#romionefanfic

[trulymadlydeeplyfest]

💜It’s time for another TrulyMadlyDeeplyFest reveal!

💜“Happy Together” by Herochick007

💜Pairing: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley

💜Archive warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, R@pe/Non-Con

💜Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44244412

💜Summary: He imagined her and him, knowing they'd be happy together, if only she could see it that way

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 29

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer!

You can follow this story’s Instagram account at whenihaveyou.romione

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Chapter 29

Hermione emerged from the bathroom with four brochures and two maps in her hands. Her hair was still wet from having just washed it, and they hadn’t had breakfast, but already she was rattling off everything they were supposed to do on their first day in Croatia. 

Ron hadn’t known this until they’d checked in — well, Hermione had checked in, because he still wasn’t completely comfortable in dealing with Muggles in unfamiliar settings — but Hermione hadn’t just organised a hotel for their week away together. She had also organised things to do, booked tours, and scheduled in plenty of alone time, including dinners, visits to the beach, and times where nothing in particular was planned. 

She’d presented it to him before he’d even had a chance to set his bag down in the room (which, in Ron’s opinion, was very nice), beaming and excited about it all. In fact, she was so excited that Ron didn’t have the heart to tell her that he would have been happy with a whole week staying in the hotel room — so long as it was with her. 

“We have breakfast scheduled for seven o’clock every morning,” Hermione said, sitting on the bed with her nose still buried in the brochures. “Today, we’re going for a wander around the shops, then a walk down to the beach. And then — Ron!”

“What?” Ron said, tossing the brochures he’d just taken from her, off the bed and shrugging. “You talk too much.”

Hermione glared at him, but it seemed she could only maintain her anger for a few moments, for a smile played at the corners of her mouth. Ron beckoned her towards him so that he could kiss her. She happily obliged. 

“Why don’t we just wing it?” Ron suggested, pulling away from her. “We don’t need to plan everything.”

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but closed it again and nodded. “But I’ve already organised some stuff. Paid for it and everything…”

“That’s fine,” Ron said, “but everything else we don’t need to plan. We’ll just do… what we feel like. It’s a holiday, we aren’t trying to schedule study time in between classes. Long past those days.” 

Hermione grimaced, and Ron chuckled. “That’s going to be hard for you, isn’t it?” He leaned forward and kissed her again. “That’s why you have me.” 

“Well, when Mum and Dad took me on holiday, they always planned everything. Down to the finest details. Winging it, as you say… well, I’ve never done that before.” 

Ron laughed again. “Of course you haven’t. Have you ever — for anything?”

Hermione flushed. 

“Really, I love everything about you,” Ron said. “Including that part of you, but let’s just try to relax while we’re here, okay? I mean, maybe after exploring the city, we just won’t feel like... the beach today.” He picked up the stuff he’d thrown on the floor a moment ago and looked at her day one itinerary. “It’s cold out there.”

Hermione smiled at him. “Are you hungry?”

“When am I not hungry?” Ron said, and he climbed off the bed, making his way towards the bathroom. 

Hermione had chosen well with the hotel. It was a modern hotel that had been upgraded recently to fit all of the latest things in it — like a new bathroom, a larger television (which he’d had fun playing around with last night), and new carpet on the floor. 

It even had a large balcony that gave them an unobstructed view of the water and also of the many streets below. It truly was a beautiful place, and Ron was glad they had the chance to get away together where there’d be no interruptions and no discussions about their real lives. 

He couldn’t believe that this was their first actual holiday together. They were coming up to two years together. It seemed ridiculous that they’d not even escaped for a weekend before, let alone a whole week. 

Once he’d showered and dressed, they headed down to the ground floor where breakfast was being served. Ron was immediately impressed by the amount of food that was on offer, and according to Hermione, they could eat as much as they wanted. 

“For the whole week?” Ron asked as they were led to a table by the window.

“Yep!” Hermione said brightly. “Every morning we’re here.”

“I thought this was only offered at Hogwarts,” Ron muttered. 

“Humans can cook, too,” Hermione replied. She nodded towards the buffets where people were queued up waiting to get their food. “Come on.”

Ron had more fun than he should have, piling on bacon and eggs and toast and anything else he could fit onto his plate. Hermione showed him how to use the commercial toaster after receiving a few funny looks when he’d failed the first time, and soon he was back in his seat, enjoying the view, his food, and Hermione’s company. 

“You know,” he said, “I really wouldn’t be disappointed if we just stayed here all day.”

“They don’t serve food all day, Ron,” Hermione said, sounding amused.

“I don’t mean here, I meant the hotel. While you were showering, I was reading some information. They have a swimming pool, some kind of ‘games’ room — is that like the Muggle version of chess or something? — and all this other stuff. Who needs to explore when I have all I want or need back up in the room? I mean, so long as you’re there, of course, because you’re all I want or need.”

Hermione gave him that look where she was trying to be annoyed with him, but seemed to find his words flattering instead. “Wouldn’t that be boring?”

“With you there?” Ron asked. “Never.”

Hermione smiled. “Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d kind of like to get out and explore a little. See a place we haven’t been before. You know, before we have to go back to real life.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ron said, looking out the window. “I am, too. But a hotel room with you would also be nice.”

They took their time with breakfast, both going back for more, and then returned to the hotel room to finish getting ready. By nine-thirty, they were in the streets of the old city, awaiting the walking tour that Hermione had booked them. 

The city of Senj was small in comparison to other places Ron had been, but it was populated just enough to not be overwhelming. The main part of the city jutted out on a small bit of land (according to the maps Hermione had collected, anyway), their hotel sitting right by one of the beaches. It was a short walk into the heart of the city, where they now stood in a small crowd of other tourists. 

As they waited for the stragglers, the Croatian tour guide saying she needed three more people, Ron took note of who was already there, absently wondering if anyone else were wizards in disguise. He doubted it, for many of them were accompanied by Muggle contraptions such as cameras and video cameras and other things only a Muggle or Muggleborn would know how to use. In fact, Ron felt rather out of place by not having a camera. 

“Maybe we should have brought a camera or something,” he whispered to Hermione as the final three people — a middle-aged couple with a teenage son — showed up, apologising for their lateness. 

“I did,” Hermione said, and from within the backpack she carried, she pulled out a camera that looked very much like the one Colin Creevey had owned. 

“Good thinking!” Ron said, grinning. 

“We are being tourists this week,” Hermione said. “In all forms.”

There was no more time for talking, for the tour guide began by introducing herself as Petra and then going on to rattle off all the places or things they’d be seeing on their three hour walking tour. 

“Three hours?” Ron said to Hermione as they set off. 

“You’ve walked longer,” Hermione said. “Besides, this one will be more enjoyable.”

Ron doubted that, but an hour into it, he had to admit that it was fairly interesting. They stopped at many ancient buildings, where they were told the history or the purpose of it, and even though the tour guide didn’t realise it, Ron could spot the ones used by wizards in a heartbeat. He found those the most interesting — not because they were familiar, but because he enjoyed learning about them from a Muggle’s perspective. He now kind of understood why Hermione had been interested in doing Muggle studies at school. 

There were little charms and enchantments to some of them — as old as magic itself, almost — that only he and Hermione noticed. On one occasion, there was even a building that all the Muggles’ eyes brushed over, nor did the tour guide stop to talk about it. 

“Huh,” Ron said, nodding toward it, “disguised like St Mungo’s.”

The rest of the walking tour was enjoyable, but there was nothing else obviously magical about it (which was perfectly fine for Ron). They finished it where they’d started, the guide suggesting some nearby cafes that were good for a lunch stop. 

“Come on,” Hermione said, offering her hand out for Ron. “Let’s see what else is around. I noticed some little alleys we didn’t go down. Maybe there are some interesting things down there.”

Ron took her hand, and as everyone else began to separate, heading in various directions, Ron and Hermione found themselves down a little street where three cafes were located next to one another. As it was reaching the end of winter, people were sitting outside, taking advantage of the slightly warmer weather. 

“All that walking made me hungry,” Ron confessed. “And it’s almost one.”

“I’m a bit hungry, too,” Hermione said, so they entered one of the cafes, where they were greeted by an enthusiastic waiter, happily leading them to a table at the back of the shop. 

Before they were even seated, he began rattling off the specials in broken English so quickly that Hermione had to ask him to slow down. 

After he’d explained the menu again, Hermione cast a glance to Ron which made him rather nervous. He knew that look, and it was one he rarely saw, because it rarely occurred, but he could tell that for whatever reason, she had a spark of mischief about her. 

“Bring us your finest wine!” she told the waiter. “It doesn’t matter how much.”

“Hermione!” Ron admonished, staring at her. 

“What?” Hermione asked as the waiter scuttled away. “It’s a holiday, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but not one where we can afford to be… where we can… splurge.”

Hermione shrugged. “I think just this once, we can treat ourselves. And if we buy the whole bottle, we can take it back to the hotel.”

Ron just stared at her, knowing that he couldn’t change her mind. He supposed growing up with her parents, she’d learnt to be a little less cautious with how she spent her money. But she’d paid for this whole holiday, and now she was…

He sighed. “At least let me buy lunch. Just show me how.”

Hermione beamed. “Okayl!”

It ended up being a rather pleasant lunch. The wine wasn’t great, but he tolerated it for Hermione’s sake. Though, next time he would definitely prefer the goblin-made wine that he was used to. Well, really, he’d prefer a Butterbeer if he had a choice. 

The food wasn’t anything fancy, but pleasant, and after they’d finished and paid, they left with Hermione placing the remainder of the wine bottle in her bag. 

Ron cast a sideways glance at her, smirking. “Did you just want to get drunk?” he asked.

“What? No!” Hermione said through very flushed cheeks. Half the bottle had been emptied, and Ron had only had a very small glass. 

Ron grinned. 

“I just thought we could —”

“I’m just teasing,” Ron assured her, and he stopped on a bridge that overlooked a small channel of water. “Besides, you’re quite amusing when you drink too much. Not that you do it too often, but I think it’s cute.”

Hermione also stopped, turning to look up at him. Rather than looking upset or offended, she smiled. “I’m glad you picked me,” she said.

“What?” The abrupt change of topic surprised Ron, but perhaps it was the wine in her that was talking.

“Me,” Hermione said. “I mean… us. I’m glad it’s… us. You and me, together, happy, in love… at least I hope —”

“I’m so in love with you,” Ron said. “But you know that. I’ve told you a million times. You probably just can’t remember because you’re incapacitated right now…”

“I’m not!” Hermione protested, though her cheeks were very red now. “I’m just… I’m glad it’s me you’re in love with. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t there to… to pull me in sometimes. You know, remind me that there are other important things out there that don’t involve trying to be the best at something…” She smiled again. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Ron said. “Drunk, or not drunk —”

“Stop!” Hermione said, shoving him playfully in the chest and laughing. 

“This has been a good day,” Ron said, and they started walking again. 

“And it will be an amazing week,” Hermione added. She turned her head and smiled at him. “You really bring out the best in me, Ron.”

“No, I do —”

“Yes, you do!” Hermione argued. “I mean, work, having a job, it really brought out a bad side of me that I didn’t even know existed. A neglectful side, someone who couldn’t even prioritise a single day with her boyfriend over things that didn’t need to be done immediately. And it took you almost breaking up with me for me to even realise something was wrong.”

“I didn’t almost break up with you,” Ron said, brushing the topic aside. He’d thought they were done talking about this. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore. 

“Yes, you did,” Hermione said. “Well, you at least made it sound like you would, and I think that was a good thing, because it made me see a lot of things more clearly.”

“Like?” Ron prompted. He gripped her hand, squeezing it tightly. 

“Like how happy you make me, how you make me smile, and laugh, and make me feel loved… everything between us doesn’t feel forced at all. It never has. It’s always just been… things have happened exactly when they were supposed to for us. And you’ve helped me find a balance between all the good things — making sure that I don’t become obsessed with one thing or another. Thank you.”

They walked through the streets in silence, Ron unsure how to respond. What was he supposed to say to her other than ‘you’re welcome’? She’d made the effort herself and he loved her for it. He’d done nothing.

“It’s alright,” he said after a moment. “Let’s not spend this week dwelling on things that don’t matter anymore. That’s in the past. Let’s think about more important things.”

“Like what?” Hermione asked, her tone brightening. 

“Like what we’re going to do now,” Ron said, grinning at her. 

“Oh, yes, of course —”

Ron stopped walking again, turning to face her for a second time. They had found themselves down a little cobbled street with building that appeared more residential than business. He He took her hands in his. “And I suppose the next one hundred or so years I plan on spending with you.”

She laughed — probably something she wouldn’t have laughed at had she not had wine in her.

“And what do you see the next one hundred years entailing?” she questioned, and he sensed genuine curiosity in her voice. Her brown eyes peered up at him eagerly, waiting for an answer.

Ron didn’t know what possessed him to blurt it out. But she was looking at him with such tenderness, like she already knew… “Everything, I guess. But I do know — I’ve known from the moment you kissed me for that very first time, really — with one hundred and ten percent certainty that we will last. And one day soon, I’m going to ask you to marry me, and I just hope that you say yes when I do.”

His words surprised Hermione, because her eyes widened momentarily, but she disguised it well with a smile. Still holding hands, it was her turn to squeeze back. “That will be my only answer,” she assured him.

Ron grinned. “Good. I’m glad.”

Her smile grew and for a moment, they just stood in the street, holding hands and looking at one another. 

He didn’t know what was going through Hermione’s head, but for Ron, all he could now think about was just how far away ‘one day soon’ was going to be. 

[cheesyficwriter]

Find Me Under the Waterfall (chapter 2)

by cheesyficwriter

A chance encounter during an all-inclusive resort stay brings Ron and Hermione together, and they embark on a blissful week in paradise. Muggle AU.

Words: 4k, Chapters: 2/9, Language: English

Fandom: Harry Potter - J.K. Rowling

Rating: M (for mature themes, language and sexual content)

Categories: F/M

Characters/Relationship: Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger

AO3

FFN

This multi-chap fic is an extension of a previous drabble of mine, which you can read here

[firethecanonsfanfiction]

Safe In Your Arms

Title: Safe In Your Arms

Pairings/Characters: Ron/Hermione

Summary:  Ron and Hermione find each other immediately after the war.

Prompts: For @chudleycanonficfest

Warnings: Canon mentions of war

Originally published: August 8, 2021 on Fanfiction.net, ao3 and Tumblr

Reposted: N/A

The setting sun over Hogwarts was not its usual beautiful, picturesque image that Hermione had once enjoyed watching. Tonight, it was dark. There was no joy from watching it slowly set. The sky wasn’t an orange, or a purple, or even a dark blue. It was just black. Bleak and black, like how she felt.  

She remembered sitting in this very room and peering out at the rolling hills and mountains and the still lake as the sky drifted between oranges and purples, before  it eventually settled into a deep, starry blue. 

Many nights she’d stayed awake to complete homework, or study, or go over notes to make sure she’d understood what they’d learnt that day. 

Given what had just happened, it almost seemed laughable. What she’d give to go back to the simpler times where her biggest concern had been whether adding an extra sentence to an essay would boost her mark up to one hundred and ten percent. 

She was tired. No, that was an understatement; she was exhausted. Drained of energy, surviving on the smallest amount of sleep, yet her brain ticked overtime as she relived every moment of the past twenty-four hours. This time yesterday they were sneaking into Hogwarts, readying to commence for the last battle. This time yesterday, she had no idea whether she’d even live to see the sunset tonight. 

Many hadn’t, but she had. She might not feel like it right now, but she was living, she was breathing… she was alive. 

And so was Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna… they were all safe and well.

She’d come up to Gryffindor Tower without the notice of the others. They were too busy grieving for their fallen brother. She wouldn’t have been surprised if she didn’t see Ron or Harry until the morning, or perhaps the next morning. 

After it had happened — after Voldemort had died — Harry had just about collapsed. He didn’t speak, he didn’t move. He just sunk against the wall and stared, speaking to no one.

Many times in the hours that followed, Hermione considered going to him. Did he need comfort? Did he need his friends? But she thought Ron was right. He said he thought Harry just needed time. So, time would be what she’d give him. 

She’d spent some of her time helping to fix superficial wounds on students and others, but when she could do no more, she joined the Weasleys. The family huddled together, all with tears rolling down her cheeks. Even Ron, who she’d rarely seen cry before; even he seemed unable to control his emotions.

For a while, she sat with him, holding his hands to offer comfort. But he needed to be with his family, not her. So, she’d come up to the only other place that brought her comfort.

And there she’d stayed, watching as the sun sank lower into the sky until it disappeared all together. Soon, the first full day without Voldemort would be upon them. What were they going to do?

She’d just contemplated the idea of heading up the staircase to return to the bed she’d not slept in for over a year, when the sound of someone climbing through the portrait hole had her turning. 

She knew who it was the minute she saw the tuft of red hair peek through the hole, and she couldn’t help but smile a little. It was small, but it was a smile. 

“Hey.” 

Ron looked utterly defeated. It was the first time she’d looked at him properly. His tears had dried up, but his face was covered in scratches he’d refused to let her heal. Dirt smeared every inch of skin, and his clothes were torn. 

A real warrior, she couldn’t help but think. He’d been amazing.

“Hey.” The word came out choked and she realised she hadn’t spoken in hours. 

“I wondered where you got to.” Ron seemed to hesitate for a moment before taking the five steps he needed to reach her. 

“I just needed some time to myself,” she answered. “To think.”

It seemed to be enough for Ron, for he nodded. 

Hermione gazed up at him and their eyes locked for longer than what she’d usually be comfortable with. He’d always looked at her in a way that no one else had; as if he truly understood what she was thinking and feeling. He didn’t always have the ability to express that understanding in a dignified way, which had frustrated her for years, but she knew that he got her. Better than most, anyway. 

And maybe she understood him, too, because she knew what was going through his mind as they looked at each other. In the midst of all that had happened, with everything that had unfolded over the past twenty-four hours, she’d kissed him.

It had been a spur of the moment decision, something that she really hadn’t put much thought into, but something she didn’t regret. She’d wanted to do it for longer than she cared to admit to herself, and it had felt like the right time. If one of them were to die that night, at least they’d die knowing how the other felt. 

Finally. 

Staring at him with such intensity made her want to kiss him again. But she refrained, knowing that both of them smelt of blood and death. Nor did either of them probably have the energy to so much as bring their faces close enough to each other to actually do it. 

It was Ron who broke the gaze, turning to the window she’d been looking out before he’d found her. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

“No.” It was the honest answer, but one he’d understand. 

“Neither.”

Hermione offered her hand to him, and he took it. She smiled, and he returned it, though it was pained. “I’m so sorry about Fred,” she whispered. “I can’t believe —”

“Yeah… yeah.” He squeezed her hand, and then he tugged on it lightly. He indicated the armchairs by the fireplace that she, Ron and Harry had spent much of their time sitting in. She followed him willingly, both of them somehow managing to squeeze onto one.

She was rudely aware of how poorly he smelled, and then felt shameful over the fact that she must have been the same. 

But he didn’t seem to mind, for he placed an arm across her shoulders, drawing her to him. Her head fell against his shoulder and there they stayed. Hermione didn’t know for how long, but she was woken to sunlight and the feel of calloused fingers running through her hair. And she was very, very warm. 

Blinking, she lifted her head slowly. It was still just the two of them. Had anyone else come in? Were they in the dormitories? Or had she and Ron been alone the whole time, asleep and comforted by each other?

It then occurred to her how easily she’d fallen asleep in his arms. She’d laid her head against his shoulder and she’d been out… just like that. How safe she felt. How… loved.

She blushed at the thought, which seemed silly given all that had happened between them. 

“Did you sleep?” she asked quietly, looking at him. 

He nodded. “Yeah. A little.” He was looking at her in that way again. Like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know how. Was now even the right time to talk about… them? It seemed so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. They had plenty of time to talk about them. 

But all she could think about was how easy it had been to fall asleep beside him, and how she didn’t want to ever lose that feeling. 

She reached a hand to his cheek, running her fingers gently down it, feeling every bump, every scratch, every bit of dried blood. And her heart swelled with love for him. She loved him so very much, and wasn’t now more important than ever to be with those that you loved… and who loved you?

Ron seemed to be thinking the same, for he lowered his face towards hers. She allowed his dry and chapped lips to brush against hers for a few moments before she kissed him back. His grip on her tightened, his free hand running up the side of her face, entangling into her hair. 

There wasn’t as much desperation this time. No fear that they might die, no thrill of the first kiss. 

It was better. 

When they broke away, slightly breathless, Hermione couldn’t help it. She laughed, and so did he. It would take a long time to heal from this, but at least she had one small ounce of happiness to take with her. One that filled a big piece of her heart. 

She settled back against his shoulder and he returned to stroking her hair. Soon, this peacefulness would disappear. Soon, they’d have to return to a reality that was far darker than the one that was on this armchair. But for now, this numbed all the pain. And it was what they both needed.

As she closed her eyes once again, feeling herself drifting into another peaceful sleep entangled in his arms, she heard him murmur against her. 

“Don’t let this be temporary, Hermione. I need you. I love you.”

She was too tired to respond, but when she woke again, she’d tell him that she needed him, too. 

And she’d tell him that she loved him.

[alecslytherin]

5 year old Hugo: Dad, what is the opposite of ugly?

Ron: Your mom

Hugo: Dad, no I am being serious-

Ron: tell me if your teacher says that you are wrong, I will show her a 5 million pages essay about your mom

Hermione *blushing*: I am so lucky to have this cutie as my husband

[watsonxgranger-blog]

Just send me Romione fanfics I will be happy

[headcanonsandmore]

There’s a fanfic where Ron and Harry think hermiones dead but she really was tortured to point of insanity in DH and then Ron tries to help her. There’s also a sequel. Can you help me find them

Things rings a bell. Maybe @callieskye has it on their massive spread-sheet, or maybe @accio-library @accioromione @romionefanfics know it? 

Sorry I couldn’t be of more help, anon. Thanks for the ask, anyway, though!

[padfoot-almofadinhas]

Capítulo 1 - O livro

Enquanto Hermione lia mais um de seus livros de romance, Ron, que a observava, perguntou

-O que você vê de tão especial nesses livros?! Eles só tem um bando de baboseira!

Hermione virou-se respirando fundo e respondeu incrédula - O que eu vejo?! Eles contam lindas histórias, fantasiosas, é claro, porém lindas...- respondeu Hermione suspirando ao final da frase.

Hermione fechou e livro, o deixou na mesa, e foi em direção ao seu quarto. Enquanto Ron balbuciava coisas como "Livros de romance... Até parece que são interessantes! Devem estar cheios daquelas baboseiras românticas... blá-blá-blá" pegou o livro e leu o título 'Romeu e Julieta' e tentou associar o título com alguma coisa "Eu já ouvi esse título em algum lugar... Acho que tem um filme com esse nome... É sobre o cara que quer namorar a menina de outra família?! Acho que sim, eu não me lembro de mais nada... Eu vi esse filme com a Gina, mas dormi no meio... Nossa a Mione já leu esse livro milhares de vezes... Ela deve gostar mesmo disso".

Então Ron decidiu que iria apenas ler o resumo, só pra saber do que se tratava, afinal, já eram mais de onze horas da noite, e apesar de não ter treino amanhã, ele tinha que dormir cedo para resolver alguns assuntos pela manhã.

Ao acabar de ler o resumo, pensou "Eu sabia que esse livro estava cheio de baboseiras! O amor impossível, blá-blá-blá uma birga... Pera aí tem briga nisso também! Deve ser interessante..." Olhou para o relógio e viu que eram onze e quinze, porém decidiu ler apenas um capítulo para ver como era a história. Ele sabia que não iria aguentar ler tudo, muito menos durante à noite.

Apesar disso, para a sua surpresa. Ron não leu somente um capítulo, mas vários! Ficou entretido pela narrativa, e embora tivesse preferido as partes das brigas, havia gostado das partes de romance "Até que esse negócio de romance não é tão ruim assim... Mas o que eu estou pensando! Estou lendo um livro fazem... - olhou para o relógio - TRÊS HORAS?! Como assim?? Eu jamais passei mais que 10 minutos lendo alguma coisa, muito menos um livro de romance! Tenho que ir dormir, mas antes vou apenas ler mais um capítulo"

Quando Ron folheou a última pagina do livro, percebeu que uma luz entrava na casa, e ficou assutado, foi olhar pela janela e percebeu que essa luz era o Sol. Ele passará a noite inteira lendo, estava super cansado. Mas, ao invés de ir se deitar, teve um ideia. Ele faria uma surpresa para Hermione.

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 17

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer!

Follow this story’s Instagram account at whenihaveyou.romione if you’re interested!

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

Chapter 17

“No! Hermione!”

Ron woke with a start. It was still pitch black in his room, which told him it was only a little after midnight on Christmas morning. Despite the coolness of his room, he was covered in sweat, the blankets kicked off him and his breathing heavy. 

He reached for his wand on the table beside him and lit it. Hermione was staring at him, concern etched on her face. 

“Are you alright?” she murmured. 

Ron’s heart slowed at the sight of her. It had just been a dream. She was alright; he was alright. They were both safely in bed. 

“Y-yeah,” he said, just as quiet. “Yeah. Just…”

“A nightmare?” Hermione guessed. 

Ron nodded. 

“The same ones as me?”

He nodded again, swallowing hard. He had been at Malfoy Manor again, screaming for Hermione, but this time… this time Bellatrix had managed to kill her. He’d woken just as the green light filled his vision and the cackling of Bellatrix Lestrange filled his ears. 

“It’s horrible, isn’t it?” Hermione shuffled over in the bed, laying her head against his chest. Ron set down his wand, coating them in darkness once more. His chest heaved up and down, gradually slowing as he ran his fingers through her tangled hair.

“Yeah,” he said again. “I don’t know why I dreamt it, though. I haven’t… not like that before.” He debated whether to tell her how it had ended, but decided against it. What was the point? It was the beginning of their first Christmas together as a couple, and it wasn’t like the dream would ever be true. 

Though, as Hermione fell back into a deep sleep — nightmare free for her tonight — Ron found himself staring up at the blank ceiling, replaying the moment over and over in his mind.

Why had he dreamed about that? After so many months and not a single nightmare, why now? What had triggered it? Nothing had happened the night before that he thought might have brought it on. In fact, he had been blissfully happy to fall asleep with Hermione beside him for the first time in months. 

He’d been so happy, filled with joy and wondering if she’d like the present he got her for Christmas. His last thought that night before drifting off had been of just how much he couldn’t imagine his life without her anymore, that the idea of losing her would be —

Ah! That could have been the reason. 

He finally managed to fall asleep as the early hours of the morning began to peek in through his window, and it felt like only moments before he was being woken by Hermione prodding him in the chest. 

He blinked. It was a bright, yet overcast, day outside.

“Merry Christmas!” Hermione said cheerfully, and when he turned to look at her, she was smiling. 

“M-merry Chr-christmas.” Ron yawned, then rolled onto his side and returned her smile. “What’s the time?”

“Eight,” Hermione said. “A little after. I would have let you sleep longer, but Ginny kept bugging me to wake you up.”

It was then that Ron realised Hermione was fully dressed for the day. He slammed his head back onto the pillow. 

“Did you not sleep well after… after the nightmare?” Hermione asked, now watching him with concern. 

“I couldn’t get to sleep for hours,” Ron told her. “But I think I dreamt it because last night, I fell asleep thinking about how I couldn’t imagine life without you anymore, and that moment was the closest I’d ever come to… to it. I don’t think it’ll happen again.” He reached forward and gripped her hand tightly. “You’re here now.”

It appeared that Hermione didn’t know whether to feel sad or happy about what he’d said, which resulted in her giving a rather awkward smile and saying, “Come on! Get dressed and then we can all head over to the Burrow.”

Ron allowed her to drag him out of bed by the hand, and once on his feet, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her towards him, planting a light kiss on her lips. “Merry Christmas,” he said softly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered, smiling up at him. “But, seriously, get ready. We’re going to be the last ones there.”

Ron dressed quickly and then hurried downstairs with Hermione to find Harry waiting for them. 

“Where’s Ginny?” Ron asked, looking around the kitchen for his sister, but not seeing her.

“She, er, said you were taking too long and went already,” Harry said, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Apparently Christmas is really important.” He looked at Ron, wearing the same concerned expression Hermione had earlier. “Hermione said you had a nightmare.”

Ron shot Hermione a reproving look. She turned faintly pink. “It was nothing,” he said. “Once off. That’s all.”

“We’ve all had them, mate,” Harry said. “Trust me. I spent years having them. And they haven’t stopped just because I’m not a Horcrux anymore.”

“Not funny,” Ron said.

“I thought it kind of was.” Harry shrugged. “The point is, it’s nothing to be ashamed about. I’ve been told memories, the trauma, it can affect you months, even years later. Even when you think you’re fine.”

“It wasn’t that,” Ron said, sighing. “It’s alright. I am fine.”

Harry didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “Just, we’re here if you need, alright?”

“Thanks,” Ron muttered. “Should we go?”

Harry threw some Floo Powder into the kitchen fireplace, and one by one, they all went to the Burrow. 

It seemed that now that all but Ginny had moved out, Molly and Arthur had far more time to put up Christmas decorations. The first thing Ron noticed when he arrived was a tall Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, decorated in bizarre mis-matched enchanted ornaments. Some were inherited items that his mother had kept because they belonged to someone important in the family. Others were things that Ron remembered making as a kid with his siblings. Pre-Hogwarts days where Molly had just wanted some peace and quiet for a few moments (usually Fred and George running wild) and she’d sat them all down with something to do. Those somethings had turned into Christmas decorations.

Then there were the bought ones that had accumulated over the years.

Ron had missed Christmas at the Burrow. 

The rest of the house was just as oddly decorated, but Ron couldn’t help but grin at how homey his parents had made it. Harry had made some kind of an effort to do up Grimmauld Place for the holiday, but training had kept them working until December twenty-third, and they simply had not had time to do much more than a semi-decorated Christmas tree in the kitchen.

“Oh, Merry Christmas you three!” Molly said, beaming, and gave each of them a hug in turn.

“Merry Christmas, Mum,” Ron said. “Good to see you looking so happy.”

“Why wouldn’t I be, Ronald?” Molly asked. “There’s a lot to be happy about this Christmas.”

Also a lot to be missed, Ron thought, though he didn’t dare express that. He’d half expected to find his mum in tears with it being the first Christmas without Fred. Though, ever since Bill and Fleur had shared their news about the baby, he’d found her in such a joyous mood every time he dropped by that he didn’t know whether to be happy or concerned. 

“Come on, come on!” Molly said, ushering them over to the sofas and armchairs. “We’ll open some presents, and then a little after that, we’ll have lunch.”

Ron squeezed onto a sofa beside Percy and Hermione sat beside him. Ginny and Harry wound up on the floor, and it wasn’t until Ron looked straight up did he notice —

“George!”

Hermione’s head snapped up, Harry and Ginny spun around. George, who’d still been absent for much of the past few months, was sitting on a chair in the corner of the room. 

He looked better than Ron had seen in a long while, even offering everyone a smile and a wave. “Merry Christmas!” he said. 

"Merry Christmas," everyone murmured, and George's smile widened slightly.

Molly, as usual, had knitted everyone a jumper. Also as usual, everyone thanked her and smiled, but Ron knew they'd most likely be put away and never worn. 

"Oh, Ron, this is beautiful!" Ron looked up from opening his gift from Harry, who'd taken the liberty in buying out a lot of Honeydukes, and saw Hermione holding up a gold necklace. 

"Er, you like it?" he asked. 

"It's stunning!" Hermione said, running her fingers along the gold chain and settling on the pearl pendant at the end. It had cost him most of his earnings from the Ministry, but seeing the look on her face made every single Galleon worth it.

He beamed. "Glad you like it!" he said. "I was worried maybe I'd chosen wrong, or something."

"Thank you," she said. "It's perfect." She then passed him a neatly wrapped rectangular gift. As he began to open it, she said, "I would have liked to have gotten you the broom, but… that was ridiculously expensive, so —"

Hermione had gotten him brand new, black marble chess pieces. They were smooth and clean, and he'd be the first one to get to use them. 

"Woah!" he said, grinning at Hermione, "Thanks. Hey, Harry, fancy a game of chess later today?" He held up the chess pieces to Harry who had just opened Ginny's present to him.

"Sure!" Harry said. "They look nice."

"You know…" Hermione said, setting aside her other gifts and staring down at the necklace, "I can play with you, too. You want to help me put it on?"

Ron took the necklace from her and she lifted her hair out of the way so he could get it on. "You? Play chess? You hate it."

"I don't hate it. I just… don't understand it that well. You could teach me, though, couldn't you?"

Ron fastened the necklace, surprising himself by how easily he'd managed to do so. Hermione turned back to face him.

"You want me to teach you how to play chess?" he asked, not sure he had heard right. 

"Yes," Hermione said. "Then we could play together. I'd like to learn."

Ron contemplated her request for a moment, smiling. "Sure, I can teach you, but I won't be teaching you all my secrets. It's the one thing I can beat you at, and I'd like to keep it that way, thanks."

Hermione laughed. "Can anyone beat you, anyway?"

"Yeah, Bill, maybe. He taught me how to play. That necklace looks great on you, by the way." He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. He wished he could do more, but the living room of his family home with everyone around was not the appropriate place to do so. 

As much as he hated Grimmauld Place, he really did like the privacy it gifted them. 

"Merry Christmas."

They spent the next few hours around the living room. Ron immediately got out his chess pieces and set up a game with Harry. His new pieces were great, much better than the old ones, and he annihilated Harry three times straight before Harry gave up, muttering something about having to help with lunch. 

So, he offered to teach Hermione — who'd been watching his games with Harry intently.

"It's the same as normal chess, isn't it? The rules, I mean?" she said.

"Er, I think," Ron said, setting up his own and Harry's pieces. "Never played the Muggle one before. Besides, you have played it before..." A thought suddenly occurred to him — something he’d not realised before. “Wait, you’ve played it plenty of times. Why do you want me to teach you? You know how to play well enough to give a good game.”

Hermione shrugged, smiling. “Maybe,” she said, “I thought it was a good way to spend time together. Besides, as you said, I can play well enough. I want to know some of your tricks.”

“... oh,” Ron said, feeling his face go red. “Well, right… alright. I’ll teach you. Though, there are plenty of other things we can do to spend time together, you know?”

Ginny, who’d been walking past in that moment, scoffed. “Yeah, but chess is something you can do in public.”

Ron ignored her, looking up at Hermione and indicating the chess board. “You go first. Let’s see how you go.”

It took five games in quick succession for Hermione to make an impact. On the sixth one, Ron suspected that perhaps she’d given up. Hermione didn’t like to lose, and he could see her frustration building, but she persisted, just so he could keep teaching her, he thought. It didn’t bother him, though. It gave them something to do, and he kind of liked the idea of her letting him teach her something. 

Halfway through the seventh game, Molly announced that lunch was ready.

“Maybe tomorrow?” Ron asked, smiling at Hermione. “I had fun.”

“Of course,” Hermione said, standing up and collecting Harry’s chess pieces. “Though, I do have to get some homework done tomorrow morning. Maybe in the afternoon?”

“What?” Ron said as they made their way into the kitchen. “Work? You brought work with you? It’s Christmas!” He couldn’t help feeling a little disgruntled by this unexpected news. She’d only arrived Christmas Eve and had insisted that she needed to return the day after Boxing Day. 

He realised it had taken quite an amount of persuasion to get her out of the school to begin with, but he’d thought she could at least put the books down for a few days.

“It’s a lot of work, Ron,” Hermione said in a hushed voice as they sat down at the table. “NEWTs are even bigger than OWLs, and —”

“So, what am I supposed to do?” Ron asked, also keeping his voice low. “Just sit around and watch you study?” 

“No, you can always spend some time with Harry. Ginny…”

“I see Harry every day!” Ron snapped under his breath. “You, however — my girlfriend, in case you’ve forgotten — I’ve seen less of since we’ve been together than I have since I’ve known you.”

“That’s hardly my fault!” Hermione hissed. “You would have preferred me to leave my parents in Australia, then?”

“That’s not what I meant!” Ron said. “You never told me you wanted to go back to Hogwarts until you’d basically arranged it. I thought… well, I just thought you’d tell me something like that, you know? Bothered to mention it at the very least.”

“Everything okay, dears?” Molly asked, looking at Ron and Hermione with a questioning look. 

Hermione, who’d been about to argue back, closed her mouth. Ron looked at her and saw that she looked rather upset about something. He guessed his own face showed his frustration too. He’d never been good at hiding his feelings.

“Yes,” Ron said, perhaps a little too quickly.

Hermione shot him a scathing look, but said nothing more. 

Harry stared at them both from across the table, looking rather alarmed. Before he’d left to help with lunch, Ron and Hermione had been perfectly happy. 

Ron piled the food onto his plate, glowering at it as he did. Why did she have to keep doing that? Keep making plans without telling him? He’d thought they’d have all of Christmas and Boxing Day together. Even if she’d bothered to mention that she brought work with her, he could have planned around that. Compromised, even…

Once the table had erupted into pleasant chatter, Bill and Fleur talking excitedly about the impending arrival of their baby in April to anyone who would listen, George — to Ron’s delight — speaking about his plans to reopen the joke shop soon, and Percy speaking loudly about how maybe next Christmas, if they were still together (which he hoped they would be), he’d spend Christmas with Audrey’s Muggle family. This seemed to interest Arthur, dropping hints about how he’d love to be invited as well. 

Under the raucous of Christmas lunch, Hermione elbowed Ron. He turned to her, not at all in the mood to continue on with the argument they’d started. But the look on her face was gentler.

“Did you, um, have plans for tomorrow?” she asked, sounding apologetic. 

“No,” Ron mumbled. “I mean, nothing beyond us doing something together. Making up for lost time… you know...”

“It’s just, the workload is really tricky,” Hermione said. “And, I just wanted to get a start on —”

Ron turned back to his food, once again in no mood for talking. 

“— Ron, please, just…”

“It’s okay,” Ron said amidst the loud chatter around them. “I get it. You’ve always been like that. Ever since I’ve known you. Really, I should have guessed.”

“Ron —”

“It’s fine, Hermione. Honestly. I’ll just… I dunno, maybe I’ll come back here tomorrow. Leave you in peace.”

The rest of lunch was very uncomfortable for him. Ron didn’t speak to Hermione, and despite a few attempts on her part, it seemed she had no idea what to say to him. If she’d just admit that she didn’t need to do anything tomorrow, then perhaps they could resolve the issue, but she seemed hellbent on standing her ground, and therefore, so would he. 

“Everything okay?” Ginny asked after lunch, when Hermione had quickly volunteered to help Molly clean up — along with Harry, who was probably querying Hermione at this very moment.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?” Ron asked, sinking onto a step at the foot of the staircase. 

“Well, you’re sulking,” Ginny said. “And you and Hermione didn’t look very happy over lunch. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Ron…”

“Not your business, Ginny,” Ron said. “It’s nothing. Just a small argument, that’s all.”

“So you’re going to sulk for the rest of the day then?” Ginny asked, folding her arms across her chest. “Because if you are, maybe go home. We don’t need your mood here. Especially when Mum is trying to keep it together.”

“What do you mean?” Ron looked up at her. “Mum’s fine. Happy, even.”

“You didn’t notice, did you?” Ginny said.

“Notice what?” 

“The empty seat at the table.”

“The — what? I never saw —” Truthfully, Ron had not taken much in at the table, too busy being upset with Hermione to even enjoy himself. 

“Yeah, she set a spot for Fred,” Ginny said. “Kept looking up at it, fighting back tears. It’s tough, Ron. Tough on all of us. So if you’re going to be moody, take it elsewhere. Or make up with Hermione. I’m sure whatever’s happening is something you can sort out. Tell you’re sorry for whatever it is you’ve done and —”

“I didn’t do anything!” Ron snapped. “Why do you assume it’s me? It’s her… her and her obsession with work. If she just wasn’t so obsessed with it, then… then I’d be okay.”

“You're upset because she’s obsessed with her work?” Ginny asked, sounding amused. “Do you even know her?”

“Yes, I know her! Maybe you can talk to her then. Talk her around. Tell her she’s being ridiculous, and she can go one more day without feeling the need to get her books out.”

“What are you talking about, Ron?” Ginny asked.

Ron jumped up from the step. “Nothing.”

“Well, just try and enjoy the rest of the day, alright? For Mum’s sake. Even if you have to fake it, and then you and Hermione can fight as much as you want when you get home.”

Ron glared at her, feeling his frustration rise. Why couldn’t Hermione just relax a bit? Why did she have to be so —

“Fine,” he muttered. “Fine. I’ll talk to her.” And he stormed off toward the kitchen. Maybe if he made up with Hermione, it would convince her to change her mind anyway.

…

It didn’t. 

The rest of Christmas had been alright, Ron finding Hermione after his talk with Ginny and making things right with her again. Neither of them had apologised specifically, though he thought kissing her in a manner that left her blushing had been a good step to go about it. He’d still been mad with her, but he tried to let that slide for the remainder of the day and well into the evening. 

By the time they’d gotten home later that night, he’d almost forgotten about their argument all together, and their first Christmas together had ended quite wonderfully. 

But, by next morning, it seemed that no amount of affection, no amount of I love yous, and no amount of sex could deter her from her work. When Ron woke he found the space beside him empty, despite it being rather early. They’d gotten back fairly late, been awake even longer — he’d thought that she’d want to sleep for hours.

“What are you doing?” After dressing and stopping by the bathroom to see if she was in there, he came down to the kitchen. She was hunched over an impressive spread of parchment and books and was scribbling away rather quickly for this time of the morning. 

She looked up, a flicker of guilt flashing across her face, before she said, “I thought I’d get some of it done before you… before anyone got up.” She didn’t quite meet his eye as she spoke. “You’re up early.”

Ron took a seat opposite her. “So are you.”

She blushed. “Yes, well…”

“You couldn’t even go two days without thinking about it, could you?” Ron said. “Not even after what happened yesterday. Was I being unreasonable when I asked for two days of your time over the holidays? That’s all, and you couldn’t even manage it.”

Hermione had started gathering up all her bits and pieces, her face filled with guilt. “I thought if I got it done in the morning, then we could… we could have the rest of the day together.”

“It’s not the point, Hermione!” Ron said, feeling a surge of anger inside of him that he’d not felt towards her since… well since he’d thought Crookshanks had eaten his pet rat. “Last night, when we got home, you said to me you could leave it another day. I asked you, and you specifically said —”

“I know what I said!” Hermione told him in an anguished tone. “Alright, I know what I said, but you asked me just after we’d had sex, and I was obviously in a good mood, and, well, you caught me in a moment of weakness. And I didn’t want what you were doing to stop.”

Ron stared at her. She seemed to have realised what she’d said, because her whole face went a furious red and she jumped to her feet so quickly she knocked her chair over.

“I-I’m sorry, Ron. I didn’t mean…” she set the books back on the table and with a tap of her wand, they vanished. Then, she picked up her chair and sat back down, burying her face in her hands. 

Rather than feeling sorry for her, Ron said, “So you lied to me? Just so you could have sex with me?”

“No!” Hermione groaned. “No, I didn’t lie to you. I meant it when I promised you I’d stay away from it. But then when I woke up this morning, I started to stress over it. You seemed out of it, so I thought if I just got an hour in, before you woke up, then… I’m sorry, Ron. I know I promised. I know it looks really bad. I’m sorry.”

“It feels pretty bad, too,” Ron said. He’d really thought he’d convinced her last night, but now all he felt was that she’d used him. He couldn’t recall a time he’d felt so bad about Hermione — as her friend or otherwise — and he’d been pretty miserable when he was convinced she would never see him as anything more than a friend. But it seemed that this now took the cake. Wasn’t she supposed to love him?

“I’m sorry, Ron. I really am. I won’t even look at any homework until I set foot back on school grounds. I won’t even think about it. We can do anything you want today. I’ll —”

“Maybe you should leave,” Ron said darkly.

This seemed to upset her more than anything else. “Ron —”

“You made it clear from the beginning that you were only coming here because I asked you to,” Ron continued, unable to stop himself. “You would have much rather stayed at the school, spending Christmas with your head in your books than with me. You —”

“That’s not true.”

“You then told me you’d changed your mind, acting like you actually cared and I’d managed to convince you that I was better than staying on top of your work, when in reality, I apparently just had you ‘in a moment of weakness’, and then once that was over, once you’d snapped out of that, you couldn’t have cared less about what you’d said to me.”

“No! That’s not true at all, Ron. I do care about you. More than anything. More than —”

“You’re still lying, Hermione! Just… just stop.”

“Ron, I really, really am —”

“Just go,” Ron said. “I really shouldn’t have bothered trying to fix things with you yesterday. It clearly meant nothing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hermione asked. 

“It means that I was still mad at you yesterday, but Ginny convinced me to patch things up for the rest of the day because of Mum. So I thought I would, and I realise now I was wrong, because you don’t even care. You never did.”

For a moment, the room was filled with silence. Hermione’s face gradually grew darker as his words sunk in. 

Ron momentarily looked away despite himself. He was angry with her, but he still loved her, and even though he knew he was right in being upset about it all, he hated knowing that what he said was true. He had pretended to make up yesterday because of Ginny’s words. But she had also pretended, so they were kind of even. 

He pushed away the small seed of guilt that had planted itself inside of him at his words and glared at her. 

When she spoke, her voice had lost all of its remorse. 

“You mean to say,” she began, “that all of those things you said yesterday, all of last night, was just an act? And here I was, feeling guilty because —”

“No, it wasn’t an act,” Ron said. “Because believe it or not — and stupidly, so it seems — I actually got over it. By the time we came home, I’d almost forgotten all about it. Would have been nice for you to apologise, though.”

“Me?” Hermione shrieked, and they both glanced to the door to see if it would draw Harry and Ginny down. “I wasn’t the one being unreasonable yesterday. I wasn’t —”

“So, me asking you to take two whole days out of your life for me is being unreasonable, is it?” Ron leapt to his feet, his own voice rising for the first time. 

“It is when I told you I needed to get stuff done!” Hermione cried, also springing to her feet. “You didn’t even have a plan for today. You just wanted me here.”

“Yes, because I stupidly love you and want to spend time with you. You’re my girlfriend, and we’ve spent more time apart than we have together. I hate it, and I miss you. When we get two days together, I just want it to be us. You have every other day to do the other stuff.””

They glared at each other across the long table, both breathing heavily, both furious. 

It was Ron who looked away first, realising she wasn’t going to budge. “Fine,” he said. “Fine. Forget I ever asked you. Forget I even bothered. How stupid of me to think that maybe you’d actually want to spend Christmas with me. Next time I’ll remember you’d much rather be spending it in the Hogwarts library alone.” He turned away, too angry and hurt to even look at her anymore. “I guess this is how it’s going to be, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, and her voice had returned to normal again. 

Still with this back to her, Ron said, “You and me. I suppose I’ve got to get used to coming second to your work.”

There was a long silence, Ron focusing his attention on the odd wall patterns. He’d never noticed just how unusual they were before. 

Then, “Is that how you feel?”

“At the moment? A little, yeah.” He finally turned to look at her again, and he saw that her anger had subsided. He felt his own frustrations melt a little upon seeing her expression, too. She was no longer glaring at him, but looking at him with an air of guilt and surprise — as if she hadn’t realised that it had bothered him so much, that it had felt like a rejection to him. 

He ran his fingers along the table for something to do — he didn’t know what to say now.  

“Well, I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like that. I never meant to.” She looked down at the table where her work had been sitting a few moments ago. “I really did want to come here for Christmas. I really did want to spend the day with you. I suppose… I suppose I just have to learn to prioritise better.” She looked up, offering a smile. “I’ve never done this before. I’ve never had a proper relationship. I’m still learning.”

Her smile had Ron’s own resolve weakening. He shrugged. “Yeah, and I suppose I need to be a little more understanding of who you are. I mean, I know who you are, what you’re like. I know what’s important to you. I’m really proud of you, by the way. Your dedication, how clever you are...” He also stared at where her work had been a moment ago. “And it’s not like you wasted the whole day doing it. I wasn’t even up, was I?” He felt a tad stupid, only now realising he’d still been in bed the whole time she’d been up, and she’d stopped the moment he’d come down — albeit a little too angry with her. 

“This isn’t as important as you, Ron. I hope you know that,” Hermione whispered. “It doesn’t come first.”

Ron shrugged again, but said nothing. Sometimes he wasn’t sure about that, and sometimes he let his mind get away from him. It wasn’t really her fault — it was his own. 

He looked back up to her, momentarily surprised to see what was sitting around her neck. “You’re wearing the necklace,” he said.

“Of course,” Hermione replied, fingering the pendant and smiling slightly. “It’s beautiful. I love it.”

Ron returned her smile, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off his chest upon seeing her wearing it. He’d been hurt by her, yes, but at the end of the day, he’d known her for eight years now and her habit of overworking hadn’t changed in all that time. It was a part of her that frustrated him, sure, but it was also the part that he deeply admired and loved about her. He supposed that being in a relationship with her made it just that little bit harder to accept than it had when he’d been her friend. 

“I’m glad,” he said after a moment. “I didn’t know if you would… Hermione, I didn’t mean to get so upset. I just… I’m sorry. I miss you. This is a really sucky first year of being with you. I don’t get to see you when that’s all I want to do.”

Still smiling, Hermione stepped around the table so they were on the same side. She hesitated for a moment, and then closed the distance between them. 

Ron held her to him, his chin on the top of her head. A moment later, Hermione looked up, and he kissed her. 

The door to the kitchen swung open, and Harry and Ginny came in with grave looks on their faces.

“Everything okay?” Ginny asked them. “We heard… well, we thought we heard —” She eyed Ron and Hermione suspiciously, as if she hadn’t expected to find them locked together like they were. 

Ron looked at Hermione, and they both smiled at one another. 

“Yeah, everything’s okay,” Ron said. “Just a misunderstanding.”

“It didn’t sound like —” 

Harry placed a hand on Ginny’s shoulder, and she fell silent, nodding. 

“Well, that’s good.” She then moved over to the benches, opening the cupboards. “You guys had breakfast?”

“No,” Ron and Hermione said together.

“Hm, well, what do you two have planned today? Anything exciting?”

“Er —”

“Not sure yet,” Hermione said. “Maybe something with just the two of us, though? If that’s alright?”

Ginny turned back to them, shrugging. “I don’t care what you do,” she said. “Go for it. Just, please, for the love of Merlin, remember to put silencing charms around your room this time.”

Ron grinned at Hermione, pulling her close again. She had turned a deep pink. 

“Love you,” he whispered, kissing her again. Then, lowering his voice even further, he added, “Let’s never fight again.”

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 22

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Chapter 22

“I can’t believe I lived eleven years of my life without magic.” Harry smirked as he stared out the window of Ron and Hermione’s flat, watching the stragglers of the day making their way back home from Diagon Alley. 

Despite the music raging, the lights flashing, and the ridiculous raucous that was coming from above, the people on the street below seemed not to notice. In fact, they would hear no sound at all. 

“I mean, how great is this? Throwing a party and you don’t even upset the neighbours?”

“Yeah, well, lucky for us,” Ron said, glancing around at the small room filled with more people than Ron had ever anticipated. Having a few close friends over had turned into half of their year turning up, word of mouth spreading rapidly. It had been unexpected, though a pleasant surprise. Some of these people Ron hadn’t seen in over a year, having not caught up with them at the memorial service a few months prior. 

There was Seamus, Dean and Neville by the kitchen, Butterbeers in hand, laughing at something Seamus had just said. 

Beside them was Lavender, apparently her first big outing since the war. She was looking around very nervously at everyone, always touching her face, which was horribly scarred. Lavender, Ron had heard, had refused to come unless Parvati did, and Parvati had told Padma about it, who had invited her Ravenclaw buddies. 

Neville had been invited, who was somehow in contact with the Hufflepuffs, so they’d all shown up, too. Then there was George and Percy, who’d brought Audrey along (who seemed very much at home being surrounded by a bunch of wizards and not at all put out by it), and even a few faces Ron didn’t recognise. 

“Remind me to put some damn good privacy charms around this place afterwards,” Ron said to Harry, watching a tall, slightly older man skulk around the edge of the partiers. 

Harry snorted into his half-drunk Butterbeer. “You’ll need some Ministry-level ones after this.”

“Well, at least everyone seems to be enjoying themselves.” Ron scanned the crowd, unable to stop himself from smiling. It was good to see everyone again, even if most of them he’d spent seven years never speaking to. It reminded him of the old times. 

“There you are!”

Ron spun to find Hermione striding towards him. She was very pink in the face, her hair — which she had attempted to slick back — had slipped in parts, the curls escaping the magic. But she was wearing a large smile as she flung her arms around Ron’s neck and drew him into a deep kiss. 

Her breath smelled of Firewhisky, and Ron suspected she may have helped herself to a few too many glasses of the potent drink that was being passed around freely. 

He chuckled against her mouth, to which she pulled away, frowning. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Ron said, stifling a grin. He looked over her shoulder to where Harry had been standing with him by the window, but discovered that his friend had snuck away and was now talking to Dean, probably about Auror training. 

He looked back at Hermione, whose cheeks had turned from pink to red. Her hair had slipped out even more, and Merlin, she was beautiful, even in a drunken state. 

“You’re smiling,” Hermione said, her frown deepening. “Do I amuse you?”

“Yes, a little,” Ron said. “Found the Firewhisky, did you?”

“George was pouring everyone some glasses. I thought —”

Ron could no longer contain the laugh that had been desperate to escape ever since she’d kissed him in a manner that a sober Hermione never would have in the vicinity of so many people. 

“You’re drunk,” he said.

“I’m not!”

“You are,” Ron said. “And it’s fantastic. Kiss me like that again. I liked it.” He set aside his own drink, wrapping her in his arms, but she pulled away, looking up at him with an offended look. 

Ron grinned, and he guided her over to where Harry and Dean were talking.

“... Ron, Neville and I are doing a lot of work with Patronuses at the moment,” Harry was saying to Dean. “It’s the second year of training. So don’t worry too much. Neville didn’t master the talking Patronus until a few weeks back.”

The words seemed to ease Dean’s concern. He nodded, waving to Ron and Hermione as they joined him. A moment later, Ginny came over too, clutching a Butterbeer. Everyone was going to wake up with headaches in the morning, Ron thought. 

“Excited about your NEWT results?” Dean asked, looking between Hermione and Ginny. “I hear they’ll be out soon…”

“Why do you think Hermione has had far too many Firewhiskies?” Ginny said, grinning.

“I’m not drunk!” Hermione said, though as she spoke, she somehow managed to stumble on her own feet and clutched Ron for support. 

Ron, Harry and Ginny stifled laughs, while Dean looked at her, slightly taken aback.

“But now that you’ve reminded me… Dean, I think I might find George and see if he’s got anymore…” And she pushed her way through the crowd towards Ron’s brother.

Ron shook his head, watching her in amazement. He couldn’t contain the grin on his face, as thoughts wandered into his head — thoughts that he had so desperately tried to push aside for the year and a bit he’d been with her, but ones that had always lingered, threatening to burst through at any moment. 

If he could love her like this, drunk and stumbling her way through a party, then he could love her always. Forever. No matter what. 

I want to marry her. 

He refrained from laughing when she crashed into Ernie MacMillan.

“Excuse me?”

Ron turned away from Hermione, and back to the others. They were all staring at him, eyes wide. “What?” he asked, looking between their bewildered expressions.

“What do you mean, what?” Harry said. “‘I want to marry her.’ Explain yourself.”

Ron opened his mouth, feeling heat creep up his neck and onto his ears. “I, er, I said that out loud, did I?” 

“Yep,” Harry, Ginny and Dean all said together. 

Ron flushed. “Well, I don’t mean now,” he said. “I just mean… one day.” He glanced over his shoulder again, where Hermione was talking to George and Lee, appearing much happier to be in their presence than she had ever been before. 

“What a romantic,” Ginny said, her voice reeking of sarcasm. “She gets drunk for the first time in her life, and you decide you want to marry her.”

“Yeah, well, don’t go telling her that,” Ron said. “I don’t want her thinking…”

“No need, mate,” Harry said, who had had the clearest view of Hermione still across the room, apart from Ron. “Pretty sure she heard you.”

“It’s too noisy in here,” Ron said. “She can’t have.”

Harry shrugged, and Ron once again looked over at Hermione. She cast Ron a bright smile, which he returned. She couldn’t have heard him from all the way across there. He hoped not, at least. He didn’t want her thinking he was planning anything so soon into their relationship.

“Who do you think will be the next to get married?” Ginny asked. 

“Ron and Hermione,” Harry said with a wry smile at Ron. 

Ron went very red. 

“Nah,” Ginny said. She scanned the room. “Percy and Audrey look fairly cosy over there, don’t they? And Audrey doesn’t look at all bothered by the whole magic business. In fact, I think they’re the perfect couple. She’s as pompous as he is.”

“What?” Ron said. “Audrey?” He followed his sister’s gaze. He’d met Audrey a few times now, and not at all gotten that impression. 

“Well, yes. Have you heard her rambling on about how her ‘boyfriend leads a department’ or ‘her boyfriend did really well in his exams’. She’ll tell anyone who’ll listen. Doesn’t matter that she doesn’t understand half of what she’s talking about. The fact that he’s successful is what attracts her. He could have been You-Know-Who’s right hand man and she’d be proud of the fact that he got promoted so highly.”

Ron stared at Ginny for a moment, amazed that she seemed to find fault in all of her brothers’ girlfriends. “So, what’s wrong with Hermione then? Go on, tell me.”

“What are you talking about?” Ginny asked. 

“Well, you take issue with Fleur, and now Audrey, so what’s wrong with Hermione?”

“Nothing,” Ginny said. “And I never said I didn’t like Audrey. Didn’t I just say they’re a perfect match? It’ll be a competition between you and Percy, though. Who will be the first to grow a pair and ask their respective girlfriends to marry them?”

Ron opened his mouth to argue, to ensure anyone who would listen that he was not planning to do that anytime soon, but Harry jumped in before he had the chance.

“And what about me?” Harry asked, looking at Ginny with a rather amused expression.

“Oh, I know you’ve got a pair,” Ginny said mildly. “And I know you’ll use them when the time comes.” She smiled to herself. 

Ron balked at her, and Dean looked rather bemused at the casual exchange. Harry opened his mouth but didn’t respond, apparently not expecting that response. 

“Well, if you must know,” Dean said, breaking the silence, “Seamus and Lavender are engaged.” He indicated behind him to where Lavender stood beside Seamus, still looking rather terrified. She spotted everyone looking at her and turned away. 

“You know, I think that’s sweet,” Ginny said. “The fact that he’s stood by her after everything that happened. Good for them.”

Ron had to agree with Ginny, but more on the fact that Seamus had stayed with Lavender, even after her attack. She’d always been alright looking, but now, a lot of her prettiness was covered with scars. There was barely a patch on her face that didn’t have some kind of reminder of her injury. 

Ron hated himself for thinking it, but if they’d still been together when she was attacked, he was fairly confident he would not have done the same. He drifted his eyes to Hermione, who was now speaking to Padma Patil. Although, if it had been Hermione who had been attacked… well, his feelings for her and his feelings for Lavender had always been very, very different. If it had been Hermione, he didn’t think one thousand scars across her face could have changed the fact that he’d fallen helplessly in love with her. 

He supposed that was how Seamus felt, too. 

Ron left the small group, having just spotted Hermione heading toward the bathroom. She appeared rather unsteady.

“You alright?” he asked, catching her arm. She was very flushed in the cheeks now. 

“Yep,” Hermione said, beaming. “Perfectly fine. Perfectly happy. Great party, isn’t it?”

And it was then Ron decided that even if she had heard what he’d said, she wasn’t going to remember it anyway. 

“It’s not bad,” Ron said, catching her as she swayed against him, “but maybe you should sit down. And no more Firewhisky for you, either. Since when do you like that stuff?” He guided her to the sofa, as two people Ron didn’t know the names of hopped up before Hermione collapsed on top of them. 

“I think I’ve failed all my NEWTs,” Hermione said vaguely. “I’ll be jobless, and… and NEWT-less —” she giggled in a very unHermione-like way. “NEWT-less…”

“Apparently that’s why you drink,” Ron said, sitting down beside her. He Summoned a glass of cool water and passed it to her. “I’ll remember that for the future,” he said as she took a deep drink from the glass.

When she’d finished it, she looked at Ron with a slightly more sober expression. She smiled. “You know what?”

“Yeah?” Ron said, his thoughts running away from him again as she stared at him with her astray hair and pink cheeks. I do want to marry her. One day. Merlin, I really do.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at Firewhisky again after tonight. My mouth is numb from it.”

Ron grinned, and then laughed. “Yeah, well, you did drink an awful lot of it. And for the record, you’re not going to fail your NEWTs. And also for the record, I will never let you forget this. You, drinking too much Firewhisky… I’ll remember this forever.”

Hermione scowled. 

“I’ll make sure you never forget it either,” he added, drawing her towards him so that he could kiss her. He could taste the burn of the Firewhisky on her lips, and it had never tasted better.

…

Two days after the party, Ron woke to sunlight blaring through the drawn window. It was one thing he hated about this place — the sun rose far too early and glared right at him at some ungodly hour in which he was forced to get up. 

It had been most unpleasant the day before, where he (and Hermione, which Ron was still laughing about) had been attempting to sleep off a horrible hangover. Hermione, more so than Ron. 

She had felt dreadful when she’d woken, groaning as the humming of the crowd below grew noisier the later it got. Shops began opening around nine on Sundays, but that had been far too early for her. She hadn’t even been able to get out of bed until Ron had gone to the apothecary and bought her a Pepper-Up potion, which she’d downed in one hit. 

Ron had spent the day laughing at her every time she complained, which had resulted in her not speaking to him for most of the evening and night. 

“Morning,” Ron said as he yawned and rolled over to kiss Hermione, only to find her not there. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. It was a Monday, and he’d have to get to training in an hour or two, but she had nothing to do.

Curious as to what, apart from the glaring light, had dragged her out of bed so early, he stumbled from the room and into the tiny living space, finding her sitting at the little kitchen table. 

“Morning,” he said, coming over to kiss the top of her bushy head. “What’s got you up so early?” But the answer was laying in front of him the moment he asked it. Sitting on the table in front of her, spread out, were five official envelopes, all addressed to Hermione, with the Ministry symbol in the corner. 

Hermione was staring at them, white-faced, her hands clasped together in her lap. 

“Oh,” Ron said, “Your NEWT results have come.”

Hermione didn’t even look at him, but gave a short nod, her face very pale. 

“Hermione,” Ron said, “why haven’t you opened them? You’re not seriously worried that you’ve failed, are you?”

Hermione said nothing. 

“If you’d failed, you wouldn’t have these.” He indicated the four thinner envelopes as he took the other seat at the table. 

This time, Hermione looked up at him, looking terrified. “What are those other ones?” she whispered. “I was just expecting one, but then the owl also had these…”

Ron chuckled. “They’re job offers, Hermione,” he said. 

“What?”

“Well, the Ministry is aware of everyone’s results before you receive them, you see. They go through them and highlight who might be suited for particular jobs. The jobs aren’t always at the Ministry, either. Then, they send you offers along with your results.” He studied the envelopes for a moment, before smiling at her. “Four’s impressive. Percy only got two.”

This didn’t seem to ease her nerves at all. If possible, she looked even paler. 

“Oh, come on,” Ron said, picking up the most formal of the five envelopes. 

“You do it!” Hermione said. “I don’t think I can bear it.”

Shrugging, Ron tore open the results to Hermione’s NEWTs, and for a moment, considered telling her she’d failed everything, but thought better of it when he saw how anxious she appeared. 

“An Outstanding in every damned thing,” he said, laying the parchment in front of her. “I could have told you that. In fact, I’m pretty sure I did.” He beamed. “You are honestly the smartest person I know.”

Relief flooded Hermione’s face as she read through her results. Her face grew some colour back in it, and a smile played at the corner of her mouth. 

“Now, let’s see who wants the most brilliant witch to ever grace this world to work for them.” Ron opened the first envelope and read it. He snorted. 

“What?” Hermione asked, snatching the letter from him. 

“You’re not going to waste your talents working at the Menagerie,” Ron told her. “That’s actually insulting to send you that. I hope they’re not all like that.”

The next three were all Ministry offers — one in Magical Law, one in the Magical Creatures department and the third in the Magical Transportation department. 

“Honestly, you’d be great in all of them,” Ron said, “but I’d say no to the transportation one. Percy would be your boss.”

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” Hermione reasoned. “He’s a lot better now, and seeing a familiar face…”

She looked at the other two letters, her eyes darting between them. “Oh, there’s so much to think about. I never saw myself in Law, and Magical Creatures would be of interest, but…”

“You don’t have to decide now,” Ron said, and he tapped the letters with his wand. They folded neatly into a pile.

“Where’d you learn that spell?” Hermione asked.

“Training,” Ron said. “Well, kind of. Was more of a tip from one of the Aurors. Said it saved some time with the paperwork.”

“You’ll have to teach me it,” Hermione said, smiling slightly. 

“Coffee?” Ron asked, waving his wand again to set the kettle on the stove and then a third time to light the stove. 

“There’s no water in there, Ron,” Hermione said with amusement.

“Oh, right.” He got up from his chair and filled the kettle with water. 

“I wonder how Ginny and Luna went,” Hermione said as Ron returned to the table. “Maybe I should Floo them and see —”

“Later,” Ron said, grabbing her arm to keep her in her seat. “Let’s have breakfast together. What do you want? Toast? I can make some eggs if you want.”

“Toast is fine,” Hermione said. “And I can make it.” She got up and made her way over to the bench. She took out some bread.

“At the party the other night, Luna said she didn’t think she’d take any job that resulted in a desk,” Hermione said as she began to prepare the bread for toasting. 

“Well, that’s Luna, isn’t it?” Ron said. “What do you think she’ll do? Go searching for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks?”

“Well… yes,” Hermione said. “She mentioned something like that… honestly, that’s very —”

“Luna,” Ron said. “She’ll never change.” He grinned. “So, you remember that conversation, do you? I would have thought the whole night would have been a blank. It seemed to be yesterday.”

“Well, things are coming back to me,” Hermione said in a very matter-of-fact way. “In fact, I think I remember most of what was said to me, or… about me.”

Ron froze. She had her back to him, but her voice had changed as she said the last part. He’d been quite comfortable in thinking that she hadn’t heard a single word of his slip of the tongue that night. That, worst case scenario, she had been too far away. The last thing he wanted was to have to explain to her that he hadn’t meant right now. Just one day.

“Right…” he said slowly. “Well… everyone was really drunk, so whatever you heard, you probably shouldn’t take it seriously.” 

“So, you don’t want to marry me, then?” Hermione turned around to face him, and to Ron’s surprise, she was smiling. 

“Of course I do!” Ron replied, and he could have kicked himself with how quickly he’d said it. His stupid brain couldn’t even be bothered to pretend to hesitate on the matter. “But not right now!” he added hastily. Now that just sounded insulting. He grimaced. 

Hermione didn’t say anything, but continued to watch him with a smile on her face. 

Ron sighed, realising he had no choice but to address it now. “Listen, Hermione… I didn’t even realise I said it. It was a thought that popped into my head in the moment, and I accidentally spoke it out loud. I daresay the drinks loosened my tongue a little. I was hoping you hadn’t heard.”

“It was a nice thing to hear,” Hermione said. “I liked hearing it.”

Ron stared at her, rather taken aback by how easily she was taking this. He’d expected her to start listing all the reasons why they shouldn’t rush into it, why they should wait. Her cheerful silence caught him off guard. 

“You really want to get married to me?” Hermione said after a moment. 

“Yes,” Ron replied. “I do. Of course I do. If I get married, I want it to be to you. I love you. But… er… you don’t mean now, do you? Because I’d like to be able to do it properly. You know, ask you... with a ring and everything, and I simply cannot afford to get you a nice one right now…” He flushed. Why did his mouth have to speak?

Hermione looked as if she was trying to fight back a laugh. “I don’t mean now,” she assured him. “Don’t worry. But it’s nice to know you’re thinking about it. I’d like to marry you, too. One day.”

“Oh… well, that’s good to know,” Ron said, not quite believing what he was hearing. Were they really talking about getting married? 

“What else do you see in the future?” Hermione asked, retaking her seat and staring at him intently. 

“What do you mean?” Ron asked. “Like, with us? Our future… together? Well…” He thought about it for but a second, and suddenly an extremely clear picture flashed into his mind. It was as if it had always been there, but suppressed, not daring to be thought until the timing was right. And now, apparently, was the right time. “I can see us in a house that we own together. Not this tiny flat forever. I see us getting married. I see us… maybe we’ll have kids, too. One day. Two or three, or however many you want. Just not seven. I see us being pretty happy together, if you'll tolerate me for that long, and… well, I guess…" 

"What?" Hermione asked, sounding as if he'd paused in the middle of an immensely captivating story.

"Er…" Ron looked away, unsure on whether he should continue or not. Just how far did she want him to go?

"I'm not going to freak out," Hermione said, as if reading his mind. "I promise."

Still not entirely convinced, Ron averted his eyes to the toast, which had begun smoking because Hermione had been distracted. Smiling slightly, he said, "Well, I guess I'll be taking care of the cooking if you can't even handle toast."

Hermione looked to where he was staring and jumped to her feet, swearing as she ran to get the now burnt toast. Muttering to herself, she tossed the toast in the bin and turned back to look at Ron, her eyes questioning. 

"You really see us having children… and… and all that?"

Ron shrugged. "One day, I guess. If you want."

"I do want that," Hermione said quickly. "One day." She smiled.

"A long way away," Ron emphasised, for he could not picture himself with a child right now, or in the near future. 

Hermione's smile widened, and she nodded. "Yes," she agreed, "many, many years away."

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 25

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Chapter 25

The guilt over giving up his Christmas to work ate away at Ron over the next week. There were times when he wanted to tell Hermione, to say that he made a mistake and would try and fix it and see if he could get back onto the mission he’d originally signed up for. But whenever he considered doing this, Hermione would once again come home late, and his frustration would surge into a mood where he wished to see or speak to no one. 

He felt lonely. Having Hermione around had become a staple in his life, so much so, that even going to the Burrow — which he was doing more of with Hermione insisting on never coming home — filled him with a sense of loneliness. Even being surrounded by his many family members and the bright and bubbly baby Victoire, who was just beginning to learn to crawl, wasn’t able to cheer him up. 

His mother, who had definitely noticed his continued presence at the Burrow over the last week without Hermione, often tried to inquire into what was going on — to which he would always say, “She’s working.”

He’d managed to keep the bitterness from his voice the first few times, but by the end of the week, and the fifth time his mother had asked in that same evening, he was unable to manage it. 

The worst thing was that Hermione didn’t seem to get it. She acted as if him asking her to come home for dinner just one night of the week was the same as asking her to drink poison. She brushed off his requests and told him to leave, and when he refused, she snapped at him. 

So, Ron had also given up asking her to come home for dinner. What was the point when he knew what her answer was going to be?

The only time he now saw his girlfriend was at night, when she slid into bed beside him, always well past midnight, or on the weekend, when he managed to draw her away from her work for an hour so that they could get some needed things in Diagon Alley. But as soon as they’d return, it would be back to business for her, hunched over her work at the table and ignoring all the food Ron placed in front of her. 

He’d had better conversations with Crookshanks and Arwen than he had with her, and that thought solidified his reasoning that this Christmas would be spent apart, whether she realised it or not. 

There had been times throughout his life where he had felt angry with her, but nothing felt as depressing as this time did. Back then, they’d been kids, and she’d been his friend. Now, he was filled with anger, frustration, and a growing sense of worthlessness that he’d not felt around her in the eighteen months of their relationship. She’d always, until recently, given him a reason to believe he was more important to her than anything. That their relationship was worth something. 

He hated the thoughts that were creeping into his head, because he loved her, and he still wanted to be with her, but he wasn’t sure how much more of this he could stand. He’d tried, but it simply didn’t seem to be working anymore, and for the first time in his life, he wondered if he and Hermione really were meant to last. 

The little happy bubble he’d found himself in with her had burst; while he knew that all couples fought, and that he and Hermione were prone to sniping at each other, this felt different. He actually thought he’d prefer them to get into a massive argument than how things currently were. He had been miserable with Lavender, but he had never felt that way with Hermione. 

Until now. 

It seemed that when it came to her prioritising what was important in her life, Ron had taken a backseat and been put second against a job that she was extremely passionate about. 

He’d seen a snippet of it last Christmas, but after the memorial and learning what she had been working on, he’d convinced himself that she had had a reason. Now… well, now, there was no excuses he could make for her.

He loved her, but the more obsessed she seemed to become with her work, Ron found himself wondering if that was enough. The obsession seemed to go beyond what was normal — even for her. He was sick of spending the evenings either alone or at the Burrow, avoiding questions and pitying looks, like they suspected something more was going on. His mother had even dropped hints that she’d redecorated his old room if he ever wanted to stay. 

And on the sixth straight night of eating dinner with his family, he accepted his mother’s offer. The idea of returning home to yet another dark and lonely night felt unbearable. At least being here surrounded him with people he loved, and he could laugh and joke with them and find things to distract himself from what was turning into a failed relationship. 

It sucked. It really sucked, but that was the only way he could describe it. His relationship with Hermione was failing, and he was over trying to make it work. She had made it clear that she valued her job over him, even if she hadn’t said as such, and he wasn’t going to try anymore. He was sick of being rejected by her every time he did. 

Part of him even wondered if she’d notice he was missing when she got home — whenever that would be. He was dreading the day she’d lose track so badly that she wouldn’t come home at all. 

It was strange being in his old room. He hadn’t slept in his bed for over a year, hadn’t even set foot inside it since he left to move into Grimmauld Place with Harry. That felt so long ago now and he’d never once considered that he’d have a need to come back to it. Things with Hermione had been perfect. 

As he laid awake, the clock growing ever closer to midnight, his eyes directed at the ceiling, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made a mistake. Perhaps they really had rushed things, consumed by their grief and years of having feelings for one another, but never acting on them. They really had clung to one another after the war, becoming so dependent on the other for comfort and happiness. He had never thought it to be unhealthy, because it had always felt right. Every moment had been wonderful, incredible, but maybe that feeling was only ever supposed to last a little while. Maybe it was something that was destined to burn out eventually, and he’d been too in love to see it. Perhaps he’d simply hoped, rather than thought, that what they had was something that would be forever. 

His feelings for her spoke otherwise — the love, even now, that he felt for her made it difficult for him to believe that it was a fleeting thing in his life — but perhaps for her that was all it was. Perhaps her feelings had changed, and if that was the case, then there was nothing he could do to change that. He’d just have to deal. 

He couldn’t fall asleep. It was the same here as it was in his own bed. He’d lay awake, thinking over and over about what he should do. He’d let it go on because he couldn’t bring himself to start a conversation about it, too afraid of where it might lead. He just loved her so much still, and even as he suffered, when he put the idea of things going wrong into his head, he just couldn’t take that next step out of fear of what she might say or what she might do.

He didn’t actually want to hear this isn’t working anymore out loud — from him or her. 

In truth, all he wanted from her was some kind of acknowledgement, and maybe a promise that she’d try to put him first, even if it was once a week. All he wanted was to know that he still mattered to her — perhaps it was a selfish request, but it was what he needed. 

The clock struck one, and still, he couldn’t sleep. He wondered if Hermione had come home yet and discovered their bed empty. He wondered if it bothered her, or if she’d been too caught up in planning her next day to even notice. She was so sleep deprived lately that it wouldn’t have surprised him if she’d simply collapsed into bed and fallen asleep without noticing her surroundings. Perhaps it wouldn’t be until morning when she woke up and learnt of his absence. 

Maybe then she’d understand. 

Two o’clock came, and his eyes felt heavy. He tossed and turned and fretted. At one point he even considered getting up and going home, because he was worried that she’d fret over him not being there. But he fought against it, reminding himself that he had tried. It was her choice now. 

Three o’clock and finally, he drifted off into a light sleep. He couldn’t have been asleep for more than half an hour when the bedroom door opened and a blinding light burned through his eyelids. 

“What the —”

“There you are! God, Ron, I was so worried about you. I was awake all night searching for you, thinking the worst…”

Ron blinked. It wasn’t Hermione’s wand light, but the light of day shining through the window. She’d brushed the curtains aside, maybe in an attempt to wake him, as if her accusing voice hadn’t been enough. 

He opened his eyes, squinting at Hermione’s head hovering above him. She looked worse for wear — more exhausted than she had all week — and extremely worried. When she saw his eyes open, she sat on the end of his bed. 

“I got home, and you weren’t there, and so I went looking for you, thinking you’d been hurt, or…”

“How could I get hurt between the Ministry and our flat?” Ron asked, and he heard the lack of emotion in his voice.

“I-I don’t know,” Hermione said, and she sounded concerned. “I was just so worried. And in the morning, I ended up at Grimmauld Place, thinking you were there for some reason, and Ginny said you were here… Ron… why didn’t you come home?”

Ron said nothing. He was still recovering from being startled awake, not quite sure how he’d managed to sleep for at least four hours when it had only felt like one. 

Hermioned seemed to take his silence to mean something more, for she said, “Have… have I upset you?” It sounded as if she was holding back tears. 

Still trying to wake up properly, Ron sat up in the bed. He rubbed his eyes, bringing her into focus. “Upset me?”

She nodded, and he now saw that she really did look upset. He had to fight the urge to reach out and comfort her, which had always been his natural instinct when it came to her. 

“Hermione, of course you’ve upset me.” He couldn’t quite believe that she was asking him that — as if nothing that had happened over the past week had even registered in her brilliant mind. 

Hermione paled. She seemed confused. “May… may I ask why?”

For a moment, Ron could do nothing but stare at her. He could tell she was being serious, that she really didn’t have any idea why he felt so angry and defeated. And then he felt his anger bubble. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Ron —”

And now everything he’d held back, all of his frustrations, came tumbling out. “We literally haven’t had a proper conversation in weeks!” he nearly shouted. “We haven’t seen each other for just as long, and every time I even so much as suggest you come home in time for dinner, you act as if I’ve asked you to commit murder.”

Hermione stiffened. Her back straightened, and her expression hardened slightly. He could almost hear her mind saying, not this again. “Ron, it’s not like I want to stay as late as I am —”

“Really?” Ron asked unkindly. “Because I don’t recall you ever telling me anyone is forcing you to stay back seven hours after your day finishes.”

Hermione didn’t say anything. She merely stared at Ron.

“I thought I might have been okay with it,” Ron continued. “You know, you’ve always been like this. I knew that and your dedication… your brilliance… it’s something that I absolutely love about you. I admire it, envy it… I’m okay with you doing all the amazing things that you’ll do there.”

Now she looked very confused. He knew she wanted to ask him what the issue was then, but he didn’t give her the chance. 

“But, I’m not okay with being ignored, and that’s what it feels like. I’m not okay with you coming home every single night past midnight, then getting up at five o’clock to arrive three hours before you’re due to start. I’m not okay with being second best to your job.”

“Ron, you’re not second best.” She sounded annoyed again. As if he wasn’t the one understanding her. “It’s just, sometimes I’ve got so much to do that I need to stay back.”

“But it’s not sometimes, is it?” Ron said, feeling his hope that she’d see sense fading with every word. “It’s always and that’s the issue. It’s why I’m upset. Even on weekends, I can barely get you to look at me. Once, you liked it when I kissed you, hugged you, but now, it’s just like I’m a nuisance instead. I’m the annoying person who happens to be sleeping in your space, distracting you from all the important things you’ve got to do —”

“That’s not true!” Hermione said. “You’re not —”

“That’s supposed to be our time together,” Ron continued, not giving her the chance to make excuses for herself. “We’re supposed to be a couple, doing things together, but instead, you’ve got your nose buried in your work and you tell me to get lost if I dare breathe.”

“That’s not —”

“It is!” Ron cried, and he felt tears spring to his eyes, which was not something he’d wanted to happen. “That’s exactly how it is, and the fact that you can’t even see it makes it so much worse. I get that you love your job, Hermione, and I’m not asking you to make any drastic changes. You’re good at what you do, and I support you. But I think I’ve discovered one thing you’re not good at, and that’s being in a relationship.”

“That’s really unfair,” Hermione said, and she now sounded furious. As furious as Ron was with her. 

“Yeah, and living in a place we are supposed to share, alone, is unfair, too,” Ron snapped. “Being ignored, being made to feel as if I’m in the way all the time, is unfair. I won’t do it, Hermione. I won’t subject myself to feeling like that anymore. That’s how I felt my whole life, and I won’t let it happen again. Especially when I know what we have doesn’t have to be like that — that it hasn’t been like that until you started working at the Ministry.”

“What?” Hermione replied harshly. “So, you’re saying I have to stop working just to keep you from feeling lonely then?”

“No, of course not!” Ron replied, just as angry. “I’m not asking you to quit your job, I’m asking you to actually leave when you’re supposed to, to have dinner with me, to actually care about something else that doesn’t involve these laws and protection acts you’re trying to put through.”

“They’re really important —”

“Yeah, and so is our relationship, which you’ve completely neglected.”

“Our relationship is the most important thing to me,” Hermione said. 

 “So important that you volunteer to work on Christmas day instead of spending it with me,” Ron replied. 

“It was only for a few hours in the evening!” Hermione cried, and tears sprang to her eyes also. “I told you that. But if it bothers you so much, then I’ll change it. I’ll say I can’t —”

“No point,” Ron said. “You can work the whole day for all I care.”

“Ron, I’ll change it if it’s going to upset you. I just thought because it was in the evening, then it would be okay.”

“Yeah, it’s okay,” Ron said, “because I signed up for the first mission, which is held over Christmas. I won’t be here at all.”

“You what?”

“I didn’t think you’d care.”

Hermione stared at him for a moment, her mouth slightly open. Then, she shook her head and said, “Of course I care, Ron. You’re… you’re the most important thing to me. It’s just… this is really important to me, too. This work I’m doing.”

“Yeah, and the work I do is important to me, too, but you don’t see me staying back past midnight each night. It wouldn’t even matter if it was once or twice a week, but it’s every damned night and… well, honestly, I don’t know if it’s worth it anymore.”

There. He’d said it, and it didn’t make him feel good at all.  

Hermione recoiled slightly. “If what’s worth it?” she asked weakly, though she seemed to already know. 

“Us,” Ron said, and he looked her square in the eye. He’d taken her completely by surprise and right now, he didn’t actually care. “I’ve tried, but it seems that at the moment, I’m the only one putting in any effort. I’ve told myself all week that you’d come round, that it would be alright once things settled down, but I’ve waited a while now, it’s not alright, so I don’t see the point anymore. I give up.”

“You give… you mean… you want to break up?” Hermione asked, and her anger vanished as quickly as it had come. She seemed frightened now — as if the immensity of everything had finally hit her. 

“No,” Ron said. “Not really. I love you. But I also don’t want to keep being forgotten about, so if that’s the only other option, then… I don’t see any other option. Not for me, at least.” He looked away from her, blinking away tears. 

It really did suck, but he knew he was right and she was wrong. 

The room filled with a very uncomfortable and depressing silence. He could feel her still watching him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look back. He was scared as to what he might see. Part of him still hoped that she’d come around and the last thing he wanted to see was resignation on her face. 

“Ron... I didn’t realise…” She shuffled closer to him on the bed, reaching out her hand to his. He reluctantly let her take it, though for the first time ever he didn’t really want her touching him. “If I’d known you were so upset by it, I would have —”

“But I tried telling you, Hermione. I tried every day when I went into your office, sometimes at nine o’clock at night to try and get you to finish up. All those times I hung around, hoping that you’d finish, and then you’d just tell me to go away. You didn’t even want to listen to me, you just saw me as an interference to your important work. I’ve been nothing but an annoyance for you since starting this job, Hermione. Someone you’d rather be rid of than listen to. And now you come here acting as if you didn’t expect any of this. I suppose I was good enough for you while you had nothing better to do, filling in your time, but now that you’ve found something that actually matters, I’m just some —”

“You do matter, Ron.” Hermione’s voice cracked and he finally looked back at her. Thankfully, there was no resignation there, but there was a lot of hurt and confusion. And some tears. 

He said nothing.

“I don’t want us to break up,” she whispered. “That’s the last thing I wanted… God… I… I’m sorry.” She wiped at her eyes quickly, trying to stop the tears that were now rolling down her cheeks.

Ron didn’t respond straight away as he contemplated her words. The easy way out — and what he really wanted to do — was to accept her apology, hug her, and assure her everything was going to be okay. Maybe then he could go back to pretending that he wasn’t as bothered by everything. But that would be a lie, and he’d already come this far. He couldn’t back out now. 

“I’m not sure I’m ready to accept your apology,” he said quietly. 

Hermione’s lip trembled and more tears sprang to her eyes. Some even rolled down her cheeks. But she seemed to accept his words, for she didn’t try to argue them. 

Neither of them spoke for a long time. Ron could almost hear her mind ticking over as she searched for the next thing to say. She clearly hadn’t expected him to be so blunt about it, nor did he think she’d even realised something was wrong — which made things a whole lot worse. He knew he sounded whiny and needy and a little pathetic, and that he was making it all about him, but that was how he felt. And he felt that for once, he had every right to be like that. 

Hermione seemed to manage to find something to say eventually. “I really am sorry,” she said. “I didn’t think you minded. You never seemed to when we were studying for exams…”

“We weren’t together then,” Ron said. “It’s different now. I love you so much, but… my feelings... they’re not unconditional, Hermione. I have limits, and being ignored, being made to feel as if I’m unimportant to someone I love so damn much… I told you about the Horcrux and what it did to me...”

Hermione looked down at their still entwined hands.

“I’m not expecting you to fulfill every moment of my life, Hermione. I’m not asking you to change who you are because of me. I know who you are, I know what you’re like, and I love that about you. I’m just asking you to finish work on time, even if it’s just once a week, so we can see each other and you can get a well-deserved break. I’m asking you to set aside some time on your weekends so we can spend them together. Or, at the very least, make a lunch that we organise at work. I just want to sometimes see you. I don’t think I’m asking too much.”

“You’re not,” Hermione said quietly. “They’re completely reasonable things to expect in a relationship.”

“But are they too big of asks for you?” Ron asked her. 

She shook her head immediately, not even seeming to think about it. “No. They’re not.”

Ron nodded and they fell into another silence, their fingers still interlocked, but resting limply on the bed.

“It’s Saturday,” Hermione then said suddenly, her voice still weak. 

“Yeah,” Ron said. 

“Do you want to do something?”

“Like what?” Ron asked, knowing full well that this was her attempt to try and make things right again. He wondered if she realised that this was a bit bigger than a simple misunderstanding. He wasn’t sure if she’d fully grasped how close he’d come to ending things with her. She still seemed to be rather baffled at everything that had happened. 

Hermione shook her head. “I… don’t know. Something. Anything. Anything you want. And there’ll be no work involved all weekend. I won’t even think about it.”

However, what was the alternative? To actually end things with her? He didn’t like that idea at all. And she was trying to make an attempt, no matter how feeble it seemed at the moment.  

“Yeah, alright,” he said. 

Hermione moved ever so slightly on the bed, and Ron thought she had considered coming closer to kiss him, but then changed her mind at the last minute. Instead, she sat up straighter and asked, “What do you want to do, then?”

“I dunno,” Ron said. “Why don’t you choose? It was your idea.”

“What about — you liked the movie last time. Why not try that again?”

“Something different,” Ron said.

“Um, a picnic?” Hermione suggested. “We can Apparate anywhere we want, if you’d like somewhere private.”

“That sounds good. A picnic sounds good. You organise it.”

Hermione smiled slightly, apparently happy that he’d agreed to her suggestion. “I will.” She hesitated a moment before adding, “Um… will you be coming home?” Her cheeks tinged pink as she said it.

His frustration with her still lingering, but no longer the prominent emotion, he nodded without any hesitation. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s my favourite place to be. I just wish you were there more often.”

“I will be,” Hermione said with so much sincerity that Ron had trouble doubting her. “I’ll try and balance things better from now on. I’ll come home on time every night. I promise.”

Despite not wanting to, Ron allowed a small smile to form on his lips. “Well, I look forward to it,” he said, and he sat fully up on the bed.

…

Hermione Apparated them to a small loch in the north of Scotland, not too far from where Hogwarts was, Ron guessed. The backdrop painted a stunning, picturesque setting under a rare cloudless sky. 

Being November, it was cold, but Hermione conjured some small fires and placed them in jars around where they sat. 

This was exactly what Ron had been hoping for. Not just today, but every day since she’d begun work. He craved the loving, attentive Hermione that had been with him prior to her starting her job. He missed their weekends together, and the evenings where they shared meals and then spent the next few hours either curled up next to one another, or in a pleasant, homey silence that made Ron so happy. 

He was proud of her and wanted her to succeed in any way that he knew she could, but he realised now that she had no idea how to balance her work and a relationship. She’d never had to before, growing up as an only child with two parents who spent their lives working. Thinking about that now, Ron realised that perhaps he shouldn’t have gotten as frustrated as he did about it; but at the same time, he felt nothing but relief in having told her how he was feeling. It had been bothering him too much for him to just let it slide and continue going on as if nothing was wrong. It wouldn’t have been fair on either of them to keep going with Hermione thinking nothing was wrong, and Ron being downright miserable about it.

He wanted to be happy with her, and he wanted her to be happy with him. They weren’t in a good place now, but it didn’t mean it couldn’t be fixed. At least, he hoped it didn’t mean that. He loved her very, very much and that part hadn’t changed. 

Hermione had gone all out with the picnic. She’d packed enough food to feed ten people, not two, and had even made an attempt to make it relatively romantic, which Ron appreciated. He watched her set it up — by hand, not by magic — unsure if he should say anything to her or just wait for her to speak. He’d never felt this way around her — not even when he was eleven years old — and the knowledge that he didn’t know what to say, or have anything to say to her, bothered him perhaps more than it should.

Even as she made an effort, even though she’d already rejected three memos sent to her that morning, he still felt angry with her. He couldn’t control it, nor explain it. It was just how he felt. 

At the same time, the part of him that he thought would love her no matter what, craved to reach out and touch her again. To draw her into his arms and just hold her, making up for all of the lost time. 

He didn’t know what to do, nor did he know what she expected. To him, she still didn’t seem to fully understand why he was upset.

“I don’t know why I picked this place,” she said, her tone very bright, cheerful. “It just popped into my head. Maybe it was one of the places we —” She cut off abruptly, looking away from him again. 

“It’s nice,” Ron replied. “I like it.”

Hermione offered a weak smile. “I like it too. I like view of the water.”

Ron took in the water right in front of them. Soon, he guessed, it would freeze over, but for now it was still flowing and occasionally he thought he saw a fish reach the surface before disappearing again. He allowed that to distract him for a while. 

“Ron?”

He came to, Hermione kneeling in front of him with a worried expression. 

“Yeah?” he said. 

She didn’t say anything immediately. Her eyes bore into his, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she seemed to find the right words. “What do I need to do to make this right?”

“Be home,” Ron said without thinking. “I just want you to be home.”

She nodded sullenly. 

It almost felt strange to Ron to be the one who was teaching her about how to do something. She always seemed to have the answer, and for a year and a half, she had. But now she seemed confused and a little lost, not to mention slightly out of her depth in dealing with this situation. 

Despite himself, he felt some of his anger with her dissipate. And that annoyed him. 

“I really am bad at this, aren’t I?” she asked, half-laughing. 

“A little,” Ron said. “But there’s really good moments, too. I promise. Most of it’s good.”

Hermione thought for a moment. “Ron, I’ve never had to do this before. I’ve never had to balance two things that are very, very important to me before. Growing up, education, work, it was always a high priority for me. It still is, of course, but I never had anything else to really stand in the way.”

“You had a war,” Ron said. “And you seemed able to do it then.”

Hermione flushed. “That… that was different. That was more of a necessity… survival, if you must. But this… us… it’s different. In a good way, of course!”

Ron said nothing. 

“Ron, I know it’s not an excuse, but please understand. I just didn’t realise. I wasn’t prioritising my work over you. I really wasn’t. And I know that to you it looks like that, and I get it. But — and it was incredibly stupid of me — it never occurred to me that there’d be a point in our relationship where you’d… have enough.”

Still, Ron didn’t speak. He simply watched her, waiting for her to go on. 

“I know how ridiculous that sounds, Ron. I know! But everything has been so comfortable, you’ve been so understanding, so supportive of me. For the most part, things for us have been really, really good. I never looked at our relationship and thought that it might end. I just thought… I thought we would be together for a long time and nothing would stand in the way of that.”

When Ron continued not to say anything, Hermione went incredibly red. She was clearly hoping he’d speak up, which was strange. She usually preferred not to be contradicted, but it seemed that here she was hoping for it. 

“I love you, Ron,” she whispered. “And you’re not second best to any job I could ever have. It’s second best to you.”

Ron watched her for a moment longer. The reason he hadn’t said anything was because he had no idea how to respond to what she had said. The part of him that wanted to make things right was hanging onto her every word saying that she never saw their relationship ever ending. But the angry part of him was annoyed that she seemed to think she could treat him however she wanted and he’d just stick around. It annoyed him even more that there was some truth to that, too. 

He didn’t want to end things with her and he’d done everything he could to not have that happen, including allowing himself to be miserable for a lot longer than he should have. 

“Do you promise to come home on time when you can?” he asked after a moment. “I get it, Hermione, and I know that there will be times that you can’t. But, I just want you to look after yourself. You have a habit of going in too hard at times and then come out the other side worse off. And… I can support you in whatever you do. I am proud of you. I just don’t want you to forget about me either.”

“I promise” she said with a small smile. “I’ll set a timer if I have to, and if I still have work left, then it can wait. I promise.”

“And you’ll eat?”

“Yes,” she said. “I will.”

Ron gave her half a smile. “I’m still upset with you.”

“I know.”

“But… I love you, and the last thing I want is to continue living my life without you in it. I can’t picture a future — at least a happy one — that doesn’t involve you there as well.”

Her smile grew. “I feel the same way,” she said quietly. “Ron, I might be bad at this, but you’re really good at it. It seems so easy for you.”

Ron shrugged. “I’ve got to be better than you at something, right? And it is easy when it’s with someone I want to be with more than anything else in the world. You make it easy… most of the time.”

“We still have a way to go, though, don’t we?”

“Of course,” Ron said. “But I think it’s worth the effort.”

She shuffled closer to him, this time daring to kiss him. He let her, though he didn’t respond. “So do I,” she said. 

-------

So, this is probably the chapter that has had the most reworking and the most rewrites to. I've tried really, REALLY hard to balance Ron and Hermione out. I've done my best to highlight flaws of BOTH of theirs, though as it is being told through Ron's POV, he naturally believes he is right - that doesn't necessarily mean that he actually IS when he thinks it.

This and the next few chapters address these flaws and - because I am following canon, you all already know - they eventually sort it out and acknowledge this about themselves.

Also, do I think that something like this could cause strain in their relationship? Yes, I do. But I've really tried to emphasise the fact that it is not the fact that Hermione has a job that is bothering Ron, it's her obsessive nature to the point of her almost neglecting him and their relationship, that upsets him. I don't think that Ron would ever be unsupportive of her ever working, but I do think that he'd be bothered by feeling second best to it with her. I hope I've portrayed that well enough.

Lastly, this whole subplot was inspired by a one shot I wrote last year called 'Don't Forget To Eat'. If you're interested in reading a much more condensed version, you can find it on my profile under my Orange Broomsticks collection on fanfiction.net (Fire The Canon).

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 20

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer!

Follow whenihaveyou.romione on Instagram if you’re interested!

Note: This chapter exists purely because I wanted to write Ron and Hermione making out in an empty classroom.

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

Chapter 20

A month later, Ron once again found himself at Hogwarts; however, this time for a good reason. It was a moment he’d been looking forward to since last September, since the moment he’d said goodbye to Hermione on Platform 9 ¾. 

After today, in just a few short hours, she would be done with Hogwarts. She would leave, and she would be coming home. 

For good. 

“I’m glad you’re so supportive of my education, Ron,” Hermione said after he’d expressed his enthusiasm of her finally being finished that morning. He and Harry had arrived early, around breakfast, to see the girls before the small ceremony began. Now, they stood in the Entrance Hall, half an hour to go, with the graduating seventh years. 

“You know I care, Hermione,” Ron said, smoothing down her robes. “But, I’m still thrilled that you’ll be finished soon. I can go back to seeing you every day.”

Hermione smiled despite herself. “I must admit, it will be good. Though, I can’t stop wondering about the NEWT results. I keep thinking about the exams and all the things I might have missed. It may affect any job —”

Ron silenced her with a kiss, to which she hastily pushed him away, very red and looking around at the snickering faces. 

“Not here, Ron,” she hissed. 

“What?” Ron asked, also looking around at the other students. “Embarrassed to be seen with me?”

“No, but, this is a formal ceremony, and you’ll mess up — Ron, where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere more private, if you’re all awkward about it.” Ron dragged her to the side of the Entrance Hall and pushed open an empty classroom. It appeared to have not been used all year, instead storing extra furniture.

“Ron —”

“Shoosh,” Ron said, and he stepped forward, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her deeply. 

“Ron, I appreciate —”

“This is the last time I get to kiss you as a student,” Ron said. “Let me have my moment.”

“Your moment?”

“Shut up and just kiss me, would you?”

Hermione stared up at him for a moment, looking torn between bewilderment and amusement. But eventually, a devious smile formed on her lips, and she stepped forward and engulfed him in such a passionate kiss that it took Ron by surprise. But he hesitated only for a second before drawing her tightly towards him and responding with just as much enthusiasm as she suddenly had. 

This was, Ron realised, a complete fantasy of his he may or may not have possessed for a few years now. Trapped inside an empty classroom, alone with her. There was an appeal to it, a romantic side that he was very surprised to find Hermione seemed to be enjoying as much as he was. 

He moved his hands from her face, sliding them down her arms, creasing up her robes, but he didn’t care, and it seemed, nor did she. 

Very un-Hermione-like. I like it.

His hands continued to trail down her robes, testing just how far she'd let him push it (she didn't seem to be asking him to stop anytime soon). He had just slipped underneath the hem when a blinding light had them springing apart.

"Sorry, Professor, perhaps I should have warned you —" Ginny's voice trailed into the newly opened room, clearly trying to stop herself from laughing.

Ron and Hermione looked up to find a stunned Professor McGonagall staring between them, and behind her, a highly amused Ginny who was covering her mouth with silent giggles.

"Well, I never…" McGonagall said. "Miss Granger! Of all the people, of all the times… not once did I ever expect such indignity from you." 

Despite her harsh tone, Ron could tell that McGonagall was far more amused than she was upset or angry.

Hermione, however, was very red in the face. One look at her, and Ron had to stifle his own laughter. Her hair was frizzier than usual, her robes all creased and ruffled, not to mention her flustered face that had very little to do with embarrassment at being caught. 

"S-sorry, Professor," Hermione said, taking out her wand and casting a spell to flatten her robes again. Then, regaining some of her dignity, she added, "Is it time?"

This time, McGonagall's amusement was in plain sight. Her lips curved up as she said, "Yes, Miss Granger, it is time. I'll see you in a moment." Her eyes fell on Ron. "As for you, Weasley, I strongly encourage you to join Potter across the lake when Miss Granger and Miss Weasley are no longer students. That way, you're both free to… do as you please." Giving another small smile, she turned and walked away.

The moment she was gone, Ginny roared with laughter. "Oh, come on, Hermione," she said, "don't go all embarrassed on me. That was funny."

But Hermione didn't seem to agree. She marched from the room, leaving Ron to follow in her wake. They got halfway to the Entrance Hall when he couldn't help himself either. He chuckled.

"Ron, it's not funny!" Hermione said, still very red. 

"Yes it is," he said. "Hermione Granger, the perfect student, will no longer be remembered for her record-breaking Outstandings she receives at NEWT level, but for being caught in a compromising position with her school droput boyfriend inside an abandoned classroom by the Headmistress." He chuckled again. So did Ginny.

"Oh, McGonagall is going to be so disappointed!" Hermione sighed.

"She was laughing!" Ron assured her as they reached the Hall. He placed a kiss on top of her head and then said, "Besides, what can she do? I'll see you on the other side, alright?"

Still grinning, Ron walked past the other students, some he recognised and waved to along the way. 

That, he decided, had been one of the most exhilarating moments of his life. He walked down the steps and onto the grounds, where he spotted Harry waiting for him. Ahead, McGonagall was directing students towards the lake where boats were waiting to escort everyone across for the very last time. She cast a very wary, very amused look Ron's way.

Once upon a time, Ron might have felt humiliated by it, but not being a student anymore, knowing that this would probably be the last time he'd ever set foot in these halls, he could only grin back at her. 

"What's got you looking so gleeful?" Harry asked when Ron joined him by the lake a moment later.

"Nothing," Ron said, holding back another laugh. "Though I'm sure Ginny will tell you later anyway."

Harry raised a questioning eyebrow, but Ron only shook his head and said, "Come on. Otherwise we'll miss them."

Ron had never attended this small ceremony before — not even when his brothers had completed their seventh years. It wasn't too exciting, but Ron had insisted on coming to see Hermione and Ginny make their last journey from the school, across the lake in the same boats in which they had first arrived. Then, he and Harry would ride the train back to King's Cross for the very last time. 

They walked across the grounds, all the way to Hogsmeade station. There were only a few others there — a few sets of parents, some siblings and perhaps some other boyfriends and girlfriends. 

They sat down on a bench in front of the steaming, scarlet train that was currently empty. 

"I'm looking forward to riding it again," Ron said, nodding towards the Hogwarts Express. “For old time’s sake, you know? It’s a little weird to think we’re done with that part of our lives. For real, I mean. You spend so long desperately waiting for your letter —”

“Well, not for me,” Harry said. “Or Hermione.”

“Yeah, well, it was painful,” Ron continued. “Especially when you have five older brothers who all get to go before you. You think your time will never come — especially when Fred and George keep telling you you’re a Squib — and then you do get to go, and it’s over in a blink of an eye…”

“It did go very fast,” Harry admitted. “Now we’re in the real world… adults…”

“Yeah,” Ron said. “How weird.”

Steam filled the station as they sat in silence. It wasn’t broken until a parent nearby gasped and pointed. 

Ron and Harry looked up just as the seventh year students emerged onto the station, all laughing, cheering and whooping over the fact that they were done. 

Ron beamed, waving Hermione and Ginny over through the crowd. They hurried to them, Hermione throwing her arms around Ron’s neck. 

“Finally,” he said. “I can have my girlfriend back.”

“Is that all you care about?” Hermione asked lightly.

“Absolutely,” Ron said. “I’ve missed you.”

“Yes, but unfortunately on this side of Hogwarts, there’s no more classrooms,” Ginny said slyly.

“No, but there’s plenty of empty rooms at Grimmauld Place,” Ron replied quickly.

“Ron!” Hermione hissed, punching him in the arm. “Stop.”

“What?” Harry asked.

“Nothing,” Ginny and Hermione said together, Hermione not meeting Harry’s eye. She shot Ron an appalled look, to which he shrugged and grinned at her. 

Many people around them were hugging family members, and soon, the rest of the school would be arriving, ready to go home for another school year. 

“Come on,” Ginny said. “Before all the compartments fill up.” She led the way through one of the open doors on the train. Their trunks and everything would be sent down later, so they were free to wander through the carriages, searching for the perfect compartment.

“This one will do,” Ginny said after a while, sliding open the door. She sat down, the others following, and sighed. “I can’t believe it’s over. So many years of wishing to go, begging your parents to let you go early, and then… it’s over.”

“I said the same thing to Harry just before,” Ron said, laughing. He looked between Harry and Hermione. “But these two, of course, don’t understand it. They both got a letter and then a few months later they were off.”

“Lucky,” Ginny said. “As a wizarding child, it’s torture. You just want to see it for yourself. Especially when you have six older brothers who get to go before you. Though —” she looked at Ron, “— at least none of them tried telling me I was a Squib and wouldn’t get my letter.”

“Fred and George?” Hermione guessed, looking at Ron.

“Yep,” Ron said. “I believed them, too, even though I had displayed accidental magic many times. Was terrible at controlling it, though.”

“Yeah, I still remember the time you set fire to the kitchen, all because Mum dared ask you to help with dinner.” Ginny chuckled.

“Well, at least you knew what was happening,” Hermione said. “It was rather frightening when you’re really upset and all the doors to your house fly open at once, then slam closed again, and then continue flapping.”

“Or when you — what I now realise — accidentally Apparate yourself onto a roof to escape your cousin and his friends.”

“You Apparated as a kid?” Ginny asked, looking at Harry with an incredulous expression.

Harry shrugged. “Can’t think of how else I got up there.”

“Woah!” Ginny said. “That’s really cool. The best I managed before five was turning one of my toys into an animated object for five minutes. Terrified me rather than excited me.”

“I remember that!” Ron said. “You cried for hours.”

He couldn’t help but smile as they all reminisced their childhoods, Harry and Hermione having a much different experience to his and Ginny’s. It was funny how things worked out, how a mere eight years ago he’d been an eleven-year-old boy, simultaneously excited and terrified of going to Hogwarts, afraid he’d have everything to live up to and not be able to achieve any of it. 

He’d done alright, though, he thought. He would never be Charlie at Quidditch, or Head Boy like Bill had been. He’d never be as clever as Percy, or as funny as Fred and George. But, he had helped save the wizarding world. He had destroyed a Horcrux, which led to the eventual downfall of the Darkest wizard to ever exist. And, unlike the rest of his siblings, his name would be mentioned in the history books for many years to come, right beside Harry and Hermione’s. It wasn’t what he’d expected, or even hoped for, when he’d boarded this very train all those years ago, but he also wouldn’t change it for anything. 

As the train began to move from the station, the chatter of excited students echoing down the carriages, Ron couldn’t help but smile. He really had done alright in the end. And in just a few short years, he’d be a qualified Auror to boot. What more could he ask for?

…

The answer to that question came the next morning in the hallway just after he’d woken. Hermione was already out of bed, but he found her on her way back, having just finished breakfast. 

“Morning,” she said brightly. “How’d you sleep?”

“The best I’ve slept in a long time,” Ron told her truthfully, grabbing her by the waist and drawing her towards him. He kissed her deeply. "It's because I know you're here to stay," he added once he'd pulled away. 

"Well," Hermione said, wrapping her own arms around Ron, "I do have to go and see Mum and Dad at some point. Probably later today." She stood up on her tip toes and kissed him. "Want to come?"

"Sure," Ron said. "You know I visited them when you were away a few times? We've become quite tight."

Hermione smiled, nodding. "I do. They told me. They were rather pleased to see you. They've been a bit lonely, I think, especially because all of their friends thought they'd moved away and all moved on. They're trying to reconnect, but it's been hard. You made their days when you visited." She let go of his waist, her hands falling to her side. "Thank you for doing that."

Ron shrugged. "It was nothing, really. I like your mum and dad. I, er, did bring Dad with me one time. He begged me."

"Oh, they told me that too!" Hermione said, this time chuckling. "They thought he was funny, interested in the most simple things — well, simple to them."

"Yeah, he was a little excited…" Ron grinned at her. "I think his favourite thing was a toaster. He has many of them in his shed, but I think he liked seeing one in action." 

Hermione smiled, and for a moment, they stood in silence in the middle of the hall. It wasn't uncomfortable at all — quite the opposite, actually. Pleasant, nice, like they could be in each other's presence forever and not speak and be perfectly happy. 

After a moment, though, Hermione said, "Do you want some breakfast? Harry and Ginny are still in the kitchen. I was just about to shower —"

"I just want you," Ron said, and he grabbed her around the waist again, pulling her against him once more, kissing her hard on the mouth. 

Ron didn't know if she simply didn't have the ability to refuse him, or she didn't want to (he liked to think it the latter), but she responded to his mouth against hers and threw her arms around his neck to draw him even closer. 

This was what he'd missed since last September. Just seeing her in the corridor of Grimmauld Place, or waking up and finding her next to him — or knowing that she'd spent the night there at least, considering she liked to get up earlier than him. He'd longed for this part of their lives to start, because he knew there was nothing stopping them now. Whatever happened from here on in, they wouldn't be separated anymore. 

"Oh my God, is an abandoned classroom not enough for the two of you?"

Ron reluctantly pulled away from Hermione, feeling her arms unwrap from around him. They turned slowly to find a disgruntled Ginny standing on the landing, Harry behind her, still on one of the steps. 

"What?" Ron asked. 

"Well, you're spoiling my breakfast for one thing," Ginny said. "And secondly, I don't really want to come up and see —"

"Well, last time I checked, you don't actually live here," Ron said. "So mind your own business."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't live here either!" Ginny said, though she didn't sound angry or upset.

Ron frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, that if you want to do —" she gestured wildly at them, "— that, why don't you do it in your own place?"

"This is my place," Ron reminded her.

"I don't mean this place, you idiot," Ginny said as if she were speaking to a five year old. "I mean a place for just the two of you. You know, that you have together."

Ron stared at his sister, not daring to look at Hermione. The latter didn't speak — or move at all for that matter. What was Ginny on about? Was she suggesting he and Hermione move in together? He was fairly certain that was where she was going with it, but he wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. Well, he did, but he doubted Hermione would want to consider such a thing so early into their relationship.

You've been together for over a year now, a little voice said to him.

Yeah, but most of that has been apart, he reasoned.

What does that matter? You know it's her forever.

Yes, but maybe she doesn't see it that way.

The silence grew, turning into something very uncomfortable. In fact, Ron grew rather irritated by Harry, who didn't seem to want to come to Ron's defence at all. He joined Ginny on the landing, nibbling on some toast, but saying nothing. Did that mean he agreed? Surely not! They'd had a great time living together in this place.

But that was before their girlfriends had finished school. And, to be fair, in the short time Hermione had been back, Ron had wanted nothing more than to be alone with her. 

"Oh, come on, you two!" Ginny huffed. "Listen, I can't kick you out, Ron, but at least if you have your own place you can dance around naked for all I care, and Harry or I don't have to worry about seeing it, because you've made it abundantly clear you can't keep your hands off one another."

Ron tensed, finally daring to look down at Hermione. He’d expected to see her blushing furiously, maybe even struggling to meet his eye, but to his surprise, she was looking thoughtfully at Ginny, as if what his sister was saying made sense. 

“Alright,” Ginny said when no one said anything. “Whatever. I just thought it would help all of us. You don’t see me and Harry —”

“And I don’t want to!” Ron interjected before she could finish that sentence. 

“And you think I want to see my brother?” Ginny asked. “I love you guys, I really do, but this is not something I think the four of us can live with. One day, someone is going to see more than kissing, and that will just be embarrassing for everyone.”

Again, Hermione didn’t seem phased by what Ginny was implying, which left Ron rather speechless. She wasn’t actually considering Ginny’s suggestion, was she? He couldn’t say he liked Grimmauld Place all that much, but he'd seen himself here for a few more years before… well, he supposed living with Hermione was where he'd hoped the next step would take him.

Ginny went back into Harry's room. Harry still said nothing, but gave an apologetic shrug as he followed her.

"So, is this what it's going to be like?" Ron scowled once they'd disappeared. "Ginny calling the shots and him just going along with it? He's supposed to back us up." Why had Harry stayed silent in the matter? Harry usually had no problem speaking his mind. The only thing Ron could think of was he wanted Ron out of the house but didn't want to say it.

"Come on," Hermione said, grabbing Ron's hand, her tone still thoughtful. "Let's get ready and we'll go and see Mum and Dad."

…

Harry swore loudly as the Exploding Snap cards exploded in front of him for the third time that night. Cursing the game, he threw his remaining cards into the pile.

“That’s me done for tonight,” he said, taking his wand out and clearing the ash and grime from his glasses. “Honestly, why am I so bad at it?”

“You’re just too slow,” Ginny said, patting his arm. “But I think I’ll stop tonight, too.” She yawned, climbing to her feet. “Night, Ron.”

“Night,” Ron said as Harry and Ginny left the living room where they’d been playing. Using his wand to collect the cards into a neat pile, he left them on the arm of the sofa and headed up to bed himself. 

Hermione had gone up earlier than the rest of them, uninterested in the game and saying she had something to do. What, Ron had no idea, but he had noticed she’d been rather quiet since Ginny’s outburst that morning.

At first, he’d thought she’d just been contemplating what his sister had said, maybe toying with the idea of whether or not she and Ron should get their own place together. But as the day had worn on, spending lunch and the afternoon with her parents, she’d gone very quiet, even asking her parents if she could look through the Muggle newspapers they collected.

Whenever he’d asked her if she was alright, she smiled, nodded, and said yes, so he’d given up asking her. 

He supposed now, though, he’d have to address the matter, because he couldn’t go to bed pretending that what Ginny had said hadn’t affected them. Ron had been able to brush it off, laugh at the idea even, but it seemed that Hermione was more bothered by it than he was.  

The old Ron might have been upset by such a reaction, but he couldn’t really blame her this time. They’d been together for a little over a year, but a whole lot of that time had been apart, and then the rest of it had been filled with grief and a high dependency on one another for comfort. Really, they’d probably only had a month, maybe two, of actually being in a proper relationship, and while they had spent almost all of those two months together, it was a completely different story actually sharing a home together. 

Not that that had happened yet, but if they ever felt the need to spend a night apart, they currently were able to do that. 

As he walked down the hall towards his bedroom, he noticed that a light was still flickering from underneath the closed door and couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. If Hermione had been asleep, then he could address it in the morning. 

He’d never felt nervous opening his bedroom door knowing that she was there before. At least not since the very beginning of their relationship when he was sneaking her into his bedroom each night at the Burrow.  

“Hey!” she said cheerfully, closing the book that she’d been reading while propped up against the headboard, the gas lamp in the corner flickering brightly for her. 

“Hey,” Ron said. “I thought you might have been asleep by now.” He began to undress and change into his pyjamas. 

“No, I was waiting for you to come to bed actually,” Hermione said, and to Ron’s surprise, her voice sounded even, controlled — unlike it had earlier. 

“Right,” Ron said, unable to control his voice. “I suppose you want to talk about what Ginny said earlier.” He sat on the edge of the bed, only half dressed. “Listen, I don’t think she actually meant it. She was probably just upset about catching us, so we’ll just try to be a bit more discreet in the future. I know it’s too soon for us to be officially living together or anything.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” Ron said. “I know — wait —” he looked at Hermione, who was looking at him with a controlled expression that matched her voice. He stared back at her, mouth open for a moment, before regathering himself. “I… I think it’s too soon,” he said, now second guessing what she’d meant by that question. “You agree, right?”

He continued watching her, waiting for her to nod and agree. But that never came, and his chest tightened ever so slightly.

“I think Ginny had a point, actually,” Hermione said, and she set the book aside, picking up her wand in its place. A moment later, three Muggle newspapers and two editions of the Daily Prophet spread out on the bed in front of them. 

Ron looked between Hermione and the newspapers. 

“What’s this?” he asked. 

“Well,” Hermione said, and for the first time since he’d come into the room, her cheeks had gone slightly pink, “I couldn’t help but think about what your sister said this morning. I know she didn’t really mean it, but she got me thinking, and as the day went on, I, um… I thought maybe we could live together.” The colour in her cheeks deepened to a red. “You know… get our own place.”

“What?” Ron asked, staring at her. “Wait, you’re serious?” he added when she said nothing.

Hermione nodded. “I am serious. I mean, let’s be honest, Ron, did either of us have plans to spend a night apart?”

The honest answer to that question was no. Hermione must have realised that because she nodded and pointed her wand at the newspapers. 

“So, we would essentially be living together anyway, just not officially. So why not make it official?”

“But —” Ron looked at the papers. “— you… you want to live with me?”

“Do you want to live with me?” Hermione asked. 

“Yes!” Ron said before his brain had a chance to contemplate a more appropriate answer. “I mean… well, yeah, I do. But I thought… I didn’t know if you’d —”

“And once again, you’re acting as if I’m not in the same place as you are in our relationship, Ron,” Hermione said, though she smiled at him. 

“Sorry.”

“I know we’ve spent a fair amount of time apart, but I love you and if we didn’t do it now, we’d probably do it in a year or so anyway.”

Ron contemplated her for a moment, fully aware of the smile playing at his mouth, and not caring one bit. “You always surprise me,” he said after a moment. 

She smiled.

“Alright, let’s do it then. If that’s what we both want.” He finished dressing and climbed fully into bed, drawing the blankets up to his waist. “Though, will you please tell me why you’ve suddenly started collecting newspapers? Is this your way of trying to tell me of your bad habits or something?”

“No,” Hermione said, “it’s me trying to find us a place.”

“Oh. In a Muggle newspaper?”

“They have sections with places to rent,” Hermione explained. “I thought it would be an option…” She shook her head. “But it was all a little complicated, even for me, so I then looked at the Prophet. There’s not much in there, but I found two small advertisements from yesterday’s and today’s editions.” She tapped both Prophets with her wand and all the words disappeared save for two miniscule ads in the middle of each one. She passed them to Ron. 

“One is in a little almost all wizard village, which looks alright, but I was more interested in the other one. It’s in Diagon Alley, which is really convenient. It’s just a little more expensive.” She looked up, some apprehension on her face at those words.

“You’re worried we couldn’t afford it?” Ron asked. He looked at the advertisement. It would cost fifteen Galleons a week for the place in Diagon Alley. The other one was only ten. 

Hermione hesitated. “Well, I know —”

“It’s alright, Hermione,” Ron said. “That isn’t too bad. Even a trainee Auror’s wage isn’t too bad.”

“I don’t have a job yet, Ron, and I won’t until after the NEWT results come in — and that’s if I get decent enough marks, of course.”

“Which you will,” Ron said. 

“Well, either way, I… it might be hard, but…”

“What are you trying to say, Hermione?” Ron asked, trying not to laugh. 

She blushed. 

“I feel really bad about this, Ron, but at least until I can get a job, you may have to —”

“Consider it done,” Ron said, closing the paper. “I’ll have us covered until then. It’s alright.”

“Ron, it’s a lot of money. I know —”

“No, it’s fine!” Ron said, grinning at her. “Honestly. I’ve never been able to be the one to pay for something for someone else. I’ve always wanted to be able to do that. And I can cover that well enough, with some gold to spare each week. Don’t worry. Besides, once you get all your Outstanding NEWTs, then we’ll be even again, alright?”

Hermione said nothing. 

“We’ll get this place,” Ron said, pointing to the Prophet with the Diagon Alley advertisement. “And, we’ll live together, and we’ll be happy. We can even throw a housewarming party once we move in. Have everyone over.”

Hermione laughed. “You’ve got it all planned out for someone who didn’t think we were ready for that step.”

Ron shrugged. “Once you get my mind on something, I discover I like it. You, for example —”

“Ron!”

“What? It’s true.” Ron shrugged, leaning across to kiss her, grinning. “Love you,” he said.

“For some reason,” Hermione said, looking at him amused, “I love you too. And I’m so excited to be living with you.”

Ron drew her towards him, kissing her forehead. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m excited too.”

And he was. He really was. 

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 13

A/N: Hermione's Mudblood scar is the one thing in the movies I wish was book canon, so I've included it in here. But I am well aware it was only addressed in the movies, and not the books.

Don’t forget to follow this story’s Instagram account: whenihaveyou.romione

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer!

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

Chapter 13

Crookshanks jumped up onto the bed, rousing Ron from his almost-sleep state. It was nearing midnight and his mind had only just started to shut down from all the thoughts running through his head.

Only a few hours ago, he'd found himself in a field with the other trainee Aurors in a realistic situation of an attack with Dark Magic. They were forced to work in teams to solve the problem and capture the “culprits.” 

It had been the hardest task so far, for a lot of it had been mind games, rather than actual magic, but they'd all passed. 

Afterwards, like it had been in the week that had passed since Hermione’s return, he'd come home and spent time together with his girlfriend. Then she'd gone home to her parents, he'd gone up to bed, and the day would begin again the next morning. 

Whilst not ideal, it was what worked for them. Her parents' memories were slowly returning to normal, and as each day started, she became more confident in leaving them for longer periods of time. From what she’d told him, Ron thought they seemed happy to begin taking up normal aspects of their lives, such as going into London for things they needed or going out for meals at night.

Crookshanks walked across the bed, purring loudly as he searched for the most comfortable spot to sleep for the night. 

It was nearing midnight, but Ron was unable to fall asleep — which was nothing unusual lately. Not having spent a single night with Hermione since her return frustrated him. He so desperately wanted to have her sleeping beside him again, to have his arms around her, to feel her warmth. It was lonely up in his room at Grimmauld Place when he knew that she wasn't too far away. 

Crookshanks eventually settled by his head, taking up half of his pillow, his purrs louder than ever. Ron reached out to scratch the cat behind the ears. 

He really was rather fond of Crookshanks now, and pleased that Hermione had asked him to continue caring for him. He'd begrudgingly accepted Kingsley's offer only a few weeks ago, but the request meant more when it came from Hermione. Besides, Crookshanks and he got along well when he wasn't after other animals Ron was fond of. 

Ron had just started to drift off when something loud startled him awake again. At first, he thought he was dreaming, but he saw Crookshanks lift his head in the dark. 

Something was banging. 

Ron reached for his wand on the table beside him, lighting it and looking around. His room was empty. 

Crookshanks jumped from the bed and scampered from the room, meowing loudly.

From across the hall, Harry's bedroom door opened. Ron saw the reflection of Harry's wand light.

"What on Earth is that?" he heard Harry say. The banging was getting louder, echoing throughout the house.

"It's the door," he then heard Ginny whisper. "Someone's at the door." 

Ron sprang from the bed, joining his friend and sister in the hall. They both looked surprised.

"It must be someone we know," Harry said. "They wouldn't be able to find us otherwise…"

The three of them descended the stairs slowly, the desperation of whoever was at the door becoming apparent the closer they got. 

They'd almost reached the bottom when a voice shouted, "Ron! Harry! Please open up. It's me!"

"Hermione!" Ginny said, and she ran the rest of the way down the stairs, into the hall and to the front door. 

Ron just reached the hall himself when Ginny opened the door. 

Hermione flew into the room, straight past Ginny, and threw herself into Ron's arms so forcefully that he staggered backwards against the wall. 

"Hermione?" he said. "Hermione, what's wrong?" She trembled in his arms, and it took him a moment to realise she was sobbing. Her face buried against his chest as her whole body shook with terror. 

Ginny came to stand near Ron and Harry, and they all looked at one another with a great deal of concern. 

"Hermione," Ron said again, wrapping his arms around her, "what's the matter? Is everything okay? Are your parents —"

"It's her," Hermione sobbed into his chest. "It's… it's what happened. I… lived it… again…"

Ron shared another look with Harry and Ginny. Ginny looked very pale under the wand light, the usually stoic Hermione apparently unsettling her in this state.

"I don't understand, Hermione," Ron said. "What happened?"

But Hermione shook her head, refusing to break away from him. Her tears soaked his pyjamas as she pressed herself into his embrace. 

"Why… why don't I get you a glass of water?" Ginny suggested in a shaky voice. 

"Come and sit down," Ron said, and finally managing to pull her away from him, he guided her towards the living room where he forced her to sit on the couch. Harry lit the gas lamps around the room with his wand and now that he could see her properly, Ron saw that she was terrified. He'd never seen her look so frightened before. 

He sat beside her and she immediately fell into his arms again. 

Ginny returned with the water, but Hermione didn't realise, so Ron set his wand aside and accepted the glass.

"Hermione," Ginny whispered, "what happened?"

Ron felt Hermione shake against him again. He held her tightly, letting her know it was okay. Her tears dripped down his arm. 

"It felt so real," Hermione sobbed. "Like I was there again…"

"What did?" Harry asked. "Like you were where?"

Hermione's hand moved down to her arm, and Ron saw her fingers trace the scar that had been etched into her skin some months ago now. 

And suddenly he understood. 

"Hermione…" he whispered. 

"What?" Ginny asked, looking at Ron. 

Hermione had not spoken once of what had happened to her at Malfoy Manor. It was as if she had wished to forget, and it seemed that she had for many months. Until now, when she no longer had to worry about fighting and winning a war, or finding her parents. Now, she had all the time in the world to ponder it. 

"Hermione," he said again. "Are you… it's okay." And like he had done so back in Malfoy Manor, he wished nothing more than to have been the one to endure her pain. 

Hermione shook her head. "It was a dream," she whispered, "but it was so real. I felt it… the pain… I felt it all again."

"It's okay," Ron repeated, holding her so tightly against him. "It's okay."

Ginny's face was so pale now. Her eyes darted from Ron, to Hermione, then to Harry, who also seemed to catch on to what Hermione was talking about. Harry had been there too; he had heard Hermione’s screams.

"What —" Ginny began. 

"It was the curse, Ginny," Harry whispered. "The Cruciatus Curse. Bellatrix Lestrange…"

Ginny looked sickened. Hermione trembled in Ron's arms. 

"It felt so real," Hermione said. "Like I was there again. I woke up, terrified, and I came straight here. Please… please let me stay."

"Of course," Ron said. He wouldn't have let her leave in this state, even if she'd wanted to. 

"Hermione," Ginny said gently, "Is there anything you need? Anything we can —"

"No," Hermione whispered. "No, I just need…"

The words were left unspoken, but everyone understood. I just need Ron. He squeezed her even tighter.

"Will you be okay if we go back upstairs then?" Harry asked, looking at Ron. It was clear he didn’t think he should intrude, despite being Hermione’s best friend. 

Ron nodded. 

"Let us know if you need anything," Ginny said as she followed Harry from the room. 

Hermione kept her head buried against Ron; the absence of Harry and Ginny didn't even draw her away. 

Ron's own resolve broke a little, his mind going back to when they'd all been held at Malfoy Manor. He remembered the screams like it had happened yesterday. He remembered the pain, how desperate he'd been to try to get to her. 

But that was nothing compared to the pain she must have felt; the fear she’d felt. He'd not once seen her more frightened than he did now, curled up against him, shaking so badly, even after the dream had occurred. 

"It's alright," he murmured, "it's alright."

Ron didn't know how long they sat there for, not speaking. Gradually, Hermione stopped trembling. It was well into the early hours of the morning when she finally moved, pulling herself away from Ron's hold. 

When she looked at him, she barely resembled the Hermione he knew; her puffy, red eyes distracted him from her tear-streaked face. Her hair was more dishevelled than usual, and the look of absolute terror on her face had him wanting to pull her towards him again.

"Ron…" Her voice barely broke a whisper. "Stay with me… please."

"I will," Ron said. "Of course I will." He passed her the water he was still holding, and she accepted it. 

"I don't want to go through that again."

Ron watched her, unsure of what to say. He couldn't tell her that the dream wouldn't happen again, because he didn't know. He'd never experienced the Cruciatus Curse before, but he had been tortured mentally by part of Voldemort's soul, and he remembered that the dreams, the voice inside his head, had come back night after night, even weeks after he'd stopped wearing it. 

"I'm here," was all he said, and she rested her head against his shoulder. 

It took Ron a moment to realise that she’d fallen asleep. Her rapid breathing evened out, and when he glanced sideways, careful not to move too much, he saw that her eyes were closed. 

That was where Ron stayed for the rest of the night. His arms around her, sitting on the sofa, not moving. His body became numb, but he didn’t dare leave her, not for a second. Sleep didn’t come to him at all, sitting in the darkness, as the lamps had gone out long ago. By the morning, when Ginny and Harry came back down for breakfast, Ron was still wide awake. 

“Ron,” Ginny said quietly, “you need to sleep.”

“Can’t,” Ron said, “I have training in a few hours.”

“You can’t possibly be considering —”

“I have to. It doesn’t matter. I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.”

Ginny gave him a disapproving look that reminded Ron of his mother, but she said no more. She left the living room with Harry.

Hermione stirred against him, her head lifting up from his shoulder. She looked around the now light room, blinking. 

“Oh, no!” she said. She looked at Ron. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

Ron could only smile at her. “It’s okay… it’s okay.”

She sat up fully now, untangling herself from his arms for the first time in hours. She still looked shaken from the night’s events, but the few hours of sleep had brightened her. 

Ginny and Harry entered again, the latter eating a piece of toast and dressed for training. Hermione and Ron both looked at them.

“I’m so sorry,” Hermione said. “About last night. About…” 

“Don’t be,” Ron, Harry and Ginny all said at once. 

Ron stood up. “I have to go in today, but if you’d rather I stay…”

Hermione looked as if she wanted nothing more than for him to stay, but after opening her mouth and closing it again, she shook her head. “I-I’ll be… fine.”

“I can stay with you, Hermione,” Ginny said, speaking over Ron, who had just started to say he’d take the day off. 

Hermione smiled. “Thank you, Ginny, but I should probably go home. Mum and Dad…” But her eyes glazed over for a moment, as if she was remembering the nightmare. When she came to a few moments later, she smiled again and nodded. “Thank you.”

Ron kissed her forehead. “I’ll just go and get ready,” he said quietly. 

As he went into the hall, Harry followed. “Hey, are you going to be alright?” he asked, sounding concerned. “You didn’t stay up all night, did you? We have curse-breaking today. That requires some concentration…”

Ron stopped, turning to face Harry. “I couldn’t just leave her. You saw her, she was terrified. What was I supposed to do?”

Harry glanced over his shoulder, back towards the living room, and then looked at Ron again. “You sure you’re going to be okay?”

Ron nodded, heading for the stairs. “Maybe just make sure you have some triple strength coffee ready when I come back down,” he said. 

…

The day was a slow one. The lack of sleep didn’t bother Ron nearly as much as his worry for Hermione did. When he’d left that morning, she’d perked up ever so slightly, but he didn’t know if that was only for his benefit. 

His mind kept flashing back to her trembling in his arms, the absolute terror she must have felt in having to relive being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange. Then, he kept remembering that moment, all those months ago, when her screams had filled every part of him, drowning him in fear and panic and being absolutely convinced that she was going to die that day. He remembered the sickening feeling of dread that had overcome him, how he couldn’t stop calling her name — for her benefit, and his own — and how every scream was both a blessing (because it meant she was still alive) and as if someone was running one hundred knives through him at once. 

Harry nudged him, not for the first time. 

Ron startled, glancing down at his wristwatch. It was only eleven.

“Sorry,” he muttered, and he returned his focus to the list of deadly curses they had to identify the counter-curse for. 

“You really should have taken today off,” Harry muttered. 

“Probably.”

They worked in silence for some time, Ron’s mind once again drifting. Harry recorded the remaining counter-curses before setting the quill down. 

“Now to just actually remember how to do them,” he said. “That’s after lunch, performing them on dummies. Should be fun.”

“Yeah,” Ron murmured. “Should be.”

Harry shook his head. “Do I need to shove another coffee down your throat?”

“Maybe something stronger,” Ron said. “Something to stop me from worrying.”

Harry smiled. “Not sure they have that here, mate.”

The rest of the day dragged on even slower than the first two hours. It was the first day since he’d started training that Ron wished he wasn’t there. It seemed talking about curses was the worst possible thing to be discussing after what had happened. Everytime an Unforgivable Curse was mentioned, his mind flashed back to the horrors of Malfoy Manor, and then to Hermione cradled against him last night, more vulnerable than he’d ever seen her. 

By the time five o’clock came around, he was a total mess. He stumbled through the fireplace, tripping over the step that kept all the ash in. When he looked up, swearing at the fireplace, he saw a frantic Ginny before him.

“What’s happened?” he asked. “Is Hermione okay?”

“She’s asleep,” Ginny said, her calm tone not at all matching her expression. “She’s been okay today. She says she should go home, but she wants you to go with her.”

“Me?” Ron asked, frowning. “Why?”

Ginny shrugged. “I don’t know. She loves you, she feels comfortable with you. I just think she’s very, very frightened over what happened… Ron, what did happen?”

“Harry said last night,” Ron said, “Bellatrix Lestrange tortured her on a pretence of searching for information, but it was Bellatrix Lestrange. You know why she did it. Why she chose her and not me or Harry. Where’s Hermione sleeping?”

“In your room. Ron, you mean she… she did that just because of who Hermione… is?” Ginny followed him quickly as he headed for the stairs. “That’s —”

“Sickening,” Ron said. “Yeah, I know. Be thankful you weren’t there when it actually happened…” He stopped on the landing, turning to face his sister. “You seem really bothered by it. Are you alright?”

Ginny’s eyes darted towards the hall where Ron’s room was. Then she looked back at Ron, nodding. “I just… I just wish I knew more about what you all did… none of you ever talk about it.”

“And there’s a reason for that,” Ron hissed. “A very good reason.” He pointed behind him to where Hermione slept. “No one wants to relive that.”

Ginny nodded, but said no more. 

Ron walked quickly towards his room, pushing the door open. Hermione was wrapped tightly under the covers of the bed, her eyes closed, her breathing even. 

He sat on the edge of the bed, unsure whether or not to wake her. It was the calmest he'd seen her since yesterday.

But his weight on the bed disturbed her, her eyes blinking open sleepily. She looked up at him, smiling weakly.

"Hey," she said.

Ron returned her smile, pushing down his concern for her. "Hey."

"How was it today?"

Ron shrugged. "Alright." He squeezed her hand from somewhere under the covers. "Ginny said you want to go home…"

Hermione nodded. "I… Mum and Dad will be so worried."

"I'll go with you," Ron said, pushing aside his doubt around being in the presence of Hermione's parents. It would not be exactly how he'd imagined meeting them for the first time as someone other than Hermione's friend, but… when had he and Hermione ever been conventional?

She smiled again. "Are you sure?"

Ron nodded. "Of course." He offered his hand to pull her out of bed. She looked so tired still — more than Ron even felt — and still rather frightened. But at least she was smiling again. 

When she was on her feet, Ron added, "You up for Apparating there? I've no idea where your house is."

Hermione nodded, gripping Ron's hand tightly. 

Hermione Disapparated them into a small front garden, covered by large hedges that hid them from view of the cul-de-sac where Hermione's house was. 

It was a quaint place, big and two-storeys. Ron stared up at it. 

They'd barely reached the front door when it flung open and Hermione's mother appeared, looking both relieved and very upset. 

"Oh, Hermione!" she cried, flinging her arms around her daughter. "You're alright! We were so worried. We… we weren't even sure you actually had been here at all — our memories were a bit —" Her eyes fell on Ron, who immediately dropped Hermione's hand that he'd still been holding, though it seemed a bit silly afterwards.

"I'm alright," Hermione said, her tone emotionless. "I just… well… I just needed to see…" She looked over her mother's shoulder and into the house. "I really just need to go to bed."

Hermione's mother stepped aside as Hermione walked past her. Ron followed quickly. 

“Hermione —” her mother tried, her eyes wide with fear and shock. “Hermione, what happened? Why did you disappear?”

Her father had come into the hall now, looking just as bewildered. 

“I-I’ll explain in the morning,” Hermione said, not meeting either of her parents’ eyes. “I… promise.” And before they could say anything more, she disappeared up the stairs, presumably to her room. 

Ron, along with her parents, all watched in silence at the space Hermione had just stood. Then, to Ron’s complete surprise, her mother addressed him by name. 

“Ron… what… what is going on?”

Ron turned to them, feeling his face go red. He’d not at all imagined himself standing in the hall of the Granger house, alone with Hermione’s parents. But they looked so desperate, and he didn’t think lying to them was the way to go about it. 

“Perhaps we should all sit down?” Hermione’s father suggested, indicating an archway slightly behind him. 

Ron nodded and silently followed him and Hermione’s mother through the archway and into the living room. They offered him an armchair by the unlit fireplace, and they sat on a couch opposite him. 

“Is she… is she okay?” her mother asked, her voice trembling slightly. “Is it… us?”

“Er, no,” Ron said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

“Then what?” her father asked.

Ron looked between them, debating what exactly he should say. How could they possibly understand what had happened to her? How could he tell them that, after altering their memories for their own safety, their daughter had gone off on a deadly hunt for parts of the most evil-wizard-to-ever-exists’s soul, had risked her life for a world neither of them were apart of, and then at one stage had an illegal curse performed on her that caused pain so excruciating that some people never recovered from it? What would they say?

But how could he lie to them either? 

Hands wringing together, silently wondering if Hermione would murder him for telling them, he said, “How much do you know of, er, what happened after you… went to Australia?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Hermione’s mother — Jane, wasn’t it? — said, her voice a whisper. “She won’t tell us a thing.”

“Right,” Ron said. “Right, well…” And in that moment he made the decision. He had to tell them. And he did. He did his best to spare them the most horrifying details of the months following their departure from England, but he gave them the basis, stumbling on what had happened in Malfoy Manor more than once. He had to go back a few times to explain certain magic terms as best as possible for them, and when he did feel like they understood at least somewhat better, Ron found himself choking on his words a few times as he revealed the darker details. By the time he finished, both her parents looked at him, horrorstruck. 

“She… she was tortured?” her mother asked. 

Ron nodded.

"But… why?"

Ron said nothing for a long time. He stared at them both, feeling slightly sick. How was he supposed to answer that question truthfully? Had Hermione ever told them what it was like in the wizarding world for someone born to Muggle parents? And if he told them, what would they then think of him? Would they understand that not everyone shared those views? Would they understand how he felt about her?

His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. He averted their gaze, focusing on a small spot on the armchair. Eventually, he said, "They were just evil. This person… this Bellatrix Lestrange… she thought Hermione had information she needed. Which, she did, but Hermione… she didn't tell her…" He jumped to his feet, unable to bear their shocked faces any longer. "I… I'll go and check on her," he said. "And then I'll go home."

He went back into the hall and ascended the stairs two at a time. Reaching the top landing, he found himself standing in a small area with four doors. He had no idea which one led to Hermione's room, but his first attempt at opening one found him staring into an immaculate bathroom. 

He found her room on his third try, Hermione once again asleep under a whole lot of covers. He watched her for a few moments, debating whether or not to do anything else, but then she stirred, her eyes looking at him heavily. 

"Stay," she whispered.

"I —" Ron glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting her parents to be lingering, to see what he'd do. But they weren't; of course they weren't. 

He moved over to the bed, where she was staring up at him, still half asleep. "Please stay," she whispered, and she shuffled over in her bed to make room for him. 

Suddenly, the events of the day hit Ron like a Bludger to his head. The no sleep from the night before, the eight hours of training, and then explaining to Hermione's parents just what had had her running away from their house last night. Suddenly, he felt as if he could sleep for three days straight. 

"I'll stay for a few hours," he said, and he laid down beside her, shoes on and everything. He'd stay until he was sure she wasn't going to relive the nightmare again. 

But he was so tired, that the next thing he knew was the sun shining through Hermione's window, and her mother was calling them both down for breakfast. 

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 26

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Chapter 26

The clock had barely reached five minutes past five when Ron heard the front door to the flat open. A moment later, Hermione entered, shrugging off her Ministry robes. She disappeared into the bedroom briefly without even looking at him, and when she returned she was wearing a t-shirt and plain pants, and her hair was hanging down at her shoulders after having been tied up all day. 

She busied herself for a few more moments, using her wand to sort through the bag she always took to work. Out came a coat, some quills and an empty container that had — that morning — contained her lunch. She did all this without saying a word. 

It was only when the kitchen was in the sink to be washed and her bag was hanging perfectly on the hook by the door did she look over at Ron and smile. She looked happy, relaxed, but there was also wariness in her expression.

He returned the smile, though it didn’t reach completely to the corners of his mouth either. 

This had been their life for weeks now — tentative looks, incomplete smiles and a whole lot of uncertainty about where the other stood. Ron had once been able to easily ascertain what she was thinking. He’d have a fairly good idea about how she was feeling and always seemed to know just what she needed. But these days… things had changed. 

They had both been trying to fix their relationship, and for the most part, it was working. Hermione had been leaving work on time and getting home when she was supposed to, while Ron had been trying to not let what had happened get to him so much, trying to be more understanding of what she needed to do. But it was moments like these — when they’d not seen each other for most of the day — that were still a challenge. It was uncomfortable and a little awkward, because it was obvious to the other what was on their mind. Until now, everything about them had been a natural progression. Now, parts just seemed forced. They smiled, they welcomed each other, yet the knowledge that there was still a problem that needed to be fixed lingered.

They were getting there, and a lot of the time, it was good. It was just sometimes where it still wasn’t.

“Hey,” Hermione said, coming into the kitchen and standing on her tiptoes to kiss Ron. He returned it, relishing in the feeling of her lips against his. They’d been doing this more in recent days. Kissing, hugging, touching each other again. It felt better than Ron would ever admit out loud, but he was fairly certain she enjoyed it, too. After all, she was usually the one to initiate it. 

“Hey,” he replied. “How was your day?” Her eyes drifted to the stove in the kitchen where a pot was bubbling on top.

Ron had come home five minutes before her and he’d started dinner. This was a common occurrence. He got home just that little bit earlier, so therefore he started. It only seemed fair, even if neither of them had ever discussed it. Usually, she’d help and they would cook together, but today, Hermione sat at the table instead.

“It was really good,” she said, nodding. “We got so much done today. So many new policies and things written down. The drafts, of course. We aren’t really up to having a published law yet. But everyone is on board with the ideas I’ve been suggesting. It’s great. After Kingsley asked us to start thinking about stuff, all I can do is think about how many things I want to present to him for the rights of magical creatures. Their skills are so undervalued and underappreciated and it’s just not fair.”

Despite himself, Ron smiled. He loved how she spoke with so much passion about what she did, and the way her eyes lit up when she told him all about her day was something he’d always envisioned after work. Then sitting down to a nice meal, talking about their day and all the exciting things they did. He loved that she was so passionate about her work, and he liked that she was so good at what she did, too. He’d always admired that trait in her, and he wished that this had been them the whole time. He would much rather her come home to him and tell him about what she did than not come home at all.

The fact that she did that now was the best thing he ever could have asked for.  

“That’s great,” he said, peering into the saucepan. The sauce was bubbling along nicely, the spoon charmed to stir once every three minutes.

“How was your day?” Hermione asked. “I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you for lunch today. They gave me a later one than usual and —”

“My day was the same as any other,” Ron said, cutting her off before she gave him a spiel about her work roster. Ever since he’d told her he would like to have lunch with her at least once a week, she’d taken to giving him reasons as to why she couldn’t when she was unable to make it. Despite him telling her over and over again that he understood it was beyond her control most of the time, she still seemed to feel guilty whenever their schedules didn’t line up.  

Sometimes, Ron wished he’d never said anything to begin with. Her obliviousness to the situation sometimes seemed better than her fretting over something they both knew she had no control over.

“Mostly theory with a little practical at the end of the day,” he continued. “Tomorrow’s all practical.”

“What was the topic today?” Hermione asked curiously, sounding genuinely interested in what he was doing in Auror training. He enjoyed telling her about all the amazing things he’d learnt as much as he loved listening to all of her daily successes. 

“Continuing on from yesterday,” he said. “Identifying Dark magic where it isn’t obvious. I think I’m alright at it now. Harry seems to have an innate ability to spot it where the rest of us can’t, but is that surprising?”

“Not really,” Hermione said. “I guess not.” She thought for a moment then smiled up at him. “But I’m sure you’re amazing at it, too. Don’t sell yourself short.” 

Ron shrugged. “There’s some things I manage easier than Harry. This is just his area of expertise. We’d probably make a good team when we’re qualified.”

“Of course!” Hermione said brightly. “Ron, have I ever told you how I know you’re going to make an amazing Auror one day? I haven’t even seen you do anything, but you’re so… this job is right for you. You bring so much to the profession.”

Ron didn’t say anything. He checked the sauce again and turned down the stove. Eventually, he turned back to her and said, “That day seems so far away, though, doesn’t it? Who knew three years could feel so long when you’re really looking forward to something?”

“It’ll come eventually,” Hermione assured him. “And you’ll be one of the best Aurors the Ministry has ever seen. I know it.”

Ron snorted. “Maybe.”

“You will.”

Ron shrugged. That was what he wanted to be, and if truth be told, he really was one of the better trainees (along with Harry) but he didn’t want to label himself as one of the best ever. That felt like a lot of pressure. He just wanted to be a good Auror.

He Summoned some plates onto the kitchen bench. He then pulled out two glasses. “Drink?” he asked Hermione.

“Just water,” Hermione said. “I don’t think I had enough of it today.”

“That busy, huh?” Ron said, refraining from reminding her once again that looking after herself was more important than completing her work. She’d heard it enough. Telling her would only bring tension to what was becoming one of the easiest conversations they’d had in weeks. Besides, it was small steps with her. At least she was remembering to eat every day — even if it wasn’t always with Ron. 

“Just a lot of discussions,” Hermione assured him. “Sometimes my mind just gets away from me…”

“Sometimes?” Ron laughed.

She blushed. 

“It’s alright,” Ron said. “Lucky you have me to help you remember.” He placed the glass of water in front of her and then ran his hand along her back comfortingly. He really did miss their closeness, and tonight seemed like the perfect time to start initiating contact with her again. 

She smiled at his touch, even if she tried not to show it by drinking her water. 

Smiling himself, he turned to go back to preparing dinner, but he was stalled by Hermione grabbing his hand. Soft, warm skin on his that sent shivers all the way around his body. Merlin… he’d definitely not felt that in weeks. 

“Ron…” Hermione shifted in her chair, suddenly looking uncomfortable and completely unaware of the sudden effect she was having on him with her hand in his. 

“Yeah?” he said. 

More hesitation. She averted his gaze for a moment before returning it to him. He’d never seen her so uncertain in her life. She was always so sure of herself, so confident in having an answer for everything. It was disconcerting seeing her struggle with handling their relationship. She seemed clueless at times, like nothing in the Hogwarts library had the information she needed, or the words to express. 

“We’re okay now, aren’t we?” she said softly. “I mean… I know it’s not perfect, and I know we still have things to work on, but… it’s okay, isn’t it? What we’re doing now? How things are progressing forward?”

There was a thumping in Ron’s chest that had not been present before now. He didn’t even need a moment to give his answer. “We’re okay,” he said. “Things are going well, if you ask me.” He withdrew his hand from hers and grinned. “You just touched me and I kind of wanted to take you to bed.”

She smiled. “You can if you want.”

“I’m cooking.”

She smiled again, his words seeming to have some kind of effect on her worries. “I’ve been really trying, Ron.”

“Me too,” Ron said. 

“And it’s working?”

“Is what I’m doing working for you?”

“It never stopped working for me. Ron…” And now she blushed a deep red in a very un-Hermione-like fashion. “You have always made me feel so many things all at once. You’re the one thing in my life that is not logical, that doesn’t always make sense, but also the one thing that I never want to leave it. I love you so, so much, and I hate what’s happened to us. I hate that I never saw it, and I hate that it’s my fault.”

Ron sat down in the chair opposite her, taking her hand again. It was so soft, so gentle, and he didn’t want to let her go ever again. “It’s both of our faults,” he assured her. “We’re both sort of to blame. I got myself into this with you, knowing what you’re like. You… well, you got yourself into this too, knowing what I was like. We both just failed to remember.” He smiled back at her, giving her hand a squeeze. “We’ll be alright,” he promised her. “I can’t imagine spending another day without you. Even when we’re old, decrepit things, it’ll be fine because I’ll have you.” 

“It’s just not like it used to be,” Hermione said softly.

“We were far too dependent on one another before anyway,” Ron said. “We can make it better. It might just take more time.”

Hermione visibly relaxed and Ron brought her hand to his lips. 

Although he knew that it wasn’t, in that moment things almost felt normal again. The two of them sitting at the table, holding hands and talking. This was how it had once been and this was how it was supposed to be all the time. 

Things hadn’t been right for so long, but this felt right again all of a sudden — as if a weight had been lifted from both of them by the simple question of are we okay?

Of course they were okay, because they were both making the effort. They both wanted to be okay. 

They looked at each other, smiling together, and Ron sensing the sudden joy, not just in himself, but in her, too. They loved each other so damn much and for the first time ever, Ron realised that she loved him just as much as he loved her. She just had a different way of expressing her love than he did. 

And as he realised this, his own love for her — something he’d been too afraid to unleash lest he be hurt again — burst from its hiding place, nearly knocking him backwards by the sudden impact. He jumped as such intense feelings flooded him once again, overpowering all of his senses. She was so beautiful, and he could smell her perfume, see her smile, see everything he’d always loved about her. She was… perfect the way she was. 

These feelings, this love, had him jumping to his feet, dragging her up with him. Her eyes… they were so beautiful, so happy to be with him. 

“Ron —” Hermione began, seeming to sense the intense moment that had come on, but she was cut off by Ron cupping her face and kissing her hard on the mouth. A kiss hadn’t felt so good in… well… a very long time. Maybe when they’d first kissed, in the middle of a war, it had been this good. But in a way, this was even better, because it wasn’t a kiss that either of them thought might be their last. 

She responded for a moment, kissing him back with as much force, but then she pulled away, looking up at him.  “Ron,” she breathed. She looked pleased and flustered and delighted all at once. 

He held her for a few moments longer, enjoying the feeling of having her — properly — in his arms again. He wanted to hold her forever and never let her go — never think about letting her go. But that was impossible, he knew, especially now because — 

He swore. 

“What?” Hermione asked. 

Ron let her go as abruptly as he’d grabbed her and hurried back into the kitchen. He peered into the saucepan he’d momentarily forgotten about. The sauce had burnt at the bottom. 

He looked back to Hermione and smirked ever so slightly. “I blame you,” he said.

She frowned.

“I burnt dinner because I was distracted.”

Hermione flushed, another smile creeping up to her lips. And then she laughed, and the sound of her laugh was sweet to Ron’s ears. There hadn’t been much laughter here recently, and it filled him with so much love for her — so much happiness. 

“I wasn’t really hungry, anyway,” she said a moment later.

Ron stared down at the burnt pot and Vanished it with his wand. “You know what?” he said. “Neither am I.” He took the few steps to reach her and embraced her once more. This time, she didn’t pull away, but encouraged him to keep kissing her. 

This was how it was supposed to be. This was how he wanted it to be. All the time. 

They were going to be okay. Even if it took them as many more weeks, they were going to be okay in the end.

They just had to keep having evenings like these. 

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 3

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Chapter 3

An argument broke out the next morning before breakfast, and it was over Ron and Hermione. Molly, who had woken up at four, had decided to distract herself from her thoughts by doing everyone’s washing. She had washed, dried with her wand, folded, and was sneaking into everyone’s rooms while they slept to hand-deliver them a neat pile of clothes. 

An innocent enough task, one she had apparently thought wouldn’t cause any distress. But upon entering Ron’s room, she’d gotten more than she bargained for.

Thankfully, much to Ron’s relief, he and Hermione had actually been sleeping at that time, and everyone was fully clothed (a different story to a few hours earlier), but the sight of her youngest son sharing his bed with another person had been too much for Molly. Her gasp had startled them both awake, which was then followed by Ron swearing at his mother and telling her to get out. The row had woken the rest of the house, which was now taking place in the kitchen, involving the rest of the family as well. 

What should have been the perfect morning for Ron, waking up feeling good about him and Hermione, was now one of misery for everyone. 

“Under my roof!” she bellowed at Ron, who shrunk into his chair despite the intense frustration surging through him at the same time. “Honestly, I thought better of you. Sneaking around, not even bothering to tell me… again… more lies...”

“Mum,” Percy said calmly, sitting a little straighter in his chair and pushing his glasses up his nose. “Mum, Ron is a legal adult and so is Hermione. They are at perfect liberty to —”

“Under my roof!” Molly said, ignoring Percy. “The pair of you… sneaking around...”

“They were just sleeping,” Ginny said, and both Ron and Hermione flushed a horrible red. 

Molly turned to Ginny, her eyes furious. “I suppose you knew about this! Encouraged it, even. Oh, and poor Harry. Where on Earth did he — ” If possible, her eyes narrowed even more. Steam was almost coming out of her ears. “You,” she cried, and Ginny shrunk away as well, turning back to the bench she’d been making her breakfast at. 

“Molly, dear, I think you’re overreacting,” Arthur said. “As Percy pointed out, Ron and Hermione are both of an age where they’re capable of making these decisions for themselves. If they wish for their sleeping arrangements to be… different, then I think —”

“Under my roof!” Molly said for a third time. “Neither you or Percy look surprised by this, Arthur. I suppose you knew of this arrangement our children had made?”

“Well,” Arthur spluttered, “I didn’t know, per se, but I —”

“No one bothered to tell me! How do you think it feels to be the only one to not know when her own son is… when her daughter…”

“Mum,” Ron said, his voice weak, “I said yesterday… you saw… we just thought… it would be too much for the moment.”

“Well, I know now!” Molly cried. “Is that how you wished for it to come out, Ronald?”

“Well, obviously not…”

Molly looked between everyone, having their full, terrified attention. “I am deeply hurt by this,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “From all of you. Even those of you who thought you’d keep it from me, thinking I wouldn’t be happy for my own children, even in this time, to see that they were… happy.” And she stormed from the room, leaving everyone behind her, speechless. 

“Oh, I just feel awful,” Hermione sighed, her shoulders slumping in the chair. 

“Yeah,” Ron mumbled, rubbing her back comfortingly. “In our defence, though, she told me off just yesterday about it being too soon, so I don’t think she would have been happy for us.”

“Ron —”

“No, he’s right, Hermione,” Ginny said. “But… maybe we should have… been a bit more direct about it.”

"We all thought it was for the best," Arthur said, his eyes following where Molly had gone. “I do think it was just the unexpected shock of… finding the two of you…”

Bill appeared in the kitchen suddenly, his clothes covered in soot and Floo powder. "Everything alright? I just saw Mum in —" He stopped, looking at everyone's ashen faces. "What happened?"

"Mum found Hermione in Ron's bed and lost it," Ginny said. 

Bill turned to Ron, eyes wide, and Ron felt himself go red, imagining what his brother was thinking. "We were only sleeping," he mumbled, turning away.

"Yeah, she carried on about being hurt no one told her, saying she would have been happy — though we all know she wouldn't have been — and stormed out," Ginny explained. "Was pretty bad, but at the same time, she has no right to be carrying on as she has about it. We're all adults here."

No one bothered to point out that Ginny wasn't quite an adult just yet. 

"I'll… go and see her then," Bill said. Ron heard him suppress a sigh. 

Everyone moved to busying themselves with breakfast after that, but the room was very quiet. Ron had never felt such guilt before, mixed with a burning anger. He got it, and it was why he'd tried to keep things from his mum for so long. Everyone got it. It seemed no one had anticipated the fall out of when she would find out. And Ron certainly hadn't anticipated her to walk into his room at five in the morning to drop off clothes. Usually, she used magic for that kind of thing. 

Still, he refused to feel guilty for having Hermione there. She was the best thing to happen to him since the end of the war, and he wasn't going to let his mother dictate that small bit of happiness for him. 

Last night had gone better than he'd hoped. The small moment he'd spent with Harry, having his mind off it, believing that it wasn't going to happen that night, had reduced his nerves. And then when he'd seen her and felt that overwhelming love for her, he hadn’t cared  about anything else. 

It had made the moment a whole lot easier, a whole lot more enjoyable, and he'd discovered with much satisfaction that he liked it. 

They may have fumbled their way through it, but that was over with now, and there'd been next to no awkwardness. It had felt right, like she'd always been more special than a friend to him; like he'd always known this was where they'd end up one day. 

Like he'd always loved her. 

He'd never kissed someone so much or loved someone so much in his life. Even now, hours later, he could still feel her lips against his, the way she had felt in his arms, the way she had looked… the way she had whispered his name...

And she had seemed rather happy afterwards as well, so it mustn't have been horrible for her either, which was good to kno. He’d been worried about her expectations and not fulfilling them. 

"You alright?"

"Hm?" Ron looked at her, realising she must have said something and he hadn't heard. 

She looked concerned. "I said, are you alright? You seemed to go somewhere else for a moment."

He smiled, nodding. "I'm alright. I was just thinking about… you.” 

She returned his smile, flushing, but said nothing else on the matter.  

The rest of breakfast went by in a blur. Molly and Bill had not returned, and everyone else ate in silence. Once finished, they hurried away to get themselves ready. They'd taken yesterday off, but today would be another day at the school. 

"I was thinking," Hermione said, coming to sit beside Ron on his bed just as he was putting his shoes on, "that I don't think it's a good idea to rub it in with your mum at the moment. I think we should —"

Ron kissed her, silencing her. He brought his hands to her face, deepening the kiss. She didn't fight him, didn't push him away, but when he looked at her, she seemed to be fighting an internal battle with herself as to whether she should throw herself at him or ask him to stop.

"She can't tell us what to do. I'll… apologise for keeping it from her, but I'm not going to stop being with you because she doesn't like it. I love you too much for that." He kissed her again. "I've wanted this for too long." Another kiss, and he felt her smile against him. "And you're the one bit of happiness in this dark time."

"I just feel so awful," she said. "She was so upset, and can we blame her? I mean, Fred's funeral is in two days…"

Ron let his hands fall into his lap, guilt creeping up on him. "Yeah, I know. I'll talk to her at some point today."

"Do you think maybe I should say something?" Hermione asked.

"Probably not," Ron said. "It's probably best if it's just me."

She nodded. "Are you ready to go?"

"As ready as I ever am to set foot in that castle again." Which was not much. 

She offered a hand, smiling. "In this together, remember?"

He accepted it, squeezing her fingers tightly. "In this together," he repeated.

…

Going back each day to the place where so many people had died was not what anyone wanted to be doing. The memories were so raw in everyone's minds that it couldn't be helped to stop and lose oneself at a place where they had witnessed death. 

Many tears had been shed over the week, yet people kept showing up, day in and day out, almost as if it were their duty to help with the restoration of Hogwarts. 

Students, former and present, staff and Ministry members, attended every day, working tirelessly to move or repair crumbled walls, fix leaking plumbing, or trying to retain the magic that had once filled every nook and cranny. But magic could only do so much, and there was much physical exertion used on top of spells. 

Ron found himself in the Gryffindor common room today, one place that had remained fairly intact throughout the Battle. Stepping into his old dormitory hit him with a wave of emotions he hadn't expected to feel. It had been more than a year since he'd last slept in his bed. Much had changed since then; he'd grown up so much in such a short time. It didn't even feel right being there; like he no longer belonged at Hogwarts at all. The reality of war had taught him more than what any schooling could do.

"Feels weird, doesn't it?" 

Ron spun around."Hi, Neville," he said. 

Neville had been one of the hardest working among them, showing up every day and giving his all to this place. Ron admired his dedication. 

"Almost like this was another time." He came to stand beside Ron, who'd been staring at his four poster bed. "I guess they're someone else's beds now, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess they are," Ron said. He watched the bed for a few more moments before Neville spoke again. 

"We're all about to head to the Great Hall for a break. Are you coming?"

Ron nodded, and without another word, he followed Neville down the staircase and into the common room. 

The portrait hole swung open before they had the chance to leave.

"Mum!" Ron said. "Wh—what are you doing here?" Molly had not been  to the castle once, the place where she had lost a son. No one had asked her to.

"Come to see you, Ronald. If you'd please." Her tone was neutral. 

Ron really didn't wish to have another argument, not in front of Neville, but he couldn't say no to her either. "I'll see you soon, Neville," he said instead. 

Neville nodded and disappeared from the common room, leaving Ron alone with his mother. It was the first time it had just been the two of them in almost two weeks. He shuffled his feet.

"Why don't we sit?" Molly suggested, indicating the armchairs by the fireplace. It had been their favourite spot over the years — Ron, Harry's and Hermione's. 

Ron shuffled over to them and sat down. He stared into the unlit fireplace, wondering just what she was going to say to him. Her stony expression didn't bode well. 

She sat beside him, her eyes boring into him, as if waiting for him to say something. He kept his gaze on the fireplace. Eventually, the silence must have become too much, because she spoke, and her voice was filled with anguish. "Horcruxes?"

Ron winced. He'd had a feeling, a part of him had always known, that Hermione had had nothing to do with his mum’s anger. It had been this; them leaving so abruptly after Bill’s wedding and not telling her where they were going. For going off the map for months, leaving her to worry. All to search for seven Horcruxes, the darkest of Dark magic. 

"All those months!" Molly went on. "All those times I forced myself to check that damned clock to make sure your name hadn't ticked over to 'dead'. Not even a message, a note, anything… Horcruxes, Ron? All three of you? Really?"

Ron sunk low into the armchair, wanting very much to disappear. His mother had a way of making anyone feel small, despite her own small stature. He had no desire to relive those horrendous months spent in a tent, the memories of Voldemort's soul speaking to him, preying on his deepest fears, and how worthless it had made him feel to the point where he couldn't take it anymore. It had been a truly awful time in his life.

“Harry was instructed by Dumbledore to not say anything,” he said weakly after a moment. 

“And yet he told you,” Molly said. 

“That was another instruction from Dumbledore.” Ron sucked in a breath and braved a look in his mother’s direction. Her expression had softened slightly, though he still wouldn’t want to have crossed her. 

“It wasn’t some big camping adventure, Mum. No doubt Bill has told you that I wasn’t exactly the best person during that time. We found them all, we destroyed them, but not before they almost destroyed us. Me. We had to do it. You know that, right? If we hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here, free of him.”

“Fred would still be alive,” Molly said, her voice barely audible. 

Ron looked away, unable to bear the look in his mother’s eyes. “Maybe. Or maybe we’d all be dead. Maybe he would have won the fight.”

“You were barely of age,” Molly whispered. “Ginny isn’t of age.”

Ron swallowed. He was so uncomfortable. His mother was on the brink of bursting into tears, and he’d have no idea what to do if she did. Usually, someone else was around to comfort her if that happened. His dad. Bill. Someone who was much better at dealing with these sorts of things. 

“It… just shows, I guess…” he said. “The way you’ve raised us all. What you’ve taught us. Never to back down from a fight.”

It had been the wrong thing to say. She burst into a wail of tears, burying her face in her hands. “Oh, Ron,” she sobbed. “Oh, Ron. How could you?”

Ron watched her, completely lost for words. He shifted, contemplating whether to hug her or not. He settled for patting her shoulder. “Sorry,” he mumbled. 

Molly started crying harder. “Sorry? Sorry for what?”

“For… leaving like I did. For not being able to tell you. For… Fred.”

“Sorry for being brave?” Molly wailed. “For doing what is right? Don’t be sorry for that!” And she threw herself into Ron’s arms, hugging him so tight that she almost suffocated him. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Er… thanks.” Ron patted her back. 

“My children,” Molly sobbed. “All true Gryffindors, if I’ve ever seen one. Brave, loyal, and stupidly careless about their own mortality. The Sorting Hat never gets it wrong.”

And there the two of them sat, Molly sobbing into Ron’s shoulder, mumbling words about being proud, about how stupid they all were, but emphasising how she was still 'so proud' of him. Ron could only sit there, allowing her to cry, as uncomfortable as it made him. 

After what felt like forever, Molly finally pulled back, wiping her red eyes. Ron looked away again; he was really bothered by seeing her cry so much. 

“Just no more secrets, Ron,” she said after a while. “I don’t care if you thought you were sparing my feelings; no more secrets. If something — or someone — makes you happy during this time, then I want to know about it.”

Ron nodded, but said nothing. 

Molly started sobbing again. Ron stared at her, wide-eyed. What was it now? 

“You and Hermione,” she sniffed. “How lovely. Such a nice, young woman… so lovely...”

At the same moment, the portrait hole swung open again and Hermione climbed through. Spotting Ron and Molly by the fireplace, her calm expression changed to one of alarm, and it looked as if she’d much rather be out there hunting for Horcruxes again. 

“It’s alright,” Ron said, standing up and going over to her. “Mum’s got it all off her chest now. Everything’s fine.”

Hermione eyed Molly nervously. “Mrs Weasley, I just want to say I’m really —”

“Oh, it’s Molly, dear!” She jumped to her feet and took Hermione into a crushing hug. 

“Alright,” Ron said after a moment. “I think maybe we should, er, go and get something to eat. I don’t think I could lift another boulder — magic or otherwise — without food.”

Molly let go of a startled Hermione, smiling between them. 

Sensing she might start crying again, Ron urged Hermione through the portrait hole and into the corridor, whispering, “She’s a bit sensitive at the moment. Was very uncomfortable.”

But at least one good thing had come from that discussion. As they walked through the corridor, his mum trailing a little behind them, he slipped his hand into Hermione’s. He no longer had to keep his feelings hidden. If he wanted to hold Hermione’s hand, sure as hell no one was going to stop him. 

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 21

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer!

I run an Instagram account for this fic called whenihaveyou.romione if you’re interested. 

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Chapter 21

“Ron, are you okay? You’re staring.”

“What?”

“You’re staring at me.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, I’m okay… sorry.” Ron grinned at her. “I just think you’re really beautiful when you’re all serious and do all that official stuff, you know?”

Hermione went very red, shooting an apologetic look towards the amused witch sitting across from them. Then she returned her gaze to the pile of papers in front of her and cleared her throat. “Yes, well, we need to do this now.” She passed Ron one of the official-looking papers. Ron didn’t miss the small smile she tried to hide as she did so. 

Not at all sorry about his lapse in concentration, Ron drew the parchment towards him and scanned it quickly. He took out his wand and brought the tip of his parchment to it, but didn’t bind the contract. 

“So,” he said, “I just bind my name to the contract and this place —” he gestured around the small flat where they now sat, “— is ours?” He’d never had to deal with this before, and honestly, he was just as confused about everything as he was about using the microwave at the Grangers’ place. 

“That’s correct,” the witch said, now looking at Ron with a keen interest. “For fifteen Galleons a week.”

“And if we choose to move out —”

“Just do it, Ron!” Hermione said irritably. “You’re stalling.”

“I’m just making sure everything is in order,” Ron muttered, though he tapped the contract with his wand and watched as his name appeared underneath Hermione’s. He passed the parchment back to the owner of the flat. 

She studied it with interest. “Huh,” she said, “who would have thought that I’d receive an application for my old little flat from two heroes of the wizarding world.” 

“Yeah, well, don’t go telling people that,” Ron said. “And, Hermione here is really good at protective enchantments, so even if you did, they wouldn’t be able to find it.”

“Ron!” Hermione exclaimed, shooting the witch another apologetic look. “If you read the contract —”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” the witch said, Vanishing the contract they’d both agreed to. “Of course, by signing it, there are privacy enchantments locked into it. Then, of course, I will always protect people who rent from me, regardless of who you are.”

“So, it’s ours now, then?” Ron asked, looking around the small living area. It wasn’t much — a tiny living room, an even smaller kitchen, with a single bedroom and bathroom off to the side — but it was perfect for them. Not to mention that if they needed anything, they simply had to go downstairs and they’d be in Diagon Alley. No Floo travel, no Apparating, or anything.

“Yes,” the witch said. “All yours, so long as you pay —”

“Yeah, yeah, the money,” Ron said.

Hermione glared at him. 

“Speaking of, I do require a down payment of fifteen Galleons now, to secure the contract.”

Ron, who’d been warned of this prior to coming, extracted a small pouch containing fifteen Galleons from his pocket. He grinned as he passed it over to the witch. He only felt satisfaction at parting with it, knowing that it was his first major contribution as an adult earning his own money. Sure, he’d bought himself some new clothes and could now afford to take Hermione out, but this was theirs. Their own place, for which he was fully independent in paying for. 

“I’ve never seen anyone look so pleased with handing their gold over to me,” the witch commented. 

“Lucky you’ve got us then, eh?” Ron said. Hermione shook her head. 

“Well,” the witch said, standing up, “here are your keys. Though, the place can also be accessed via spells if you so wish. You’ll just need to set them.” She smiled. “Enjoy. If you have any issues, owl me, and I’ll respond within two days.”

“And if it’s a leaking pipe?” Ron asked.

“You have a wand, do you not?”

Ron considered her tone highly rude, but chose to ignore it, along with Hermione’s laugh.

“Enjoy,” the witch said, and she left, leaving Ron and Hermione alone in the flat — their flat.

A silence ensued — one of the many, peaceful, and pleasant silences that had come to be a part of their relationship; a time for at least Ron to consider just how happy he was with the turn his life had taken after the war. 

“We should celebrate tonight,” Hermione said after a moment. “You and me. We have Diagon Alley at our disposal, let’s not waste it.”

Ron looked at her, a smile playing at his lips. “You mean to say, you want to celebrate us moving in together by going out?”

“Well, we don’t have to go out. We can always stay in, and —”

“I’ve learnt to be an alright cook,” Ron said. “Since living with Harry. We both have.”

“Well, that makes one of us,” Hermione said. “Never had the desire to learn…”

“Well, you’re lucky you have me!” Ron said, beaming. “We can have a nice night in, in our new place. And I’ll cook for you. I’m not fantastic, but I’m sure I can get something together. Then maybe afterwards we could go down to the ice-cream place and — I love you.”

Hermione was looking at him with such a tender expression, apparently from his offer to cook for her, that the words — as they always did in a moment like this — slipped out. She had that effect on him. Just like earlier, when they’d been discussing the contract, she had been so serious and so focused that he hadn’t been able to stop himself from staring at her. He couldn’t believe he’d made it over a year with her, in a post-war world that was still trying to find its feet again. Sometimes, it was still hard to believe that they could be doing something as simple as finding a place together, when just over a year ago, he believed they were all going to die. 

His words seemed to snap her out of some reverie. Her eyes regained focus and she looked up at him. 

Ron smiled at her. “You alright there?”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’m perfectly fine. More than fine, actually.” She shuffled towards him, allowing Ron to gather her in his arms. He held her tightly. “I love you, too,” she added a moment later, almost as an afterthought.

Ron laughed. “Come on,” he said after a moment, pulling away from her. “We should probably go and get our stuff. Though, we don’t need much, do we?” The flat had come fully furnished, apart from their personal belongings. 

“No, we don’t,” Hermione said, frowning suddenly at the ugly sofa they were sitting on. “Though, Isadora did say that if we wanted our own things, we just had to contact her and she’d remove these ones for us.”

“Yes, but we don’t have our own things, do we?” Ron said. “I mean, most of the stuff at Grimmauld Place — including the bed I sleep in — belongs to Harry. And the stuff at your place is yours parents, isn’t it?”

Hermione looked up at him, thoughtful. He could tell an idea was forming in her head, and for once, he could guess what it was. 

“We’ll have to make do with it for the meantime,” Ron said. “Maybe one day we can buy our own furniture. I had a look at that bed in there —” he pointed towards the bedroom, “— and it doesn’t look very comfortable, so that’ll be the first to go.”

She smiled, taking his hand, and they made their way down from the flat and onto Diagon Alley. “You surprise me, Ron,” she said once they reached the busy street.

“You’ve said that before,” Ron replied. “I amaze you, I surprise you, I impress you…”

“Well, you do.”

“In a good way this time, I hope.”

“Of course. Always in a good way.”

“So, what amazing thing have I done this time to surprise you?” Ron asked with a smile. 

“Just that once upon a time ago, I had serious doubts that you could ever be so thoughtful, so caring… so affectionate…”

“You were looking at me all wrong,” Ron told her. “Besides, back then, I was not only younger, but I had no idea how to approach things with you. I had no idea, at sixteen years old, how to say ‘Hermione, I know we’re friends, but I really like you in a more-than-friends kind of way’. Nor did I have the confidence to do it, even if I had known how. But I always cared about you, and Merlin, I always thought about you.”

Hermione raised her eyebrow at him, to which Ron added, with a smirk, “Not even going to deny it, Hermione. There’s no point. That time between the end of sixth year, and Harry arriving before the wedding and Horcruxes… that time when it was just you and me, I had many thoughts about you — some innocent, like wondering what you would do if I just kissed you there and then. Other times, I got a little carried away with my imagination, and it ran a little wild.”

“Charming, Ron,” Hermione said, though she was smiling and looking rather pleased with herself. 

“What?” Ron said. “Most of those thoughts became a reality anyway. You made sure of that, not even two weeks in.”

It seemed Hermione felt she didn’t need to give a dignified response, instead smirking as they weaved their way through Diagon Alley. 

“Well,” Ron said as they reached the Leaky Cauldron, “at least I don’t have to wonder how you feel about me anymore. That’s one less thing to worry about. I mean, you wouldn’t have moved in with me if you didn’t feel something, right?”

Hermione squeezed his hand as she pulled him through the archway and into the pub, and for Ron, that was a good enough answer. 

…

The idea had occurred to him later that day — a way that he could make their first night in their new home memorable. Their first year together had been rather dateless, with Hermione going to Australia, Ron’s exhaustion from Auror training, and then Hermione going back to Hogwarts. There simply hadn’t been the time to even go out to dinner one evening. 

But now they had all the time in the world; all the evenings together, all the weekends to do whatever they wanted. 

So, naturally, Ron decided the best date was staying in. 

He didn’t know where the idea had come from, but right before starting on the dinner he’d promised to cook her, he decided that eating at the table would be boring. 

A picnic, he thought, would be much more interesting, and much more romantic. 

Hermione seemed to agree. 

“This is why I keep saying you surprise me,” she said, grinning at him as she watched a blanket, two Firewhisky glasses (and the Firewhisky) and some cushions appear in the centre of their small living room. Simultaneously, the sofa, the armchair and the coffee table all jumped out of the way to make room. 

“What part?” Ron asked. “The part where I can do all that non-verbally now, or this?” He indicated the picnic. 

“Your romantic side,” Hermione said softly. “You’re a romantic at heart, and I like it very much.”

“Only for you,” Ron told her. “You make the effort worth it.”

She flushed with pleasure and sat down on one of the cushions while Ron Summoned the food. He had to admit, it wasn’t the best — his mother could have made something ten times better — but he was quite pleased with how it had turned out. He just hoped it tasted alright. 

Ron joined her on the second cushion, and she beamed at him. Then she laughed when he picked up the Firewhisky bottle. 

“There are a lot less potent things than that around, you know?” she said. 

“And where would the fun in that be?” Ron asked, pouring some of the drink into each of the glasses. 

“What, you want to get us drunk, do you?” Hermione said, sounding amused.

“Honestly, it was all they had,” Ron confessed. “There wasn’t much of a choice. Unless I wanted to pay two hundred Galleons for a tiny little bottle of something.”

Hermione accepted the now full glass of Firewhisky, still smiling. 

Ron returned it, watching her for a moment. “You really are worth it,” he said eventually. “I just wish we’d done this sooner. Earlier.”

“You mean in the middle of a war?” Hermione asked. 

“I mean, even earlier than that,” Ron said. “Around the… time of Lavender. I really liked you then, but I had no idea how to tell you. And I also had no idea how you felt and thought that if I said anything — even if I had the confidence to — it might have destroyed our friendship.”

“I asked you to the party, though, didn’t I?” Hermione said. “I mean, I thought I had been obvious —”

“Nah, you needed to have spelt it out for me a little clearer,” Ron said. “I thought you asked me as a friend. If I had thought it was anything more, even the slightest chance… well, I wouldn’t have gone for… Lavender.” He always felt so guilty admitting that, but enough time had passed, he thought, that it was okay. He’d been sixteen then — young and stupid and very unsure of himself. Besides, she was happy with Seamus these days. 

“I’ll know that for next time then,” Hermione said. Her expression turned thoughtful, and Ron was suddenly aware that they had not yet touched the food, nor their drinks. He moved the plates of food in front of them.

“Can I ask you something?” Hermione suddenly said, ignoring the food.

“Of course,” Ron said. “Er, as long as it doesn’t embarrass me.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “If you didn’t like Lavender… in that way… why did you go out with her for so long? I thought… well, honestly, you never were good at hiding your feelings, and I at least strongly suspected how you felt about me, and then all of a sudden you were with her — after I’d asked you to the party, too. I was confused, to say the least.”

“There’s a story behind that that I don’t really want to tell you,” Ron said. “But to put it quickly, Ginny pointed out to me after the Quidditch match that I’d never kissed anyone before, which annoyed me. Then she added that you had… you and Krum… well, that annoyed me too.”

Hermione seemed to want to argue his statement, but he cut her off. “I didn’t seek her out or anything, if that’s what you’re wondering. She came to me, and… and I was upset with you. I admit that. I just wanted to forget.”

Hermione stared at him, looking rather surprised by that information. Ron never had told her about that evening, and he hoped he never would have to go into detail about it. He wasn’t proud of it, and whilst Lavender wasn’t a bad person, he’d never really liked her all that much and often found himself thinking about Hermione and wondering what she was doing when he was with Lavender. 

“You should eat,” Ron said after a few moments of silence. He indicated the plate in front of her. “Before it goes cold.”

Hermione seemed to accept the fact that the topic was no longer up for discussion, nodding slowly, and turning to their meal. 

They began eating, striking up less intense and less uncomfortable conversations than past failed relationships.

"You know what we should do?" Ron said as he cleared their plates away with his wand, along with the glasses and the Firewhisky that had been too strong for either of them to drink too much of. "We should throw a housewarming party next weekend. Have everyone over."

"There's really not much room," Hermione said. "By everyone, do you mean… everyone?"

"Well, you know, Harry, Ginny, my brothers and whatnot. Neville, Seamus, Dean, Luna… that lot. Though I doubt Bill and Fleur would come, but I suppose Victoire would be welcome."

"Hardly a place for a baby, don't you think?" Hermione said. “I imagine there’d be plenty of drinking — I mean, you saw the Common Room when we were all under age…”

"It's why I said I'd doubt they'd come." Ron grinned. “It will be good to celebrate with everyone. All of us together again, for something good for once, too. What do you think?”

Hermione smiled. “I don’t see an issue with that. It’s right before NEWT results are due to arrive, too, so might be a good distraction.”

“Yes, because you’ll need that from the one hundred NEWTs and one hundred and one job offers you’ll get afterwards,” Ron said.

“Don’t say that, Ron.”

“I love you.”

“You can’t use that as a way to change the conversation —”

“Yes I can, because it always works.” Ron shuffled on the cushion so he could kiss her. “I love you.”

“Didn’t you say we’d get ice-cream after dinner?” Hermione said, pulling away from him.

“Yeah, I guess, but we don’t have to.” Ron kissed her again, but she pulled away once more, looking at him, rather amused. 

“So, I take it you’re not actually interested in ice-cream?”

“Not at all,” Ron said, and for the third time, he kissed her, and finally she didn’t pull away, instead wrapping her arms around his neck to draw him closer.