#romione angst

[randomguyonline71]

Ron dying I think could of pushed Hermione into being more of a dark witch. Not joining Voldemort obviously but possibly kinda toeing the line of dark magic.

I also see her experimenting with darker types of magic. Possibly even using an unforgivable curse, if need be.

She would still be fighting for the good cause. But she would try to win no matter what. She would be extremely dedicated to bring down Voldemort and Bellatrix.

I agree with you anon, and thank you for the ask :D

[be11atrixthestrange]

Bathroom Light

It's been two years since I've written anything, but I heard the song Bathroom Light by Mt. Joy, and this story wrote itself. Rated M for Ron's thoughts. <3

***

x

Find me a lane to drive through

In a Halloween costume

I'm an astronaut without you

x

As usual, the Three Broomsticks was bursting with Hogwarts students on a Saturday night. Echoes of conversations bounced off the walls, cluttering Ron’s mind like a cloud of wrackspurts,  which made it even harder than usual to focus on his date. Lavender had been chatting about a new beauty charm she learned from Parvati. Or was it from Witch Weekly? Honestly, Ron didn’t know, but apparently it had something to do with volumizing curls. Maybe. 

Ron stared into his half empty butterbeer. Although he was tempted to chug the rest of it, he just knew that if someone in particular saw him gulping it down like a river troll, she’d disapprove. He shouldn’t care what that someone in particular would think, as they weren’t even on speaking terms, but for some reason he still did. 

“Are you listening to me?” 

Ron’s skin prickled at her question, and his fingers clenched around his glass of butterbeer. “Yes, of course I’m listening,” he lied. 

“Then what did I just say?” asked Lavender, one eyebrow raised. 

“Something about beauty charms…”

Lavender’s eyes narrowed.

“Beauty charms that you don’t even need.”

Ron’s shoulders relaxed when Lavender’s face softened into a grin. “Aww. You’re sweet.”

He smiled back at her and took in her features. She wore a different color lipstick than usual for their date, and it had taken Ron by surprise when he first saw her. Lavender had seemed hurt by his reaction. He tried to assure her that he didn’t think of her lipstick color as good or bad, but apparently that was the wrong thing to say. 

Truth be told, he didn’t actually know what Lavender looked like without all the effort, but he knew better than to mention that. She took great pride in her appearance and wanted validation — that Ron could understand. Some guys equated makeup and beauty charms with deceit, and Ron really didn’t want to be one of those guys. But was it wrong to want to know what your girlfriend really looked like? 

And honestly, he’d love to go on a date that had the potential of ruining someone’s perfectly curated hair. Lavender wouldn’t even watch one of his Quidditch games if it was raining for fear of ruining her appearance. Even though that would mean so much more to him than finding a never-before-seen shade of lip balm just for him. He couldn’t shake the image of someone else sitting in the stands at a particularly stormy Quidditch game, her curls soaked down to heavy waves that stuck to her face, completely unbothered by the fact that she looked like she’d nearly drowned in the great lake.

As if reality read his mind, those same curls caught his eye, bouncing along the edge of the pub toward the loo. His eyes immediately followed Hermione until the light of the bathroom hallway illuminated her. Who was she here with? Harry or Ginny? Neither had mentioned anything about going to Hogsmeade tonight, and the thought made his stomach feel as heavy as a bezoar. Was she on a date? 

The persistent thought, the one that he was usually pretty good at keeping at bay flooded into his mind like a dam had broken. What would happen if he followed her?

x

We're twisting our way to the back of the bar

Yeah, locking the door, falling into the stall…

x

Maybe she would respond positively. Those canaries meant something. No one would attack a person for kissing someone else if they only held platonic feelings. Ron definitely wasn’t wrong about that. It was possible that she’d welcome a grand gesture from him. 

Was following her into a bathroom stall in a crowded pup a grand gesture? It surely wasn’t on the same level as hiring a string quartet or writing a romantic poem. But if memories of a rogue mountain troll served him correctly, it wouldn’t be the first time their relationship changed in a bathroom.

Suppose he got up, followed her, and she invited him in. Then what?

That would never happen. But it didn’t hurt to imagine, right? 

x

Stripping you down to your jewelry

You're breaking the rules just for me

What a life under big stars and a good woman in charge

Got me falling in, got me falling in hard.

x

Would she want him to kiss her the way he kissed Lavender in the common room that first time? Because honestly, he probably couldn’t. It would be so different.

If he kissed Hermione in that bathroom there would be no hesitation. His mind wouldn’t freeze and turn on autopilot without a moment’s thought about the fallout of his actions. He’d kiss her not in spite of the consequences, but because of them. Could a kiss ruin their friendship? 

So be it, ruin the friendship. Sometimes things needed to burn down to grow back stronger. 

It wouldn’t just be a kiss. If the scars on his arms meant anything, she had passion. Sure, that manifested poorly sometimes, but it wouldn’t in that bathroom. He could just imagine her tugging at his shirt while he plucked at the buttons on her blouse, pieces of clothing hitting the floor one by one, until all she was left wearing was that perfume he got her back in fifth year. 

He’d run his fingers through her perfectly voluminous curls that needed no beauty charms, and maybe she’d bite down on his lip as her bare legs wrapped around his waist. His fingers would dig into the skin of her thighs, and she’d groan her approval, which would have a similar effect to setting Ron on fire. 

Something Ron loved about Hermione was her relationship with rules. She knew the ins and outs of every rule in the book, so when it came time to break them, she was the one to ask. She could get away with anything without risking her perfect reputation, especially for someone she cared about. Setting a professor’s robes on fire? Check. Blackmailing and transfiguring a nefarious journalist? Check. Jinxing the D.A. sign up sheet? Check. That one time she snuck a flask of firewhiskey on a prefect round, and they skipped patrol to drink in an empty classroom? Check. Harry didn’t even believe Ron when he told him about that last one, and honestly, Ron preferred it that way. It made it seem special. 

If breaking rules was Ron’s love language, Hermione was fluent, and she only spoke it for him. 

So even though he was on a date with someone else, and maybe she was too, it wasn’t difficult to imagine her fully letting him in under the dim bathroom light. He’d prop her up on the sink; she’d tug on his front zipper and slip him out of his trousers. And despite the fact that they were in a dingy stall in the bathroom of an overcrowded pub, he’d do to her what he’d only ever imagined in his dreams. Fuck the consequences.

Shag her best friend in the bar bathroom? She definitely would. Check. 

x

So, come on, baby, let's do this right

I think I like falling in love in the bar bathroom light

I won't question it, I won't mess with it, if it's there go grab it

Tell your friends you love who they are

x

“Ron, are you okay?”

Lavender sat with her elbows on the table, head cocked to the side, a look of concern on her face. 

“Yeah. Why?” he asked, trying his best to hide the resentment creeping up from the fact that she yanked him from the most beautiful daydream. 

“You seem distracted.”

Ron immediately felt heavy with guilt. What was wrong with him? He was here with a gorgeous woman, and couldn’t control the trajectory of his fantasies. 

“I’m sorry. Just tired,” he lied. In fact, he was more energized than ever. “Can we go back?”

“Yeah,” said Lavender, with a brief flash of disappointment on her face. “Want to finish your beer first?”

Ron glanced at his butterbeer, still half empty. Hermione obviously wasn’t looking, so he put the glass to his lips and chugged it. 

“Let’s go,” he said. The pair stood up to leave, and Lavender reached for his hand. Who was he to think of makeup and beauty charms as deceit when he was the one imagining shagging someone else in the bathroom?

Yet, on the way out the door, it took everything he had to avoid stealing one more glance toward the bathroom at the back of the bar. 

[katenoteight]

Aaaaaaand in case someone likes Ron-centric angst and adventure - here is the penultimate chapter of my fic 😆

[voldemorts-tap-shoes]

Submission #2 for the red/lover era of @cruelsummer-ficfest

Afterglow

-

I lived like an island

punished you with silence

-

Fighting with a true love is boxing with no gloves

Chemistry 'til it blows up, 'til there's no us

-

It’s the silence, more than anything else, that tells Ron how thoroughly he fucked things up with Hermione.

Merlin, is there anything he wouldn’t give right now to hear her call him an arse for leaving? Or for one of those snide little comments she used to make when he was with Lavender last year, not directly to him but most certainly meant for his ears?

Hell, he’d take the birds right about now.

He deserves it—this and any other brand of punishment her heart desires along the road to forgiveness—and he knows this, and he’ll gladly suffer through it as long as there is light at the end of the tunnel. But as it stands between them currently, he’s staring into an inky black hole of a relationship without so much as a flicker of hope.

Ron doesn’t have a shift on watch tonight, but he’s not sleeping either, poring over strategy with Harry while Hermione sits outside. Harry ought to be sleeping, too, while he can, and he’s the only one Hermione admonishes when she comes inside and finds the two of them, glancing right past Ron as if he isn’t even there on the way to her bunk.

He’s tried his best over the past three weeks to maintain a normal rapport with her on his end, even though he’s gotten nothing in return. So when he casually states that he’s going out to sit with Harry and continue what they were working on, he’s sure he imagines the soft “don’t go” from Hermione’s direction.

But if he isn’t imagining it…

-

I'm the one who burned us down

But it's not what I meant

-

“What?”

Hermione rolls over with a huff and spits the words at him. “Don’t. Go.”

He takes a hesitant step towards her. “I—”

But before he can put together any sort of coherent response, Hermione continues, “It’s a simple enough request, Ron, or I thought it was when I said it the first time, before you left, and I don’t suppose you learned anything at all on your little sabbatical if you still don’t understand it.”

She flops back onto her other side, facing the tent wall and leaving far more room on the outside edge of the bed than was there just a moment ago. Plenty of room for a second person. Way too much to be accidental.

Surely she doesn’t…she couldn’t mean…

This is either going to be the best or worst decision he ever made.

Ron toes his shoes off beneath her bunk and carefully lifts the covers to slip underneath. He knows damn well she’s not sleeping yet, but she doesn’t make any acknowledgment of him climbing into bed with her. If this wasn’t the right answer, he’s fairly certain she would choose hexing him into oblivion over the silent treatment, so he assumes he’s on the right track. Now that he’s here, though, he’s not sure what to do next.

It takes him only a moment to notice that her shoulders are shaking with silent sobs, and the realization dissolves his lingering hesitation. He places his hand gently against her side, and when she doesn’t protest his touch, wraps his arm all the way around to pull her close.

Her hand finds his resting against her stomach, and she laces their fingers together. When she composes herself enough to speak, her words rip Ron’s heart in two. “You hurt me.”

He knows she’s sick of hearing I’m sorry, even though he is, and he’s not sure she’s ready for I love you, even though he does. So he snuggles closer, holds her tighter, and just says, “I know.”

-

I don't wanna do, I don't wanna do this to you

I don't wanna lose, I don't wanna lose this with you

-

He can’t say how much time passes—it might have been five minutes or an hour, he only knows it’s not long enough—before she untangles their hands and rolls to her back, staring up at the bunk above them with eyes that are now dry but bloodshot. The movement lands his hand on her hip and she doesn’t push him away so he leaves it.

Hermione gives a tiny shake of her head and bites her lip before she whispers, “I don’t know how we come back from this, Ron.”

It’s not unexpected, but her statement still hits him like a punch in the gut. He doesn’t know how to make up for leaving either, or how long it will take, or even if she cares enough to let him try. He only knows he wants to. And if she wants that too, he’ll do whatever it takes to make things right again.

“Do you want to, though?” Ron’s heart is nearly beating out of his chest as he watches her tug her bottom lip between her teeth again. “Do you want to get back to where we were?”

Never mind that where they were is a mysterious place that they had never really defined, and could just as easily have been best friends and nothing more as anything else. Just being friends with Hermione is never really going to be enough, but he’ll take that over nothing in a heartbeat.

“No,” she sighs. Her answer takes all the breath out of him, but before he has a chance to spiral, Hermione rotates again, turning to face him and bringing her body nearly flush with his. “Merlin’s pants, Ron, is that really all you want? To go back to the way things were?”

-

Tell me that you're still mine

Tell me that we'll be just fine

Even when I lose my mind

-

Tell me that it's not my fault

Tell me that I'm all you want

Even when I break your heart

-

The mood changes in an instant, and Ron can’t help but chuckle at the incredulous look on Hermione’s face. “No,” he admits. “That’s not all I want.”

“Okay. What do you want?”

“I think you know.”

“Do I?”

She quirks an eyebrow at him, making a good show at their old teasing repartee, but her trembling bottom lip gives away her real feelings. He sees the doubt in her eyes, built up over years of his denial; recognizes it because she’s done the same to him. But if he doesn’t tell her the truth now, there might not be another opportunity.

“Yeah.” His voice comes out a husky whisper, and drops further when Hermione shifts right up against him and brushes her fingertips against his stubbly cheek. “Yeah, I think you do.���

Their lips meet for one glorious second before Hermione’s hand is on his chest with a gentle push and she’s shaking her head again. “I can’t,” she says, and he feels both their hearts breaking with the words. “Not yet.”

It’s not what he wants to hear, of course, but at least not yet is the flicker of hope he needs to keep going. He can work with not yet.

“It’s okay. I get it. I’ll just—” He doesn’t get more than an inch away from her before she’s tugging at his jumper, rooting him to the spot.

“I know it’s not fair to ask, but…stay with me?”

She’s looking up at him with those big brown eyes, and honestly, he doesn’t know how he ever walked away from her, horcrux or no.

“Of course. Anything you want.”

We’ll get through this, Ron tells himself as they settle in for the night, Hermione curled up against his side like she was made to fit there. It’ll be okay.

When he wakes up in the morning to the orange glow of sunrise creeping through the canvas walls and Hermione still in his arms, he actually believes it.

-

This ultraviolet morning light below

Tells me this love is worth the fight, oh

-

It's all me, just don't go

Meet me in the afterglow

-

[flaming-brown-witch]

Check out my fic!!

Title: Mine

Rating: T

Summary: Could it be that Ron was kept intentionally in the dark about Hermione snogging Krum? Or that Ginny did a lot more with Dean than meets the eye? Gryffindor girls are Gryffindors for a reason, after all.

Other notes: Based on the song "Pussy is Mine" by Miguel because that song is Ron asf lmao. Also got lots of hot making out 💋

[rewritingcanon]

i need a long sweet romione fic as a pick me up. if anyone has any recs please bro

[hp-fanfic-archive]

A Reflection of Yourself by Maeglin_Yedi Pairing: Harry/Ginny, Hermione/Ron Rating: T Word Count: 3k Podfic available here Read by: Maeglin_Yedi Length: 10-30 minutes Harry has a soulmate who lacks a soul. Hermione has a soulmate who is a twat. Ron has no soulmate at all.

find the full podfic library here

[adenei]

The Moment I Knew

Submission #1 for Era 3 (Red/Lover) of @cruelsummer-ficfest

Ship: Romione

Song: The Moment I Knew (Red)

Read on AO3

You should be here.

Tears stream down Hermione’s face as she tends to Harry. She’s not sure how long she’s been awake, but there’s no way she can sleep until she can be certain he’s okay. Between making sure he’s breathing, tending to his wounds from the wreckage and fighting against Nagini, and keeping her distance every time he has a night terror, she’s exhausted.

But what can she do? There’s no one to split the load with. It’s just Harry and Hermione. Ron’s still gone. Another choked sob escapes her lips as the constant reminders of his absence still shake her to her very core. And she spends another sleepless night wondering if she’ll ever see him again.

You said you’d be here.

Hermione closes her eyes as yet another tear slips through. Harry’s keeping watch and she’s finally able to get some much needed sleep. Except she can’t.

She’s too afraid that something is going to happen. There’s only two of them. Just like it has been for the last month. If something were to happen, she would never forgive herself.

He said he’d be here.

They promised each other they’d stand by Harry no matter what. She can’t remember how many times they’d spoken about it at the Burrow last summer. Even at Grimmauld Place, he said they’d get through this together. Together.

Over and over again, she tries not to fall apart. She tries not to think of him. Of all the things they could have been, and the sinking feeling grows. Her mind is at war. Conflicting thoughts of anger and grief play on repeat when she can’t distract herself with a book. She’s been over the same scenarios in her head hundreds of times, yet they still play out. Tantalizing her with thoughts of how things could be different if he were still here. But he’s not.

As her eyelids finally droop from exhaustion, a happier image plays in her mind. One of a fantastical reunion—a reunion she knows will only happen in her wildest dreams.

And it was like slow motion.

“Hermione! Hermione, come quick!”

Jolting awake, she throws the covers off her body and runs to the tent flap,  burstint through. Defenseless, she looks around for Harry in the early light of dawn, the cold air stinging her cheeks.

“What’s wrong? What happened? Are you alright?” 

Her head whips from left to right, searching for danger or threats. And that’s when she sees him.

“More than alright, actually.” Harry speaks, but his words are drowned out by the buzzing in her ears.

This has to be a dream. She can’t possibly be awake. The likelihood of him ever finding them again was so small and yet…

Frozen, she stands there in one of his old Christmas sweaters and lingering hints of the perfume he gifted her fifth year—the only two things she still has to keep him close to her. Though perhaps now, she won’t need them. Assuming he’s not a mirage.

Their eyes lock and he offers her a sheepish grin. But it’s her favorite. The way one side of his mouth raises slightly higher than the other makes her weak in the knees. And before she knows it, she’s running toward him, forgetting that Harry’s around and that she doesn’t have a wand to protect herself in case this is all a trap. 

But she doesn’t care. Because if this is Ron and he’s back, there’s only one thing she wants.

She flings her arms around him to break her stride and he gladly catches her. It’s unmistakably him. She knows. Deep down she knows. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers in her ear. “I’m so sorry. I never should have left. I should have been here.”

She could say I know or I told you so, but she doesn’t. She simply holds on tight. Tears fall yet again, but this time they’re because she’s happy. The stars have aligned and she’s just so happy.

And that was the moment she knew.

[snake-berry]

lately i've been feeling like deathly hallows ron

[randomguyonline71]

Imagine reading dh and we open next chapter after Malfoy Manor in Ron's pov, we are all excited until we realize, it's Hermione's last moments in the arms of the man she loves. Imagine how heartbreaking it would be but also, could of been amazing at same time.

That would probably have made me put down the book for a good while, before finally returning to it to finish it.

But my heart wouldn't be able to take it. Like Ron, it would have broken me completely. And from his POV, god that would be so heartbreaking. But it would make for some great pages.

Thank you for the ask anon

[be11atrixthestrange]

The Loft 8

After a bad break-up, Hermione Granger moves into a messy and dysfunctional loft with four single men. What starts as a temporary home until she gets back on her feet becomes so much more, as she learns there's a lot of life - and love - that happens at rock-bottom.

Inspired by the TV Series ‘New Girl’

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

Also on A03 | FFN

More Chapters

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In a crazy turn of events, I updated The Loft after 2 years... :)

Chapter 8

A watched egg never cooks. Is that the saying? Ron doesn’t know — he’s terrible at idioms and shit. If it’s not a saying, it’s definitely accurate. 

He stands in front of the stove, waiting for his egg to fry. It’s taking forever, and he’s tempted to just leave it there, but maybe then he’d burn the whole loft down. That, or Vicky would eat it. 

Vicky’s here this morning, just like he was here yesterday morning. And the morning before that. It almost feels like they have another roommate, one that doesn’t pay rent and that Ron didn’t choose. Well, he didn’t choose Hermione either, but that worked out. Sort of. 

Ever since Hermione and Victor became ‘official’, they’ve spent almost every waking moment together. Ron comes home after work, Krum is here. He wakes up in the morning, Krum is still here. The only time Krum seems to spend outside of the apartment is between the hours of 9-5, and one hour at night, 8-9 pm, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. 

Whenever Ron has asked where he goes, he gets all weird and quiet. Whenever he asks Hermione, she doesn’t seem to know or care. 

“Honestly, Ron, it’s important for couples to spend time apart.”

“But Hermione, do you know where he goes?”

“No, because I respect his privacy.”

Why is Vicky the only one in this loft entitled to privacy? He often wonders when someone empties the laundry machine and leaves a trail of socks and underwear across the living room floor, or late at night when he can hear his roommates’ beds creaking, knowing they brought home a companion, a poor soul who has no idea how thin the walls are. 

It begs the question, what kind of dark shit is Krum getting up to between the hours of 8 and 9pm on Tuesdays and Thursdays if he can’t even tell his girlfriend about it?

Maybe he has an embarrassing hobby. Or a gambling addiction. Or a second girlfriend. 

Ron tries to ignore his heart’s fluttering in response to the last thought. What sort of friend would hope for that kind of thing?

“You might want to turn the stove on,” comes a gruff voice, interrupting Ron’s thoughts. “Or your egg will never cook.”

With a groan, Ron flicks on the burner. 

“Are you okay?” asks Krum as he takes a seat at the kitchen counter. “You seem distracted.”

Ron glances back at his unwelcome roommate. His thick robe hangs loosely around his waist, forming a deep v neck that exposes Krum’s chiseled pecs and chest hair. Why can’t the dude just cover himself up a bit? 

“M’fine.”

“Okay then. Look, I’m going to be out of town for the weekend—”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” interrupts Ron. 

“Sorry?”

“You don’t even live here, so you don’t have to tell us when you’ll be out.”

Ron keeps his back to Krum as he lets the awkward pause wash over. Sure, maybe he should be nicer to the guy, but someone should gently tell him he’s overstaying his welcome. Hermione won’t. 

“I was just going to ask if I could keep my car out front. Sometimes I get towed if I leave it out at my apartment—”

“Yeah. That’s fine.”

“Great,” says Krum as he rises to his feet and turns back toward Hermione’s room. “Thanks.”

“Where are you going this weekend?”

“Nowhere.” The sound of Hermione’s door closing punctuates Krum’s response.

Hmm. Very odd. 

Moments later, Harry appears from his bedroom door, still disheveled in his pajamas. “What’s got you down?”

“Vicky.”

“What about Viktor?”

“I’m telling you, he’s giving me the creeps.”

Harry chuckles. “Since when?”

“The cabin trip we all went on.”

Harry lets a full laugh escape, as he responds. “You’re ridiculous. He never bothered you before.”

“I think he’s cheating on Hermione.”

Harry’s eyes narrow and glances toward Hermione’s bedroom. “She doesn’t deserve that, but how do you know?”

“Gut feeling.”

“Ron—”

“I think if I went to his place, I’d find proof.” Ron raises an eyebrow at his friend, who violently shakes his head. 

“No.”

“Please come with me? I’ll give you free beer.”

“No. Plus you always give me free beer.”

Ron shrugs. “I’m going alone then. He’ll be out of town this weekend, and it’s the perfect opportunity to just check in.”

Harry groans. “You’re going to force my hand aren’t you?”

“Just come with me and make sure I don’t do anything unreasonable?”

“Going in the first place is unreasonable.”

“Still gonna do it.” 

Ron knows that Harry can’t resist a little bit of mischief, so all he has to do is wait him out. Ninety percent of the unreasonable things Ron has done in his life have involved his best friend.

Like clockwork, Harry raises an eyebrow. “Okay. When are you going?”

“Tomorrow morning, after Krum leaves town.”

Harry groans. “You know this is a terrible idea?”

“Yes. But I don’t care.”

“We’re not going to do anything illegal, right?”

Ron imagines what exactly they’ll do tomorrow — show up at Krum’s apartment and just open the door? If Vicky’s dumb enough to leave his door unlocked while he’s out of town, then sure. But he’s definitely not dumb. If he was, Hermione would be staying far far away from him, and yet, here they are. It won’t be the first time Ron has snuck into a window. He was a horny teenager with a girlfriend and strict parents before, and crowbars are quite effective. 

“No, of course we won’t do anything illegal.”

Harry nods. “Then fine,” he says, the reluctance in his voice rather light. 

“Knew I could count on you.”

x

It doesn’t take long for Ron and Harry to locate Viktor’s address — the internet is a wonderful invention. They pull up to his street and emerge from the car. On Ron’s back is a bag equipped with a crowbar, a rope, and a clipboard. Ron’s found that holding a clipboard is the best way to look like you’re supposed to be there.

“None of this makes sense, mate.”

“Sure it does.” 

As Ron shuffles along the pavement of an unfamiliar neighborhood, Harry trots behind him in an effort to keep up. 

“You have no evidence that he’s cheating.”

“That’s why we’re doing this. To find some.”

“Ugh.”

Harry and Ron eventually stumble to the front porch of Viktor Krum’s duplex. It is larger than expected, but slightly run-down. The grass in the front lawn needs to be mowed, and on the front porch sit two pots that once housed plants, maybe. By the looks of it, no one has watered them in years. The paint is peeling off of the siding, and one of the stairs on the front stoop has rotted through. Even though their loft is still rather dumpy, Viktor’s makes it look like a castle. 

“No wonder he’s always staying at our apartment.”

Ron peers around to the side of the house. A cracked window reveals an unmade bed inside. From his research, Ron knows that Krum lives in the first apartment on the left. 

“We’re going in through the window.”

“Breaking and entering, cool,” grumbles Harry. 

“Just entering. No need to break.”

Harry and Ron tiptoe across the overgrown grass and when they reach the window, it takes both of them to wedge it up high enough for them to fit through. Harry props Ron up and he slithers head-first into Viktor Krum’s bedroom. Harry follows, and both boys land in a thud on the carpet of the darkened room.

“You’d think he’d be able to afford a nicer place,” says Ron. 

“Maybe he’s saving for an engagement ring or something,” sniggers Harry.

“Fuck mate, why would you say that?”

“To watch you squirm.”

Harry and Ron get to searching Krum’s apartment, flipping over couch cushions and rummaging through bookshelves looking for something — anything — that might belong to a girl who isn’t Hermione. Jewelry, clothing, makeup, perfume. One sniff and Ron would surely be able to tell if the perfume is hers. 

“What’s this?” Harry’s voice travels from a smaller room attached to the living area. Ron peers inside to find a cluttered desk next to a bookshelf. Lining the shelf is a collection of Agatha Christie and Stephen King novels, and writing utensils galore. Harry is standing at the desk with a thick binder in his hands. “I think it’s a story.”

“Let me read it.” Ron yanks the binder from Harry’s hands and turns to a random page. 

“She was dead. So very dead. The way her bushy brown hair splayed across the ground and nearly blended in with the fallen leaves made her look so natural in that state, like she was finally at peace. But her eyes were open, revealing the look of shock in her face. But there was something else there. Recognition. Betrayal. 

Her hand still clutched the stab wound in her stomach, and Special Agent Reid knew that her stomach lining wasn’t the only thing that had recently been broken. So had her heart. 

Clearly, she knew her killer. And most likely, if statistics proved to be true — and Spencer Reid always trusted statistics — it was her lover.”

“What the fuck is this?” splutters Ron.

Harry laughs. “I don’t know, but I’d be embarrassed if someone found that at my desk. I think he’s just writing. Special Agent Reid is a character on Criminal Minds.”

“Yeah, and the dead girl with bushy brown hair is clearly Hermione.”

“It appears to be fanfiction.”

Who the fuck writes fanfiction? “Oddly specific fanfiction.”

“I don’t think it’s anything to be concerned about,” shrugs Harry. “It’s probably just a creative outlet.”

“She was killed by her lover, Harry.”

“We should probably go,” says Harry. “I’m nervous someone saw us sneaking in here, and we can’t find what we’re looking for.”

Can’t find what we’re looking for? What the fuck is he talking about? “Harry, we’ve found something much worse than what we’re looking for.”

“Fanfiction?”

“No, evidence that he thinks about killing Hermione.”

“He doesn’t think about that, Ron. He’s just writing.”

“Why aren’t you more concerned about this?”

“Honestly?” Harry shrugs. “Because he’s not a bad guy. He treats Hermione well. He’s kind. And we just discovered an embarrassing secret of his and should probably keep it to ourselves.”

“Don’t you think we should tell her and let her decide if it’s concerning?”

“Hermione’s a grown woman who can take care of herself.”

Ron sighs. He pulls his phone from his pocket and snaps a picture of the open page of Krum’s story. “Well I’m going to tell her.”

“How are you going to explain why we were in his apartment?”

“Dunno.”

“Want my opinion, Ron?”

No. Not really. Ron decides not to answer, but Harry continues anyway. 

“Leave her alone. It really feels like you want him to be cheating on her. Or to, I dunno, be plotting to murder her.” He gestures to the binder when he emphasizes the word. “See how ridiculous it sounds when I say it?”

Ron has to admit that Harry has a point. 

“I know you care about her, so stop sabotaging your friendship by meddling in her relationship.”

Ron grunts. “When did you become so good at relationships?”

Harry gets a strange look in his eye. “Well, if you must know—”

“No, I don’t need to know,” grumbles Ron, as the memory of Harry and Ginny holding hands flashes across his mind. 

“Fair enough,” says Harry with a smile. “Let’s get out of here before we get caught?”

“Yeah,” agrees Ron . Probably a good idea. 

x

Hours later, Ron is cleaning glasses at the Burrow while Harry sits across from him at the bar, picking at a pile of french fries in front of him. “I still can’t believe we snuck into his house.”

“I can,” says Ron with a shrug. Honestly, it felt a lot like storming Cormac for Hermione’s belongings when she first moved in. Some people make Ron want to throw logic out the window. 

“You’re an awful influence, Ron.”

No, Hermione’s the awful influence. Ron turns to stack newly washed glasses on the shelf at the back of the bar. He is definitely being unreasonable. Hermione, in no way shape or form, caused him to break into Krum’s apartment. It was his concern for her that did. Because he cares. Plus, even if Harry doesn’t agree, if you ask Ron, they found what they were looking for. 

“Hello, roommates.” Hermione’s voice echoes from the front door. It’s only three o’clock, and the bar doesn’t pick up until later, and the lack of people in the room makes Hermione’s presence seem all that much stronger. 

“Oh, hi Hermione,” says Ron.

“Hey, Hermione. Good to see ya,” says Harry. “Also, I’m going to be late to meet Gin, so see you back at the loft later—”

“I didn’t know you were hanging out with Ginny today.”

Harry pushes his half-eaten french fries out of the way and rises to his feet. “Bye!” 

Hermione takes his empty chair, and both of them watch Harry scuffle out the front door with an extra pep in his step. 

“That was weird,” says Hermione with a shrug. 

“Yeah.”

She pulls Harry’s plate of french fries closer to her, and plucks at one. “So what did you two do today?”

“Nothing, really.”

“Really? I just didn’t see either of you at the loft.”

Ron avoids her eye contact and shrugs. “Guy stuff.”

“Right,” she says, while she cocks her head to the side, studying him. “So are you working till close?”

“Yep.” Ron feels a pang of guilt at how terse his answers are. Ever since the cabin, he’s been quite short with her. He tells himself he’s just giving her space, but deep down, he knows it goes beyond that. 

Hermione persists. “Mind if I hang out here for a while? Obviously Ginny’s busy with Harry and Viktor’s gone for the weekend.”

“Sure,” he says. Then, willing himself to keep the conversation flowing, he adds “You still don’t know where Viktor is this weekend?”

Hermione hesitates before answering. “Just on a trip.”

So she does know where he is? Or maybe she doesn’t and it worries her.  

Overwhelmed with a desire to come clean, Ron turns back to her. “Can I tell you something, and you promise you won’t get mad at me?”

Hermione seems to brighten at the fact that his answer is longer than one word. “No, I can’t promise that, Ron. But please tell me.”

Ron groans. He shouldn’t say anything. But he does. “He gives me a weird vibe. Something’s off.”

“Of course he does,” says Hermione, rolling her eyes. 

“What does that mean?” asks Ron, his defenses rising. 

“Seriously, Ron?” she asks, her voice incredulous. “Tell me, Ron, see that guy in the booth?”

Ron follows her gesture to one of the only other patrons currently in the bar — a middle aged man reading a book and sipping an IPA. “Yes.” “Does he give you a weird vibe?”

“No, not really.”

“If I were to walk over to him and snog him, would he then give you a weird vibe?”

What kind of question is that? “Yes, but because he’s willing to snog a stranger in a bar—”

“You’re not willing to snog strangers at bars?” Ron’s mind darts back to Lavender. Sure, he was willing to snog strangers at bars, but they all know how that turned out. 

“Okay, what are you saying?”

“I know we’re dancing around it Ron. It’s the elephant in the room.”

The hair on Ron’s arm tingles as it stands on edge. The last thing he expects is for Hermione to actually name the elephant in the room. Does this mean she’s about to shut him down once and for all? Tell him she’s happy with Krum? And that he should fuck off? Well, Fuck. 

“Okay, but—”

“I love being your friend and your roommate, I’m in a stable relationship, and not willing to change that right now.”

Shit. 

Hermione continues. “Will Viktor and I marry each other? Probably not. But at this point in my life, this is what I need.”

So, Hermione thinks Ron is pining uncontrollably for her? Is that how it is? “I didn’t break up with Lavender because of you, you know.”

“Oh, I know.”

Does she know, though? 

“And that is not why Krum gives me a vibe.”

She laughs. “Okay, why then?”

Ron groans. He really shouldn’t show her. Even if she thinks he found it at the loft, she’d probably just get angry at him for going through his things. But, for some reason, he can’t resist. “I found this today.”

Ron pulls his phone from his pocket and clicks through his photos. When the photo of Krum’s little story surfaces, he slides his phone to her across the bar. 

Hermione picks it up and her eyebrows narrow to the text. “Where did you find this, Ron?”

What can he say? On his desk. In his apartment. The one I broke into earlier. “He left it out,” says Ron. It’s technically not a lie. 

“That’s an invasion of his privacy,” says Hermione, coldly. 

“Does it not concern you?”

Hermione shrugs. “Honestly, no, it doesn’t. He’s already shown me.”

“What?”

Hermione contemplates before giving up more details. “He’s taking a creative writing class, and this was one of his assignments,” she says, gesturing to Ron’s phone. “To write a fanfiction story from his favorite show. And he loves Criminal Minds.”

“Are you serious?” Harry was fucking right.

“Yes, it’s what he does every Tuesday and Thursday night. And that’s where he is now, actually, at a writing retreat.”

“So he’s like… serious about writing?”

Hermione shrugs. 

“It doesn’t bother you that you’re the dead girl in that story?”

“Not really, no.”

“And that you were killed by your lover?”

Hermione laughs but shakes her head. 

“It’s not very good.” He’s definitely grasping at straws now. 

“I know that,” says Hermione. Ron’s pleasantly surprised that she agrees with him. 

“Why does he do it?”

“He enjoys it. Isn’t that enough?” Finishing off Harry’s old fries, Hermione wipes her hand on a napkin. “Can I have a cream ale?”

“Sure,” says Ron as he reaches for a pint glass. “So you’re confident that he doesn’t want to kill you?”

Hermione laughs. “No, he doesn’t, thank god.”

“He’s not going to break your stomach lining and then your heart?”

“Okay,” groans Hermione. “Don’t be mean.”

Ron hands her the dripping cream ale. She smiles and takes it from him, her cheeks tinging pink with what Ron presumes is secondhand embarrassment. Honestly, it’s quite nice that she supports him, even though his hobby is a bit weird. It’s what Ron would call a green flag. Krum is a lucky bastard.

“My heart isn’t breakable right now, anyway,” she adds, before taking a sip of the foam layer at the top of her beer.

Ron cocks an eyebrow. 

“Still have too many walls up, you know.”

“Oh I know, you’re a total ice queen.”

Hermione laughs, and Ron feels himself relax. It was a tough few days of not speaking freely with her. 

“Thank you for talking to me. I missed having you as my friend,” she says. 

The way she emphasizes friend sits strangely with Ron. As though she’s dictating the specific role she wants him to play right now. For some reason, it doesn’t feel quite like being friendzoned, and he can’t figure out why. There’s something temporary about the way she says friend. 

Or is he reading way too much into that? He doesn’t want to be her friend. And yet, he loves being her friend. How does that even make sense? 

“Right,” says Ron, cautiously. “So if I wanted to write bad fanfiction, would you support me? As a friend?”

“Of course!” says Hermione cheerfully. “I’d beta read for you.”

“Well then, maybe I’ll take up the habit. Show you I have other talents besides giving you free beer and being your attractive roommate.”

Hermione rolls her eyes, yet a smile graces her lips. “I bet you’d be a good writer,” she says as she gulps down the last of her beer.

“Maybe you’ll find out. Want another beer?”

“Sure!”

Ron pulls her glass away and refills it under the tap. This is definitely the weirdest friendship he has. But he’ll play along. 

For now. 

x

It is far too late when Ron finally makes it home from the bar, and as much as he wants to sleep, he’s too wired from his conversation before. He strips down to his boxers and collapses into the bed. Although he would love to continue talking with Hermione, there are no signs of life in any of the bedrooms, so it’s a safe bet that everyone in the loft is asleep. 

Ron turns to his side and reaches his phone on his bedside table. Without a second thought, he starts typing away. Hopefully Hermione has her text notifications on silent. There is no reason she can’t have two story tellers in her life. 

“She was about 5’6, had brown eyes, and wore a Hamilton t-shirt. She loved to watch romantic comedies and was a total coffee snob, even though she couldn’t tell the difference between a cappuccino and a latte. Her sultry gaze and bushy brown hair splayed wildly out at all angles, making her appear like a sexy medusa. In fact she could turn you rock hard in an instant. She had her whole life ahead of her. Or so she thought…”

Before he can overthink it, Ron presses send. 

His heart rate quickens as he stares at his message. She’s asleep, so there is no way she’ll see it until tomorrow morning—

Then, three little dots appear at the bottom of his screen, and his palms begin to sweat. Oh shit. 

“Oh my god, Ron, what is this?”

Well, he’s committed now. 

“Little did she know, her life as she knew it was about to end. In walked a man, about 6’5, bright red hair, and a pale, yet chiseled adonis-like body. Nothing like her current boyfriend, but everything she wished her current boyfriend could be. He didn’t waste time writing fanfiction and playing sports, and instead crafted beautiful cocktails from the basement dive bar, was quite broke, and regularly forgot to do his laundry. Like a REAL MAN.”

Hermione is quicker to respond this time. “You’re ridiculous. But keep going please.”

Yes, ma’am. “And he wasn’t just a sex god. He was also a… dun dun dun… MURDERER.”

“LMAO. This is so mean. But I’m laughing so hard.”

Ron continues typing away. “She knew all of this. And yet, she still wanted him. She didn’t care if it was her last night on earth, because she knew it would be her best night on earth. And that was all she needed.”

“OMG now you’re getting carried away.”

She’s not wrong, yet something urges him to keep going. “She entered his apartment, so he could enter HER.”

Yeah, maybe he is getting carried away, but it’s fun, so what’s the harm? Plus, she promised to support his creative writing journey. 

While waiting for Hermione’s response, Ron’s bedroom door bursts open, and Hermione stomps across the room. Her face is flushed and Ron can tell she is trying to hide a smile. “Phone, please?” she asks, her arm extended.

“No, I’m writing a story!”

Hermione stands her ground. “You’ve lost your phone privileges.”

“But I’m going to be the next Stephen King.”

Hermione lets out a laugh and dives onto the bed, wrestling his hand for his phone. She braces her knees on either side of him, pinning him between her legs. Ron makes a show of struggling, but as much as he wants to keep her there forever, he eventually lets her win. 

“Fine,” he says, handing over his phone. 

It only takes a moment for them to pause, limbs entangled, for Ron’s mind to run wild. How easy would it be for him to turn the moment serious? He could wrap an arm around her waist and pin her to him. He doubts she’d resist. She has a boyfriend, but she also seems surprisingly comfortable with her arms draped around Ron’s body. She knows he’s only wearing boxers under the covers, right?

They linger there for a moment that solidifies Ron’s inkling from before. She bites her lip, her eyes dart down toward the covers. The way she doesn’t immediately jump off of the bed when she notices that he’s in his underwear suggests that the friendzone is an arbitrary construct. 

Ron steadies his voice in an effort to hide his rising heart beat.  “Careful, Hermione. I’m a sex god with a habit for murder.” 

Yeah, took one second for him to fuck that up. 

“I fucking hate you,” she says, as she wrangles herself back up, his phone in her hand. “You are most definitely not a killer.” 

Yeah, it took one second for him to fuck that up. However, Ron’s stomach flutters at the sound of her swearing. She hardly ever cusses, only when she’s with him. “Right, but am I a sex god?”

Hermione laughs. “I wouldn’t know, would I?”

Ron raises an eyebrow. “Care to find out?” 

Maybe he shouldn’t have had that whiskey shot at the end of his shift. He’s acting a bit too bold. 

“I have a boyfriend.”

Her answer echoes in Ron’s mind. He doesn’t miss the way Hermione averts her gaze, and her cheeks flush red.

“I know. We’ve established that.” Then, with a inhale to gain courage, he adds, “But if you didn’t?”

Maybe Ron imagines it, but a look flashes across her eyes, and the corners of her lips turn up in a smile. She shakes her head as if to halt the beginning of a fantasy before it runs wild. “I really should sleep. Goodnight, Ron.”

“Night, Hermione.”

Ron grins as she turns and leaves the room, fully aware that she never answered his question.

[hinnyfied]

Anna

Hermione's relationship with her parents was permanently altered after the war. As they celebrate Rose Granger-Weasley's eleventh birthday, old wounds are reopened.

Read on AO3 here or continue below

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

The small silver spoon tinkled softly against porcelain as Hermione sat at her parents’ dining table, stirring a dash of sugar into her teacup. It was pink with a delicate trim of white roses, not unlike the ones she had loved dearly as a child. Hermione glanced up at her mother across the table, wondering with a guilty pang if perhaps she had done her best to replace them with a close match when they moved back to England.

Anna Granger, meanwhile, gazed lovingly at her granddaughter, Rose, as she ripped at the bright purple wrapping paper covering her birthday gift, slowly unveiling the present within. Hermione watched as her daughter pulled out a box bearing a picture of some sort of electronic device and the words Nintendo Switch emblazoned on the front.

“No fair, I want one!” cried Hugo from across the table.

“I’m sure your sister is happy to share, aren’t you darling?” Anna asked sweetly. Rose, however, was too busy looking utterly perplexed to properly appreciate her present.

“Will this work at Hogwarts?” she asked with furrowed brows. It was of no surprise to Hermione that this was her first question. Rose would be departing for her first year at the school in a few months time and had spoken of little else in the weeks leading up to her eleventh birthday.

“I’m afraid not sweetheart, but won’t it be so fun to use when you’re home visiting?” Hermione asked encouragingly, painfully aware of the way her mother’s jaw had suddenly tightened.

Rose grinned widely. “Yes, it will. Thank you!” She got up from the table and hugged both her grandparents tightly.

“That means I can use it while you’re away!” Hugo declared excitedly.

“You’d better not break it,” Rose said sternly. “I’ll know how to hex you when I get home if you do.”

“Can’t do magic at home, Rosie,” Hugo teased in a sing-songy voice.

Hermione’s mother got up quite suddenly from the table, picking up plates with remnants of birthday cake on them and taking them over to the kitchen sink as Rose and Hugo bickered back and forth. There was a stiffness in her movements.

“Why don’t we go play outside?” Ron suggested to the kids with a quick, knowing glance at Hermione.

“That sounds fun,” Hermione’s dad added jovially as he clapped his hands together, equally eager to distract the children from their spat. “How about I join you and we play a game of tag – we’ll see if I can outrun your dad.”

“Dibs on tagging first!” Hugo yelled before running to the back door, swinging it open and disappearing into the back garden, his grandfather not far behind him.

“Thank you again for the present, Gran,” Rose called back into the house as she followed them out to the garden. Ron gave Hermione a kiss on the cheek and squeezed her hand reassuringly. He shut the door behind him a moment later, leaving Hermione alone with her mother.

The kitchen was quietly tense, Hermione still rooted to her seat at the table while Anna furiously scrubbed at the dessert plates one by one.

“That’s a really nice gift, Mum. Thank you,” Hermione said tentatively, clutching her teacup.

“Is it? Even though she can’t take it with her to…that school in the fall?”

Hermione winced. The poorly masked resentment in her mother’s voice raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

“It’ll be more special then, since she’ll only be able to use it when she’s home for the holidays. She’ll enjoy it for much longer.”

Anna nodded stiffly, scrubbing even harder at a plate that looked perfectly clean to Hermione. She felt she ought to say something, but found herself lost for words.

Clink. Another plate set into the drying rack.

“She doesn’t have to go, you know,” Hermione’s mother said in a measured tone, breaking the silence. “I know she’s different, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t do perfectly well at a normal school.”

“Of course she’d do well at another school, but Hogwarts is what’s best for someone like her.”

“Someone like you.”

“Yes.” Hermione felt herself growing defensive. “Someone like us.”

“So that settles it,” Anna’s voice shook. “I’m going to lose her, too.”

Hermione’s heart sank.

“Too?” she asked breathlessly. “Mum, you haven’t–”

“Don’t.” Anna dropped a plate into the sink with a crash and gripped the edge of the counter angrily. “You left us behind from the very moment you first set foot on that train. You couldn’t wait to go, and now neither can Rosie.”

“I was just a child who was excited to be somewhere with people like me, and so is she.” Hermione clutched her cup more tightly, taking a deep breath. Her heartbeat quickened, anxiety and anger coiling up within her, intertwining like a two-headed viper.

“I suppose you were just a child, then, when you chose to spend nearly all your holidays away, feeding us lies about studying while you went off to play soldier. I may be a Muggle, but I’m not a fool.”

“I was trying to do the right thing. You have no idea the things I was dealing with.”

“Yes, well, you made sure of that, and look where it’s got us.”

“You don’t get to pin this all on me,” Hermione said with as much composure as she could muster. “I was in a living hell after the war, and I needed you, but you wouldn’t come back for me.”

“We came back for you when it was the right time.”

“You came home when you had a grandchild on the way. That was not for me.”

“And whose choice was it, that we had somewhere to come home from?”

Hermione’s lip began to tremble as she felt hot, angry tears well up in her eyes.

“That’s not fair.” Blood pounded in Hermione’s ears. Her hands began to shake. “I did what I had to do to protect you.”

“You did what you had to do to get us out of the way,” her mother said bitterly, tears now pouring down her cheeks.

Hermione parted her lips to retort, when she was interrupted by a timid voice.

“Are you fighting?” Rose stood in the doorway to the garden, her eyes wide with concern.

Anna quickly wiped her cheeks and plastered a big smile on her face.

“No no, darling, we were just…talking about some grownup things.”

Hermione couldn’t stay in the room a moment longer; full-blown panic threatened to overtake her. She got up from the table and marched down the hall into the bathroom, refusing to let her daughter see her tears. As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, they began to stream down her face, and her chest heaved with silent sobs.

It had been this way ever since her parents regained their memories – uncomfortable, distant. Hermione had accepted long ago that their relationship was irreparably damaged, and she was kicking herself for still letting it get to her all these years later. They’re good grandparents, and the children love them, she thought to herself. Just be grateful for that.

There was a gentle knock on the bathroom door. Hermione took a few steadying breaths, wiped the tears from her face, and opened it to find Ron on the other side. No words were spoken. He simply took one look at her and pulled her into a hug.

“Let’s go home,” he whispered in her ear as he held her tightly.

Hermione thought of their home together, the one filled with laughter, joy, chaos, and magic – a place where she could be herself with the people she loved most in the world. She looked up into Ron’s eyes, filled with affection for her not in spite of who she was, but because of it. She smiled softly.

“Yes, please.”

[nena-96]

Downpour

Microfic May 2023. prompt: Downpour. Character: Hermione

Falling to her knees in the muddy water, as she stares at the spot where he disapparated.

Her voice was raw from shouting his name. Yet it wasn’t enough to make him stay. 

Hermione didn’t care that she was caught under the downpour.

She just wanted Ron back, but how?

[ao3feed-romione]

Proof That I'm the Luckiest Man

Proof that I'm the luckiest man by Pain in the ass kuroo

Hermione was never bothered too much by her appearance but lately she can't seem to like the way she looks even if she knows she's being irrational. . . . Or Hermione is a bit insecure on the way her body looks after she gave birth and Ron makes her see how beautiful she is :)

This is my first post in ao3 so I apologize if it's a mess( also I have no idea how to use the tags:( )

Words: 1222, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley

Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley

Additional Tags: Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46838140

[avalynlestrange]

Ron Weasley

Masterlist

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Back to The Library (Main Masterlist) To The Kitchen (WIPs)

Send me an owl post if you have a fic request.

Tone: ♡ Fluff ♥ Angst ❥ Suggestive Themes

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✿ Coming Soon

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