#romionesecretsanta

[romionesecretsanta]

Happy Holidays, Karim @honouraryweasley12! I hope you enjoy this piece. :)

I based it one of my favorite fics of yours, ‘Guidebook to the Heart.’

[ladyknightleyisundercover]

Game, Set and Match

Dear Kat ( @ronaldswheezy ), a little bird suggested that you might enjoy a little present of your own as a thank you for all the hard work you put into the Romione Secret Santa once again. I couldn’t agree more – please consider this nonsense feat. your faves a HUGE thank you from me! I hope you have a wonderful rest of the festive period :)

Yesterday, Hermione Granger had received her second ever Weasley Christmas jumper. It had been hand-knitted, of course, by Mrs Weasley out of wool that was a gorgeous shade of lilac, almost identical to the dress she’d worn to Bill and Fleur’s wedding. She had been delighted. Everything the jumper stood for was representative of what she had received from the Weasley family over the years: love, care, kindness, and acceptance into a second family.

All the symbolism was lovely, of course. But today, all she cared for was the fact that the jumper was warm. She was, as her dear, sweet, loving boyfriend would have put it, bloody freezing. She snuggled further into the jumper, wrapped the hideous orange scarf (which clashed with everything) more tightly around her neck, and checked her watch again, letting out the tiniest of sighs. She pointed her wand at her feet, silently casting another warming charm and wondering if her toes would thaw out before June, or if even that was too much to hope for.

It was a good job she thought her boyfriend was sweet and loving and all those other things, because if he wasn’t, she struggled to think of a reason why she would be spending her Boxing Day watching the Chuddley Cannons play Quidditch. Actually, she had very little interest in watching any team play Quidditch on any day of the year. She made an honourable exception for matches in which Ginny played, but although she’d never tell her, she quite often found those boring, too. Everyone played so fast it was hard to tell who was doing what, and she often had to rely on the faces of those she was watching the match with to school her own reactions. But she loved Ron very much, so she had agreed to come with him to watch the Cannons play the Tornados the day after Christmas.

Truthfully, she had only come because the rest of the Weasleys’ ribbing of him (and prior experience) had led her to believe they would be back home within half an hour, and she could be tucked up on the sofa with one of the many lovely new books she had received yesterday and maybe a nice hot chocolate made from the Honeydukes’ secret recipe. The Cannons could be relied upon for very little, except their ability to be beaten in less than forty-five minutes.

Unfortunately, four of the Tornados first team members had overindulged in one way or another at Christmas Dinner, and thus were unable to play. Hermione supposed this was actually fortunate for some—including the novice reserve players who had been drafted in to play the Cannons, on the grounds that, well, come on, it was the Cannons—but for her, this was a bad turn of events indeed. They’d been there for an hour and a half, there had been no sight of the Snitch and to make matters worse, the Tornados had only managed to score two goals. She’d been there when they’d played the Harpies, who had scored twenty-five goals in twenty minutes and had only stopped (Ginny told them afterwards) because they’d taken pity on the fans.

Not only had there been very little action, she hadn’t even taken a proper warm outfit, despite the thick layer of frost, thinking they’d be home before she felt the cold. That’d teach her. Her Weasley jumper was good, but it wasn’t going to cut it much longer. She glanced over at Ron, who was wearing a Cannons t shirt (and bobble hat) but seemed to be unaffected by the cold, and was instead staring intently up at something going on on the pitch. He really was very enraptured by it all. And it was nice for him, she supposed, to see the Cannons actually playing well. Bloody hell, though. She hoped it would all be over soon. She was so bored.

Hermione glanced at her Weasley jumper again. The sleeves were really quite roomy; ideal for burying your hands in. Or burying other things... She glanced at her handbag. She was never without a book, and with so many nice new ones to read, well, she hadn’t bothered deciding which to take with her today, she’d just chucked them all in there. Thank Merlin she’d perfected that Undetectable Extension Charm. Keeping her eyes on Ron the whole time—a trial, really—she reached over and pulled out the first one her hands came to.

Oh, excellent. It was the biography of the first female Minister of Magic. A paperback, too! With a few quick magical alterations to the jumper, she was able to arrange it so that it was tucked up one sleeve, with enough room, just about, for her to read. Okay, so it wasn’t the easiest or most comfortable reading position ever. But it would suffice for now, and she’d had worse...

Half an hour later, she was a good fifty pages in, and really enjoying it. She must remember to thank George and Angelina again for gifting it (and Ginny, for her suggestion that she simply distribute her reading list to friends and family like a wedding registry). She was hardly noticing the cold any more, and she’d just gotten to a really good bit when she heard a cough. And then another, slightly more pointed one. She looked up. “Oh,” she said sheepishly.

Ron was looking at her with what was clearly meant to be a very disappointed expression, but even he couldn’t manage to keep a straight face. “Honestly,” he said. “I take you out to the most exciting match the Cannons have played in decades and you’re reading!”

Hermione was, for once, lost for words. “I...it’s educational?” she managed in the end. Ron scoffed. “I’m sorry!” she said. “I was cold!”

“And reading helps warm you up?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Um...it increases the blood flow to the brain?” she tried.

“And in doing so removes it from your extremities?” he replied. She conceded defeat. “Honestly, why didn’t you say you were cold? I’d’ve given you—”

“Your t shirt? You’d get hypothermia!” she said. “Don’t be silly, I’ll be fine.”

“If I’d got hypothermia, you’d be forced to warm me up, though,” he said mischievously.

“As we stand,” she said, “I’m very much afraid you’ll be forced to do that to me, when we get back.”

“A trial, I’m sure,” he said, stepping closer to her.

“It will be awful,” she said, wrapping an arm around him.

“Very unpleasant for all involved,” he said, pulling her closer.

“I’m just dreading it,” she breathed and then—then he kissed her.

It was reasonably chaste—they were in public, after all—and it wasn’t like it was the first time. When they’d first started dating, she’d counted every kiss, unable to believe that, finally, they were together. That he loved her back. That he wanted to do these things with her. Now, of course, they’d been together over eighteen months and she’d stopped counting. Their kisses had become routine, commonplace. So had...well, a lot more. But his kisses still took her breath away every time.

She forgot about her cold toes, forgot the book that was stuffed uncomfortably up her sleeve. Forgot about everything except Ron, and here, and now.

And...cheering? Getting louder? They broke apart, exchanging confused glances for a second.

“Ladies and Gentleman!” boomed the announcer, sounding like she couldn’t believe what her own mouth was saying. “For the first time in, I believe, one hundred and forty-seven years, the Chuddley Cannons have caught the Snitch!”

Ron turned pale.

Almost of its own accord, Hermione found her arm rising slowly, one hand covering the mouth that was gaping open. All around them, the crowd was going absolutely wild. Even the Tornados fans were excited, having witnessed such an historic win. Someone in the row behind them hugged Ron, cheering wildly; someone else slapped her on the back. The Cannons fans were cheering louder than she’d ever heard...and still Ron had barely moved.

“Please say something,” she begged a moment later. He turned to face her, and the look on his face was so similar to the look of utter shock he’d worn the first time she’d kissed him, she thought for one wild moment they were back in the Room of Requirement. “Ron, please say something,” she said, a slightly hysterical giggle escaping before she could help it.

She slapped her hand back over her mouth, in case another should burst out, and reached out to him with her other hand. “Ron?”

“Oh, bloody hell!”

[remedialpotions]

My Romione Secret Santa fic is now on FFN if that’s the sort of thing you lot are into…

Summary: It’s the final week of the trio’s sixth year at Hogwarts, and when it comes to Hermione, Ron feels he has a lot to make up for. HBP missing moment. Rating: K+ Word Count: 2.6k(ish) Warning: none, just some end-of-sixth-year UST.

[quillsand]

Hey fam would you be doing Romione Secret Santa this year? :D (it's fine if you're not, i'm just getting excited for christmas and it was huge fun last year)

Question to all of my followers: is anybody interested in another @romionesecretsanta? The only reason I ask is that last year a lot of people signed up and then didn’t actually follow through with making gifts, so I spent most of the time over Christmas frantically writing fic for those who didn’t have anything (and I’d really love to avoid a repeat scenario)- but if people want to and are willing then I’m definitely up for running it again! There’s just no point if people aren’t interested/don’t commit

[wildegreenlight]

“Lights Will Guide You Home” Chapter Two

So this is the follow up to the gift I made for @idearlylovealaugh for @romionesecretsanta

Chapter One hinted at the activities that take place in Chapter Two!

Special shout outs to @callieskye @azaleablueme @terrierandotter and @coyotelaughingsoftly for some advice on this chapter!

You can find the rest under the cut or on ff.net here :)

Ron wasted no time preparing for his wife’s return. The non-verbal spells that he cast were as well known to him as any defensive spell that he had ever learned while he was an Auror. As a result of years of practice, the room was perfectly lit and silenced in a matter of moments. He decided that he did have a little time before Hermione returned, knowing that she always read a story with Rose when she tucked her in.

I ‘ve got time for a quick shower. Hermione always says that I am extra shagable when I’ve just got out, and if she comes back before I’m done, she can just join me. Reckon I win either way.

As he stood under the stream of hot water, she always said he liked his showers hotter than a cauldron full of fiendfyre, he began to think of all the “magic” his beautiful wife might have in store for him tonight. Would she find him in the shower? If so, she would certainly join him, but then what? His cock began to stiffen at the thought of her on her knees in front of him, her mouth hotter than the water.

He washed his hair as his fantasy wonderings continued. He would eventually have no choice but to pull her up and turn her around; as fantastic as it felt when she sucked him, nothing could ever compare to the feeling of being inside her. Yes, he would turn her around, and she would put her foot up on the little tile shelf that they had installed so that she could shave her legs more easily (at least that was the explanation they shared in polite company). He had been delighted to find out that it was the perfect height to….

Woah, you better calm down Weasley! Don’t want to waste this on a shower wank!

He lowered the temperature of the shower just enough to calm his hard on, and rinsed away the last of the soap.  Stepping out of the tub, he quickly dried before wrapping the towel around him, securing it low on his hips.

When he stepped into the bedroom he was just in time to catch a glimpse of his wife’s bare back and arse before they were covered in silky black fabric as she shimmied into an arousing slip of a nightgown.  He stopped in his tracks and leaned against the frame of the bathroom door, admiring the view.

“As dead sexy as that garment is luv, I’m afraid I’d rather come in to find it moving in the other direction.”

She turned to face him, her curls free and her eyes sparkling; the look that she only every gave to him. It was the perfect mix of love and challenge and a dash of lust for good measure.

“You’ve seen me starkers a million times by now, I thought you might enjoy a special presentation; you know, like when we put the Chinese takeaway on the good dishes.”

“I appreciate the effort, but I was always a “eat straight out of the carton” kind of bloke.”

“True enough. I just hope you have saved you appetite; I’d hate to have to eat all alone.”

Ron stepped closer to her and she looked up at him with a feigned pout. By Merlin, he loved this. The verbal sparring, matching wits with her, was such a turn on, even after all these years. It had shocked him a little when he first realized that all of those adolescent bickers had been their first form of foreplay. He was very thankful that his 12-year-old self hadn’t figured that out. It could have made for even more awkward moments. Robes can only hide so much!

“Now that would be a bloody shame, even if I would enjoy that show tremendously.”

“I think I can figure out something you will enjoy even more. I have to say that I appreciate your choice of wardrobe.”

“Took me ages to pick just the right towel, it did.”

“Although, it is a bit of an unfair advantage. You know that I cannot control myself when you’re like this.”

He feigned innocence. “Are you suggesting that I would not fight fair? I simply needed a shower; you happened to catch me before I had a chance to put on my pajamas.”

“Tsk! Tsk! We both know that you haven’t slept in pajamas since we got our first flat together.”

“That’s only because you kept ripping them in your haste to have your wicked way with me.”

“I will admit, I do have quite the history of passionate outbursts where you’re involved.”

She stepped even closer to him, bringing the tips of her fingers into contact with his chest. He involuntarily sucked in a breath as she began to cover him in feather-light caresses. The fine ginger hair on his chest and arms stood up, and he marveled again at how the smallest touch from her still drove him mental.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to be more gentle with you from now on.”

“Hmmm…I am quite fond of your passionate outbursts, as long as I’m the one that inspires them.”

“You’re the only one who ever has, why would it change now? Especially since all these years of practice have made us exceptionally good at it, don’t you think?”

“Fuck, yeah!”

Her caresses continued lower until her fingers slipped below his towel, freeing it from his hips. Ron reached for her then, drawing her mouth to his before the cloth hit the floor. Their kiss was slow, but powerful. They both grunted in delight as his hands slid down the black silk fabric, gripping her bum and pulling her flush to his bare skin. The sensation of his hardening cock sliding along the material was exquisite. Her mouth left his and continued down his jaw.

“Gods! That feels incredible!”

“I’ve barely even started, love.”

That comment made him growl, and he almost pulled her into another kiss, but she had already made her intentions clear. She was placing a slow trail of open-mouthed kisses down his chest and stomach. By the time she had settled on her knees, he was fully erect and aching for her touch. His hands reached lovingly for her hair. She began to lightly run her fingernails over the backs of his thighs and continued the trail of kisses down over his hips.

“Yessss.”

“More?”

He looked down to find her staring up at him. He nodded at her, knowing that answer would in no way be sufficient. Knowing that she would push him farther to get what she wanted, what they both wanted.

“You can do better than that; what do you want Ron?”

He moaned loudly as she leaned in and licked the tip of his cock.

“I’m not sure what the means. I need you to be more clear, dear.”

This was one of her favorite games. She loved to hear him tell her exactly what he wanted. It was a kink they shared. He was pretty sure it could be traced back to all of those years of being unable to express their feelings to one another aloud. She wanted clear? Clear, he could be.

“I want you to use your amazingly wicked mouth on me. I want you to suck my cock…suck me until I beg you to stop.”

“Beg?”

“Beg.”

“I like the sound of that, and I love the taste of this.”

Hermione swallowed his shaft quickly, greedily, so that Ron swayed slightly on his heels. He adjusted his stance to aid his stability, and brought his hands into her curls. This action, one of her favorites, elicited a moan from her throat.

“Oh, fuck! That feels fucking amazing…just like that…you look so hot doing that…I could watch you like this all fucking day, love.”

He watched her, mesmerized by how sexy she looked as he slid slowly in and out of her mouth. She always looked like she was enjoying it as much as he was. It had taken him a while to get used to that. His brothers, and in fact most of the blokes he knew, claimed that women didn’t really like giving men “special attention”; yet another reason he was the luckiest wizard in the whole effing world. He never shared details about their rather adventurous love life, but their exploits were legendary; there was not a single Weasley who would come looking for them if they went missing at a gathering anymore, and poor Harry had interrupted them so many times that it had stopped being embarrassing long before they were even married. She moaned even louder, and he could see that she was rubbing her thighs together. It really did make her hot. Of course, he felt the same way about her. Giving her pleasure was always what turned him on the most.  Just the thought of touching her, tasting her, making her cry out his name made him spare with lust.

“Mione…bloody…hell…I swear to Merlin…I have to touch you…now!!”

She did not relent in the slightest; in fact, she increased her speed and suction.

“Please, Mione…I need…to feel you…please, I’m begging you, for the love of Merlin!”

Hermione sat back on her haunches before standing up and taking him by the hand. She led him to their bed where she motioned for him to lie down.

“You want to touch me?”

“Gods, yes!”

“I’m not done with you yet, but I think that can be arranged,” she purred as she crawled onto the bed perpendicular to her very naked and very aroused husband.

Ron’s eyes rolled back into his head as she once again ran her tongue from his bullocks to his cockhead. This was even better, he could quit concentrating on staying upright and touch her in the bargain. He ran his right hand over her calf, up the back of her thigh, and under her short negligee. Hermione instinctively arched her back and spread her knees; he grinned as he thought about how well they could read each other’s signals. He adjusted his hand under her until his fingers made contact with her core.

“Fuck! You’re so wet…you need me to touch you too, don’t you?”

She moaned her affirmation around his cock, and he circled her clit with the tips of his fingers.

“What dear? I’m afraid that wasn’t very clear.”

She released him with a soft pop and looked at him challengingly, panting her reply.

“I need you to…fuck me… with your fantastic fingers…until I can no longer… properly…suck you off.”

And with that, he filled her with two fingers, pumping them slowly in and out of her heat. She was taking him into her mouth even deeper now and had begun to run her fingernails lightly up and down his legs as far as she could reach.  He relaxed back into the pillows, closing his eyes, savoring the feel of her mouth and the incredible warmth of her as he pleasured her. They were both moaning now, the vibrations of hers threatening to overwhelm his resolve. The size of his hands enabled him to position the pad of his thump against her clit while his longest two digits curled inside her. His wife began to move her hips, and he knew she was at the edge of an orgasm.

“Just like that luv…I know you’re close. Love the way you feel after you come.”

She whimpered around him; she had stopped sucking him, her pleasure too intense to allow her to concentrate.  Suddenly, she froze and her whole body shook with her release. He had meant what he said, he really did love the way she felt after an orgasm. It was like everything relaxed, like she melted around him, it was incredible.

“Perfect…so perfect…I have to be inside you.”

“Oh, God, yes…please…now.”

Ron moved around her, leaving her on her hands and knees in front of him. He pushed the black garment forward so that she could remove it. He needed to see all of her. He grasped his cock firmly and rubbed it against her opening.

“This what you need, luv? You need me to fuck you?”

“Yes, Ron, fuck me!”

He entered her in one perfect motion and they both cried out at the pleasure of it. After a few slow thrusts, she lowered her chest to the mattress, offering herself up to him. The sight of her like that drew a growl from him. He held her by the hips and began to set a feverish pace. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth opened in bliss. They had both passed the point of words or coherent thought. Ron could feel himself slipping over the edge and tried to reign in his physical need, but just at that moment, Hermione moaned his name; the orgasmic pulsing of her heat drawing out his own release. He gripped her tightly as he emptied himself into her.  They were both spent. Their ragged breaths filled the room as they collapsed onto the bed in each other’s arms.

“Wow…you were right…that was magic.”

“We aim to please, Mr. Weasley.”

“Damn it!”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I just realized…I didn’t even get to nibble your tits! You know that’s my favorite part!”

Her snickers shook them both slightly, and she tightened his arms around her waist.

“Well, as much as I enjoy that as well, I don’t think I have a third one in me tonight dear.”

“Of course, seeing as who you are older than me, I guess I’ll have to pick up where I left off tomorrow.”

“What a sweet husband I have; always looking out for his elderly wife.”

“I do my best; I’d hate to wear you out.”

“You know, after all these years…”

“Yes, dear?”

“You are still a complete arse, Ronald Weasley.”

He pulled her tightly to his chest, and placed a soft kiss in the crook of her neck. As his mind cleared, the blood had returned from other regions, he began to think again about just how amazing his life was. Not every day was as perfect as this one had been, but the bad days were definitely few and far between. Usually, if he did have a bad day, all he had to do was come home to Hermione, to his kids, and all was right again with the world. Ron felt a warmth spread through his chest, not unlike the one he had felt all those years ago when that little ball of light entered his heart and showed him the way home.

[hillnerd-art]

Made this for the @romionesecretsanta 

Happy Holidays, Karim @honouraryweasley12! I hope you enjoy this piece. :)

I based it one of my favorite fics of yours, ‘Guidebook to the Heart.’ (Go on ff.net and read it! SO CUTE)

[azaleablueme]

I’m new to the romione ship and I hope you could recommend some must reads? Thank youuuu ❤️

Welcome to the best ship there is, Anon! Romione all the way! 💕

This is a tough one to answer as there are just so many brilliant ones to choose from. We are blessed with many extremely talented authors in this part of the fandom!

Here are some of our classics. But just so you know, this is just the tip of the iceberg! 

To Know You Is To Love You (M) by @coyotelaughingsoftly Australia (M)by MsBinns aka @tenpointstohufflepuffLove Me Forever (M) by @aloemilk Thieves (M)[WIP] by @trademarkblue Price of Love(M) by Rogue SugahYou can check through @romionedirectory @romionesecretsanta @romioneawards @romioneawards2012 and @callieskye‘s blogs for many more works/author lists.P.S Guys, please feel free to add.

[romioneflufffest]

Romione Fluff Fest is Complete!

Romione Fluff Fest is officially complete! Thank you so much to all of the creators who contributed so many amazing new works. Please keep giving them some love by reblogging and praising them endlessly.

Our generous participants have given us 34 fantastic new stories, and one piece of brilliant art. Below are links to all of the submissions.

Your mods,

@aloemilk (who did most of the work on top of writing three brilliant pieces) 

and

@honouraryweasley12 (who wrote this post, helped here and there, but mostly worked on his own stories since he's a ridiculously slow writer)

P.S. If you're looking for more Romione, check out @romionesecretsanta, starting soon.

Art

Hogsmeade on a Weekend by @hillyminne

Fic

Best Laid Plans by @wildegreenlight

Together by @itspotterpandemonium

Everything Comes to Light by @jdaisyj

DIY and Wands by @lovelittlelives

The long road to Rose by @lovelittlelives

Apologies from the Heart by @lovelittlelives

What to Do About a Toad by @jdaisyj

Declare by @jdaisyj

Taking the Mickey by @jdaisyj

Recognition by @wildegreenlight

Doubt by @moonshoesweasley

The Elves Can Wait by @remedial-potions

Sweet Dreams by @chicgeekgirl89

On Colors and the Conundrum of Mortality by @curveofhands

Between The Wines by @martinlydia

I’ll Take Today by @diva-gonzo

Bed No.583 by @claimingtheanonymous

A Meeting to Remember by @azaleablueme

Supports in Place by @aloemilk

Late Night Snack by @aloemilk

Every Last Word by @diva-gonzo

In This Together by @remedial-potions

Sleep by @the-prisonerofaskaban

Ours by @remedial-potions

That Haunting Melody by @coyotelaughingsoftly

Summertime Clothes by @trademarkblue

Bloody Hell by @thedistantdusk

Silly Love Potion by @diva-gonzo

Simple Pleasures by @idearlylovealaugh

Mark the Start by @trademarkblue 

Technical Advice by @aloemilk

Mementos by @honouraryweasley12

The Note by @honouraryweasley12

Guidebook To The Heart by @honouraryweasley12

[hillnerd]

For Kat! (@ronaldswheezy) Thank you for all you did to organize the 

@romionesecretsanta! :) I hope you enjoyed this. I’m always a bit unsure of writing. 

Ron woke with bleary eyes and squinted around the room to his clock. Merlin, it was bloody early. He usually was able to sleep in further than sunrise on the weekends. He let out a sigh and drew his hand over his face, scratching at his thick stubble that was threatening to become a full beard.

“You’re awake early,” he heard to his right. Hermione was reading by very dim wand light.

“You too,” he mumbled before letting out a yawn that loudly popped his jaw

“Dad keeps saying you need to get that checked out.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” he shrugged.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Ok, I will get it checked out if my jaw starts to hurt. Until then, I’m not making another dental appointment,” he said wiggling his jaw back and forth experimentally to confirm there was no pain. She had a satisfied smile on her face after that.

“C’mere,” he murmured.

She quickly acquiesced, placing her wand and book on her side table. The book pile next to her bed was getting precarious. He would have to remember to spell them with a stabilizing spell later. The last time they had been intimate the books had loudly toppled to the floor, waking the kids far too early in the morning, and cutting their shag woefully short.

Ron raised his arm so she could nestle up with her head on his chest. Hermione enthusiastically cozied up to him, letting out a contented sigh. He put his arms around her and held her close, inhaling the scent of her hair. She stretched up and gave him a kiss, before settling back onto his chest.

“Happy Birthday,” she murmured, giving him a squeeze.

“Blimey, I’d forgotten,” he said letting out a small laugh.

“Would you like one of your presents now?”

“No thanks. Don’t wanna leave bed just yet,” he said kissing the top of her head.

“Who said you needed to leave bed?” she pushed herself up against him and one of her smooth legs wrapped around his middle. He trailed a hand down her leg and gave a smirk.

She had shaved her legs for him. He never made a fuss about it, but it was always pleasant when she was silky like this. It was freezing out and she had been overloaded with case work, not the usual scenario for shaved legs at the beginning of March.

“You planned this out, you saucy witch,”

“Maybe,” Hermione replied, biting her lip.

She was dressed in that navy cotton nighty he liked too. How had he not noticed? It was rather modest compared to most ladies lingerie, but on her it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. It plunged down just enough to reveal an enticing amount of cleavage, hugged her body, and always would ride up as it caught against the sheets, so that it barely covered her bum. He trailed his hand up her side, letting his hands graze the soft curve of her hip.

He glanced up to see a very familiar burning look in her eyes. They’d have to make quick work of it before the kids were up. In moments they were feverishly kissing, she was on top of him grinding into his hardness as he tangled his hands in her wild hair. He trailed his hands down her back and grasped her bum, pulling at one of the globes and letting it go.

He grabbed her and rolled her under him, his kisses travelled down her neck to her collarbone, then finally her breasts. With little effort, he pushed aside the fabric hiding her tits. The tiny straps fell off her shoulders and she whispered sweet encouragements as he began to suckle at a taut nipple. She arched against him and let out a moan, raking her fingers through his hair.

He started working his fingers into her wet knickers when a great crash resounded in the hallway outside their bedroom. They both stilled.

“Hugo!” they heard Rose yell at her brother.

“I didn’t mean to!” Hugo let out.

They gave each other tired grins.

“Well, we tried,” Ron said with a wry chuckle, trying to adjust his pajama trousers. ���Thanks, Love.”

Hermione gave a warm smile, then rolled out of bed.

“Maybe we can continue tonight,” she said, before doing a quick spell on herself to tidy up, and put on the great wooly robe that meant intimacy was very much over. Her spell didn’t hide the marks left on her from his stubble.

“Everything ok?” Hermione asked as she opened the door.

The kids barged in, large grins on their faces. Rose held a tray filled with food, while Hugo had a glass in his hand and a large orange juice stain on his white shirt. The crash must have been the pitcher of orange juice they’d had in their fridge.

“Happy Birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!” they sang with glee. He did his best to look appropriately delighted, and not wince, as they finished their song at an uncomfortably loud volume.

“Wow, what a wonderful way to wake up,” he claimed, sitting up in the bed.

Hermione smirked at him from the doorway, as the kids quickly gave the tray to their father, and hopped on the bed.

“How old are you now Dad?” asked Hugo.

“Thirty four,” Rose supplied, pointing to the birthday card she had made herself with crayons and construction paper. “It took a long time to draw that many candles on there.”

“Wow, that’s a lot,” Hugo said, grabbing a piece of toast off the plate and snacking on it.

Ron grabbed his wand and cleaned up Hugo’s shirt of the great orange juice stain. Hermione came back from the hall having cleaned up the mess of the pitcher. She squeezed into the bed and grabbed a piece of bacon from the plate.

“Isn’t this a perfect birthday morning?” Hermione laughed, raising an eyebrow at him.

He gave her a smile.

“It really is.”

[divagonzo]

hi ^^ i was wondering if you could add more fics to the masterpost linked in your sidebar. I need new fics to read and maybe new authors :) all your fics are amazing by the way!

Mornin’ Nonnie. Grab a fresh cup of coffee. Firewhiskey is in the cabinet.

Since it’s barely 6am where I am - and I have RL obligations today because of family - I won’t be able to get to that until tonight at the very earliest.

So, how about I throw out some for you now to whet your appetite:

One-shots from @remedial-potions . I’ve not read a bad one yet from her.Other One-shots from @wildegreenlight .AU’s from @azaleablueme .

And @callieskye for her spreadsheet list that is long and distinguished - like Ron Weasley’s arms. (It’s too early for M rated jokes!)

There’s also the now-wrapped up Fluff Fest, hosted by @aloemilk and @honouraryweasley12, as well as last year’s @romionesecretsanta and the @romionequickiefest (that is M rated.)

And if you really get froggy, go check out @spew-rc . It’s an archive of earlier-published fic from the early Naughts through the early teens, on Checkmated and The Quidditch Pitch.

HTH this chilly morning!

[romionesecretsanta]

Unconcealable

I humbly offer this gift to the genius that is @coyotelaughingsoftly I was equal parts thrilled and terrified when I found out that I was your Secret Santa!! Miranda, I hope that you have the best Christmas ever! Please enjoy 3000+ words of angsty, fluffy pining from our favorite 6th year dorks!

Perfect-bloody perfect!

When he first began to open the package, he hadn’t a clue what might be inside, but after the robe fiasco of fourth year, Ron Weasley was more than a little wand-shy about what might be lurking in any box from home.  He had almost breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his father’s handwriting on a piece of parchment on top, unfortunately the feeling was short lived.

Ron,

Hope the term is wrapping up nicely for you. Ginny mentioned in her last letter that you are doing a great job again this year as Keeper, we’re so very proud of you! She also mentioned that she didn’t think that Hermione would be coming for Christmas, so I’m sending you the gift that you made for her this summer in case you want to give it her before she leaves for the holidays. You really outdid yourself- I know she’ll love it!

See you tomorrow,

Dad

His heart dropped, like a stone, into the pit of his stomach: it was a feeling he’d gotten used to over the last few weeks. He should just put the lid back on the package; he knew what was inside just as well as he knew that nothing good could come from looking at it, absolutely nothing. Feeling as if he had been Imperiused, he watched as his traitorous fingers drew back the charmed paper that was keeping the contents safe. He hadn’t forgotten about it, not really, but it was just one of those things that he had stuffed down into the vault of shite he’d rather not think about.

He’d tried last year to get her a gift that would show her…well, at the time he hadn’t been exactly sure just what he wanted to show her, but he knew she deserved something better than a box of poorly wrapped sugar quills. In retrospect perfume hadn’t been the best choice; her reaction had been less than enthusiastic, but in all fairness, he’d never known her to wear perfume. So he had been on the look-out for the remainder of fifth year for any clues to what she might really like as a gift. It had been anything but easy. The only thing she ever talked about wanting was books and parchment, and those would be the daftest gifts in the history of Christmas. He had all but given up on any hope when inspiration had presented itself in the last place he had thought it might: McGonagall’s office.

She had called all the Gryffindor prefects in for a meeting, basically warning them about Umbridge’s new regime. Afterwards, he’d noticed Hermione lingering around a bookshelf in the back corner of the office.

“Miss Granger, may I help you?” her voice was warm, but her exhaustion evident.

“Sorry, I just couldn’t help but notice this,” Hermione started to pick up the object she had been admiring, but then thought better of it, “this wooden box is lovely, it reminds me of one that my grandmother had.”

“Oh, that?” McGonagall crossed to the shelf, picking up the trinket with affection, “My own grandmother gave me this when I was about your age, said every young witch needed one.”

Ron came closer, drawn in by the look of delight on Hermione’s face. “It’s very nice Professor, what does it do?”

“Do, Mr. Weasley?”

“Uh…I mean, it doesn’t have to do anything I guess, I just wondered why it was so necessary,” he prayed silently that this wasn’t one of those things that his mum whispered to Ginny about, those were usually right embarrassing.

“Calm down, it’s nothing nefarious, I can assure you. While muggle versions are more than likely just for decoration, this one has a few magical advantages,” always ready to give a lesson, McGonagall opened the lid and showed them the inside of what appeared to be an empty box. Smiling at their confused expressions, she reached inside and pulled out a large stack of letters, tied together with green ribbon.

“My grandmother’s most certainly did not have a concealment charm. What’s the other?”

“I think it’s an extension charm of some sort.”

“That’s correct, Mr. Weasley; a very tricky charm that one is, but dead useful for keeping things private,” she tucked the bundle back inside the box and returned it to its place.

As they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower, Hermione had been the happiest he had seen her in weeks. She’d even shared a very amusing story about the time she had tried to sneak a package of biscuits out of the cupboard at her grandmother’s house. She had grabbed the container by the wrong end and had dumped them all over the kitchen floor. Her grandmother had laughed so hard that she’d forgotten to scold her precocious granddaughter. The thought of a tiny, three year old Hermione breaking the rules in the name of extra biscuits brought him a joy he couldn’t quite explain.

Ron reached inside the disheveled package on his bed removing the small wooden box that his father had so thoughtfully placed inside. He had to admit that it turned out nicely. All those hours inside the shed, learning to use muggle tools-Arthur had insisted and his son rightfully agreed that it was an important part of the gift-had provided him with more than a few scrapes and splinters, but it had been worth it to see the finished product.

He had also underestimated how enjoyable working with his Dad would be; when you grow up in a large family, having a parent all to yourself for any amount of time is a luxury. Ron had relished the easy way that they worked together and had deeply appreciated that his father hadn’t made him feel the least bit awkward about spending so much time making a gift for Hermione. He hadn’t even cocked a quizzical eyebrow when Ron had first approached him with the idea; he had made his son feel that it was the most normal thing in the world to do.

But now, as he traced the scrolling designs that he had so carefully carved, he felt anything but normal. The pride he’d felt in himself when he’d finished: knowing that he had crafted it the muggle way, knowing that he had then mastered the complicated spells which added the magical elements, had been reflected in his father’s eyes. And while that feeling had been priceless to him, it had paled in comparison to the reaction he had envisioned from Hermione herself. There was nothing like the look she gave him when she was really impressed.

Some people threw around praise so much that you knew they didn’t mean it. Every little thing you did or said made them go on and on about how wonderful you were. And you might think that would be brilliant, there certainly had been a time when he would have thought that, but in reality the shine wore off that galleon pretty quickly.  

It wasn’t that way with Hermione. When she told you that the introduction on your potions essay was really good, you could bet your sweet arse that it was top-notch. When she giggled at one of your jokes, you knew it was really funny. When she looked at you in the Room of Requirement when you cast your first Patronus, her eyes wide and sparkling, and gave you that little nod, and later on the way back to the common room when she laid her hand on your arm and told you how she had thought yours had been the best…

Fuck!!

What good did it do to think about that anymore? She would never look at him like that now. Any look he got from her now would be icy sharp really good quidditch players or, worse yet, the hollow look of hurt and disappointment.  What was there to be done? For a fraction of a moment he considered the gift in front of him. He should have just given it to her for her birthday; at the time it hadn’t seemed right. They never got each other real gifts for their birthdays, so to give her something so, nice, so personal felt like a much bigger step than he was ready to make.  His decision had also been aided by the fact that their friendship had seemed so awkward at times. She always seemed so preoccupied around him, and when Slughorn had started his little club he’d secretly wondered if she would even like his handmade gift at all.

That wasn’t fair, Hermione had never made him feel that way, not really. She never gushed over expensive things like some other girls did. If he were completely honest with himself, he knew she would really like it even if she did fill it with letters from that git Krum! What if he gave it to her now, after all? A peace offering? Would she accept it? Would she conjure those birds to peck it to pieces?

No, he couldn’t give it to her, not now, not like this.

What should he do? The thought of giving it to someone else was so preposterous that it was less likely than his punching McLaggen in his ridiculously perfect jaw and taking his rightful place as Hermione’s guest at Slughorn’s party tonight.  As hopeless as he felt right now, there was still enough a spark of hope that one day, they would be friends again. They were still friends even now, were they not? They would eventually talk again; the Scabbers fiasco had lasted longer than this, right? Surely it wouldn’t take another innocent creature being threatened with death to bring them back together this time, would it?

“Ron? Are you in here?” Harry’s voice preceded him in to the room.

“Yeah,” Ron hastily returned the box to it’s safe wrappings and stowed it in his trunk.  

“You disappeared after lunch…all good?”

“‘Course it is, why wouldn’t it be?” He forced his face to form the smile that he knew would ease his friend’s mind.  

“Alright,” behind his glasses, Harry’s eyes were skeptical, “you coming down in a bit?”

“Sure, I just had to, uhm, get some things together for the hols, go ahead, I’ll be on in a tic.”

Alone again, Ron let out a sigh. While it wasn’t much of a plan, it was the best he had: just lay low, and hopefully she would be over it after the break.  A really great late Christmas gift just might set me up for a nice birthday surprise in return.

Ron fidgeted, looking at the new watch on his wrist. He hadn’t been surprised that his parents had gotten him one, all of his brothers had gotten the same thing when they’d turned seventeen, but he was impressed by just how nice it was.  And even though it was a brilliant gift, it paled in comparison to the one that he was waiting to arrive.

Waking up to find Hermione at his bedside had been worth all seventeen of his birthday wishes put together. Even better, she had been coming back everyday since then. She said it was to help him catch up on his classwork, but to be quite honest, there was not much work getting done.  He had never seen her less inclined to force him into revision; their “study” sessions mainly consisted of talk that was anything but academic. Harry was a safe subject, as was the doings of the Weasleys it had been nice to see Fred and George hadn’t  it? He had slipped once and made a less than complimentary remark about McClaggen, holding his breath until she had surprised him by joining in on his criticism. He knew, or at least he thought he knew, that she wasn’t dating him, but he was unsure if she were on friendly terms with that pompous ape.  Ron had done a very poor job of hiding the ecstatic grin that followed her visceral reaction.

They talked about everything and nothing…well everything but the thing. They had both apologized, in very broad sweeping terms, for their behavior during the last few months, but both seemed reluctant to test the newly tied tether that was holding them together.  More than anything Ron wished he could erase all that had happened, or even just find the words to put it right.

Not bloody likely Mr. Fake Sleeper! Why can’t there just be a spell for this? Girlfriendo-reverso! Fancius Revealius! Maybe there’s a chapter in that book Fred and George gave me…

The familiar creak of the opening door brought him out of his reverie. Ron literally held his breath, could just be Pomfrey, until he recognized the cadence of Hermione’s steps. He hurriedly adjusted the bedclothes and did his best to appear at ease, to calm the thunderous beating of his heart as she came into view.

Ron held up his arm, tapping the face of his watch in mock admonishment, “Where have you been? S’not good to keep someone in my fragile state waiting.” He added a dramatic half swoon, delighted to see her roll her eyes, huffing at him in a way that he had learned to admit that he found quite intoxicating.

“Well, someone as delicate as you are needs their rest. Rumor has it that you sleep most of the time,” she let her eyes meet his, a boldness showing that he hadn’t seen from her in months. For a split second he thought they were headed for a row, but her face broke into a mischievous grin.

“Oi! If I had been asleep, I’d be awake now. No one could sleep with you tromping in here. For such a little thing, when you walk it sounds like a flock of hippogriffs!”

She was on him in a flash, books abandoned to poke him in the side and swat playfully at his arms. He tried, but not too hard, to fight her off, and before long they were both breathless from laughing.  Ron realized, quite suddenly, that she was lying across his chest and he had his arms around her in a way that was anything but platonic.

Hermione seemed to have the same revelation because he could see her cheeks flood with color; however, neither of them shifted their position. He was overcome by just how right it felt to hold her, and how amazing it was that, as someone who had very recently felt that he’d had more than his fill of snogging, he wanted nothing more than to snog this girl senseless. He knew in that moment, even though he had suspected it for months, that he would trade all those other kisses for the one that hung between them at this moment.

His brain scrambled to catch up to his hammering heart, but it found nothing to leave on his tongue but a feeble, “Sorry.”

She blinked at him slowly, seeming to remember herself, “Oh, it’s alright, I know you were only joking,” she pulled back from him and sat on the edge of his bed.

“Yeah, but not just about that,” he looked at her pointedly, “I meant ..about everything.”

“Oh,” she glanced down at her hands, fiddling with a thread on her jumper, “you don’t have to do that..you’ve already…I mean we both…it’s fine.”

It was better, he knew that, but it wasn’t completely fine, not yet. He wasn’t sure when it would be, but he knew it was worth waiting for. Maybe he could help it along, just a little. He reached over to the bedside table and retrieved the package that Dobby had very recently fetched for him.

“I know the outside looks a bit rough, it’s been in my trunk, but this is for you,” he nervously handed her the gift, thankful that the inside contents had not been disturbed.

“For me?”

“Yes…it’s you Christmas gift…better late than never, right?”

“But I didn’t…I mean…I don’t have yours. And I didn’t even get you anything for your birthday!”

“That’s alright, think I had all the excitement I could stand on my birthday, and being your…friend… again is more than enough.”

“I feel the same way,” she emphasized her words like a ray of light through a prism, showing all the colors that had previously been unseen. She then began to open the parcel, moving back the charmed paper to reveal the contents inside, “Oh Ron!”

“I hope you like it. It’s like the one you saw in…”

“McGonagall’s office.”

“Yeah…like hers. I know it’s maybe not as fancy as hers. I mean…I think it turned out okay…Dad said it was a fine job, even if all those muggle tools are kinda barmy,” he was full-on rambling, but he couldn’t stop.

Hermione just sat, staring down at the box. When she looked up at him finally, her eyes were wet, “You…you made this?”

“Yeah, Dad helped a little.”

She opened it gently, whispering, “When?”

“Last summer,” his own eyes were now damp, and his shoulders bore the weight of lost time.

“It’s…beautiful…it’s too much!” There were proper tears flowing down her cheeks, and Ron felt a stirring of pride for having evoked such a strong positive response from her.

“Open it! See, the concealment charm makes it look empty,” he grabbed a roll of parchment from Hermione’s pile and placed it inside the open box, “even when you put something in it.”

“Extension charm too?”

“Undetectable extension charm,” he quipped back.

“Brilliant, Ron! That’s a complex spell!”

“Thanks, I could show you how to do it. Only takes a bit of practice.”

“I would really appreciate that…I just…this is really the nicest, most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me…thank you doesn’t seem like enough,” the sincere look of adoration on her face fanned the tentative flame of hope warming his heart.

“As long as you like it, that’s all I need for sure,” he reached for her hand; she anticipated the movement and met him more than halfway, grasping his own tightly.

“Like isn’t the right word,” her voice came out softer, but more powerful, “I’d say love is more accurate.”

“Love?” She was killing him, finishing the job that poison could not.

“Definitely, love.”

And for a warm, lazy time they sat alone, hands clasped, thinking about how there were some things that just couldn’t be contained or concealed, not with any amount of magic. No matter how frightening it was to face them, suppressing them only brought heartache. There were still a host of doings and feelings to sort out, but now the box had been opened, and once so, could never be closed.

[romionedirectory-archive]

FIC: As Pure As The Driven Snow - like-a-whisper

Title: As Pure As The Driven Snow

Author: like-a-whisper // RonaldAndMione

Word count: 2,315

Alternate links: N/A

Rating: General

Warnings: None

Author’s summary: N/A

Why everyone should read this: I’ll admit I’m a bit biased, as this was a gift written for me for the 2016 @romionesecretsanta on Tumblr. However, it’s such a cute, wonderful Ron/Hermione story that I had to share it. It has a beautiful balance of humour, fluff, and bickering from our favourite couple.

[quillsand]

ok real quick does anyone want the @romionesecretsanta blog? it’s highly unlikely i’ll ever run it again but it’d be a shame to delete it since it hosts some amazing work so i’ll shortly be changing the url to @romionesecretsanta-archive just so people know it’s a dead account. however if anyone wants to take over the blog (for upkeep/to run again/whatever) i can make someone else admin and relinquish control instead! 

[wildegreenlight]

My Romione Secret Santa contribution. Hopefully, I will have the second chapter up by the end of the week (being snowed in might help).

[honouraryweasley12]

My @romionesecretsanta fic, Ron’s Muggle Christmas, was featured on the Potter Fic Weekly podcast this week!

I’ve never had my writing examined in this type of format before, so it was really thrilling for me to hear it. Give it a listen if you want, the discussion starts 3-4 minutes into the show.

The fic itself can be found here.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12295096/1/Ron-s-Muggle-Christmas

[aloemilk]

No Hyphens Needed

This was my gift to @stuckwith-harry for @romionesecretsanta . Thanks to @jenahid , @otterandterrier , and @honouraryweasley12 for their help and comments!

Christmas fell on a Monday that year. Hermione woke up slowly, lazily, relishing in the knowledge that she didn't have to hurry anywhere.

Ah, Christmas. She carefully moved her feet, checking to see if there were any gift boxes there… and sensing a few at the end of her bed. She smiled, gleeful, and sat up to start her day by discovering what she had been given.

She looked around the room as she reached for the gift closest to her, making sure Ginny was not in the room. She loved her, of course, but she relished her privacy whenever she got it; it was far too rare of a situation in recent years, what with having to share her bedroom with other two (very loud) girls at school. She always slept with Ginny when she was with the Weasleys, which was great; really, it was. But Hermione also valued her solitude, and was grateful that the one day Ginny would actually get up and get ready early was this holiday.

She sat cross-legged and began opening presents, enjoying this time by herself. Soon she was opening her fourth gift, quickly discarding the wrapping paper, ready to open the box inside. It was deep yellow, decorated with swirling, golden ivy, and hints of pastel pink illuminating the edge of the box. The leaves gently moved as if a soft breeze were playing with them.

"What…?" she mumbled as she looked inside, taking a heavy bottle from within. It was the same color as the box, with the same decorative ivy. Curious, she took off the glass stopper, noticing its elongated tip that, having been submerged in liquid, was now dripping a few drops of it.

"But this looks like…" again she whispered to herself, finishing the thought in her mind: like perfume.

Perfume?

She carefully sniffed the contents, her mind racing to try to provide answers to half-formed questions. Who would give her perfume? Why? Not her parents, of course, but then who? And it smelled so strange, like... dew, perhaps? It would make sense with the ivy decoration, but who would think that dew was a good characteristic in perfume? It was unique, of course, but… dew?

She picked up the box again, looking for a note within; she begged that the gifter had thought to add some sort of explanation. She did find one inside, a folded piece of parchment with her name on it on… in Ron's script?!

Happy Christmas, Hermione!

I hope you enjoy this gift. It may not be as practical as what I usually get for you, but I thought you'd like to see that I can, in fact, be a bit thoughtful.

Ron

Short, slightly vague, and lacking in any sort of concise answer. What was she supposed to do with that?

***

Unusual? What does that even mean?

Ron had found himself thinking that question multiple times during the day, often at odd times. The thing was, the thought of it was nagging him to no end. Unusual?!

He walked purposely in no direction in particular, his hands on his back, a slight huff to his breathing. He was irritated by the uncertainty of it all. He hadn't agonized for days trying to think of an appropriate gift for Hermione for her to call it unusual. He had tried to think of something that would show her he knew she was a girl; his girl-friend, which of course didn't mean he thought of her as his de-hyphenized girlfriend, only as a hyphenized girl-friend, if you needed to know...

He cleared his throat, as if he had to stop himself from getting worked up even more. If that happened, he could potentially continue his tirade out loud without realising, and that would be disastrous!

Anyway, what had she meant by that? Really, if he found her alone, if he only did, he would find a way to ask her, full subtlety of course, what she had meant by—

He hadn't really wanted to find her alone, but he had. He had found his way to the kitchen, empty now that it was late in the evening… empty except for Hermione, who appeared to be making tea. Now the question was, would he really try to figure out if she had liked his gift? Seeing her there somehow took ninety percent of his determination away from him.

"Hey, Ron!" she greeted him as she turned to leave her mug on the table. "Would you like some tea? I just made it fresh."

"Sure, thanks," he agreed, motioning her to sit down as he went to get some tea for himself.

Holding his cup carefully so as not to burn himself, he sat down next to Hermione as casually as he could. He then looked at her; she was bending down to breathe in the tea's steam. She sighed.

"You like the smell of tea?" he asked her as way of making conversation, trying to find a way to lead it to the topic that had had him wandering around aimlessly just a few minutes prior.

"Oh, yes. It's so comforting, don't you think?"

"Yeah…" he conceded, his mind blank. He didn't know what to do, or how to broach the subject, or if he should at all. Why did it matter so much to him, anyway?

"Soooo," he continued, elongating the word. "Thanks for your gift, again."

"No problem. Thanks—thanks for yours, as well."

"Did you like it?" he said, doing his best to sound as nonchalant as possible, taking the opportunity presented to get some answers.

"Yes! Yes. I told you, it definitely was— it sure was— unique, and…"

"But is that good or bad?" he asked, forgetting to sound unaffected this time.

"Oh! Well, of course it's… it's good… I just… it's so different? And, really, well… what made you pick that one?" she quickly asked, as if she were running out of air, or as if she had been trying to hold her breath back for some reason.

"What made me pick that one?!" he repeated, slightly panicked, feeling the colors on his skin change a few times until it settled on red around his ears. He knew, he had been told that's what happened to him when he was embarrassed, multiple times.

"It's… well…" he shrugged, giving up any pretense. "To be honest, I don't know. I was looking for something that… for something, and I really liked the design of the box. The lady at the shop explained that a perfume like this one would turn the scent into a happy one. She said that because it made people happy, it was one of the best-sold ones; nobody ever dislikes a happy smell. And… you know, I wanted to— to make you happy, I suppose."

"That is… so lovely, Ron," she said, her voice low. He shrugged again, his eyes fixed on his tea.

"One thing though… you said that the perfume turns the scent into a happy one? What do you mean by that?"

"You know, that it makes up a smell that makes you happy when you wear it."

He looked up at her in silence, seeing her shocked face, her eyes open wide as she realised what his answer meant. It was easy for him to figure out what was happening, as well; he could almost sense the wheels turning in her head.

"Hermione! You'd never used wizard perfume before? The final scent can only be revealed on someone's skin, and it's different for everyone! Depending on the scent and how it reacts on your skin, it can give you a short, soft rush of emotions!"

She gasped at that, almost as if in spite of herself. "I'll be right back!" she excitedly said, jumping up off her chair and running away from the kitchen and leaving her tea behind. Not three minutes had passed when she returned, slightly winded, with the bottle of perfume in her hands. She sat back on her chair, opening the box and setting it on the table, before taking the bottle out and opening it.  

Ron saw her take the stopper and hold it above her wrist, letting a couple of drops fall onto her skin. Then she put the stopper back in place, and rubbed her wrists together. She brought her wrists up close to her face, and…

And her face became alight, and she seemed to breath it in for so long, like she couldn't get enough of it, and she shone with it somehow, smiling wide at him in appreciation…

And, suddenly, he knew why it had mattered so much to know what Hermione really thought of the perfume. Because girlfriend, with no hyphens, seemed so much more alluring than girl-friend with one.

***

"It's done! There's no more left!"

"What's that?" Ron asked her from the bedroom. He was there dressing up in his formal robes; they were getting ready for a Ministry function. She was in the bathroom, putting on the final touches to her make-up and hair.

"The perfume you gave me is done!"

"The one I gave you when we were at Grimmauld Place in fifth year? You still had it?"

"Yes, don't you notice when I wear it?" she slumped her shoulders, leaning against the counter as she held the old bottle in her hand.

"Oh, I did," Ron said, popping into the bathroom to look at her. "I just never thought it'd last you this long. It always caught me by surprise. You didn't wear it very often, did you?"

"No. I was careful; I wanted it to last. And I knew I didn't have much left, but I thought I still had enough. I don't really fancy going to the party, so I thought I'd use it so I'd cheer up… but there was nothing left! The little bit left must have evaporated since I last used it."

"Oh, love, I'm sorry," he said, getting closer to her. He then put his hands on her arms, comfortingly rubbing them up and down.

She sighed, his gesture a successful one. "Thanks for understanding. Maybe I'm exaggerating, but it's just that I've been very sensitive to smells lately, right? I thought I could use something that was comforting to me. Maybe I should say I'm very sensitive of late, and leave it at that."

She looked up at him, shrugging in self-consciousness.

"Is the nausea too bad? Do you want me to send an owl to say we're not going?"

"No, it's all right. We should go. I think I just need to get used to the idea that my perfume is done."

"I'll get you another one."

"It won't be the same! This is the first gift you ever gave me that wasn't, you know, typical."

"I know. And maybe it's weird that I had never told you before, but it was one of the scents in my Amortentia. I realised I liked you when you first smelled it on your wrists. Remember? I was so scared of what it meant to feel like that, but so proud, too, that I had gotten you the right gift for once."

She smiled, happiness filling her up naturally, no perfume needed.

"I do remember, of course, though I didn't know that was the precise moment… or that you knew with such clarity."

"We'll have more perfume. And we'll have more memories."

"I think this will be one of them."