#happy birthday accio-broom!

[adenei]

Happy Birthday Accio-broom!

It's @accio-broom's birthday tomorrow, but she's going to be busy off gallavanting doing fun things so I'm gonna drop this little gag gift early! This is part ONE of your gift. The other will actually come tomorrow!

Happy birthday to the best beta and internet friend out there. I'm so glad to know you! 🧡

And now, I give you Miracles Happen, Ron's POV (and if you haven't read the real Miracles Happen, you'd best get on that right now. kthanks)

Sunday, October 13, 1996, 00:12 am

Dear Diary er, Journal?

Eh, whatever, this is stupid anyway. I’m only using an extra stack of parchment, which doesn’t even come close to that bloody book Hermione has her nose stuck in all the time. Oh, right, Hermione. That’s the whole reason I’m writing this down.

She’s been acting strange lately. I feel like I barely see her anymore, she’s acting stressed—YES, more stressed than usual, and what’s worse? She won’t tell me anything. It’s almost as bad as the time turn—oh, no, I hope she’s not dabbling in that again! She doesn’t need it.

Harry says I shouldn’t worry, but he never thinks she’s acting out of the ordinary. Sometimes I wonder if his glasses even do anything since he doesn’t notice half the shit that goes on if it’s not related to his hero complex…

Huh, maybe there is something to be said about writing your thoughts down…

This is the third Saturday where Hermione’s disappeared. Ever since Tonks showed up, Hermione can’t be found for hours at a time. Something is going on with her, but I just don’t know what. It can’t be the time turner, she promised she’d never do that again, and it’s not like she’s added any classes. So, I guess I’ll rule that out. Maybe I should make a list of possibilities. That’s what Hermione would do, right?

Things Hermione could be doing when she disappears

Time turner (Nah, we sort of destroyed them all last year at the Ministry—accidentally, of course!)

Getting extra help from a teacher? (no, not likely)

Helping the house-elves in the kitchens (ha, not that they would let her)

Tutoring younger students?

Having tea with the Queen? (yeah, right. I doubt Hermione even knows wizards and witches have royalty).

Meeting up with a secret boyfriend?

Fuck.

That has to be it. If it was anything else she’d tell me, right? But why wouldn’t she want me to know about it? Okay, so maybe I overreacted a bit with the whole Viktor thing during our fourth year. But he was too old for her! I was just looking out for her!

She can date whoever she damn well pleases. But why is she keeping it a secret? It doesn’t make sense.

At least now I have an idea. Maybe I’ll try and ask her questions, see if she lets anything slip. I’ll be back with more if I can get anything out of her.

Until next time...or not.

Ron

[cheesyficwriter]

To all who celebrate, Happy Thanksgiving! This short ficlet is dedicated to a fellow HP fanfic writer @accio-broom, who is not only a fabulous writer and beta, but has become such a dear friend to me! And on top of that, it's her birthday!! I hope you all can join me in wishing her the happiest of days. This Romione ficlet is inspired by a scene from one of our favorite TV shows, One Tree Hill. I hope you enjoy!

A Very Hogwarts Reunion

Happy birthday, accio-broom!

Inspired by One Tree Hill, Season 7, Episode 6 (Naley)

The last thing Ron expects to happen on a random Friday at the end of November is to receive an urgent notice from Professor McGonagall, insisting that he floo directly to her office at Hogwarts as fast as wizardly possible.

Filled with nothing but worry for Hermione, who is there finishing up her seventh and final year, he drops everything to make his way to the castle.

Stepping out of the bright green flames, he finds Professor McGonagall standing before him, wearing her signature emerald green robes and pointed hat as well as a very prim expression on her face.

“Mr. Weasley. Thank you for coming.”

Ron wipes away the soot from his trousers, eyes flickering around the room. “Where is she, Professor?”

“In the empty classroom next door. Now, I can’t fathom what would have made her resort to physical violence, but I only hope that you can help her through.”

Ron lets out a pronounced sigh, knowing from personal experience that Hermione has the capacity for explosive rage if driven to such lengths. “Thanks for owling me.”

"We don't usually allow visitors at Hogwarts," McGonagall reminds him as she glides across the room, "however, given the circumstances, I thought it would be best to allow an exception."

Ron nods at his former teacher, shoving his hands into his pockets as his gaze drifts to the doorway. He's eager to see Hermione, considering how close in proximity she is after so much time they’ve spent apart.

The professor must sense his anxiety, for she opens the door with a flick of her wand before leaving him with one final warning. "Don't make me regret my decision."

"I'd never take advantage of your leniency, Professor."

McGonagall's mouth draws into a thin line, eying him from behind her square spectacles.

Intimidated by the severe-looking woman, Ron clears his throat. "Right, er, I'll just go then."

"That'd probably be for the best, Mr. Weasley."

He makes his way in a haste towards the classroom, finding the door already ajar and Hermione with her head down, scribbling away on a piece of parchment at a desk in the first row of the empty classroom.

Ron smiles to himself, holding his silence for a few moments as he leans against the doorframe, observing the vertical wrinkles between her brows that so often appear when she’s concentrating.

"Hermione Granger got banned from the library for the day. Those are words I never thought I'd utter."

A soft gasp expels from her lips as she drops her quill. Snapping her head up, her eyes go round.

"Ron! What are you doing here?"

“Everything alright there, love?” he asks, stepping into the classroom as Hermione stands and throws her arms around his neck. Ron buries his nose into her bushy curls, inhaling the floral scent of her shampoo that he's missed so much.

Hermione pulls back from the embrace, keeping her hands firm on his shoulders as she searches his eyes for answers. "But, how?"

"Professor McGonagall seems to believe that you need someone to talk to."

Ron watches the heat creep up on Hermione's face as she releases a frustrated exhale. "She shouldn't have involved you."

"Ouch." Ron clutches the jumper over his chest, feigning offense.

"Not that I'm not happy to see you! I am!" Hermione insists, leaning up to give him a quick peck on the lips. "It's just-"

She releases her hold on him, deciding instead to pace the length of the deserted classroom. Ron takes note of her rapid breathing and flushed face, and he frowns as he tries to make sense of her distress.

“I cannot believe that she had the audacity...it's positively mental...”

Ron struggles to find the right words to tame her fury springing to life. “Hermione-”

“I mean, honestly," she interrupts, anger flaring across her face. "Prudence Bulstrode is so vile! Quite like her older sister, Millicent. She’s lucky all she got were bats crawling out of her nostrils.”

Ron doesn’t even bother hiding the pleased grin on his face as he repeats her full name. “Hermione Granger. Are you telling me that you hexed someone?”

“No!” Her expression darkens, a flit of annoyance appearing on her face. “I mean, maybe — I mean…” She bites her lip, bowing her head. “Yes. It’s quite possible that I did.”

He presses his lips together, trying to hold in his laughter. Crossing his arms, Ron steps closer, observing the way Hermione plays with her hands like she always does when she’s nervous. “What ever happened to, oh I don't know, walking away? Ignoring comments like the ones Malfoy used to spew at us."

“You weren’t there! You didn’t hear what she said to me as I was simply keeping to myself in the library.”

Ron resists the urge to roll his eyes. “What a surprise. What did she say?”

Hermione’s nostrils flare as she avoids his gaze. “Oh, it’s not really important.”

“Hermione, tell me.”

“I’ve already said,” she snaps with an intractable temper, causing Ron to take a step back. She looks like Fluffy the three-headed dog, ready to bite someone’s head off — preferably not his. “It’s nothing you should be concerned about.”

“Well, I wanna know anyway.”

“Well, I don’t want you to know.”

“Why don’t you want me to know?”

Hermione huffs out a large breath, her mouth set in a tight pout. "The comment she made...it wasn't about me."

"It wasn't?" Ron’s brows furrow as confusion sets in.

Hermione leans back against one of the desks, using her hands for stability. Heaving out a deep sigh, she admits, "It was about you."

A warmth fills his chest, and he figures the lopsided grin on his face is already giving away how honored he is that she felt compelled enough to defend him with such thundering rage. It’s honestly pretty embarrassing how excited he is about the matter.

Placing a palm over his heart, Ron says with a dramatic tinge to his voice, "My hero."

"Oh, stop it."

He wants to chuckle, finding it amusing how bent out of shape she seems to be over the whole ordeal, but the look of defeat on her face stills him. "What is it, love?"

"I'm assuming you're curious as to what she said."

Ron takes a large stride forward, shaking his head. "Actually, I'm not."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." He moves close enough to take her hands in his.

Hermione glances down at their joined hands before gazing back up at him, appearing perplexed. "And why is that?"

“‘Cause I don’t really care about the comment. All I care about is you.” The way her eyes glisten with adoration as she listens to his words is enough to spur Ron on. “And right now? I’m thinking…”

“What are you thinking?" She breathes out after he pauses for a moment too long.

Raising an eyebrow, Ron smirks down at her. “My girl is a bloody badass. That’s fucking hot.”

“Ron!” Hermione scolds, although she can’t hide the adorable blush on her cheeks. “Wait, really?”

“Oh yeah, totally. In fact…” He leans over to capture her lips with his before she can protest, deepening the kiss as she sighs into his mouth. When she interlaces her fingers behind his neck, Ron takes the opportunity to pull her body flush against his, allowing his hands to roam up and down her backside.

Blimey, he really did miss her. This Hogwarts reunion in a deserted classroom, with Hermione, is bloody fantastic.

Before they can become far too consumed by each other, Hermione mumbles against his lips, “I feel like we should close that door.”

Ron’s eyes practically bulge out of their sockets as his head swivels towards the open doorway. Bloody hell, no matter how much he wants to be in a compromising position with Hermione, he sure does not want to be caught in one by Professor McGonagall.

"Somehow I feel like she’ll know if I close the door."

“Who will know?”

“Just trust me,” Ron mutters, taking Hermione’s hand again. “She’ll know. Fancy a walk?”

Beaming up at him, Hermione answers, “Sounds perfect.”

[acnelli]

Nelli's Birthday Recs

All credit for this lovely idea goes to @lumosatnight. It's my Birthday today and I want to share some quality stories with you to enjoy. Especially, in those last two years fanfiction and fandom in general became a safe haven for me. A very welcome escape from reality and overall joy in general. So thank you for this 💛

Just like Lani, I'll introduce 12 stories and authors (for each day in July leading up to my Birthday). Except for one, they're all Ron-centric (no surprises there but you probably follow me for that exact reason, so...I guess it's fine ;)). I can only encourage you to read these stories as well as checking out their writer profiles for more.

And I'll never get tired of saying this: Leave Kudos & comments if you enjoyed reading a story. No matter how old the story is, no matter how many Kudos and comments there are already, your comment will make a writer happy. Always (imagine this in a Severus Snape/Alan Rickman voice)!

This is not sorted by ship at all. So, scroll through the whole list, please. Pairings: Romione, Rarry, Kron, Perciver, and a selection of many different pairings from the microfics I recommended.

Holidate by @accio-broom [M, Ron x Hermione, WIP]

Fed up with being single for the holidays, two close friends agree to be each other's platonic plus ones all year long. But will they catch real feelings along the way?

This story updates on every major holiday and finishes on Christmas 2022. If this isn't the coolest idea?

My Microfic May 2022 by @curlyy-hair-dont-care [various ratings and pairings]

Her submissions to @microficmay 2022 were such a delight to read and I was looking forward everyday to read one of these lovely stories.

The Romione, Blairon, and Marthur fics were my favs but all of them are great.

A Perfect Birthday Morning by @hillnerd [M, Ron x Hermione, 1k+]

Ron's 34th Birthday.

Hilly isn't just one of my favorite artists ( @hillnerd-art) but also a great writer. She also organized hangouts during the panini which were such a life saver, especially in 2020.

A Muggle Cliché by @cescalr [T, Ron x Harry, 8k+]

Harry Potter. The squib son of James and Lily Potter. The nephew of Sirius Black.

Ron is never going to hear the end of this from the twins, he realises, with great despair. In his defence, Harry Potter should be dead.

I can't stress enough how great of a concept this is and how well-written this story is, especially how Harry is written.

what you know about love (i got what you need) by @playitaagain [M, Ron x Harry, 6k+]

Ron shows Harry that it's okay to seek comfort, to have someone hold you. He allows Harry the space to cry while showing him how much love can be found in another person's nonjudgmental support.

Or

Five time Ron initiates comforting Harry and one time Harry seeks out comfort.

Beautiful story with the 5 + 1 prompt. (Just as a FYI, I still get notification for this story on the @harryronfest blog almost every day :)).

Treacle Treat by @orange-peony [E, Ron x Harry, 30k+]

Fred's funeral turns out to be quite lovely, Harry thinks, in spite of how heartbroken they all feel. Everyone says something nice or funny about Fred, trying to remember the good moments. Harry can’t get the words out, but Ron is by his side, the back of his hand pressed against Harry’s, his eyebrows scrunched up as he sobs quietly.

“Stay,” Ron whispers after dinner, when everyone gets ready for bed, pale faces looking empty and wiped out. “Don’t go back to Grimmauld Place. Stay here, Harry. Please…”

Harry nods, then follows Ron upstairs, to the room where they’ve spent countless summer evenings, chatting in bed with a laugh and a cheeky grin on their faces.

They lie in the dark in silence this time, and Harry feels so cold.

So much angst, so much smut, so much love. So much of peony's beautiful writing.

A Heart So Colourful by @lumosatnight [E, Ron x Viktor, 1k+]

Rita Skeeter’s article dropped on Tuesday afternoon. By Wednesday morning, it was posted all over Hogwarts. Not even Filch’s personal quarters had been overlooked (though why a student would risk sneaking in there, Merlin only knew). By Thursday, even the professors were talking about it. By Friday, the Minister, himself, was Flooing his associates across the pond.

Viktor Krum was gay, and he had asked Ronald Weasley to the Yule Ball.

This is so cute and a really lovely idea. Also shout out to Lani for getting me into writing again with microficmay.

Perfect Strangers by @adenei [T, Ron x Hermione, 5k+]

Ron Weasley is just like any other University student: he attends his classes, plays for the football team, and spends much of his spare time working at the coffee shop that's owned by his best mate's parents. What will happen when an ordinary shift brings in a new customer?

I might have mentioned that I love Coffee Shop AUs right? This here also comes with a Jily lives bonus and adenei's amazing writing.

In Which Landon Is Accidentally Observant, and Peters Misses Quidditch for No Good Reason at All by @constitutionalweasleymonarchy [T, Percy x Oliver, 3k+]

The arguments between Percy Weasley and Oliver Wood are so legendary, a mere glare is enough to clear out the dormitory. The problem is, Landon and Peters live here, too.

(A 7th year Perciver from the POV of their dormmates.)

Usually, I recommend A Counterpoint to Working Lunches by RGF but this story made me laugh so much and I was absolutely delighted about the new ship name she came up with for Perciver.

Right Here, Right Now by @cheesyficwriter [M, Ron x Hermione, 1k+]

Ron and Hermione share a tender moment under the stars during the summer following the Battle.

This was written for the @romioneficfest 2021! As every story written for this lovely fest, cheesy's story warmed me from the inside out when I first read it.

The Handyman by @reallybeth9 [M, Ron x Hermione, 2k+]

She gave me another one of those tight-lipped smiles, and I realized that I desperately wanted to see what one of her real smiles looked like.

“It’s nice,” she said. “Or it will be once it’s decorated.”

I wanted to ask her if she could help me decorate it but I held my tongue, knowing that it would be an inappropriate thing to ask.

Smutty goodness with a twist but you have to see for yourself.

The Quiet by @be11atrixthestrange [T, Ron x Hermione, 1k+]

A father/son shopping trip turns into an understated moment of bonding.

This story will not just make your Romione shipper heart happy but you'll also find yourself shipping an entirely new pairing. My personal headcanons about Hugo's character were also shaped by this story. And Dad!Ron is always a treat, isn't it?

[romione-trope-fest]

Ron x Hermione

Kicking off the Romione Trope Fest is a masterpiece of a Sixth Year AU inspired by Dash + Lily, and cowritten by adenei and accio broom! Enjoy, and be sure to follow both @adenei and @accio-broom for the second chapter!

------------------------

Title: Ron x Hermione Author: @adenei & @accio-broom Trope: 6th Year AU Brief Summary: It's no fun being the only single teen in your friend group, and Hermione's sick of feeling like the odd ball out. But would ever want to date her? She's trying to come to terms with another year of singlehood when Ginny has an outlandish idea. With the help of Fred and George, they charm a journal and plant it in the library in the hopes of finding a boyfriend. But who will stumble across it, and what happens when she finds out who it is? Inspired by the Netflix series Dash & Lily. Word Count: 3,985 (10 chapters total) Stay tuned for an extra special twist that will be revealed with Chapter 2! Rating: M for language TW: Strong Language

I love being a witch. 

When Professor McGonagall showed up at my house on my eleventh birthday, Mum and Dad were shocked. It took a lot of convincing, like summoning glasses from the kitchen and turning the settee into a Scottish terrier, for them to believe magic existed, but I never doubted her for a second. I always knew I was different, even from a very young age, and experiencing the magical world for the first time showed me where I truly belong.

Although attending Hogwarts has changed my life, I had a rocky start. The first few months worried me when no one wanted to be my friend, but then a troll tried to kill me on Halloween. He probably would have succeeded if Ron and Harry hadn’t come to my rescue. Of course, they may have been the reason the troll found me in the first place, but we don’t have to get into that. 

The point is, I have friends now! Looking back, I think I had to endure all those hardships to get to this moment, enjoying the last few days of the summer holidays at the Burrow—the Weasleys’ home—with my three best friends in the whole world: Ron, Harry, and Ginny. Oh, Ginny is Ron’s younger sister, by the way. We didn’t become close until after my third year, but I’m glad we did. Having only boys as your best friends can be exhausting.

We’ve been inseparable ever since. Well, until they all went and started dating other people. Not that I’m mad about it or anything. I’m happy for them! My classes had me too busy to worry about finding a boyfriend anyway. Whilst they were all off with their significant others, I had plenty of time to catch up with my revision, as well as complete some additional curricular assignments, just for fun. And all my hard work paid off in the end. There’s no way I could have achieved eleven O.W.L.s if I dated too.

But now that O.W.L.s are over…no, wait, N.E.W.T.s will be just as time-consuming, if not more! I don’t have time for a boyfriend. I— 

“Do you ever not have a book in your hand?” Ginny’s teasing tone startles me as she hops off her broom. I didn’t even hear her approach.

She rolls her eyes as I slam the leatherbound book shut, the snap of the pages ringing through the air like an apparition crack. “Well, I have to find something to do while you three enjoy zooming around at dangerous heights.”

“Come on, it’s not that bad. You should join us once in a while.”

“I’m happy keeping my feet firmly planted on the ground, thanks.”

For once, Ginny doesn’t push the subject. “What are you working on anyway? I thought you’ve done your preterm reading already.”

“I did! I’m just, um…” 

I look up to the sky, hoping the boys are on their way over to rescue me and help Gin forget about her question. But luck isn’t on my side, they’re still flying, and in my distracted state, she manages to steal the book from my hands and flips through the pages.

“Hermione Granger, I didn’t know you kept a diary!”

“I don’t! I mean, not recently at least! I used to when I was younger.” My desperate attempts to snatch the journal back from her fail miserably.

Ginny shuts the book, respecting the boundaries of our friendship and choosing not to read my private thoughts. “So, what made you start back up now?”

“I don’t know…I was bored, I guess.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?! We could have stopped—”

“No, no, it’s fine! I forgot how therapeutic it was to write my thoughts down,” I admit with a shrug as Ginny sits next to me.

She smiles and nudges me with her shoulder. “Why write when you have a best friend to talk to? You know I’m always here.”

“I know. But sometimes when I can’t figure out how to say something out loud, it’s easier to write it down instead.”

“Like what?”

“Wouldn’t telling you defeat the purpose of writing it down?” 

I shoot Ginny a perplexed look and laugh. Her methods aren’t fooling me. Years of interrogating her older brothers may have given her an extensive wealth of tools when it comes to prying, but they won’t work on me.

Cocking an eyebrow in my direction, she counters my question. “That depends. Did you or did you not already write it down?” 

“Something tells me you know the answer already.” I narrow my eyes at her, wondering if she did more than glance at the pages.

“Hermione, I’m not going to force you to talk about it, but it might make you feel better if you get it off your chest—and not just on a page.”

I sigh, knowing there’s no way around it. At least I can trust Ginny with my deepest, darkest secrets, but it’s still going to feel odd saying it out loud. “Fine. I want what you have.”

“What? Long, flowing red locks and freckles? My impressive flying skills? Oh, or do you want one of my brothers? Trust me, I’ve got too many, you can have one—” Ginny’s guesses have me clutching my stomach from laughing so hard.

“No, no!” I say between gasps for air. “A boyfriend! You have Dean, Ron has Lav, Harry has Cho, and what do I have? Books. How romantic for a sixteen-year-old.”

My laughter dies away as the harsh reality of my non-existent love life sinks in. I must sound pathetic. 

“Had.” 

“What?”

Ginny’s response makes no sense. I just admitted to her I don’t want to be alone anymore, and she replies with ‘had’? Did she fly too high earlier and lose oxygen to her brain?

“Harry and Cho broke up ages ago, and Ron and Lav ended things before we left for summer hols. He’s been pretty broken up about it.” Ginny glances up at Harry and Ron, who look like they’re practising speed drills, with a guilty look on her face. “Don’t tell him I told you.”

“It won’t matter. They’ll probably get back together at the start of term.” I shake my head at the thought. 

I don’t dislike Lav, or Ron’s relationship with her, but sometimes I think they’re hanging on to something for the sake of avoiding singlehood. Maybe my lack of experience means I can’t understand, but I don’t want to see my best friend hurting anymore. He’s better off without her.

I could say all this to Ginny, but it’d be like beating a dead Hippogriff. She already knows, so I dismiss her claims and plough ahead. “Besides, that doesn’t help me. I know I’m just the girl who takes school too seriously, but is it so wrong to want someone who will hold my hand on the way to class, or take me to Hogsmeade for a date?”

“Of course not! I’m sure you’ll find someone!”

“When? Who would want to go out with me? The only people who know me, and I mean really know me, are you three. Everyone else just thinks I’m a know-it-all rule follower who only cares about studying and house-elf rights. No one wants to date someone like me.” I toss the journal down in front of me and hug my knees to my chest.

Ginny places an arm around my shoulder and squeezes it tight. “Don’t say that. We’ll find you someone.”

“How?”

The rustle of the leaves is the only sound filling the silence when Ginny doesn’t respond right away. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. The whole idea is a lost cause. I’m about to tell Gin as much when she gasps and lunges for the book.

“That’s it!”

“What? What’s it?” Eagerness causes me to lean forward, trying to see whatever she sees.

Ginny flips the book over in her hands, then grins at me like the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland and scrambles to her feet. “I know how we’re going to get you a boyfriend, but we don’t have a lot of setup time. Quick, come with me!”

“Wait, Ginny! Where are you going?” I call after her, but she’s already halfway across the garden, heading toward the house. 

Dragging myself to my feet, I can only hope her plan isn’t too far-fetched as I run after her, ignoring the shouts from Ron and Harry.

Whatever plan she’s concocting in her mind, I know one thing is certain. The boys cannot find out.

❣

A few hours later, I’m sitting in Fred and George’s office at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, overseeing the development of the most insane plan I’ve ever been a part of—and that’s saying a lot considering who my best friends are.

“I’m sorry, how is this supposed to help me find a boyfriend?”

All three gingers pause their discussion and stare at me. Fred is the first person to speak, though he ignores my question.

“You know, Granger, for the brightest witch of your age, you’re a bit daft.”

George chimes in after, as per usual. “Yeah, this plan is not only going to find you a boyfriend, but he’s going to be your perfect match. Your soulmate, if you will.”

“Yup, and we’re confident this will work. If it doesn’t, we'll let you have free merchandise for life,” Fred finishes.

“It seems like you’re getting a bit full of yourselves. I just don’t see how this is going to work! You can’t find a soulmate by leaving a note in a book for someone in the library.” They can call me a sceptic all they want. It’s true, I won’t deny it.

“Come on, Hermione, you’re overcomplicating things! You love reading, right? The whole idea is to help you find someone who shares the same interests as you! You said it yourself, if there’s something you can’t say out loud, you write it down. So, we’re writing it down!” Ginny explains the plan again as if it’s the most obvious solution.

“I never said I couldn’t say it out loud.”

“You didn’t have to,” Fred mocks in a sing-song voice.

George nods as he finishes casting a nonverbal spell. “Besides, if you tried to ask someone out the normal way, you’d find some fault and turn them down.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t mean it as a bad thing. You’re just…particular.”

Ginny cuts in, attempting to mediate the situation as my annoyance grows and my patience weakens. “Hermione, we’re doing this to help you. I’m not altogether agreeing with George, but remember Viktor? You went to the ball with him, had a great time, but then wrote twelve inches on why it would never work when he asked you to be his girlfriend.”

I open my mouth to contradict her, but then clamp it shut again. I hate admitting when they’re right but…they are. I’m always thinking too far ahead and can’t enjoy something in the moment. 

I think back to the Yule Ball. It’s probably one of my favourite memories of Hogwarts. Viktor gave me my first kiss, wanted to dance the night away, and was the best, most attentive date I could have asked for. But the practical part of me saw the relationship going nowhere after he returned to Bulgaria, so I declined anything more serious even though we still had six months to make a go of a relationship.

Would I do that again with someone else? Is fear the real reason I push potential dates away? Or am I waiting for someone special? Maybe this is the best option, after all.

I ignore their sympathetic looks and bring the conversation back to the plan, choosing not to respond about the whole Viktor thing. 

“Fine, we’ll try it this way. But this better not be another one of your pranks you’re pulling instead. I swear if someone like Malfoy finds it—”

“Then I’ll give them my finest Bat-Bogey Hex,” Ginny finishes, glaring at the twins.

“Ah, ladies. Ye of little faith,” Fred tuts.

George hands me the book. “See for yourself.”

I look at Ginny who nods eagerly, waiting for me to take the book. If I take it, does that mean I’m agreeing to this crazy plan? Am I really putting my love life into the hands of one of my best friends and her prankster brothers? 

No, it’s not like I’m making an Unbreakable Vow when I take the book. But it’s my love life on the line, surely they’ll make changes if I ask them. Better yet, maybe I can find something to foil their plan and prove them wrong and we can forget about the whole thing.

With those thoughts putting my mind at ease, I take the journal from George and see what they’ve come up with. The first page contains a simple message:

  Congratulations! You’ve found me. Don’t worry, this book isn’t cursed or possessed, just charmed. I’m looking for a friend, or maybe something more. I’ve left some clues for you.  If you’re interested, turn the page.  If you aren’t, well, thanks for humouring me.  Put me back on the shelf for someone else. We wouldn’t get along anyway.

I ignore the urge to tell them all the ways this won’t work and forge ahead. I’ll save my thoughts until I’ve given it all a thorough look. 

After turning the page, I see they’ve included a bunch of blank lines and it looks like a coded message. Underneath are a set of clues, which will take the reader through the shelves of the Hogwarts Library. They’ll search for the right books to solve each mystery, and hopefully fill in the blanks as they go.

I have to give the twins credit. For the most part, they’ve catered the clues to me, but there’s one I don’t understand. “Why Quidditch Through the Ages? You all know I hate flying. And I only watch because of Harry and Ron.”

Fred grins. “Ah, but that’s the point!” 

“The clue is less about you and more about your friends,” George explains.

“My friends?” I look to Ginny for help, but she only responds with an equally confused expression. “I’m not following.”

“Hermione, Hermione, Hermione. It’s one thing to find someone who fancies you, but also likes your friends.” Fred makes it sound like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, and since your friends love Quidditch, then your potential suitor should take a mild interest as well at the very least.”

They have a point, and it’s well thought out too. The last thing I want is to find someone who won’t get along with Ron, Harry, or Ginny. 

“Okay, I suppose you’re right.”

George smirks. “Thanks for your confidence.” 

“I’m still not saying I think it will work, but it’s worth a shot.” I can’t let them get too ahead of themselves yet.

“What’s the message say?” Ginny pipes up.

Fred shakes his head. “Now, now, we’ve got to save the mystery. You’ll find out in due time.”

“It better not be crude.”

“Trust us, Hermione, will you?” Fred places a hand over his heart, acting wounded from her doubt. “Oh, by the way, I don’t want to assume anything, you’re into blokes, right?”

“What? Yes, of course! Why would you think—” I shake my head in confusion. Have I given them a reason to suspect otherwise?

“Just had to check.”

George shakes his head. “Yeah, you can’t blame us, can you? Anyway, we’re almost done here. You just need to choose the handwriting you want for the concealment charm.” 

He slides a list of choices in front of me. “Why can’t it be my handwriting?” 

“I guess it can, but it might give you away if the person recognises it.” Fred frowns.

That’s true. I hadn’t thought of that. Giving away my identity through my handwriting would defeat the whole purpose, wouldn’t it?

“Okay, fine. I’ll choose one for me and one for my potential suitor. Assuming I ever find one.”

“You will,” Ginny reassures me.

As I look over the options, Fred goes on to explain the rest of the features the twins are finalising with the journal.

“We’re going to set the spells so the clues only reveal themselves once the one before has been solved. If someone decides to put the book back without responding, anything they’ve answered will be erased for another person to try.”

“Yeah, and we’ve charmed the cover to turn red if you’ve received a response,” George adds.

I’m impressed with how much they’ve thought to include in the hopes that this will work. But now that it’s done, it means I have to follow through with it. I look up at Ginny, who’s grinning from ear to ear with excitement. Good to know one of us is looking forward to this.

“We’re actually going to do this, aren’t we?”

Ginny throws her arms around Hermione in a tight hug. “You bet your arse we are! It’s time to find you a boyfriend.”

❣

“I still don’t understand why you won’t tell me where you and Ginny disappeared to the other day.” Ron leans over and whispers in my ear as we lead the first years up to Gryffindor tower after the feast.

Ugh, not again! I roll my eyes and look up at him. Did he grow another few inches? Honestly, I’m going to hurt my neck if he gets any taller. 

“We’ve been over this. Ginny remembered she needed a few extra things in Diagon Alley so we flooed over to pick them up. The twins spotted us outside their shop and then we went to lunch before returning to the Burrow.” I hope I don’t sound too rehearsed.

“Why didn’t you invite Harry and me to come with you?”

“Because we don’t have to do everything together, Ron.”

“Well, you were our friend first.”

I can’t help but laugh at his response. It’s kind of a running joke the three of us developed when Harry and Ron started dating Cho and Lav. You know, a way to remind us to still make time for each other. So it’s ironic he’s saying this when we’re all supposedly single. 

“Jealous, much?”

“Course not. Just annoyed I missed a trip to London.”

I snort at his blatant honesty. The truth was bound to reveal itself eventually. “You didn’t miss much.”

Ginny and I decided not to tell the boys about the journal. It’s for the best. I can’t guarantee Ron and Harry won’t tease me relentlessly for it. Sure, they’d come around eventually, but I can hear them now. ‘Come on, Hermione, you don’t need a bloody journal to find someone.’ Or ‘how is writing to someone you don’t know different from falling in love with a fictional character? If they don’t reveal their identity, are they even real?’

No, it’s better they don’t know. Even the twins agreed to keep the secret. Of course, their silence came with the clause of keeping them in the loop, but it’s a small price to pay.

As we continue shepherding the new students into the common room and up to the dorms, Ron nudges me again. “Care for a game of Exploding Snap?”

“Oh, um, we should get to bed. Who knows how full our schedule is going to be tomorrow.” I feel bad lying to him, but I’m supposed to meet Ginny in the library in five minutes to plant the journal.

“One game won’t hurt. It’s our last night of freedom before school takes over our lives again.”

I raise an eyebrow at Ron. “Our lives?”

“Okay, your life. Happy?” His blue eyes sparkle with mirth and I can’t help but smile.

There’s something infectious about the way Ron’s face lights up when he grins. No matter how lousy I’m feeling, my mood always turns around when I see him smile. 

“Yes.”

“So, Exploding Snap?”

“I have to go to the library first. After?”

Ron’s face scrunches in confusion. He knows I love the library, this shouldn’t be surprising to him. “Is the library even open?”

“Yes, of course it’s open! I’ll be right back. Go unpack or something.”

“Nah, that’s boring. I’ll come with you. We can see if the prefect’s schedule is done on the way.”

“No!” My response is more frenzied than usual, and I feel bad once I see Ron blink back his bafflement at my curt response.

“I just—I can manage alone. I’ll be right back and then we can play, alright?”

His jaw sets and I can tell he’s annoyed because I want to go alone. I’m on the verge of being late, and Ginny’s going to kill me, but I can’t leave Ron like this. I brace for the impact of an imminent argument.

But it never comes. Instead, Ron sighs. “You aren’t using a—you know, again, are you?”

He gestures to his neck, and I know he’s talking about the Time-Turner. My eyes widen and I shake my head rigorously. “No, not at all! Never again, remember? I just need to grab a book. I’ll be right back.” 

I reach out and give his arm a gentle squeeze in reassurance before rushing out of the portrait hole. By the time I make it to the library, I’m out of breath.

“There you are! I thought you weren’t going to show.” Ginny hisses.

“Sorry. Ron was suspicious and I couldn’t shake him.”

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Let’s find a spot for this and get out of here before Madam Pince comes snooping.”

“Alright, alright!” We start walking down the rows of shelves, keeping an eye out for a promising location. 

“What about next to Hogwarts, A History? It could be a fun way to make the clues cyclical because they’d end up back where they started.” I’d been thinking long and hard about where the journal should go, so I’m hoping Ginny will like my idea. 

“No, Hermione, that’s too obvious! It has to go somewhere more discreet.”

“Well, where else can it go? What other book is as meaningful to me as Hogwarts, A History?”

Ginny pauses and taps her chin, looking around at the different areas. “What about the Muggle Studies section?”

“But I don’t take Muggle Studies.”

“So? It might throw them off the trail! Plus, you’re Muggle-born, so maybe finding someone who’s taking the course will help you find a more promising match!”

I suppose she has a point. “Fine.”

Ginny leads the way into the Muggle Studies section and stops in front of the more ‘advanced’ selection. “We should probably place it somewhere among these titles. I remember Percy checking these out for his N.E.W.Ts back in my first and second year, and we want to make sure whoever finds this is at least a fifth year.”

“Good idea.” I hadn’t even thought of that. The last thing I want is for a first or second year to stumble upon the journal. How embarrassing would that be?

“So, which spot looks good?”

I scan the titles. This may not be my first choice of where to leave the notebook, but I still want to place it near something interesting where it’s likely to get picked up.

“How about here?” I reach up to the shelf above my head and point between two intriguing titles: What Muggles Do for Fun and The Ins and Outs of Muggle Dates.

“Oh, Hermione, this is perfect! Here, give it to me.” Ginny takes the leatherbound book out of my hands and wedges it between my choices.

Now it’s there, it all seems a bit anticlimactic. I look over to Ginny, who’s still staring at the spot where the journal rests, satisfaction evident in her smile. “Now what?”

“Now, we wait.”

[voldemorts-tap-shoes]

A very very happy (early) birthday to the wonderful, amazing @accio-broom !

🎂🎂🎂

So thankful to have you as a friend and beta! I hope you have a fabulous birthday weekend!! 🥳❤️

Harpies vs Cannons

It’s not like Hermione to be late, truly.

The thing was that she had been working on a new filing system all week—the most pressing of a laundry list of improvements that she intended to make in her new post as the librarian at Devon Academy—and had completely lost track of the time. Her predecessor at the school had been long-overdue for retirement, and from the sounds of things, quite checked out in her management of the school’s resources.

Even as she is scrambling out of her car, in a tizzy over her own tardiness, Hermione chuckles at the unintentional pun in her inner thoughts. It’s quirks like this, Hermione thinks as she hurries across the parking lot, that have kept her from being adept at making friends, though to be honest, she’s quite content with her lot. She was the same growing up—satisfied to be surrounded by books rather than her peers. She has her work, her beloved cat, and her own space. What more could a girl want?

Of course, the journalism teacher at the Academy, who happened to be Hermione’s roommate in her first year at uni, and quirkier than Hermione had ever dreamed of being, had other plans for her. She knew that Luna had moved back to her hometown after graduation, but she had switched courses so many times in school—”the pursuit of knowledge is its own reward,” Luna had cryptically said to her after one such academic pivot—that Hermione wasn’t sure what sort of career she had landed on until coming face to face with her at her first faculty meeting. The two weren’t particularly close at uni, but it was still nice to see a familiar face. Hermione didn’t know anyone else in the small town of Ottery St. Catchpole, and Luna had been trying to rectify that since their very first day of school.

Hermione had been offering excuses for weeks about needing to unpack and wanting to get settled in, but Luna had been insistent about tonight. “It’s the first bout of the season,” she had said to Hermione over a mid-morning coffee in the breakroom. “You should come and meet the other girls.”

Hermione had frowned in confusion. “A bout?” she questioned. “What season?”

Luna tapped the bulletin board over the coffee machine, where a green and yellow flyer boldly displayed the word Harpies across the top. “Roller derby.”

“You play roller derby?” Hermione asked, unable to keep the skepticism out of her voice. Luna’s slight figure and airy personality didn’t seem like they would be well-suited to such a sport, though Hermione admittedly knew very little about it.

“Oh yes, it’s quite fun,” Luna replied. “And we usually all go to the pub afterwards. It’ll be a great chance for you to meet people in town.” The warning bell for the start of the next class let out an ear-splitting clang above their heads, cutting short any chance Hermione may have had at an argument. “Seven o’clock,” Luna called over her shoulder as she hurried out into the hallway. “It’ll be fun!”

And while Hermione had her doubts about that, she really, truly, hadn’t intended to be late.

She hurries into the large but unassuming building where Luna has directed her and is hit immediately with a cacophony of sound and color. The full parking lot should have sufficed to tell her how popular these events are, but she still finds herself surprised at the size of the crowd inside, all cheering and yelling as the girls speed around the track. To her left, the fans are decked out in the green and yellow hues of the flyer at school, and the crowd on the right is an undulating sea of orange and black.

Trying to take it all in as she weaves through the throng of fans, Hermione looks up and sees that the clock’s timer is down to under five minutes. A quick Google search during her afternoon free period told her that the matches—bouts, she reminds herself—are played in two thirty-minute halves, and she knows she’s not late enough to have missed the entire thing, so it must be nearly halftime. Hopefully Luna won’t be too disappointed by her late arrival.

Hermione makes her way around to the bleachers on the left and spots an empty space on the front row. Just as she is starting to lower herself to what is surely an uncomfortable metal seat, the Harpies fans surrounding her erupt in jeers. The referee is signaling to one of the Harpies skaters to take a seat in the penalty box, and it’s clear the fans aren’t happy about it. The complaints seem to be the loudest from a raucous group just behind her, all with shocking red hair that matches the long ponytail dangling from beneath the penalized player’s helmet.

Two of the men are twins, and they are flinging the most colorful of the taunts at the referee. Two others from the group—one of whom she didn’t realize was a part of it on account of the jet black hair that doesn’t match the rest—break off and speed down the stairs beside her. The penalized player skates over to have an animated chat with the two men over the track barrier before taking her seat in the box with a huff.

Hermione waits a moment for the two men to return to their seats as play resumes, but they remain leaning against the barricade to watch. It’s quite rude to the spectators behind them, especially considering how tall the red-haired one is. She gives a loud clearing of her throat, but the noise from the crowd drowns out even the exaggerated gesture. It’s not as if she understands what’s going on, but she would still like to see it.

She stands from her seat with a frown and approaches the barricade. “Excuse me,” she says, taking care to make her voice firm but not aggressive.

The red haired man turns to her and meets her gaze with blue eyes so deep she’s in danger of drowning in them. The crooked half-smile he gives her has her nearly forgetting why she’s approached him in the first place. “Yes?” he questions, his voice warm and friendly.

Hermione points to the empty spot in the bleachers that she has just vacated. “My seat is over there, and I’m afraid I can’t see around you. Would you mind sitting down?”

“Yeah, reckon I would actually. This is the best spot to watch from.” Hermione opens her mouth to form an angry retort, but he continues before she can get it out. “So maybe you’d like to join me up here? I’m Ron.”

He holds his hand out for her to shake. Hermione hesitates before deciding that she might actually like to take him up on his offer. “Hermione,” she replies, accepting the gesture.

To her surprise, his eyes light up with recognition. “You must be Luna’s friend, then?”

Hermione nods as she steps up next to him, deciding to see if he’s right about the view. “Yes, we were roommates in uni, and now we work together at the school.”

“Oh yeah, cool. This is Harry, by the way.” Ron elbows the black-haired man, who affords them barely a glance before resuming the animated conversation he seems to be having entirely in hand gestures with the penalized player. Ron gives her an apologetic smile as he turns back to the track. “Derby boyfriends,” he snorts by way of explanation.

They watch the action in silence for a few minutes before Ron ventures, “So, do you play?”

Hermione shakes her head. “No, I don’t even skate.”

“That’s okay. Luna didn’t either when Ginny first got her into it.”

“Ginny?” Hermione repeats, wondering despite herself if Ron, too, is a derby boyfriend.

He points to the redhead now leaving the penalty box to rejoin the action. “My sister.”

“Oh.” She can’t help the smile that creeps onto her face as the buzzer signals the end of the first half. Their little bubble collapses with Luna and Ginny skating over to greet them and a torrent of what must be Ron’s family descends from the stands.

An older woman who was previously concealed by the height of the rest of the group makes her way to the center of the cluster, leaning over the bannister to kiss Ginny’s cheek. “I’m headed home to start supper,” she says as she stuffs a green pennant into her oversized handbag. “Luna, dear, would you like to join us?”

“Oh, that’s quite alright, Mrs. Weasley,” Luna replies in her airy voice. “I told Hermione we would go to the pub after the bout. It’s her first time at roller derby.”

Mrs. Weasley’s soft maternal gaze lands on Hermione without any introduction. “Any friend of Luna’s is a friend of ours, of course you’re welcome to come too, dear.”

“Oh, that’s…” Hermione finds herself at a rare loss for words, but then she catches Ron watching her, awaiting her response, and finds her voice. “That sounds lovely. Thank you for the invitation.”

“Don’t worry,” whispers one of the twins as their mother heads off with a wave.

“We’ll still go to the pub after,” adds the other, completing his brother’s thought.

The referee blows a long, shrill whistle, indicating the second half of the bout is set to resume.

“Sorry,” Ron says, and she notices a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Mum can be a bit pushy.”

“It’s okay. That’s very kind of her.” Hermione gives him a reassuring smile.

“Besides,” Harry puts in, joining the conversation even as his eyes never leave Ginny, “once you’ve been to dinner at the Weasleys, you’ll have met half the town.”

Luna nods her agreement as she reaffixes her helmet and its striped cover. “Aren’t you glad you came tonight?” she asks, letting herself roll backwards towards her team.

Hermione’s eyes flicker to Ron, and she feels the blush that colors her own cheeks. “Very.”

[edie-k]

Title: Half of What I Oughta

Pairing: Ron/Hermione

Summary: Ron can handle most of the Muggle world just fine. He just didn’t know that Christmas trees were so cutthroat.

Rating: PG-13

Note: Happy birthday @adenei! I felt like I had to honor the horror that is the combined birthday/Christmas gift with a Christmas themed birthday fic. Also, since she’s betaed a lot of mature Ron fics for me lately, I wrote a “Ron gets pissed off” fic for her. Title comes from the song “My Birthday Comes On Christmas”

Thanks to @accio-broom for the beta help and educating me on British tree sales.

+++++++++++++++++++

“I think this is the one,” Hermione said, giving a solitary nod of satisfaction.

Ron let out a relieved sigh. “Great, I’ll just—”

“Unless that one across the way might be a little fuller…” Hermione said, standing on her toes to peek over his shoulder.

Ron bit back the sarcastic comment on the tip of his tongue. “You thought that one was too tall for our flat, remember?” he gritted out.

She nodded her head. “Yes, yes, you’re right. Okay, this one. This is our tree,” she declared, her face splitting into a wide grin. As frustrated as he felt, Ron couldn’t help but return it.

Hermione had turned her perfectionist sights on what she called their first proper Christmas together. Last year, Ron had been living at Grimmauld Place and Hermione had been at Hogwarts until December twenty third. Their abbreviated holiday season had been driven by meeting the various obligations of friends and family. This year, they were settling into their own flat, adjusting to their jobs and Hermione was very focused on the two of them building their own traditions.

Ron didn’t quite get her obsession with it. He liked Christmas with his family, loved his mum’s cooking and baking and wasn’t particularly thrilled to add more to their plates but over the last year and a half, Bill had pounded into his head over and over again that he needed to pick his battles and this wasn’t one that seemed worth it.

It had been early November while they had been having tea at Hermione’s parents’ house when the subject first came up.

Read on AO3 or keep on below!

“Hermione dear,” said Judy. “I was up in the attic last week and noticed that Aunt Nancy’s old Christmas tree is still up there. You’re certainly welcome to it. There’s no issue with us storing it until it gets closer to December.”

Hermione shook her head. “Oh, that’s okay Mum. We’ll be getting a live tree when the farm on MacAllister opens.”

Ron raised an eyebrow. “We will?”

“We will,” confirmed Hermione. “I am absolutely certain you’ve never had a fake tree.”

“It depends on what you mean by fake. Usually my dad would find a dead tree somewhere near our property and transfigure it into a proper tree,” he responded. “But do we even need our own tree?”

“Of course we do! It won’t feel like Christmas without a tree in our sitting room. I always loved having the tree in the common room, twinkling in the background. It always would bring me peace at the most stressful times,” she said, a faint smile on her lips.

Anything that helped Hermione keep her head was a win in his book. “Okay, so we’ll have a tree,” he agreed. “But why can’t we use the tree your parents’ have?”

“Won’t an artificial tree be so much easier to deal with in a block of flats?” Hermione’s father Warren piped up. “Dragging a dying tree up to the third floor sounds like a nightmare.”

Hermione waved her hand as if to brush his words away. “A plastic tree is not the same. Plus we have magic to help with the mess.”

“We have magic to help with the tree,” countered Ron.

“No,” said Hermione. “Thank you for the offer though, Mum. If there are any spare decorations, I would love to borrow those.”

And here they were, over a month later, at the MacAllister farm, pouring over the massive tree selection. Or at least, it seemed massive to Ron.

Hermione on the other hand, had been quite irritated by the offerings. Apparently, last weekend had been the optimal time to select a tree. Unfortunately last Sunday, the one day that week they both had off of work, Ron had taken Percy up on an offer to attend the match between Puddlemore and the Cannons and the match had unexpectedly lasted a thrilling thirteen hours.

Ron could tell that Hermione was holding her tongue about the fact that he and his brother had stayed for the entirety of the match (he suspected if he had been there with anyone other than his brother that was still working so hard to mend relationships, she would not have been as forgiving). In exchange for her silence then, he had held his as they traipsed through the lot, taking entirely too long selecting something that would be vanished in three weeks.

Hermione had considered every single tree with a discerning eye. Then, she had done it again. And again. At each tree, she had solicited his opinion before completely dismissing it and moving on to the next.

But now, finally, she had settled on one and they could get the hell out of there.

“Okay, great,” Ron said. “So what do we do now?”

Hermione craned her neck. “One of the salespeople should be along to help shake out the dead needles and bundle it up,” she responded.

“We don’t really need that though,” Ron said quietly. “We can take care of the needles at home.”

“We can’t just walk out of here dragging a full tree,” she argued, still looking around the farm.

“It’s starting to get dark,” Ron countered.

Hermione glanced at her watch. “Oh no,” she gasped. “Is it five already?”

“Time has just flown,” Ron said.

“We were supposed to be at the Leaky thirty minutes ago to meet everyone,” she said, ignoring his comment.

“We’ll get this wrapped and drop it at the flat. Don’t worry, that lot will all be there drinking for hours,” Ron assured her.

Hermione shook her head. “Moira was only going to be able to be there for the first hour and this is my last opportunity to see her until after the new year.”

Moira Burns was a Ravenclaw the year behind them. With Hermione’s return to school last year, she and Moira had become quite close. She was witty, a good laugh, and fit in well with their group of friends. Unfortunately, being two insane workaholics didn’t allow them to see each other nearly as often as they wanted to now that they were in the real world.

“Listen, why don’t you go ahead and I’ll take care of this?” Ron suggested.

“Really?” Hermione said, skepticism clear in her tone.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just give me the right amount of money and I’ll drag the bundled tree over to the spot where we App- uh, traveled in from. I’ll drop it at the flat and join you.”

“If you’re sure…” she said.

“Very sure,” Ron replied. He was also anxious to have a holiday drink with his friends and getting Hermione out of this lot before she could reconsider her choice would certainly help him reach that goal.

Hermione placed a stack of notes in his gloved hand before reaching up to press her lips to his. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Yep,” he said, waving her off with a smile as she disappeared around the corner.

Ron looked around the tree lot hoping to catch the eye of the sales guy that had approached them earlier. The lot was beginning to empty out as darkness was quickly closing in. Just as he spotted the red flannel of the man’s jacket he was jostled from behind.

“This one’s perfect,” squealed a voice behind him. Ron turned around to find a middle-age woman next to him, fingering the branches of his tree.

Ron’s stomach churned. She bore a disturbing resemblance to Umbridge that left him dreading her personality. Trailing behind her was a man with thinning hair who looked as though he had been happy once long ago and two bored young teenagers.

“How much is it?” the woman asked Ron.

“Uh, it’s 50 pounds but—”

“Perfect, we’ll take it,” the woman said.

“Oh, sorry, I don’t, I don’t work here. I’m waiting for the guy to come back. This is my tree,” Ron said.

“This farm is first come, first serve,” the woman replied.

Ron blinked. “Right. And I was here first so..”

“Nonsense. A single young man doesn’t need a tree like this. Think of my children,” the woman said.

“Mum!” hissed the blonde girl next to her. “I’m 14! I’m not a child!” The girl twirled a strand of hair around her finger and smiled at him.

“Yeah, well, I’m not single. My girlfriend picked out this tree and it’s coming home with me,” Ron said, not bothering to mask his anger any longer.

“Can I help you?” The sales guy in the flannel had finally made his way over, looking between them all warily.

“Yes, we'll take this tree,” said the woman.

“It’s my tree!” roared Ron, drawing the attention of every patron in the farm.

“You need to watch your manners, young man,” the woman scolded.

Ron turned to the salesman, gesticulating wildly. “You saw me walking around here for hours with my girlfriend. I know you did. This is the tree she wants and this is the one she’s getting. I cannot go home without this tree.”

“He’s lying. That’s what’s wrong with this generation. No respect for their elders,” sneered the woman. She turned to the salesman. “I hope you were raised better than that.”

The salesman looked between Ron and the awful woman and sighed. “All right, ma’am, let me get this bundled for you.” He shrugged his shoulders and gave Ron a sheepish look.

Ron’s jaw dropped. What the actual fuck? He has wasted hours here to spend way too much fucking money on, what was in essence a dead tree and now some nasty cow and her browbeaten family were stealing it from him?

He cast a frantic look around the lot. Minutes ago, he had been surrounded by hundreds of identical trees that met Hermione’s strict criteria of Christmas perfection.  Now it was only tragic castoffs for as far as the eye could see. None of those trees would be good enough for Hermione.

The salesman was cutting the zip tie that held the Perfect Tree to its stake while Umbridge’s horrible Muggle cousin looked on triumphantly. Ron did his best to commit the tree to memory before turning to the tree to his left. The tree was a foot and a half shorter than he was and so skinny that it bore more of a resemblance to a broom than a Christmas tree.

“Fine. I’ll take this one.”

The salesman stopped short. “Uh, why don’t you let me help you out in a moment?”

“Nope, I’ve got it,” Ron said, moving to the back of the tree so he could surreptitiously use his wand to sever the zip tie.

“It’s got a huge empty spot near the top!” said the teenage girl.

“And it’s bottom branches are brown,” added the woman.

“Come on mate, I’ll help you find something better your girlfriend will like,” the salesman pleaded.

“I’m good,” huffed Ron, lifting the tree over his shoulder and stalking toward the front of the lot, dead needles raining down on him.

Ron approached the baler and waited. A minute later, the salesman approached carrying Hermione’s Perfect Tree, followed by Fake Umbridge, her wanker of a husband, and their miserable kids.

“Uh.” The salesman looked at all of them. “I’m just going to bale theirs—”

“I was here first,” barked Ron. “And I know you saw me.”

“Uh, right.” The salesman handed the Perfect Tree to the teenage son and took what was left of Ron’s tree from him.

Ron cast one last longing look at the Tree.

“You know, you could always come see it,” suggested the girl, now placing a hand on his arm.

Ron shook her arm off and refused any eye contact.

“Mate,” said the salesman in a quiet voice. “Let me get these people out of the way and I can help you find—”

“No,” said Ron. “I’ll take this one and if my girlfriend’s unhappy about it, she’ll come down here and let you know. And I’d be nervous about that if I were you. You should see what she did to Rita Skeeter.”

“Who?” asked the teen boy.

“Exactly,” gritted Ron.

The salesman dutifully baled the pathetic tree and Ron handed him the wad of notes. The salesman shook his head and handed half of them back.

“This one’s uh, not quite as expensive,” he said.

“Great,” snarled Ron, snatching the tree back. He took one last glance at Umbridge’s twin and her smug smile. He briefly considered finding a place where he could throw a quick curse to destroy the stolen tree but the idea of Hermione potentially finding out he both lost her tree and used magic in front of Muggles stopped him.

“Merry Christmas,” the woman simpered.

“Go to hell,” Ron replied, stomping off and ignoring her indignant sounds.

Ron quickly ducked into a nearby alley and behind the dumpster before Apparating to the garden point that was utilized by all the tenants of their building. He dragged the bundle inside and wrangled it up the stairs and into their flat.

He dropped the tree on the floor and scanned the room for the tree stand that they had brought back from Hermione’s parents two weeks before. He picked it up, examining it as he brought it to spot Hermione had cleared for the tree. Upon handing it to him, Warren had begun explaining how to tighten the tree into it.

“These blasted things are really a two person– wait. You can probably use magic to do this, can’t you?”

Ron nodded.

“Lucky bastard,” Warren had muttered.

Ron could see what Warren meant as he took on the tedious task of loosening the screws enough to fit the tree trunk in. He then stood the tree up and placed it in the stand before casting a quick spell to tighten the screws around it. Once satisfied with the stability of the tree, he waved his wand again to cut the netting and the pathetic branches spread out.

Ron took a deep breath and pictured the Perfect Tree in his mind before pointing his wand at the tree.

Five minutes later, he surveyed the tree and felt quite satisfied. Hermione would never know that her Perfect Tree was sitting in some stupid bint’s drawing room. The scraggly mess was now full of healthy deep green needles jutting off of strong branches. He cast a quick aguamenti to fill the tree stand with water (not that the transfigured tree needed it) and another spell to vanish all of the stray needles. With one last glance, Ron left the flat to meet his friends at the Leaky.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“I still think we should warn that woman,” Ron said as he and Hermione walked up the building stairs, hand in hand.

“Ron! Seamus isn’t that bad,” she giggled. Ron smiled. Neither of them were close to drunk, even after several hours in the pub but he did sometimes enjoy the slightly sillier and loosened up Hermione that a couple of drinks brought out.

“Did you see the look in her eyes? She was just about planning their wedding and Seamus is probably not even planning to feed her breakfast,” Ron countered.

“She was not,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “But I do have to admit, spending time with Seamus makes me so happy that I don’t have to date.”

“Hey!” said Ron, unlocking the door to their flat and gesturing for her to walk in.

“You know what I mean!” she said, waving her wand to illuminate the room. “We’re not just dating, we’re, you know, much more than that.”

“Oh, much more than that?” said Ron, putting his arms around her and pulling her in close.

“Yes,” Hermione said, winding her arms around his neck. “Although I don’t think you’re planning my breakfast either.”

“No but I’m planning mine and you’re welcome to watch me eat it,” he teased. She laughed as his lips covered hers and he pressed her up against the door of their flat.

“I’ve missed you,” she said as they broke apart.

Ron laughed. “We live together.”

“You know what I mean. We’ve been so busy. We hardly had time to get a tree,” she said.

Ron felt his stomach turn a little at the mention of the tree but pushed it out of his mind and leaned down to kiss her again.

Eventually Hermione pulled away and Ron unlocked the door, gently guiding her ahead of him, with the intention of continuing and escalating the kiss. Hermione pulled out her wand to illuminate the room and gasped.

“What?” Ron asked.

“Oh Ron, you put it up!” Hermione exclaimed. “Should we decorate it tonight?”

“Uh, can’t that wait until tomorrow?,” Ron asked, shifting from foot to foot.

Hermione didn’t seem to hear him as she happily surveyed the tree, walking around it several times. “It’s exactly like I pictured it.”

“Good,” said Ron, as he walked across the room to grab the box of decorations in the corner.

“Although, the tree looks different than it did on the farm,” Hermione said.

Ron froze. “What?”

Hermione was looking at the tree carefully. “Look how full it is here on the bottom.”

Ron’s stomach lurched, the guilt rolling around. “That’s how it came.”

“And maybe it’s the tree stand but it seems just a bit taller,” Hermione observed.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Ron snapped.

Hermione gave him a confused look. “It’s just that in our living room–”

“ALL RIGHT, FINE. I transfigured it!” Ron shouted.

Hermione gasped again. “What? Why would you do that?”

“You left me there and this insane woman who was basically Umbridge’s twin sister showed up with her sad sack husband and useless kids and stole the tree from me. And I tried to keep it so you could have the Perfect Tree but then the salesman didn’t back me up and this girl was feeling me up and I wanted to Confound them all but I knew that would piss you off too so I just bought the first shitty tree I saw and you can yell but I am not sorry,” Ron spewed out.

“Well I’m sorry that I wanted us to have a nice Christmas!”

“We can have a nice Christmas without meeting some crazy expectation!”

“It’s not crazy! I just want us spending our time off together in front of our beautifully lit tree, a fire in the fireplace, eating biscuits and drinking eggnog,” Hermione huffed.

Ron looked at her closely. He heard Bill’s voice in his head again, asking if winning this fight was really worth it.

“I’m sorry that I used magic on the tree. I just didn’t know what to do after they all turned on me,” Ron said.

Hermione shrugged. “It’s okay. You really did a wonderful job with the transfiguration. This is almost flawless.” Her tone was still brittle but Ron could tell she was as anxious to move past it as he was.

“Thanks,” he said. “What you said about how you thought we should spend Christmas…that does sound nice.”

Hermione sniffed. “Yes.”

“Needs more snogging though,” Ron suggested, taking a tentative step towards her.

Hermione smiled, moving to close the gap between them. “I quite agree.”

[aidanchaser]

Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone: Everyone Lives AU

Table of Contents

Chapter Three The Letter from Hogwarts

Harry spent nearly every day of July at the window, anxiously awaiting the owl that would bring his letter. His birthday wasn’t until the end of July, and his acceptance letter would come a week before his birthday, but Harry didn’t care. He wanted his letter now. Surely wanting it this badly would make it come faster.

"Will it come today, Mum?"

"I don't tell the owls when to deliver letters."

"But you could tell them, couldn't you?"

"And how would I do that?"

"You and Dad write to Dumbledore all the time. Just write him a letter and tell him to send my Hogwarts letter back right now."

"Dumbledore won't be writing the letter. It'll be the Deputy Headmistress."

"Then write to her and tell her to send me my letter."

"Be patient."

On Tuesday, Harry came down the stairs rather morose. He picked at his eggs and nibbled on his toast and turned down porridge.

"What's the matter?" James asked.

"I'm not going to Hogwarts."

"What? When did you decide this?"

"My letter hasn't come. I don't think I'll be going."

"You're not eleven yet. It'll come soon."

And with the grave sagacity only a nearly-eleven-year-old-boy could muster he said, "No. I've already come to terms with my fate. I'll not be a real wizard after all."

James wanted to laugh. He tried very hard not to laugh. With a twitching mouth he patted his son's arm, choked out in as sympathetic a tone he could manage, "I'm sure it will come soon," then nearly ran to Lily in the next room to tell her what had just happened.

James and Lily spent the day talking him out of his strange low. And by the end of the day Harry was back to waiting at the window, watching for the owl.

"They won’t send it after dark." James tried to call him to dinner, but he didn't budge, and fell asleep in the window sill without eating at all.

The next morning, Harry was woken at sunrise by something tapping at the window. Harry had hardly looked at the owl before he was scrambling to pull the glass open. The owl fluttered in and dropped a thick parchment envelope into his lap. It was addressed:

Mr. H. Potter Styncon Garden Stinchcombe, Gloucestershire

"Mum! Dad!" he shouted.

The owl screeched as Harry bolted to his feet and sent the bird tumbling onto the floor.

"Mum! Dad!" It was louder than Harry had been on any Christmas morning as he bounced into their bedroom. James groaned at the weight and Lily rolled over with a sigh.

"It came, did it?" James mumbled and fumbled for his glasses on the dressing table. He didn't find them, but his hand tightened around his wand. "Accio glasses," he mumbled. His glasses came to him, but so did Harry's. "Merlin's beard," he muttered as he sat up and gave Harry back his glasses.

"Spells before seven, James, we've talked about this," Lily said groggily as she too sat up.

"Right, right." He groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. "Well, congrats, Harry. Did you open it?"

Harry proceeded to rip open the parchment, "Carefully, or you'll tear it," Lily warned, and Harry drew his letter out, written on standard wizarding parchment, as thick as the envelope it had been sent in.

"HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY," Harry read aloud. "Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class— Mum, Dad, you have that, don't you?"

Lily and James only gave him gentle smiles for an answer, and Harry read on, "Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards) — He sounds important! Dear Mr Potter, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress."

Harry quickly picked up the list of supplies he would need for school. "Does this mean we'll be going to Diagon Alley?" he asked excitedly.

Lily took the list from him and looked it over. "No where else to get a standard cauldron." She wrinkled her nose. "They still require you to wear hats? Ugh. I've really been wishing they'd change that."

"Maybe it's only for special feasts or things like that." James shrugged.

"It says for day wear."

"No fashionable wizards wear hats anymore. That's ridiculous."

"The Malfoys wear hats," Lily said with a smile.

"My point exactly." James shook his head. "I'll be quill-ing a strongly worded letter to Dumbledore. Hats. Really."

Harry didn't care much about whether he needed to wear a hat or not. He just wanted to go to Hogwarts. He'd show up in bright red shoes with purple hair if they asked him to. "Can we go to Diagon Alley today?"

"No, no," Lily shook her head. "We've got a lot to do to get ready for your birthday next week. We'll go to Diagon Alley afterwards."

The next week was a flurry of excitement. Cleaning the house from top to bottom, pruning the garden in the back. Lily said the wild look gave it character; James said he was worried it looked alive and could eat the guests. Harry said that it might be more exciting if the plants did eat the guests. He'd become rather dismal about the party ever since he found out he had to wear dress robes for it.

On the day of the party, a large cake was set in the garden under a small tent. Sirius and Uncle Remus arrived early and helped James set up the tent and a few minor enchantments to keep the summer heat from beating down on the guests. And there were a lot of guests.

Augusta Longbottom was the first to arrive. Her son Frank, his wife Alice, and their son Neville were close behind. Dumbledore arrived early, but didn't stay long. He said his hellos to everyone present, told Harry to have a wonderful birthday — "Eleven is an important year for a young man," took a slice of cake, charmed it from chocolate to lemon, then said his goodbyes.

Minerva McGonagall, the Weasley family, the Bones family, and the Prewett brothers all arrived.

The children naturally grouped together — Susan, Harry, Ron, and Neville — since they were all ten years old, and all would be going to Hogwarts in autumn. All of them had already had their eleventh birthday parties, and Harry had suffered it with them. Ron’s, at least, hadn’t required dress robes.

Ginny tagged along next to Ron, swinging her short legs in the chair and picking at her chocolate cake. The twins Fred and George were nowhere to be seen, and Percy was busy showing his prefect badge off to any adult who would pat his shoulder and tell him how excited they were for him.

"I want to go with all of you," Ginny pouted.

"You’ll come next year," Susan said with a smile.

"I don't want to go at all," Neville moaned, and worked his way through his second piece of cake with the steady pace of a marathon runner.

"It'll be exciting," Harry said. "We'll all be in Gryffindor, of course."

"I'll be in Hufflepuff," Neville said assuredly.

Ron looked green at the thought. "I'll probably end up in Hufflepuff, too. I'll never live it down."

"It doesn't matter where we end up," Susan scolded them. "Nymphadora was in Hufflepuff, you know."

The five children turned their heads to look at the young woman chatting with Sirius and Remus. Her hair was a vibrant pink, and while she spoke, she was tapping her fingernails against the table. Her fingers would roll once, perfectly normal, but then they'd grow long like dragon claws or tiny and sharp like cat claws every few clicks.

"Fred and George said I'll be in Hufflepuff for sure," Ron said gloomily.

"Course you will, mate," one of the twins popped out from under the table. The other one followed close behind, and Neville fell backwards from his chair in shock.

"You'll never make it past the sorting into Gryffindor," the other said.

"How do you get sorted? Is it a test?" Ginny asked.

"Oh yes," they said in unison.

"There's a long written essay," one said, "and then there's the practical, of course," the other chimed in.

"What's the practical?" Ron asked nervously.

"Facing a dragon of course."

Harry and Susan burst into laughter. Neville and Ron looked ill.

Before anyone could assure Neville and Ron that the twins were joking, the Macmillans arrived.

Ernie Macmillan, loud as usual, made formal greetings to Mr. and Mrs. Potter, then practically bounced his way over to where the other children his age were.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," he said loudly.

"Thanks. There's cake —"

"Don't mind if I do. Thank you so much."

Ginny giggled and Susan rolled her eyes. Ernie was always like this — eleven years old, and pretending he was thirty-five in a different era. They were all rather used to it, and it was a blessing they only had to see him at family parties.

"Are you all ready for Hogwarts? I'm ready, myself. Got my books and everything. Mum let me try a few charms out, for practice. I expect I'll be well ahead of the class when we begin. It's a shame we can't bring a broom. I'd've loved to play a bit of Quidditch, for fun, of course."

"We can't bring a broom?" Harry nearly choked on his cake. He hadn't seen that in his letter. Suddenly Hogwarts did not sound nearly as exciting.

"We'll let you borrow ours," the twins grinned. "Little Ronnie does sometimes, that is, when he can get it off the ground."

"I can too fly," he snapped.

"Yeah, but Ginny always outstrips you by a mile."

"So what?" he mumbled. "I can fly a broom."

Ginny looked to Harry, to see what he thought of her flying faster than Ron, but he wasn't listening. Harry was busy wondering if he could convince his father to let him smuggle in a broom. It would have to be behind his mother's back. She would never approve of it. But he knew his father had played Quidditch at Hogwarts. Surely he would understand.

As the sun set and the evening settled in, people began to say their goodbyes. The Longbottoms first, the Prewetts, the Tonks — Nymphadora lingered a while longer, until nearly everyone else had gone, before finally excusing herself — the Macmillans, the Weasleys, and Minerva. The last guests were Susan Bones, her aunt, her parents, and of course Sirius and Remus were still there.

Susan and Harry had moved inside, and were playing wizard chess. They were on their third game, and clearly quite tired of each other. Their eyes kept drifting outside to the adults conversation, which was no longer in separate parties. Amelia Bones was speaking and the children were trying very hard to listen, but she was too quiet for them to hear anything other than murmurs.

"He has a right to know," Sirius's voice said, much louder than anyone else. Someone tried to quiet him, but he wasn't listening. "I mean it. If I was him, I'd expect to be told. I wouldn't take no for answer."

"You've never taken no for an answer," Lily said. "And you have to understand — how do you tell an eleven-year-old child —" and her voice dropped.

Harry and Susan glanced at each other, and in silent agreement, abandoned the game and crept to the back door so they could hear clearly.

"Lily's right," Uncle Remus said. "We can't tell him that."

Sirius made a disgruntled noise, but had nothing further to protest.

"Are you sure you don't want us here?" Susan's father said quietly. Harry and Susan had to press their ears right up against the door to hear. "Susan was young during the war, but she's someone Harry can connect with, perhaps —"

"Thank you," James interrupted, "Honestly, thank you. But I think... I think it should be a family conversation. And we do have someone coming to help. Perhaps afterwards…. I'll be sure Harry knows he can talk to Susan if he needs someone his own age."

The sound of chairs moving and the rustling of grass sent Harry and Susan darting back to their chess game, looking as innocent as they could. Harry chewed on his lower lip, hoping that he looked more like he was concentrating on the game and less like he was worrying over what his parents had said.

When the adults came into the room, Harry and Susan got to their feet.

"Time to go, Susan," her mother said sweetly. "Do you need to help clean up?" But Harry had already packed the chessboard away, and the pieces were climbing obediently back into the box.

Susan and Harry said awkward goodbyes, with furtive glances to each of their parents, and then James and Lily walked Amelia and Mr. and Mrs. Bones out.

Sirius sank into a rather plush armchair, and Remus took a seat on the edge of the sofa. Harry sat on the armrest of Sirius's chair.

"Did you have a good birthday, Harry?" Remus asked with a smile.

"Yes, I did. Only —" He stopped, unsure how to ask after their secret conversation.

"Only what?" Sirius raised an eyebrow at him.

"What were you all talking about? Are you going to tell me?"

"At least wait for your mum and dad," Sirius half-laughed. If either Sirius or Remus were disappointed in him for eavesdropping, they didn't show it.

Lily and James came back into the room.

"Should I put on some tea?" Lily asked, hands fidgeting with the hem of her sleeves.

"Please," Sirius said.

"If you have coffee," Remus cleared his throat.

"Of course."

"Rough weekend?" James asked as he sat down next to Remus.

"Not as bad as it could have been."

James nodded understandingly. "If there were any damages —"

"Thank you, James. You've always been too generous."

It was a compliment which James only shrugged at. "Can't be generous if I've got too much of it," and Sirius snorted.

Harry moved from Sirius's arm rest to the seat beside his dad. "Dad, what are you going to tell me?"

James's face lost a shade of colour. "Just be patient. Give your Mum and I a minute. And we're waiting on —"

There was a thunderous knock at the door, and a weary smile slipped over James's face.

"Waiting on Hagrid."

[inkstainedfanfics]

Let Him Go Drabble

Request: i rlly rlly love how "let him go" ended tbh. its a different approach from the usual fluffy happy endings. i mean it was still happy but in a bittersweet kind of way and i like it. it has a sense of it being more realistic from the "i got the guy in the end" cliche. i was hoping if we can get a small imagine or maybe just a drabble of the readers life where she married edward. i know thats its not much to go with but if u actually do it thanks sm in advance

Word Count: 1,010

Pairing: Reader x OC

Part 1   |   Part 2

“The dinner starts at six. Do you have your tux on?”

“Aye.”

“And you’ve put food out for the dog?”

“Aye.”

You run your hands down the front of your dress, smoothing out wrinkles. “Okay, let’s see,” you mumble to yourself as you step into the living room, earning a short laugh from your husband, “are we forgetting anything?”

Edward shakes his head. “Just your head, perhaps.”

You scowl at him. “If you want your birthday dinner to be a wreck, go ahead and keep interrupting me. Otherwise, hush.”

His eyes sparkle in amusement. “You didn’t have to work so hard for me. I would’ve been happy just staying home with you.”

“Please, as your wife,” the word still sends a small thrill through you, “I’m in charge of giving you a nice night out with our friends.”

“The way you’re looking, I wouldn’t mind just spending the night with you.”

You blush and slap his chest as you walk by. “You’d better keep those comments to yourself at dinner.”

“Come on, now, love, you can’t do that to a man on his birthday.”

“Too late.” You call over your shoulder as you stick your head out the front door. A cloudless blue sky hangs over the field behind your small house. Rats.

Scotland is as beautiful as Edward described it to be, and, after some discussion and negotiation, you’d both agreed that having a home here would be best. It’s not like you spend all your days here, anyway. Most of your life since the marriage was spent traveling around the world with Edward, the both of you chasing passions and interests with one another. Your dog has spent as much time in the neighbor’s house as he has in your own. You love the land dearly, but wish most days that the constant clouds would disappear.

The one day you need them here, they’re gone. Figures.

Edward comes up behind you, peering at the sky over your head. “Brooms are out then?”

You turn and groan, dropping your head against his chest. “That means we need a portkey.”

“Great. I haven’t taken one of them in ages.”

“For good reason,” you grumble, sliding past him. “They’re horrible.”

“Ah, what’s so wrong with them?”

“Other than the nausea? Nothing, I guess.”

“That’s the spirit.”

You glare at him over your shoulder before grabbing a cup and enchanting it. “Here, this’ll go off in a few minutes and bring us to an alley near the restaurant in France.”

“So we have some time then?”

You shake your head, “No, we need to make sure we’re ready. We can’t forget –“

Edward tugs you into his arms, though, flicking his wand to set a record into motion.

“Ed, I’m serious.”

“You’d reject a man a dance on his birthday?”

“We don’t have time.”

“Nonsense.” He starts spinning in a circle slowly, holding you against his chest, one hand on your waist the other in your hand. “Do I seem a bad dancer?”

“Of course not.”

“Really? You’re always trying to get out of ‘em when I’m involved.”

Your mind drifts to that first day you met him at Newt’s wedding. It seems like ages ago that you wanted to marry Newt, that you’d thought the two of you belonged together. Standing here twirling in the kitchen with Edward, you know you were wrong. You needed someone freer, someone that was willing to take things day by day and support you through anything. Newt would’ve been stifled by your need for more attention than a book.

“You were a stranger.”

“A charming one, though.”

“Be that as it may,” you let him spin you once and rest your hand back on his shoulder, “you were still a stranger.”

“I’m glad that’s not true anymore.”

You swallow, a smile creeping onto your face. “So am I.”

The two of you dance in silence for a minute. As the tune slows to an end, you pop onto your toes and press a kiss to the end of the scar on his cheek.

“I love you, but we need to go now.”

He grins. “You can’t give a man a minute to enjoy his life, can you?”

“Not if I want this birthday dinner to go well, which I do.”

You glance at the clock and curse. The desserts are still unpackaged in the other room, and the portkey’s set to leave in thirty seconds.

Rushing from Edward’s arms, you bark commands, telling him to get his shoes and be sure his tie is straight. The desserts bundle up in moments with a bit of magic, but as you start your way back into the room, you know you won’t be able to grab the portkey.

Edward’s right next to the door, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest when you rush out with the basket of desserts on your arm.

He grabs your elbow, spinning you.

“Ed, what are you –“

He wraps an arm around you waist, accios something, then winks at you. “Hold tight.”

The portkey smacks his free hand a second after something else does, then you’re tugged forward, the wrenching feeling spinning your stomach.

You land on the ground and wince. Heels are barely worth the pain.

As you glance around, you realize you forgot one important thing: the gift. “Oh no.”

Edward notices your sinking expression. “Love, are you okay? You look a bit down. Is it the nausea?”

“No.” You run a hand over your face. “Your gift. I forgot your gift.”

“That’s all?” Edward chuckles and lifts his arm, revealing a basket. “I’m not messin’ this up, love.”

“You grabbed it?”

“I knew you’d be disappointed if you forgot it.”

You throw your arms around him, relieved. “I love you so much.”

He laughs again and rubs your back. “I love you too. Now should we go? Don’t want to keep anyone waiting.”

As you take his hand in yours and listen to a lame pun about French pastries, you know you married the right man.

[critters2go]

Happy Birthday (and actual TWENTIETH ANNIVERSARY! We are all so very old.) to Hairy Pawter, woops! HARRY POTTER! In our family, this is a pretty important holiday. My hilarious sister, @corinnemayberry is a professional celebrater, and even though this summer's theme (what, you mean other people's families don't have a theme? We are #Mayberries! We live in a musical AND a day camp!) was Indiana Jones, we could not let this momentous event go by uncelebrated. Made chocolate frogs, butter beer, and broom pens, watched #CareOfMagicalCreatures, and tomorrow we are going to RIDE A TRAIN! (I was a bit too beat after a long doctor day up at U of U to do ALL of that yet, but I'll catch up. Accio, PARTY! Oh and in case you didn't know, that amazing #patronus pictured is my ridiculously adorable (and adorably ridiculous!) #ServiceDog Sparks McGee. He's a Hufflepup. #ilovemyfamily @spencemayberry @corinnemayberry #potterhead #sparksmcgee #happeebirthdaeharry #20yearsofmagic #harrypotter

[acnelli]

First Lines Tag

Thanks for the tag @fangqueen! Since I don't have too many stories, I'll just do it for almost all of my fics, save for one that is marked as finished but where I plan to add more.

Orchestra (Hermione/Ron)

To say Ron Weasley was a helpless romantic would certainly be an exaggeration.

My Boyfriend (Harry/Ron)

When Harry opened the gate to the graveyard of Godric's Hollow, he felt something wet landing on his forehead.

The Beholder (Hermione/Ron)

Hermione stood in front of the large mirror in their bedroom, a prominent frown on her face.

Valeria (Hermione/Ron)

When the first ray of sunlight appeared on the horizon, marking the start of this new day, a very tall, red-headed man walked through the streets of London with a confident stride.

Coming Home (Hermione/Ron)

She had it all planned out.

First Time Falling (Harry/Ron)

Not bothering to knock, Ron Weasley marched into Hermione Granger’s office.

Like Magic (Harry/Ron)

Harry loved Edinburgh.

Hiding (Harry/Ginny)

Ginny walked out of St. Mungo’s with a limp and a glare that would put Hermione’s cat Crookshanks to shame.

A Moment of Truth (Harry/Ron)

Harry wondered if he had ever felt more alone in his life as he stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom.

A Favourite (Hermione/Ron)

"Where are you guys meeting tonight?” Hermione asked as she and Harry cleared the table while Ron and Ginny set up the cleaning charms.

Happy Birthday, Ron (Gen)

Today was Ron’s sixth Birthday and he couldn’t be more excited.

Illuminating (Hermione/Ron)

“But it’s tradition, Hermione!”

Bearded Glory (Hermione/Ron)

Two bloody years finally over, Ron thought, as he robbed through thick, cold mud, already able to make out the finish line, which should be not even a mile away, according to Ron’s calculations.

The Speech (Hermione/Ron)

I'm so screwed.

I'm tagging @accio-broom, @livingincolorsagain, @cheesyficwriter, @static-abyss, @playitaagain, @adenei, @orange-peony and everyone else who wants to participate.

[acnelli]

A Moment of Truth

My second entry for Ron’s Chessboard Fest 2021.

Pairing: Ron/Harry

Rating: T

Prompt 13: A Moment of Truth

Summary: Harry ruined the best thing that ever happened to him. But the Boy-Who-Lived is determined to make it right again.

Thanks again to TheUltimateUndesirable and to the best beta @accio-broom!

This story is kind of a follow up to the fic Thinking About You by Solstice Muse. You don't have to read that story to understand mine, but I highly recommend getting on LiveJournal and befriending Solstice Muse for their amazing stories. Pure talent, believe me! I also got permission from the author to write my story based on theirs.

You can also read this story on AO3 & FFN.

Harry wondered if he had ever felt more alone in his life as he stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom. If he would’ve thought about it hard enough, he might’ve remembered several instances where he felt just as lonely, but Harry simply didn’t possess the strength right now.

Ron left him.

The  thing he would miss the most left him, and the only person he could blame for it was himself. It took the better part of the last two weeks for Harry to realise it and all of yesterday to really accept that ugly truth.

The day Ron had walked out of their flat was nothing but a giant blur. He had drunk himself into a stupor, and if the broken mirrors were any indication, he pretty much had lost it. When he woke up the next morning, violently retching into the toilet, he called in sick and just went to bed again.

Although he had gone to work the following days, he floo called his PR manager, telling Liam to cancel all events for the time being, offering a half-arsed explanation and reminding him that it was  his  job to make up stories for him.

Harry had appeared at work as early as possible and left for home when the cleaning staff threw him out of his office. He didn’t want to return to the vacant flat, Ron-free and, therefore, absolutely miserable. But he was also trying to avoid Arthur, Percy and Hermione. Especially, Hermione.

Harry’s favourite pastime these last two weeks had been to curse and blame Hermione for all of this. She had obviously waited outside that day, escorting Ron to her parents’ place where she lived at the moment. Harry had watched them through their living room window as they walked hand in hand to the next apparation point.

Everything had been fine, after all, hadn’t it? Taking his manager’s advice to feed the monster to protect his actual private life and his loved ones from the press, he had found his celebrity life rather comfortable and even enjoyable. After years of Harry having been announced to be Bachelor of the Year, rumours started to form about why he had still been single. Together with his manager, he worked out a way to lure the press away from the truth, and there hardly had been an instance anymore where Harry wasn’t accompanied by one beautiful witch or another. Events and parties full of photographers did not bother him anymore as long as they only captured him socialising and having fun. Almost every day, the papers had a story to tell about him, but never about who he really had gone home to. Never about Harry being gay and him being madly in love with his best mate.

Most of the time, he concentrated on this feeling of betrayal and silently cursed Ron and Hermione for wanting him to come out officially. Didn’t they see how intrusive and destructive the press had been all his life? Didn’t they see how dangerous this could be for Ron? For himself?

But deep-down, Harry knew it wasn’t like that. Ron would never demand Harry come out. The only thing Ron wanted from him was the freedom to live his own life out in the open. It had been a perfect situation for Harry these past months; working, going to parties and then coming home to Ron.

But for Ron, it hadn’t been perfect.

Harry remembered that horrible night when he came home from some Ministry ball, only to find a note telling him Ron went out with Hermione to some Muggle gay club in London and that he doesn’t have to stay up should he come home earlier than Ron.

Shame and guilt threatened to choke Harry when he thought about his terrible actions that night. Harry had seen red the second he read the words  Muggle gay club, immediately assuming some dirty fuck will try to steal his Ron.

When he finally found them, he watched Ron and Hermione dancing like there was no tomorrow, looking absolutely ridiculous, but like they had the time of their lives. He watched Ron having fun, smiling like Harry hadn’t seen him smile in a very long time. He watched as Ron got approached by a very handsome Muggle and Hermione finding herself another dance partner, winking at Ron. He watched Ron turn the man down. And he stopped watching when that fucker ignored it and tried to kiss him. Before Ron had the chance to shove him away, Harry forced himself between them and snarled into the muggle’s face to fuck off, seconds away from beating the shite-eating grin out of him.

Harry knew now that this night must have been the turning point for Ron because after screaming at Hermione for luring Ron into that gay club, he completely lost it on his boyfriend. They had a terrible row that night, but Ron had forgiven him once more.

All feelings of betrayal got soon replaced by guilt. Over and over again, he recalled Ron’s wounded expression every time Harry asked him to not join him for one party or another, Ron’s anger and hurt when Harry exploded on him the few times Ron had gone out for the night without him or asked more than accusing questions afterwards. He imagined himself at these parties, having fun, drinking and talking about Quidditch most of the time. And then he imagined Ron, sitting alone in their flat, waiting for Harry to come home, just as alone as he was now. Ron wasn’t happy anymore, but Harry had refused to listen to his words and see Ron’s misery.

He suddenly hated himself — not just hurting his lover but also his best mate. Harry most likely ruined the most wonderful and perfect thing in his life and probably killed any chance to get Ron back. Maybe he even bollocked up their friendship for good, just like he had with all his other friendships if all the declined Birthday invitations Ron sent out before their break-up were any indication. Hermione always had been very vocal about what she thought about Harry’s treatment of Ron, and he just had been too deliberately blind and busy to notice everyone turning away from Harry.

That’s why he lay in bed. All alone. On his Birthday.

The only guest he had today had been Ginny, bringing him a little basket with some snacks Mrs Weasley prepared for him. She had been smart enough to not wish him a Happy Birthday.

While Ron hadn’t asked him to come out of the closet, Harry wanted to keep Ron inside it. He should’ve known better than anyone what it means to be hidden away for being different from the rest, for a dirty secret not allowed to get out. This comparison with the Dursleys made him hate himself even more.

If he wanted to have a real shot at getting Ron and his friends back, Harry had to clean up his own life first. Slowly, he got out of bed, determined to get a long overdue shower. Before he went into the bathroom, though, Harry summoned some parchment and a quill, writing a short note and a rather long letter (for Harry’s standards anyway).

He quickly delivered the note to his manager’s assistant through a short floo call, telling her it was urgent.

His owl Athena nibbled on some owl treat he gave her while Harry tied the letter to one of her claws. “Alright, Athena,” he said, his voice unusually wavering, “please, deliver this letter as fast as possible, okay? And make sure Hermione reads it.”

*******

Ron was well aware of Hermione’s worrying glances in his direction.

They both sat on Hermione’s bed, with their backs leaning against the headboard as Ron distracted himself with the wonder that is a television, and his best friend unsurprisingly reading a book beside him. He was glad she didn’t force him to talk about his feelings right now.

Over the last two weeks, Hermione had gone out of her way to keep Ron from thinking and worrying about Harry. An impossible task, really, but she did such a great job of trying to cheer him up and even succeeding sometimes that Ron often felt overwhelmed by the need to hug her.

Today though, Hermione knew Ron couldn’t be kept from thinking about Harry. It was the last day of July, after all, and Harry’s Birthday. And it would be the first Birthday since Harry turned 17 that Ron and Hermione wouldn’t be with him. It would be the first Birthday in the last four years that Harry and Ron weren’t a couple anymore.

In the moment, sadness and hurt seemed to choke him, and he wondered if Harry had even considered them a couple in the first place. Right at the beginning, when they started dating after some unbelievably awkward confessions of feelings, it had been like a dream come true. Finally, the times of mutual pining had been over, replaced by a sense of such content and happiness that Ron often had woken up in the morning, sure it all just had been a dream. A second later, though, with Harry’s arm around him, reminded Ron that it was genuine.

Despite Ron missing Harry terribly, he knew it was the right decision to move out. For the sake of his own sanity and happiness, he had to leave Harry. Ron knew that Harry loved him more than anyone else. It had taken him a long time to realise that sometimes, love wasn’t enough.

Hermione wrote a short letter to Harry this morning, wishing him a Happy Birthday. They both signed it, deciding it would be best if they sent one letter together. The other day he floo called Ginny, asking her to check on Harry today because Ron knew that his best mate wasn’t fine. None of all these parties, charity Quidditch matches and Ministry galas could change that. At least, not after two weeks. A very selfish part of Ron hoped it never would.

Ron was about to suggest to Hermione to grab some ice cream when Harry’s owl tapped on the window glass, wildly flapping her wings. Instead of letting Athena in, Hermione looked at Ron with her eyebrows furrowed but with a questioning look directed at him.

Letting out a deep sigh, Ron stood up and opened the window. The owl flew inside, flying straight towards Ron’s opened and still not fully unpacked trunk. Landing gracefully on top of one of Ron’s bright orange Canon t-shirts, she lifted the claw the letter was tied to and hooted loudly at…Hermione?

“Well, it’s yours, apparently,” Ron said, pointing at the cream-coloured envelope. “Maybe he just wants to say thank you for the Birthday wishes.”

“Ron, you know th–“

“Please, just open it, Hermione.”

Her brown eyes held the kind of anxiety he felt too, but she still freed Athena from the letter and gave her an owl treat. Apparently, the bird got the order to make sure Hermione read the letter, as Ron knew that she would’ve been long gone after receiving her treat.

“Are you really sure, Ron?” Hermione asked, looking up from the unusually thick letter, “Will you promise me to not floo over, right away? Regardless of what that letter might say.”

He slowly nodded at her, his gaze fixed on Harry’s letter. This certainly wasn’t a simple ‘Thank You’ note, and the fact Harry wrote such a long letter at all scared him to the point of pure panic.

“Please, open the letter, Hermione.” If it was because of his panicked voice or Hermione’s own curiosity what the letter might say, Ron couldn’t tell, but she finally opened the envelope, took out the note and held it in a way both of them could read it.

Dear Hermione,  

First of all, I’m sorry for any potential annoyance Athena might have caused, but I told her not to leave before you have read this letter.  

What I have to tell you is crucial for both you and Ron. I know you will show Ron this letter right away; maybe he is even reading it with you right now. But this letter is actually primarily for you. What I want to tell Ron, I have to tell him in person, and maybe after today, he’ll give me a chance to hear me out.

Hermione, I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for all the reasons you expect me to be sorry for, but I’m also sorry for letting our friendship crumble and fall apart. I had been so angry at you for stealing Ron. Stealing him, like he is some kind of possession to lose. The last two weeks, I was consumed by this unreasonable rage that I thought was gone after Tom Riddle’s soul left me forever. Yes, it took me two weeks to finally realise that you just were a good friend to Ron.  

Because a good friend is what you are. And I know you tried to be a good friend to me for the longest time. I took you for granted. Just like I took Ron for granted and everyone else I turned away from during last year. I turned into a horrible person without noticing it, or rather, refusing to acknowledge it. And because of that, I also turned into an awful friend.  

I could blame many things for my behaviour, like fame or the press or my manager or my childhood. But after taking a hard look at myself, I concluded that I can’t blame anyone or anything for this but me.  

Before I even try to make it right with all of you, before I can look into Ron’s eyes again, I have to sort out my life first. Actually, I’ll start to do this today.  

Both of you have to up your security. Use any charm you can think of. I doubt you will be in any serious danger, but I have no idea what kind of reaction this will cause. It’s best if you stay away from Diagon Alley tomorrow. I won’t mention Ron’s name, of course, but expect journalists trying to corner the two of you for interviews.  

Do you remember the beach cottage we celebrated my 19th Birthday? I will spend the whole day there tomorrow. Would you and Ron join me? I have a lot to say.  

Love,

Harry

A heavy silence fell over Ron and Hermione when they both finished reading Harry’s letter. Hermione slowly folded the parchment and laid it down on her nightstand before looking up at Ron with wide eyes.

Ron didn’t know what to say, let alone what to think of this. Harry did not outright say it, but the indication was clear enough. Whether he’ll write an official statement or give a press conference, Harry planned to come out today.

Wasn’t this what Ron wanted? For Harry to not give a flying fuck what the rest of the world would think about him? For finally being able to live a life out in the open?

But instead of feeling relieved and happy, he felt an old terror creeping up his neck. Like in a trance, he sat down on the bed again and stared at Harry’s letter. Ron ran his hands over his face and groaned from the overwhelming sensation of guilt and anxiety washing over him. Did he force Harry to do this? Did he force Harry to expose himself to the nasty side of the public?

Soft hands tugged on Ron’s arms until he was forced to look up. Hermione knelt in front of him, a determined look in her warm, brown eyes. “What do you want to do now?” She asked, lightly caressing Ron’s cheek.

“Well, the letter was for you…” Ron joked, his attempt to lighten the mood earned him one of Hermione’s trademark eye-rolls. “Fuck, Hermione, I have no idea. What if Harry is just doing this because he’s hurt?”

“Harry always acts impulsively,” Hermione answered in a thoughtful tone, “but his words sound sincere to me. And as he said in his letter, he really needs to sort out his life.”

“He shouldn’t have to come out though for that.”

“No, he doesn’t have to do this. But for his own sake, I really think it’s the right way to go.”

“I can try to get a hold of him and check how he’s doing if you want me to,” Hermione added when Ron didn’t respond.

“You would do that?” Ron looked down at her once more, feeling grateful to have Hermione by his side.

“Of course,” Hermione stood up from her kneeling position to sit beside Ron and took his hand into hers, “But Ron, just because Harry is doing this doesn’t mean you have to go back to him. I’ll support you, no matter how you decide, but please promise me you won’t let yourself get treated like that again. I don’t want to see you getting hurt like that anymore.”

He smiled at her and softly squeezed her hand. “I promise, Hermione. But I think I can’t just continue as if nothing happened. Not so soon, anyway.”

“Good,” Hermione stood up and went over to Ron’s suitcase where Athena still sat, looking expectantly at them, “Come on, Athena. I bring you back to Harry.” The owl hooted at her as if in protest but still flew up to Hermione’s right shoulder.

“Hermione?” Ron said before she could disapparate.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

*******

The press room of his manager’s company resembled a cozy living room rather than the place he held all his important meetings. Aside from the chairs for the reporters and photographers and the speaker’s stand at the front, it was decorated like a room he would suspect to find in some Lord’s castle. It had an impressive fireplace, a golden chandelier and was decorated with several large paintings and fancy looking rugs.

As Harry took a quick look into the press room from the door that led to Liam’s office, he saw that some news outlets had sent their reporters early. They clearly expected big news from him, considering the last and only press conference he gave had been the one right after the war. Harry was sure they thought he would announce an engagement. It was the obvious conclusion, and if he wouldn’t have been in such a grave mood, he maybe could’ve found it amusing to imagine their faces after he gave his statement.

You’ll see their reactions soon enough, Harry thought.

Despite what he was going to do in less than ten minutes, he felt strangely calm. It could’ve been the years of experience handling the press, but Harry knew this wasn’t the case. Talking about the Quidditch Cup final or the latest decision of the Wizengamot was one thing. Telling the world he was gay was something else entirely.

No, Harry’s calmness didn’t come from years of navigating the press, but rather Hermione’s visit an hour ago. She didn’t say much, just that Ron wanted him to know he didn’t have to do this. And she made it very clear this outing wasn’t a safe ticket to get Ron back. He told her that all he had said to her in the letter was true and that he needed to do this for himself more than anything else.

Hermione had simply nodded and turned around to floo home, but she had stopped in her tracks.

“Be safe,” She said softly, without turning around. Not waiting for an answer, she stepped inside the fireplace, leaving behind the orange flames dancing inside it.

Hope sparked inside his heart because, obviously, Ron and Hermione still cared and tried to look out for him. Even if he ruined every chance of a relationship with Ron, not all seemed lost considering Harry’s friendship with his two best friends.

“Are you ready?” Liam’s voice came from behind him. The short, grey-haired wizard stepped up beside Harry, looking up at him with his ever-professional mask of indifference.

“Ready,” Harry answered, testing his voice, glad it sounded strong and unwavering.

Without missing a beat, Harry’s manager opened the dark, wooden door, and the two of them walked to the podium. Several cameras flashed already when Harry cast  Sonorous  at himself. The room was filled with at least one journalist and a photographer from every news outlet in Magical Britain.

The news of Harry Potter being gay was going to spread like wildfire.

“Good evening,” Harry started to speak, his amplified voice quieting down the low chatter of the audience. He planned to make this short, wishing to be back at his flat already.

“I’m here to inform you that I won’t be attending any official events for the rest of the year.” The voices grew louder again, but Liam stopped the chatter by simply raising his hand. The way this short man managed crowds never ceased to amaze Harry.

“This is simply a way for me to get my life back on track, and I know I need this time for myself in the upcoming months. I-”

“Mr Potter,” Rita Skeeter interrupted, her acid green Quick-Quotes Quill and a parchment hovering in the air beside her, “Does your-”

“Mrs Skeeter, I don’t remember my manager giving you permission to ask questions,” Harry cut her off, trying very hard to not let her admire his middle finger. “And if you wish to attend this press conference until the end, I advise you to not interrupt me again.”

Raising an eyebrow at him but otherwise remaining silent, Rita sat down again, her quill still scribbling wildly. Harry knew he would pay for this. He was just about to give her the perfect ammunition, after all.

“I could just leave it at that. It would definitely prevent my manager from being forced to read through a lot of hate-mail, and it would spare me from having to hide from the public for a while. But these past months, my relationship with the press and official events destroyed everything I really hold dear. And no, I don’t blame you for this. You intruded on my life more than once, but what I have let my life become is entirely my fault. That’s why I have to make the reason for my retreat public. Before I reconcile with the people I hurt, I have to make it right with myself, first and foremost.”

Complete silence settled over the room. Not a single whisper could be heard, and even Rita Skeeter’s quill stopped scribbling, simply hovering beside the witch.

Harry closed his eyes for a brief second as his heartbeat threatened to beat out of his chest. It was now or never, so Harry took one last deep breath, and then, he finally told the world the truth.

“I’m gay.”

*******

A gentle breeze greeted Ron and Hermione when they apparated to the beach Harry mentioned in his letter. The slight wind felt like a relief compared to the stuffy heat in the city. Hermione could only shake her head at Ron for complaining about the hot days, given how rare they were in London.

They could already see the small cottage from their apparation point, the security charms still allowing them to notice it and enter its wards. It was a short walk to the small wooden cabin, but it was enough time for Ron to break out in a sweat.

Yesterday night they had heard about Harry’s press conference on the radio. The news station recited his speech word by word before analyzing it, also word by word, and taking wild guesses on which wizards were most likely to be a past or present love interest of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry’s words kept repeating in Ron’s mind, making him feel guilty, relieved and sad, all at the same time. More than anything else, he wanted to know how Harry felt about all of this, but at the same time, he feared what Harry might expect from Ron now.

With a gentle wave of his wand, Ron alerted Harry of their presence, and a second later, he walked out of the cottage. His black hair looked even wilder than usual, fitting his red-rimmed eyes and the wrinkled shirt he was wearing.

Despite Harry's ruffled appearance, Ron immediately felt a pang of deep longing inside his chest. All he wanted to do right now was to run his hands over Harry's five o’clock shadow and kiss away the dark bags under these brilliantly green eyes.

Instead, he just stood in front of Harry, willing his heart and mind to slow down.

After what felt like an awfully long time of awkward silence, Harry cleared his throat. “Would- would you like to come in?”

“I won't come in with you,” Hermione answered, and before Harry could protest, she turned to Ron, “We'll meet at Neville’s at 7?”

“But Hermione, I want to talk to you too.”

“I know, Harry,” Hermione looked back at him, her lips tightly pressed together, “But I think you should talk to Ron first. Alone.”

Ron could see Harry didn't expect this. He probably prepared a whole speech for Hermione and was now at a loss for words after her announcement.

“We will talk, just the two of us. And I will try to rebuild our friendship, regardless of what Ron might decide for himself.” Hermione paused for a brief moment and took a step closer towards Harry. “But should Ron decide to give your relationship another chance, remember that our friendship will stand and fall on how you treat him. I won't watch one of my best friends hurt the other again.”

And as if to make a point, she took her wand out of its holster, gripping it tightly. Without waiting for Harry's response, though, Hermione quickly squeezed Ron's hand before turning around and disapparating with a quiet plop.

“I really wanted to talk to her,” Harry sighed, weaving a hand through his unruly hair.

“How are you?” Ron asked instead of saying something about Hermione's decision to keep out of this conversation.

Apparently surprised about Ron's sudden change of topic, Harry looked at him with a puzzled expression. A second later, though, his gaze softened, and Ron squirmed under the longing Harry's eyes held.

“Better than I thought I would be” Harry took a small step closer.

“You didn’t have to-”

“I know,” Harry quickly interrupted him rather loudly, and with a much quieter voice, he said, “I know. But I wanted to. I needed to do this.”

Ron nodded and stared at his feet, not knowing what else he could say right now.

“Would you like to sit in the backyard? I have some beer and coke in the fridge.”

“Sure. I'll take the coke.” Ron didn't trust himself to not throw all resolve into the wind if he drank something stronger than Butterbeer. Booze combined with Harry's toned legs on full display on this hot summer day? Ron wouldn't take any chances.

Five minutes later, the two of them found themselves sitting on the small porch, overlooking the ocean. The sea was calm today, and the sound of the waves lulled them into a companionable silence.

Ron couldn't tell how much time had passed when Harry finally started to speak. He told Ron about his past two weeks—all the feelings he went through, from fiery anger over crippling guilt to unbelievable longing. He talked about how much he had hated himself and how this feeling shrank to a tiny flame after yesterday's coming out. And when Harry looked at Ron, telling him he was sorry and he was well aware Ron most likely couldn't see a meaning anymore behind his apologies, a single tear escaped Harry’s eye.

Ron wanted nothing more than to brush it away, but he didn't. Instead, he braced himself for what he needed to tell Harry.

“Harry, I-,” Ron sat up a little straighter, making sure to look Harry in the eyes, “I need time. I need time for myself, at least, for a while. I realised that I stopped being my own person in the last months of our relationship, and like you, I have to find my way back to myself.”

“I obviously want you back, Ron,” Harry's shoulders slumped down a little from the disappointment, but at the same time, Ron thought he saw something like resolve shining behind his green eyes, “But I'll be happy as long as you let me be a part of your life. Maybe- maybe we could just hang out for a while. Just as friends. Go to the pub, watch a Quidditch match, stuff like that.”

Ron gave him a small smile. “That sounds good.”

They didn't say anything else after that. The sun wasn't ready to set yet, but its late afternoon glow gave the sea a beautiful reflection.

At some point, Harry's hand that lay between them on the wooden bench accidentally bumped against Ron's. Harry jolted and wanted to pull his hand away, but Ron stopped him. He softly grazed over Harry's wrist with his fingertips, eliciting a small sigh from him. Ron watched as his hand interlaced their fingers; Harry's olive scarred skin against his pale, freckled and equally scarred skin. It was a beautiful sight.

They kept sitting this way until it was time for Ron to go, just staring out into the sea and holding hands.

*******

Resisting Harry Potter had never been easy for him, but nowadays, everything his best mate did seemed to drive Ron crazy.

Christmas was a week away, and a month ago, Ron and Harry started dating again.

One day, after attending one of Ginny's Quidditch games, they had gone to a small, cozy Muggle Café, trying to warm themselves up from the cold November weather. The Polyjuice Potion they used to disguise themselves from the watching crowd in the Quidditch stands had long worn off, but a rather persistent strand of blonde hair on Harry’s head refused to turn back into its usual raven black state.

Ron had reached over their tiny round table to point it out to Harry but instead almost knocked his glasses off in the process. They burst into laughter, and Ron didn't know if it had been the rush of cheering for his sister today or something else entirely, but for some reason, he had chosen this moment to ask Harry out on a proper date.

And it could have been all in Ron's head, but he failed to remember if he had ever seen Harry smile as he had at that moment.

Without further discussing it, they had kept it slow. Their dates had involved a lot of kissing again, but they always had gone home alone in the end; Harry to his flat and Ron to the tiny apartment he currently shared with Hermione since early September.

Now though, they stood just outside of The Leaky Cauldron, which Hannah and Neville reopened today. After taking over the pub from Tom, they had renovated the large terrace, surprising most of Tom's old guests that it even existed.

For the reopening, they had decorated it with fairy lights and some plants that didn't mind the season’s cold weather. High, round tables stood everywhere where the guests could have some drinks and snacks.

Together with Hermione and her new boyfriend Martin, they stood around one of these tables, drinking the most delicious hot chocolate Ron ever had. While Hermione was busy introducing Martin to their friends, Harry was busy running his hand over Ron's arse.

From their place right in front of the wall of the Leaky Cauldron, they were able to observe everything, but no one was able to see how Harry’s hand seemed to have found a new home in one of Ron's back pockets.

After about an hour, Ron finally had enough. Before Harry could sneak his hand there again, Ron grabbed his wrist and pulled him behind one of Neville's monster plants which happened to be the perfect hiding place.

“You noticed all the bloody journalists out there, right?” Ron asked but clearly didn't expect an answer from Harry as he kissed him as he had wanted to all night. Harry didn't miss a beat and pulled Ron tightly against him, returning the kiss with equal enthusiasm.

Harry moaned into Ron's mouth when Ron sucked at his lower lip, making him want to apparate home with Harry right away.

As Harry set to kiss Ron's neck, it was now the redhead’s turn to bite back a groan. “Let's- let's- Oh Merlin, Harry.”

“Let's what?” Harry whispered as his hands slowly wandered down Ron's body.

“Let's go home,” Ron said in a breathy voice, lips swollen from kissing, “Let's say goodbye to Hannah and Neville and then go home.”

Harry shook his head as he stepped away from Ron, but tugging at his hand as he went into the direction of the party guests.

“Before we go home, let's show them,” Harry stepped up to Ron again, this time just kissing him softly on the lips, “Only if you're okay with it, of course.”

“But you already had your moment of truth. Everyone knows you're gay.”

“They don't know about us, though,” Harry said, softly stroking Ron's cheek, “And besides, my real moment of truth had been when I apologized to you and our friends. The public outing was nothing compared to admitting I had been a shit friend and partner.”

“You know, I don't care about the press knowing about us, but you don't have to prove anything to me, Harry.”

“I think I do. Let's show everyone the wizard that won over The-Boy-Who-Lived,” Harry said, and without another word, he led them into the crowd again.

Nobody was paying attention to them, despite the great Harry Potter standing in the middle of the expansive terrace, holding hands with his best mate. Mistletoe hung from above them, and Harry grinned at the coincidence.

“Doesn't seem like we have much of an audience,” Ron stated as he observed all the party guests who were too busy chatting and drinking, “But I think one of the fucking paparazzi has spotted us.”

“Do you think that's enough, Weasley? Simply holding hands in front of a paparazzi?”

Ron was well aware Harry was daring him, but Ron had been sorted into Gryffindor for a reason, after all. Never breaking eye contact with Harry, Ron put his thumb and middle finger inside his mouth and whistled so loudly, everyone startled out of their conversation and turning their heads towards them.

And without missing a beat, Harry put his arms around Ron's neck and kissed him. Ron heard surprised gasps and camera flashes and cheering, but all he could focus on were Harry's lips and his heart beating so fast he was sure everyone could hear it.

As they broke the kiss, Ron put his forehead against Harry's and grinned like the bloody, lovesick fool he knew he looked like right now.

“Take us home, Potter,” Ron whispered, feeling freer than ever before in his life.

They never made it back to the party.

[edie-k]

Cost Nothing (R/Hr, PG-13)

Title: Cost Nothing

Rating: PG-13 (mild sexual humor)

Pairing: Romione

Summary: "Compliments cost nothing, yet many pay dear for them." Thomas Fuller

When Harry and Ginny point out a shortcoming of Hermione's, she turns to Ron to set the record straight.

Notes: Thanks to accio-broom for the beta work and lovely feedback.

Happy birthday to Ron! To celebrate properly, I called upon the OG of the Ron Weasley Defense Squad, one Harry James Potter.

Link to AO3 or click below

“Hey,” said Ginny, flopping down on the blanket next to Hermione. 

“Oh, are you finished playing?” 

“Just a break. Get this - Percy sent an owl and said he, Charlie and George are coming back at 4 to play.”

“Wow, he’s really trying to make this up to you all,” said Hermione, impressed. She glanced up to see Ron and Harry walk towards her, brooms in hand. She used her bookmark to hold her place.  

Harry dropped his broom to the ground and laid down between the two of them. “Hermione, your cooling charms are just as great as your warming ones.” 

Ron stood in front of them. Hermione shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked up at him warmly. He smiled back and stuck his arm into the air above her blanket. “Bloody hell, that feels good.” 

“Come lay down,” said Hermione, patting the blanket next to her. 

“I won’t get up if I do. And I was thinking I should run up to the house and grab some drinks and snacks to bring back here?” 

“Ah, great idea, mate,” said Harry. 

“Cute and brilliant, what more could I ask for?” said Hermione with a smile

Ron flushed and gave her a grin. “I’ll be right back.” He walked up to the house. 

Hermione pulled out her wand to expand the blanket and cooling charm to give them a bit more space. As she was putting her wand to the side, she caught Harry looking at her with a bemused expression. “What?” 

“I am just not used to that yet,” said Harry. “Especially from you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  

“I’ve never heard you compliment him before. Certainly not on his looks,” said Harry. 

“Harry Potter! You know that I think Ron’s wonderful and always have.”

 “I’ve thought Ron was great for almost a decade now. I assumed that you did too. I’ve just never heard you say it.” 

“You’re joking!”

“To be fair to you, you were quite complimentary of his basilisk fangs idea during the battle, but I otherwise stand by my statement.” 

 “Ginny!” Hermione appealed to her friend that had been observing silently. “You’ve heard me compliment Ron before, right?” 

“To his face? Never. To others? Also never.” 

“Well, the two of you aren’t around us all the time,” said Hermione. 

“It’s true. There were dozens of minutes over the last year that I was away from you two,” said Harry.

Ginny laughed. “It’s fine, Hermione. You just don’t hand out compliments easily.”

“That’s not true,” said Harry, shaking his head. “You’ve said loads of nice things about me.”

“Did she?” asked Ginny, quirking an eyebrow. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Harry, I’d recommend not triggering that Weasley jealousy. You’re my best friend, and who else was going to bolster and build you up? It certainly wasn’t based on any personal interest I had. I was just passing along the gossip and giggling I’d hear in the loo.”

“And Ron Weasley, bastion of self-assuredness, was in no need of compliments,” said Ginny drily. “Especially when you’re showering Harry in them.”  

Hermione’s face darkened. “That’s quite rich coming from someone who compared Ron to his best friends just to embarrass him. I fancied him, and you expected me to tell him that Bridget Nichols wanted to quote, ‘climb him like a tree’? Besides, I seem to recall that he wasn’t lacking female attention at the time,” she sniffed. 

Harry sat up, looking nervous. “Uh, look, there’s no need for you and Ron to rehash sixth year.”

“Ron and I have already come to an appropriate understanding on that. What there’s really no need for is the two of you butting into our relationship.”

“You’re right,” said Harry. “We should-”

“It all checks out,” said Ginny, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You complimented Ron constantly, which gave him the confidence to never make a move.” 

“Oh, and what about him? It’s not like he was showering me in praise!”

“Well, he did -” Harry stopped his sentence short. “No. I’m sorry I brought any of this up; it was a careless joke.”

“Finish what you were going to say,” Ginny and Hermione demanded in unison. Hermione looked at Ginny, surprised by the synchronicity before glaring and looking back at Harry, who she could tell desperately regretted the whole conversation. 

Harry looked between the two and sighed. “All I was going to say was that Ron has told you how brilliant you are loads of times over the years.”

“Well, so has Professor Flitwick, but I didn’t think that meant he was trying to get in my knickers.”

“It’s Ron, though. He hardly ever misses an opportunity to put his foot in his mouth, yet I can still think of dozens of times he fawned all over you.” 

“Those aren’t exactly signals a boy gives you to say he’s attracted to you,” said Hermione. 

“No, I suppose not,” said Harry, laying back down. He looked as if he wanted to say more but was holding his tongue. 

“I think that what Harry said originally is true. Neither of you ever explicitly told us you liked the other, but we always knew Ron thought you were amazing. We had to assume that you thought Ron was too,” said Ginny, the edge now gone from her tone.

Hermione opened her mouth and then closed it. She knew they were wrong, but she just didn’t have the proof yet. 

They lay contemplating for a few minutes before Harry broke the tense silence. “Ugh, I’m still trying to decide what’s more disturbing - Flitwick trying to get in your knickers or Ron.”

“Ron doesn’t have to try,” Hermione cheeked. Ginny laughed, and Harry’s face contorted. 

“What don’t I have to try?” asked Ron. He had returned with a basket filled with cold butterbeers, crisps, biscuits, and a couple of apples, which he set next to Hermione as he eased himself down.  While the others stretched around to grab snacks, Hermione cringed as she noticed he looked uncomfortable to have discovered them discussing him. She decided to be straightforward. 

“To get into my knickers,” Hermione responded with a grin. His ears burned, but she saw a light in his eyes when he noticed Harry’s continued cringe. 

“Oh,” he said as he sat down next to her. “Are you actually wearing knickers today? That’s disappointing.”

Harry broke a biscuit and threw half at each of them. 

**********************************

“Hey Hermione?”

“Yes?” It was well after dinner now, and the two of them were taking a walk as dusk began to settle in. The decision to take a walk was met with teasing from all of his brothers that left Hermione rolling her eyes. It was truly only a walk. After years of seeing only the downsides to his status as the youngest brother, he was finally reaping a benefit - his parents were turning a blind eye to the fact they were sharing a bed in a silenced and locked room so an uncomfortable roll in the orchard was unnecessary. 

“Yes?”

“Why were you talking about me getting in your knickers with Harry and Ginny?”

Hermione bit her lip while Ron continued on. 

“Don’t get me wrong. I would be comfortable taking out an ad in The Daily Prophet bragging about shagging you, and I’m sure they knew well before today. But as fun as it was to make him squirm, I thought we’d been trying to not make Harry uncomfortable.”

“He sort of brought it up.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. After you walked away, he mentioned it was odd to hear me call you cute.”

“And brilliant,” he said with a rakish grin. 

“Of course.”

“But how did that lead to your knickers?”

“Oh, it was infuriating. The reason he thought it strange was that he couldn’t remember me ever giving you any compliments.”

“Oh.”

“And I was telling him how silly that was.”

“Right.”

“Obviously, now that we’re together... I’ve been attracted to you for as long as I can remember, but it’s certainly easier to tell you now, don’t you think?”

“Uh, sure. I mean, previously I worried that telling you how gorgeous and sexy you are would get me slapped, and now I’m just curious which one of us ends up on our back.”

 “Stop,” she giggled. “But before we were together, I always told you how highly I thought of you.”

“Well, I don’t think you hand out unearned praise.”

 “Of course. But I’ve complimented you loads over the years. Right?”

Silence hung between them. 

“I love you?” Ron finally responded. 

“You agree with them?”

“I really love you?” said Ron. 

“You truly don’t think I ever complimented you?”

“You… tried once. When I got the prefect badge in 5th year,” he said. 

“The only reason I didn’t have anything was that I couldn’t think of a way to say it without hurting Harry’s feelings!”

“Really, love, don’t worry about it. You said things about my Quidditch performances as well. At least the good ones.”

“No! We.. we cleared the air on all this. Viktor, Lavender, the locket. Why didn’t you say anything then?”

“What would I say? You should have complimented me more? How self-involved would that sound? And now that we’re together, you do compliment me all the time. If I’d said something, maybe I’d question if you were being genuine or not now.”

Hermione was quiet. “I never realized that I wasn’t. It all ran through my head so much, but I guess I never… things would have been so different if I had.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Really?” she said with disbelief. 

“Yes, really. I won’t lie - compliments couldn’t possibly have hurt. But you basically asked me on a date, and my mind still couldn’t process that you wanted to be with me. And at that point in my life, the praise to Harry would have still bothered me, so the locket would have glommed onto that.”

“I would never have said-“

“Hermione! Listen to yourself! You didn’t do anything wrong telling Harry those things. His life was shit, and he’s your best friend. It’s not your fault I was an immature prat.”

“I was really just passing along what the girls were saying about him in the loo.”

Ron looked amused. “Is that how girls talk in the loo about boys?”

Hermione laughed. “I’m not even sure what I told you.”

“At the risk of reinforcing what an insecure git I am, you mentioned how tall and fanciable he was and went into all of the Chosen One and Ministry persecution stuff,” Ron said. “I’m just saying that is not how we talked about girls in our dorm.” 

“Ah, yes, I did clean it up a bit, but they did at least talk about Harry with a bit of reverence and respect as opposed to treating him like a  piece of meat as they did with you. But I’m interested in how the boys discuss girls.”

Ron winced. “Sorry, I never even thought about what she might say that you’d have to hear.” 

“No, that was a whole different set of issues. These were other girls.” 

Ron stopped. “Other girls? What did - nevermind, it uh, doesn’t matter.” 

Hermione was surprised to find that his aborted question hadn’t even bothered her. “I won’t tell you everything, but I did already tell Harry… Bridget Nichols said she wanted to climb you like a tree and -” 

“What?!” 

“Yes,” she laughed. “And you remember Tori Daylon?” 

“She was that short little thing, right?” 

“She thought she was the perfect height to make you very happy.” 

“Merlin, you girls are just as bawdy as us,” Ron laughed. 

“We have hormones too.” 

“You never said anything about me, did you?” he asked. Hermione shook her head. “But what type of review am I going to get in the bathroom this year from you?” 

“You’re incorrigible,” she laughed.

“Is that a compliment?” 

“Absolutely.”