Ginny, and with the rest of the Weasleys. Late in the summer, Hermione came back with her parents…just in time to return to Hogwarts with Ginny. They all fell into their new post-war lives, their routines…their friendships.

It was as if the kiss had never happened.

Ron spent many Hogsmeade weekends working out how to bring it up. Many letters back and forth reading between the lines for any clue as to what she was thinking. Many nights lying in his new bed at Grimmauld following grueling days at Auror training reliving the kiss and imagining more.

This trip, he was determined to finally, finally make his move. If he didn’t, he might literally die.

Especially if she didn’t stop sucking on that bloody mango seed!

Harry chuckled. “I think yours is finished, Hermione.” He glanced at Ron, amusement in his green eyes. Harry clearly knew what Hermione was doing to Ron.

“I know,” Hermione sighed. “My mum always laughed at me when we’d go on holiday. I love mangoes and love the challenge of getting all the fruit off the seed. It’s…satisfying.”

Ron swallowed a whimper. “Right…satisfying.”

Hermione tipped her head to the side. “You alright, Ron? You look a bit…peaky.” She placed a small hand on his forehead. “And yet red at the same time. How is that even possible?”

Oh, it’s possible, Ron thought, when I’m sitting in the hot sun thinking about you giving a certain part of my body the same treatment as that mango seed.

“M’fine,” Ron mumbled as she dropped her hand. His skin burned where she’d touched him. Across from him, Harry chuckled again shaking his head. Then he stood to go and join Gin near the water’s edge.

Hermione finally threw her completely dry seed into the trash bag they’d pinned near their blankets and Ron sighed in relief.

Until she lay back on her towel, and Ron suddenly had a full view of her glistening golden-brown skin which popped against her soft white bikini.

He stifled a groan as his cock twitched inside his shorts.

“Actually, I think I will head back to the villa for a bit and lie down,” Ron said standing. He avoided looking Hermione’s way as he gathered his shirt, towel, and thongs. If he looked at her, he would have to sit right back down. “Get out of the sun a bit before I burn.”

“You know the code for the door, right Ron?” Mrs. Granger asked.

“Yes, I remember.”

“There’s some aloe in our bathroom if you need it.” Mrs. Granger glanced at him over her sunglasses. “Should help if you find any burnt spots.”

“Thanks, Mrs. G,” Ron said. When he finally looked over at Hermione, he found her peering up at him with concern. “I’m fine,” he repeated with what he hoped was a reassuring smile, then turned on his heel to make the short walk up to their villa.

After a cool shower, Ron felt marginally better. He threw on fresh shorts but decided to let the pale blue short-sleeve button down he planned to wear for dinner later on the hanger. He figured he really would have a lie-down, but ended up pacing his room instead.

He felt as if they were right back in fifth or sixth year—how would he tell his best friend that he was undoubtedly in love with her? Even more in love with her than he was back then? And on top of that, wanted nothing more than to claim her body on top of her mind and her heart?

Not that anything had changed there. Hermione had been the star of his sexual fantasies since he started to have them.

Except now, he knew what her mouth tasted like. He knew how it felt to have her small body pressed against his.

And now he knew what that body looked like in nothing but a bikini. That felt like just one step away from naked.

“Ron?”

As if summoned by his thoughts, Hermione appeared in his doorway. At least she had the rather sheer cover-up on.

Small mercies.

“Didn’t hear you all come in,” Ron said as he paused his pacing as well as his racing thoughts.

“Just me,” Hermione padded into the room and perched on the edge of his bed. “I told Mum I wanted to check on you. Told her I knew a sunburn spell and wanted to see if you had need of it.”

Ron quirked a brow. “There’s a sunburn spell? Only one I know is for aloe…which we have on hand.”

Hermione smiled. “Mum doesn’t know that.”

“And what are you going to do when your mum asks for your brilliant sunburn spell for herself?” Ron teased as he sat beside her.

“She won’t,” Hermione shook her head. “Mum never allows herself to get sunburned.”

“Never say never,” Ron said bumping her shoulder lightly. Hermione laughed and then an awkward silence settled over them. Ron realized this was the first time they’d been alone together in such a long time. He wasn’t sure how to act, what to say.

But maybe now was the right time to-

“I’ve missed you,” Hermione said softly.

Ron glanced at her and caught her eye. “I’ve been right here.”

“So have I,” she answered, a challenge in her tone. Ron blew out a heavy breath.

“I’m sorry,” Ron said simply. He wondered how to list all the things he was sorry for, but when he looked up at Hermione, her eyes told him that she knew for what.

Everything.

“I am too,” she said softly, her hand resting on his arm. “We’ve been through so much and…I suppose got lost along the way…didn’t we?”

“I’m not lost anymore, Hermione,” Ron whispered. He lifted his hand to cup her warm cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, confirming everything he needed to know. “I’m not lost. And I know exactly what I want.”

“I’ve always wanted…”

“What?” Ron leaned in a fraction, anticipation coursing through his veins. “You’ve always wanted what, Hermione?”

Hermione opened her eyes and they were shining as bright as the sun outside.

“Kiss me.”

Ron smiled an leaned in further, his lips a breathe away from hers. “I should make something clear first,” he murmured, his nose rubbing against hers. She sighed that she was listening. “This kiss makes you mine. I need you to know that. I didn’t make it clear last time, but I am now. This kiss, means I am yours and you are mine Hermione Granger.”

“Ron,” she whimpered, “I’ve always been yours.”

The words were barely out of her mouth before Ron was crashing his lips against hers. He poured everything he wanted to say to her into that kiss, every feeling he’d ever had towards her. Every thought, every hope.

Everything.

His tongue swept across her lips and she opened willingly. He swallowed another whimper as the sweet taste of the mango she’d devoured just a while before assaulted him and reminded him of every lusty thought he’d had watching her lips wrap around the seed.

When they parted to catch their breaths, Ron rested his forehead against hers and smiled.

“Thank fuck for mangoes.”

Hermione pulled her head back and gave him a puzzled look. “What? Why?”

Ron laughed and pulled her onto his lap, her legs straddling his thighs. “Tell you later,” he laughed as he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in for another kiss.

[adenei]

M

Title: M

Author: adenei

Primary Trope: Different Houses

Rating: T

TW: references to WW2/Holocaust, 

Brief Description: [see first paragraph of the fic]

________

In a world where the locket was retrieved from Grimmauld Place, where Dumbledore died after retrieving Hufflepuff’s cup, and where Voldemort’s takeover of the Ministry happened much more quickly and quietly than imagined, Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s mission changes drastically.

With only two Horcruxes left to find and destroy, the hunt isn’t so much of a ‘hunt’ at all. Along with their bequeathed items, Dumbledore also left the trio a hidden message with his parting words to Harry — “The most difficult work is done. You need not look far to complete the task.” 

Knowing the snake would be easiest to save for last, they decided to put all their efforts into finding Ravenclaw’s diadem, and if Dumbledore was correct—and he usually was—it must be at Hogwarts. Which left them with only one option: return to Hogwarts. 

After all the planning and plotting over the summer, it was deemed the safest course of action. Though they didn’t trust the new regime and acted under a state of constant vigilance, they knew the easiest way to search for and obtain the diadem would be infiltrating the castle walls—especially since Harry had an epiphany where he remembered seeing it last year. 

So, with the help of the Order of the Phoenix, their mission was clear: get in, get the Diadem, and get out. That would only leave the snake, then Voldemort himself. The biggest goal was ensuring the fallout happened away from the school. 

Thus, it was decided. Ron and Hermione would arrive at King’s Cross, taking the Hogwarts Express back to school for their final year. Harry would wait in the safe room above The Hog’s Head, under the watchful eye of Aberforth, the barkeep. When the coast was clear, they’d meet in the Room of Requirement, begin their search, and get out as fast as possible.

It was the perfect plan…until it all went wrong.

Keep reading

[adenei]

Don’t Make Me Laugh

Fic Title: Don’t Make Me Laugh

Author Name: grace_under_pressure0510!

Primary Trope: Different Houses

Rating: Teen

Brief: A silly little one shot. Slytherin Hermione is too serious. Hufflepuff Ron is too fun. Can they find some middle ground?

It was a brisk weekend morning as Hermione left the Slytherin dormitories. As she walked through the open-air atrium, she noticed a boy with red hair and a clashing bright red jumper painting the castle wall. His mural was immaculate, huge with vivid colours extending the full height of the wall. She stopped to take it all in and realized it was a happy looking badger wearing a yellow scarf, nonchalantly eating a green snake.

The boy must have sensed he was being watched because he turned around to look at her.

“Do you have permission to be doing that?” she asked.

“Erm…well no.” He watched her take it all in as her eyes travelled over the wall. Her brown hair was pulled back in a tight French twist and her green Slytherin scarf matched the Prefect badge on her coat.  

“Then why are you doing it?”

“Because it’s fun,” he said automatically.

“Fun?”

“Yes, fun. Have you heard of it?”

He folded his arms in satisfaction as he smiled at his own humour. But she just met him with a sneer.  

“You think this is fun?”

“Yes, I like painting. Isn’t that sort of like the purpose of life? To enjoy yourself and have fun?”

“The purpose of life is to accomplish things. To be successful.”

He was incredulous that she was serious. “Don’t you like to laugh? Haven’t you got a funny bone?”

“I can name every bone in the human body, and I can assure you there isn’t one named ‘funny’.”

“Huh, you must be a real treat at parties.” His eyes flashed over her and he said the first thing that came to his mind. “I’ll bet I can make you laugh.”

“Really?”

“Course. Everyone likes to laugh.”

She stood askew with a hand on her hip. “What’s your name again? Jon?”

He knew what she was doing. They’d had classes together for six years now and as he was somewhat the class clown, she knew perfectly well what his name was.

“It’s Ron. Ron Weasley.”

Keep reading

[adenei]

Glimpses

Fic Title: Glimpses

Author Name: honouraryweasley12

Primary Trope: Different Houses

Other Represented Tropes (if any): N/A

Rating: M (no smut)

Trigger Warnings (if any): Some swearing, mentions of torture and violence

Brief Summary: How did Ron Weasley from Hufflepuff and Hermione Granger from Ravenclaw fall in love over the course of seven years? These are some of the moments.

I could feel shards of broken stone under my body, but I didn’t have the energy to get up. I couldn’t really, after getting hit by the curse. Explosions and spells were flying around me, as my hearing dulled and things started to fade to black.

A familiar hand slid to the back of my neck and gently eased my head into her lap, the tendrils of her hair soothingly brushing my cheek. As her delicate fingers traced my skin, her voice sounded like it was in the distance.

“Please, Ron. Please be okay, love.”

I tried to say her name, but it wouldn’t come out. My vision dimmed, as my eyelids fluttered to a close. The last thing I saw was the familiar blue and bronze of her Ravenclaw tie, still in a perfect knot around her neck, despite fighting in the battle. I felt myself grin as the darkness took hold, my thoughts a jumble of memories from the past…

Keep reading

[adenei]

Rude Boy

Fic Title: Rude Boy

Author Name: misfit_romione

Primary Trope: Different Houses

Other Represented Tropes (if any)

Rating: T

Trigger Warnings (if any)

Brief Summary: Ronald Weasley was the rudest boy Hermione had ever met in her entire life. A Claw!Hermione and Puff!Ron rivals-to-lovers story. 

—

Ronald Weasley was the rudest boy Hermione had ever met in her entire life. 

This had been the case from the moment they met on the Hogwarts Express. Fortunately, being in different houses meant limited interactions, but she almost dreaded going to Dumbledore’s Army meetings just because Weasley’s scowling face could be such a drag. 

The way he was looking at her at the moment, for instance. 

“Look, Weasley,” she snapped at him. “It’s not my fault Harry assigned us to work together again. Perhaps if you actually bothered to practice defence with your girlfriend rather than simply pretending to help her with her wandwork, we wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

“Just shut up, and let’s get on with it.” Before Hermione could admonish him, he added,  “Do you want to take a crack at it first? I already know how to do a Patronus.”

“You do?”

Weasley rolled his eyes. “Contrary to what you may think, Granger, I’m not a complete idiot.”

“Well,” Hermione sputtered, “I just mean, isn’t the Patronus Charm incredibly advanced?” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “You couldn’t even handle a basic stunning spell the last time we were partnered together.”

“The pronunciation is complicated, alright?” Weasley responded, teeth gritted. “It’s not like stupefy. Harry struggled with it too when he was training for the tournament last year.”

“Well, if you didn’t keep ignoring my advice, you would have gotten it much sooner.” 

“Well, if you didn’t give feedback like a condescending, pain-in-the-arse, know-it-all, Granger, maybe I would have listened. But I suppose that’s just how they make ‘em in Ravenclaw.” 

Hermione’s mouth dropped. “You know, you really have some nerve—”

“Skip the lecture. Look, the faster you learn how to cast a Patronus, the faster you’ll be rid of me, I reckon.“ 

Hermione gritted her teeth, unable to see a flaw in his logic. She turned abruptly from him, rolled up her sleeves, tried to recall the happiest memory in her arsenal, and flicked her wand.

“Expecto Patronum!”

Nothing happened. Weasley snickered. Hermione turned back to him, glaring.

“Sorry,” he said, not looking sorry at all. “I just think I’ve found my Patronus memory. Hermione Granger being bad at magic for once.“ 

"Shut up.”

“What memory did you use anyway?”

“When I received my Hogwarts letter.”

“Reckon you need a happier, more recent memory. Didn’t you date Viktor Krum last year? A fact that never ceases to amaze me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hermione cried, affronted.

Ron shrugged, looking dreadfully amused. “Just that I would have expected someone like Krum to date, I dunno, a model or even someone likeable as opposed to…you.”

Hermione was momentarily at a loss for what to say, fire coursing through her veins at the implication that she was both unlikeable and unattractive.  

“Well,” she hissed, “I know it might be difficult for a Hufflepuff to understand this, but it is possible to like someone for primarily their brains." 

"What’s that supposed to mean?” Weasley roared, eyes flashing. 

Weasley, who was rather popular (much to Hermione’s deep dissatisfaction), was well-known for his Hufflepuff fanaticism. Prior to becoming their beloved keeper, he would attend each Hufflepuff game with his face painted black and yellow and be the first to lead house chants from the stands.  

Hermione looked at him coolly and shrugged. “Just that people like what they know. Do you get it now? I don’t mind breaking things down further. I’m used to it when sharing a table with Hufflepuffs during Potions.”

Hermione’s insides roared with satisfaction at the sight of Ron’s expression, but the logical part of her brain noted she might have poked a bear. Just as she gripped her wand a little tighter, a tinkling laugh sounded from her right. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown seemed to have succeeded producing their Patronuses, a silvery koala and rabbit chasing each other while the girls shrieked with glee at the sight. 

Hermione turned to Weasley, who was watching them with such soft expression that she was taken aback. He looked at her when he felt her eyes on him, his expression shifting almost at once. But just before it hardened into a full coldness, the telltale spark of an insight appeared in Weasley’s eyes. He looked back at the girly Gryffindor duo, closed his eyes for a few minutes, and opened them, pointing his wand to the empty space to his left. 

“Expecto Patronum!" 

A Jack Russell Terrier popped from his wand and trotted playfully to the now-fading koala and rabbit. Upon reaching them, however, the charms seemed to have gained new life. Parvati and Lavender clapped and cheered as their Patronuses strengthened back to their original form before waving and blowing kisses at Ron. Ron laughed and cheekily blew back a kiss. Then, he looked down at Hermione with a sense of self-satisfaction so obscene that it required knocking him down a couple more pegs. 

"But,” Hermione exclaimed, “your wand movement wasn’t even correct. And your pronunciation could have been stronger.”

Weasley was unpreturbed by her criticism. “Well, clearly this is one of those…those…” He snapped his fingers. “What’re those spells whose magic comes from the heart more than the head?”

“Emotive spells,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. She then muttered, “Honestly, the bar for Hufflepuff Prefects is so low." 

The comment grated, Weasley, of course, but not to the extent Hermione was hoping. Hermione knew that one of the after effects of a well-cast Patronus was a sense of inner peace, and she grudingly noted that was probably what was at play at the moment. She tried goaded him again, demanding he try the spell again, knowinging how he loathed being told what to do. 

"Let’s see if it’s even stronger with the correct arm movement,” she added, unable to resist. 

“Yes, princess,” he drawled. But the glare Weasley shot at Hermione didn’t hide his grudging acceptance of her feedback. 

“Don’t call me princess.”

“Well, don’t boss me around then”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Look, would you just do it?”

Weasley looked at expectantly. 

“Please?” she growled. 

“Oh, well!” he said with a bitter smile, raising his wand. “Since you asked so politely!”

In the end, after several more scowls and snappy barbs traded, Weasley somehow managed to help her connect with her memory enough to produce a noncorporeal Patronus. 

“I think that means my work here is done,” he said once the shapeless silvery form evaporated. He walked away without another word. 

Hermione tried not to let the slight get to her, instead focusing on the memory of her Hogwarts again. This time, she remembered the way her heart thudded as she read and reread the letter and the way she felt an inner glow like she never had before. 

“Expecto Patronum!” she cried. 

A new form burst from the tip of her wand, shining brilliantly for a several seconds before poofing into nothingness. Hermione just caught the long yet tiny body and whiskers: it was an otter. 

A smile tugged at her lips. She looked up, inexplicably searching for Ron Weasley. But he was too busy canoodling with Parvati Patil again to notice. 

[adenei]

Elf-Made Courage

Fic Title: Elf-Made Courage

Author Name: Be11a31

Primary Trope: Different Houses

Rating: M

Trigger Warnings (if any): 

Brief Summary: Head-Boy Ron and Head-Girl Hermione reflect on what life would have been like if they had both been sorted into Gryffindor. 

Elf-Made Courage 

The corridors were eerily quiet this late at night, which was a blessing to Ron’s ears. The prefects on rounds had successfully enforced curfew, effectively saving Ron from his least favorite tasks as Head Boy- breaking apart sneaky couples in broom closets, and reprimanding the Prefects who had failed to do so. He’d come a long way from a few years ago, when a quiet corridor made him shudder. The lack of mischief in the air would make him feel homesick for the Burrow, where chaos lived full time. 

Nothing had changed really — except becoming a Prefect himself. Rounds were awkward at first. Enforcing rules he didn’t even follow the year prior had made him feel like quite the hypocrite, but he got used to the annoyed whispers from frustrated students that followed in his wake. Being good at his job was important to him. As the youngest Weasley son, he’d never been granted true responsibility before, so his role as Hufflepuff Prefect was a thrill. 

It also made him feel connected to the rest of the school. He never really ventured out of his Hufflepuff comfort zone, but as Prefect, he had the chance to expand his core friend group. Harry Potter — Gryffindor and Hermione Granger — Ravenclaw had become two of his best friends, and for that, he was incredibly thankful. Ron rounded the corner to his final staircase, and took the stairs two at a time. He was beyond ready to collapse in his suite and let his guard down — something he could only do behind closed doors these days. 

The door to the Head Suite was ajar when he arrived, and his heart pounded in his chest to know that Hermione was back from her corridor sweep already. He slid through the door and closed it behind him and sure enough, there she sat on the sofa, a book in one hand, and a glass of red wine in the other. Ron beamed. 

“Contraband?”

Hermione smiled and nodded toward the kitchenette, where the remainder of the wine, a half-full bottle, sat next to an empty goblet. “Of course.”

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[adenei]

A Decorous Reply by Squibnation10

Ron is a Hufflepuff looking for the courage to speak to a beautiful girl in Slytherin. Only thing is The Dark Lord is her father.

Read on Ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63216184

[adenei]

A snake’s coils

Fic title: A Snake’s coils 

Chapter 1: The Hat’s Decision

Author name: Iris_Blanche or Imnotfunnysblog 

Primary trope: different houses

Rating: teen and up 

Summary: What if it was just a look, a single little glance that changed everything? Just a little look and a thought that pressed down on an already frightened mind. Could that really change everything for Ron? And What might that mean for Hermione? 

He took a deep breath, in and out, as he stepped up to the hat. His eyes were closed, his features frozen in a wince. He finally opened his eyes, glancing at his older brothers. They were looking at him expectantly like they knew what was about to happen. He gulped suddenly the idea of sitting next to them felt more like the last nail in the coffin. He was going to end up in their shadow, an afterthought of a person. He knew it, he would be dumbed to do just that. Another Weasley, he could hear the hat mutter those exact words as he stepped forward to meet his fate. 

Gryffindor, his ambitions to be like his brothers became his divider. As he stuttered forward he gave one last glance to see his brothers. Percy looked excited and it made a little resentment notch from its ingrained place in his mind. The twins did nothing, leaning back in their seats bord. It was Harry’s eyes that seemed most interested, fixed intently on him. 

“Weasley, Ron!” McGonagall eyed the nervous boy, looking at him in the same expectant way. It gnawed at Ron’s chest, he clenched his fists. 

The hat gave a humming noise, “isn’t that interesting,” Ron’s shoulders tensed as the thing whispered in his ears, “You could be a textbook Gryffindor, brave and strong… but…” The hat hummed in thought again as Ron’s shoulders tensed. Like all the others, Weasley’s Ron thought, biting his lip to keep the expression from his face. The hat gave a little ironic laugh as it bellowed its final decision, “SLYTHERIN!” 

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[adenei]

It's today! It's today! The first day of reveals are here for our third annual (ish) Romione Trope Fest! Happy birthday Ron!

Stay tuned for fic drops every 30 minutes (or as close to given what tumblr decides haha)

Reveal Day 1: Different Houses

Stay tuned...