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Merry Christmas, @rebeccabunchs!
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Vintage Style Art Frame Paper Poster Good Gifts,16" x 11" Army 7th war loan
[wprebay kw="loans" num="0" ebcat="-1"]
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When you’re still waiting for the snow to fall Doesn’t really feel like Christmas at all
Happy holidays @childofgallifreey !!
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Look at How Far We’ve Come
for @rebeccabunchs !!! i hope you had a lovely christmas! sorry for the dealy in your present but i’m wishing you all the best for the new year and i hope your 2017 is amazing! - rss
At the start of the year, Hermione had genuinely thought that things weren't going to improve before Christmas.
There weren't many times in her life that would ever be able to compare to the indescribable loneliness of those first few months in the castle- alone, in a place where she was supposed to finally fit in. She loved her studies, of course- a whole new world of magic and wizardry to learn! It'd take a lot more than a few weeks of solitude to make that principle any less interesting, however, she really couldn't deny that perhaps a friend or two would've also been nice. Yes, as far as new beginnings went, Hermione's must've been one of the worst.
She hadn't really assumed anything would change come Christmas.
Then a troll had almost killed her in the girl's bathroom and everything had changed.
Whereas she'd once looked forward to going home and seeing her parents again, now the feeling of sadness that settled in her stomach at the thought was persistent. She knew it was unlikely that Ron and Harry would forget her over the short, two-week break, but her mind didn't seem to understand the illogicality of the situation- it still taunted her with the fact for days leading up to the end of term.
"Okay, Hermione?" Ron asks, jovially skipping up to her with a wide smile on his face.
"I'm wonderful," Hermione replies, smiling back. "I just don't want to leave, is all."
Ron nudges her with his elbow playfully, "Nah, you just want to stay so you can nag me and Harry about Nicholas Flamel." he says knowingly.
"I don't nag!" Hermione says, feigning offence. Ron grins at her and it's not long until her facade crumbles and she's grinning too; he always does seem to have that effect on her.
"Seriously Hermione, you might be the only person I know of who's actually disappointed when school ends. Most of us can't wait to get out of here."
Hermione nods, laughing nervously. For once, it's not actually the schoolwork that she's going to miss- but it's not like she can tell Ron that.
"Don't get too carried away working over the holidays." Ron says with a grin.
"I won't." she assures him, but her eyes are starting to water because does he really think that's all she cares about? Schoolwork? Hermione feels a physical ache in her chest when she thinks about her two best friends- her only friends- being apart from her during the break but she can't say that because then what would they think?
"Hermione?" Ron asks. She looks over to see him frowning at her, slight panic in his eyes. "Are you alright?"
Hermione fixes a cheery expression on her face as best she can. "I'm fine!" she attempts, but her voice cracks and then she's crying.
Ron looks almost horrified.
"Hermione!" he exclaims. "I... Why are- Don't cry!"
Hermione tries, she really does, but Ron's eyes are daring around and looking anywhere but at her and that's right, she's done it, she's gone ahead and embarrassed herself again and now she really won't have any friends-
"I'm sure you'll be able to do all your work over break, I was just joking!" Ron tries to reassure her but ends up sounding just as hysterical.
"It's not that!" Hermione cries, finding her words and shaking her head vehemently. "It's- Oh, Ron, I'm going to miss you and Harry so much!"
If Ron had seemed surprised before, it's nothing compared to the shocked expression he's currently wearing. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before spluttering a few incoherent sounds. Hermione dimly realises that the tips of his ears are bright red.
"Well, uh... That's- I mean, we'll miss you too."
Hermione looks up, watery eyes full and shining. "You will?" she asks, and her voice seems much smaller than usual.
"Yeah. 'Course we will." Ron says and smiles weakly at her. He raises his arms as if to hug her and the makes an aborted gesture, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder instead. "Have a good Christmas, yeah?"
Hermione smiles back. "I will."
"Do you remember out first Christmas together?" Ron asks one night as they're sat by the fire, Rose and Hugo asleep on the opposite sofa.
"The one where Ginny overdid it on he decorating?" Hermione replies, smiling.
"No, I mean, our first ever Chrsitmas together. Like, as first years. Not that the whole Ginny decorating scandal wasn't bloody amazing." he amends quickly.
"I think so..." Hermione thinks for a second, eyebrows creased together. "When I cried all over you because I thought you and Harry would forget about me over the break?" The memory isn't painful anymore, and Hermione had long ago vanished such doubts, so it's with a light attitude that she confesses her old fears.
Ron seems taken aback by this. "That's what you thought? I mean, I knew you were upset about leaving but I had no idea..." Ron trails off before smiling apologetically at Hermione, "Anyway, our first Christmas- the first time I comforted you whilst you cried." he says, sighing as if it were a happy memory.
Hermione frowns. "You put a hand on my shoulder." she points out. "Rather awkwardly, if I may add."
Ron puts at her playfully. "Awww love, don't get upset. It was a big milestone for us."
Hermione rolls her eyes. "I'm not upset!" she protests, barely concealing the grin trying to fight it's way onto her features.
Ron shakes his head. "There, there." he says, laying a hand on her shoulder.
Hermione stares at him for a second. And then she's laughing until she can't breathe, her chest heaving with the effort of not making any noise to wake the kids. Settling into Ron's arms happily as the fit of laughter subsides, Ron leans over and kisses her forehead gently as he chuckles. "Merry Christmas, Hermione."
Hermione beams back up at him, thinking of how far they've come since those early years of friendship. "Merry Christmas, Ron."
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Merry Christmas, Mary! ❄❊❄❊ I hope you like it! Your Secret Santa :)
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for @muffinsquire, MERRY CHRISTMAS! i hope you have a wonderful day and here's a drawing of hermione in ron's jumper, happy romione secret santa!
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For @callieskye | Weasley might be our king, but Granger was always the queen.
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Christmas Troubles
Merry Christmas @diva-gonzo !!! I hope you like your gift- it started off as just Granger-Weasley fluff but somehow the rest of the family wiggled their way in!!! I hope you enjoy, all the best, your secret santa!
On their fifth Christmas as a family, everything that can go wrong, does go wrong.
It starts with a sickness.
Hugo, having stuffed himself silly on chocolate the night before, is up until the early hours of the morning hunched over the toilet bowl, crying.
"I'm sowwy, mummy." he sobs as Hermione berates him for having eaten so much.
"It's okay, Hugh." Ron says soothingly, sparing a glance at Hermione. Her mouth is set in a firm line although it's hard to miss the tenderness in her eyes as she looks at Hugo, pale faced and shaking.
"Daddy?" comes a voice from over his shoulder and Ron curses. They'd all thought Rose was still asleep.
"Yes, Rosie?" Ron says, turning and giving her his most cheery smile.
"Is that gonna happen to me?" She asks in a quiet voice, jabbing her thumb in Hugo's direction.
Ron sighs, "No, sweetheart. Hugo just ate a little bit too much. That's all. He'll be fine in a little while."
"Will santa still bring the presents?" Rose asks, voice trembling.
Her eyes are wide and scared; Ron runs a hand through his hair as he resigns himself to put Rose back to bed.
"C'mon, Rosie, let's get you back to bed. Remember the rule? We all have to be asleep or else santa won't come."
Rose nods her head solemnly and dutifully follows Ron back to her room. After she's settled Ron makes his way back up to Hugo, only to find Hermione carrying his sleeping form back downstairs.
It's four am when Ron finally drops off to sleep.
"Mummy! Daddy! Wake up!"
Ron groans as he reaches for the alarm, trying and failing to shut it up. That's when he realises he didn't set an alarm and is instead being woken up by Rose and Hugo, who really should not have the energy it requires to jump up and down on the bed, yet that's exactly what they're doing.
The clock tells Ron it's just a little past six in the morning.
Great, he thinks to himself blearily, reluctantly accepting the fact that he's going to have to get through the day with two hours of sleep.
Beside him, Hermione looks as if she's just come to the same realisation.
"Uh, Daddy?" Hugo asks in a small voice.
They're sat in a circle next to the tree, opening each other's presents before they get ready to head out to The Burrow for Christmas dinner. Ron nurses a cup of coffee between his hands, the caffeine doing little to make him feel more awake.
"Yes, Hugh?" He answers back, trying to appear more alive than he feels.
"Feel sick." Hugo says and Ron reacts as fast as he possibly can, five years of parenting having drilled into him the only way to act in these situations.
Picking Hugo up in one swift motion, Ron practically runs to the bathroom.
He liked to think all those years of being an Auror served him well in the physical department, but in the end it turns out to not be enough. Maybe it's the motion that does it, but Ron and Hugo never make it to the bathroom before Hugo is sick.
Hermione is biting her lip as she takes the once again crying three year old from Ron's arms, being very careful where she places her arms.
"'M going to get a shower." Ron grumbles.
From behind him, Rose whimpers.
Christmas Dinner at the burrow is as hectic as always.
This, at least, does not surprise Ron.
They're all squashed into the too-small table, because even though the size of the family has expanded, the size of the table has not. The kids have a separate table slightly closer to the kitchen and as luck would have it, it's Ron's turn to be the designated supervisor.
Sighing as he takes his place amongst the little ones, twelve year old Teddy smiling at his side, Ron prepare himself for the chaos that can only ensue when you cramp all twelve Weasley grandkids into the same space.
At least they all seem to like Ron- he remembers quite vividly how Percy had emerged from this very same table last year, brussel sprouts in his hair and gravy down his front.
Following a pattern, the trouble starts as soon as the vegetables are brought out.
Ron sees James eyeing them warily, which surprises him- usually the older ones are the best behaved in setting an exmaple. Sure enough, it turns out to be Hugo who starts them off.
"No vegetals!" he shouts and Ron panics.
"Come on now, Hugh, you know you have to eat your veggies if you want chocolate later."
Hugo seems to consider this for a second or two. "No veggies!" he shouts again, with renewed vigour. Ron sighs. In retrospect, he probably should've known that Hugo would not be tempted by chocolate- it wouldn't surprise him if the kid avoids the stuff for the rest of his life, with the amount he consumed the other day.
"C'mon now-" Ron begins.
"Uncle Ron, I don't want to eat my vegetabables either." pouts Fred from across the table.
Now Ron is worried. Hugo he can deal with- but the more kids get involved, the less chance he has of containing their vegetable revolution. Next thing he knows they'll be building a barricade out of broccoli.
"Me neither!" chimes in Albus, which Ron, frankly, did not expect.
"Or me!"
"No vegetables!"
Soon, the table is in uproar. Ron looks around, distressed. "Hermione!" he calls in what he hopes is a casual voice but Hermione doesn't seem to hear him.
Meanwhile, Roxanne has started throwing peas at James, who is flicking them away in annoyance. Ron sees his hand move towards the soup ladle and that's when Ron makes his decision.
"Right!" he says, effectively getting the attention of the whole table. "I'll give you all three sickles to eat your vegetables!"
After that, no one has any complaints about the dinner.
When Ron's dad sees the empty plates at the end of dinner, he beams. "Ron! I don't know how you got them to eat their vegetables, but well done! Maybe you'll have to sit with the kids every year, eh?"
Ron pales.
They get home with few minor incidents. Rose had apparently gotten into a spat with Albus at one point, but apart from that, things had run smoothly until it was time for them to leave.
Or, as smoothly as things could go when at a Wealsey dinner, anyway.
Hermione carries a sleeping Rose in her arms as Hugo insisted to take the journey home upon Ron's shoulders. After the kids have been deposited (Rose into her bed and Hugo to play with his new toys) Ron and Hermione finally have a moment to themselves.
"Well," Ron says, sidling up to Hermione and threading an arm around her waist. "Today's been-"
"Exhausting." Hermione supplies, running a hand over her face and smiling ever so slightly.
"Yeah." Ron agrees, pressing a kiss to his wife's forehead. "Wouldn't have it any other way though, right?"
"Not at all." Hermione says, her tone barely above a whisper as she leans in to kiss Ron. Ron grins, happily obliging until their lips are mere inches apart, getting closer until-
They're interrupted by a cry from the living room. Ron closes his eyes tightly before opening them again to see Hugo running in to the kitchen, "Mummy! Daddy! I bwoke it!" he says, waving the remains of a model broom around for them to see.
Hermione sighs, but she stands on tiptoe to kiss Ron's cheek. "I've got this." she mutters to him. "We'll continue this later, alright?"
"Alright." Ron agrees, laughing even as she ushers Hugo out of the room to fix his toy.
In the end, maybe nothing went exactly to plan. He's tired and worn out and wants nothing more than to go to bed. But as he thinks of Hermione in the next room with Hugo, of Rose asleep down the hall, he realises that everything is perfect just the way it is.
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“Lights Will Guide You Home”
“Lights Will Guide You Home”
A/N: This gift is for the lovely @idearlylovealaugh!! Kate, I hope that it helps make your Holiday season as bright as the lights on Ron & Hermione’s tree. Enjoy this fluffy little piece that includes just a dash spice. If you like it, I could be coerced into creating a more “adult” second chapter!
“Ah-gin Daddy!” Rose Weasley squealed with delight as the living room was flooded with twinkling lights from the Christmas tree.
“Alright Rosie, one more time?”
“Two more times!!”
Ron Weasley chuckled as he looked at the red haired child snuggled in his lap. She really was his child, not just in looks either; she frequently asked for seconds before she had even finished her original portion.
“Ok, two more times, but then we have to go tuck into bed.”
She nodded her agreement and sat fascinated as he made all the lights disappear from the tree, leaving them in darkness. He could feel the excitement and anticipation as she sucked in her little breath. This was one of things that Ron loved best about being a father, seeing familiar things through the new eyes of wonder. Experiencing the world, both magical and muggle, for the first time all over again. He paused to enjoy the feeling before pushing the button, illuminating the tree once again.
“Daddy?” She looked up at him; her forehead creasing in the same adorable way that her mother’s did when she was trying to solve a complex problem.
“What is it sweetheart?”
“How you do dat?”
“Magic.” For many parents that would be a “cop out” answer designed to placate their child, but he and Hermione had always made it a priority to tell Rose the truth when she asked questions, explaining and never patronizing.
“Dat not you wand, Daddy.” Rose pointed at the metallic cylinder in her father’s hand.
She really was a smart one, so inquisitive and eager to learn new things. She was her mother’s child as well. In fact, it was like she was made out of all the best parts of both him and Hermione. Although he couldn’t help but wonder how her intelligence might make parenting more perilous as she got older.
“You’re right, Rosie, this is not a wand, but it is still magic.”
“Grampa Weasey give you?”
This really made Ron smile. That would be the logical thought. Arthur Weasley was forever inventing new devices, usually a combination of magic and muggle technology. As he looked at the object in his hand he knew that it was definitely something his father could have made.
“No, but that was a very good guess. A great wizard named Dumbledore made it and gave it to me a long time ago; before you were born, before your mum and I were even married.”
“Wow…dat long time Daddy!”
He couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. It was a long time ago; in some ways he felt like he had been a husband and a father forever, but in other ways it felt as if it had all happened in a flash. He felt a fond nostalgia for that terrified, scrawny kid who had blindly trusted the blue ball of light, not because Dumbledore had bequeathed it to him, but because her voice had come out of it.
“It was. You know Rosie, it’s not just for lights either.”
“What else it do, Daddy?”
“Well, a long time ago your Daddy was very lost and it helped him find his way home.”
Rose shifted in his lap so that she could place her little hands on his cheeks. She looked at him with a very serious look that he had seen from his wife many times over the years; it was a look that made his heart swell with love.
“Oh no, Daddy! I so sorry you got lost. ‘Member when Al got lost at dat big store? Did Mommy fin’ you like Aunt ‘Inny fin’ Al?”
“In a way she did. You see, I had been lost for a long time…”
“You mussa been vewy scared!”
“I was, but then I heard your Mum. Her voice came out of this,” he held up the Delumniator and Rose gasped in surprise. “Then I clicked it and a ball of light came out. The ball of light went into my heart, and it took me to her.”
“It went wight here?” She laid her finger gently on his chest.
“Right there.”
“Wow! Dat IS magic!”
“The best kind. Now, it is time for you to go to bed.”
“But Daddy, I still have one more!!”
“That’s right, you do. Tell you what, why don’t you help me?”
“OK!!”
Ron turned Rose around in his lap so that she faced the tree. He cradled the Deluminator in his left hand and used his right to help her find the button. Her face was focused in concentration and she drew in her breath sharply in anticipation.
“One, two, three…go!”
The little girl pushed down and all of the lights from the tree came swirling toward them, disappearing into the silver cylinder in her hands. For a few seconds they sat there in the darkness in quiet reverence. Then with a nudge from her father she pushed the button a second time and sat in wonder as the lights took their rightful place, illuminating the faces of father and daughter.
“Daddy, I’m glad Dumbadoor give you dis; I not want you to be los’.”
“Well said Rose.”
Both Ron and Rose started at the sound of Hermione’s voice coming from behind them. She had come in from putting Hugo to bed and had heard their conversation.
“Mommy!” Rose jumped of her father’s lap and ran to jump into her mother’s arms.
“You ready for bed Rosie Posie?”
“Uh-huh! You tuck me in?”
“Sure; give Daddy a kiss and head up. I will meet you there.”
She did just that. As soon as Rose had left the room, Hermione made her way over to her husband. She gently took the hand that still held the Deluminator and looked up into his eyes.
“Rose was definitely right about “Dumbadoor” giving you this, for all his missteps this was something he got completely right. But…you were wrong about being lost.”
“Sorry dear, I have to argue with you there. That Christmas I was the most lost I have ever been, more lost than anyone has ever been.”
“Maybe so, but you were not the only one. I was as well. When you came back, I felt like the one who had been lost, and you had been sent to find me.”
“Really? Is that why you almost beat me senseless?” Ron smirked down at his wife in the way that he knew she found irresistible.
“Not exactly, even though you did deserve it…”
“Oi!”
“That attack was mainly to keep me from doing this.”
Hermione threaded her fingers into the ginger hair at the nape of his neck and pulled his face down to meet hers. The fervor of her kiss brought a moan from his throat, and they quickly fell into a passionate embrace. It was hard to believe that after all these years something as simple as a look, a touch, a kiss was all it took for them to be lost completely in each other. Ron pulled back slightly, fearing that if he did not little Rose might be traumatized by what she found under the Christmas tree.
“I reckon Harry would’ve had to find another tent to sleep in if you’d have kissed me like that back then.” Ron gripped her tighter and pushed his hips into her to demonstrate the full import of his innuendo; Hermione copied his movements and licked her lips in response.
“If you had kissed me like that then I am sure the last thing on my mind would have been where Harry slept. Besides, we could have just used a good silencing spell. Speaking of which,” her voice dropped an octave, sending an even greater jolt of desire through him, “make sure you take care of that before I get back from tucking Rose in. I want to show you some magic of my own.”
“Anything for you, Mrs. Weasley; especially if it keeps you from attacking me.”
“I make no promises, Mr. Weasley.”
As he watched her leave the room, he was overwhelmed by just how perfectly his life had turned out. He wished he could somehow let 17 year-old-Ron know that this was what awaited him in the future. That despite the pain and loss and sacrifice that it would all be worth it. He pictured him for a moment: scared and lost, certain that he would never see her again, that she would never love nor forgive him. In those days before her voice come to him he could have never imagined that he was so wrong, about everything. He had even been wrong about his love for her. He had thought he would never love her more, that it was impossible, but know he knew better. That love had grown with every passing year, multiplied as he watched her hold their children. He grasped the Deluminator tightly, thanking Merlin and Dumbledore, as he had many times before, for giving him the way home to her. He knew that he would have been forever lost; that they would have been forever lost without one another. Ron clicked the button one last time and sprinted up the stairs to join his wife.
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Happy Holidays, @ashleopardd! This is my first time writing fic for someone else, and I really hope you like it!
“That’s bad luck, mate.”
“Yeah, I hadn’t noticed, thanks.”
Harry and Ron stood in the kitchen of Harry’s new flat. He had moved in three months earlier, but still managed to have boxes laying about and, as Hermione pointed out, not a single decoration up. Ron personally was impressed that Harry had this many boxes in the first place, with how few things he had.
“You’re still coming tomorrow, though, right?”
“Yeah,” Ron sighed. “S’not like I’ve got anywhere else to be.”
“Wow, thanks for that.” Harry raised his mug to Ron in a mock toast before taking a sip. “She’s really not coming?”
“I’ve told you…” and he had told Harry already. Hermione had come to the Burrow for lunch that day, which Ron took as a nice surprise. But, during their lunch, she had told him that because she was just an intern in the DMLE, she would not only have to work very late on New Year’s Eve, but she would also have to work New Year’s Day. She couldn’t spend it with him.
Ron, of course, had forced a smile, told her he wasn’t mad and that he understood and that he was proud of how hard she was working. That last part was true, anyway. He was, as always, proud of and impressed by Hermione. But sometimes he wished she would use her name to her advantage. She had developed a habit of signing messages within the Ministry “H.G,” determined to rise through the ranks on her own merit, and not because of what she had done during the war or the fact that she was one of Harry Potter’s best friends. As much as Harry and Ron tried to point out to her that the reason people knew her from the war was because of her efforts and work there, she insisted that it was different. She insisted that her superiors treat her like any other intern. Apparently they were listening to her.
After she left back to the Ministry, Ron had gone straight to Harry’s. He knew no one else would be there yet, and, knowing Harry, he wouldn’t have gone out for supplies yet either. And he was right—when he had floo’d in to the flat Harry was sitting in the kitchen with a bowl of cereal, still in his pajamas.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, Ginny probably won’t be here, either.”
“What?” Ron shook his head to clear it. “Why not?”
“Training with the Harpies. Something about the program in Belgium requiring players to not travel within fourty-eight hours of a game or something. So in order to play in the game on the evening of the first, she has to be in Belgium for New Year’s.”
“Well that’s ridiculous.”
“You’re telling me.”
They both stood in silence for a moment, both frowning about how their girlfriends would be away for New Year’s. It just seemed so unfair.
“At least you know where you stand with Ginny,” Ron muttered, drinking the last of his coffee before setting the mug on the table.
“What?”
Ron winced. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “At least, er, at least you know, er,” he tried frantically to think of something else he could feasibly have said, but Harry was looking at him with an unusually concerned expression.
“Are you and Hermione fighting?”
“No,” Ron spat, more harshly than he had intended. “You have to actually see each other to fight, don’t you?” he slumped down into a chair at the table and Harry sat across from him. He sighed. “I know it’s like, her dream or whatever to make a difference and to change all these laws and do all these amazing things, but I wish she didn’t work so bloody hard. She’s barely 20, we’ve got so much time but the way she works you’d think she’s only got a couple of hours left.” He frowned, fiddling with his empty mug. “She doesn’t come round the burrow as often anymore, either. And I never know when she’s home so it’s hard to meet her there, you know?”
“I think she’s still embarrassed by her flat, really,” Harry reminded him.
Hermione had moved that summer, though it had taken a lot of convincing for her to let them help her move her things. It was a tiny flat in Diagon Alley, technically with two rooms if you counted the cramped bathroom. With so many boxes and books there had hardly been enough room to walk last time Harry had been there, and according to Ron it wasn’t much better now.
“To hell with that, we lived in a tent together for most of a year. What’s she got to be embarrassed about?”
“You know Hermione—” Ron scoffed, but Harry pressed on, “—she’s always got to appear in control, you know?”
“I just … I just want to see her, Harry. It’s like she doesn’t even care.”
“She does care.”
They sat together for a long while, Ron playing with first his cup and then his sweater cuffs and Harry pretending he wasn’t watching him. Ron knew she cared, of course. It wasn’t like she didn’t show it. Notes owled to him in the middle of the day, his favorite snacks always in stock at her flat, things like that. But it wasn’t the same as having her there. Finally, Harry stood up. “Come on,” he sighed, “these party supplies aren’t going to buy themselves.”
Together the two of them walked down the main road in Diagon Alley, stopping at shops to buy sweets and food and drinks. They stopped by the joke shop to visit George, though he was too busy to chat for very long. Finally, they stopped at the Leaky Cauldron for an early dinner and Harry pretended not to notice that Ron went quiet as they passed Hermione’s building. At a glance, they could see no lights were on in her unit, meaning she was still at work. Ron spent most of dinner frowning into his chips.
“See you tomorrow,” Harry clapped him on the shoulder before flooing home, and Ron followed suit not long after.
~~~
By the time Ron got to Harry’s flat the next evening, the party was already going strong. People filled the rooms, mostly Gryffindors from their year at school and their various partners, but with the occasional older former schoolmate or friend from another house to be seen. He walked through the living room, past Ernie and Seamus who were having an apparently serious discussion about broomsticks, until he found Harry in the kitchen with Luna.
“Ron!” Harry grinned broadly as Ron approached them. “My friend Ron,” he giggled as he stood up to hug him tightly.
“Woah there, mate,” Ron smirked and guided Harry back to his seat.
“Wrong Weasley kid, save the groping for Ginny.” Harry shrugged and giggled again.
“We played a drinking game,” Luna explained serenely. Her glass, Ron noticed, was only about half empty. “I don’t think Harry’s very good at them, you know.”
“Nah, I reckon he’s not,” Ron nodded, smirking as Harry feebly tried to defend himself. “Listen, don’t let him have any more for a while, okay? We don’t want our host to get too drunk tonight.”
“Psh,” Harry smiled, “You’re not my boss.”
Ron grinned back. “No, but with Hermione not coming, someone has to be the responsible one here.”
Luna looked up at him, a slight frown on her face. “Oh, is Hermione not coming? She seemed so excited when I talked to her last week.”
Shaking his head, Ron sighed, “She’s got to work.”
Hours passed and the party progressed around him. Ron kept an eye on Harry, who was having his drinks monitored by Luna and as a result was now more tipsy than drunk. He chatted with old school friends, catching up with ones he hadn’t seen in a while and making plans with the ones he saw more often. All in all it wasn’t a terrible night, though he was starting to get sick of the pang he felt whenever anyone asked where Hermione was.
“Thought you two were attached at the hip!” Parvati Patil teased him.
“Yeah, well,” Ron shrugged and moved on.
Around ten that night, a great cheer erupted from the front room. Fearing that something major had been broken, Harry and Ron hurried in only to find Ginny pushing her way through to find Harry.
“Ginny!” Harry shouted, throwing his arms around her. “I thought you weren’t going to make it?”
Ginny smiled broadly, resting her head on Harry’s shoulder with one arm around his back. “Yeah, well, some of the veteran players threatened to not play tomorrow if they couldn’t get home to see their friends for New Year’s and since the Gryffins aren’t really a big deal team they kind of needed the Harpies to play. So they lifted the ban until after our game!”
“That’s great, Gin,” Ron patted her on the shoulder. “You still starting tomorrow?”
“Should be,” she nodded, looking a little nervous now.
“You’ll do great, you always do,” he assured his little sister.
She looked touched and a little surprised. “Thanks, Ron.” Then, hearing her name being shouted by someone in the next room, walked away.
The fun of the party started to wear off for Ron as it got closer and closer to midnight. Someone had fixed a giant magical clock to the wall in the living room that was counting down the minutes. Around 11:30, Ron noticed that some people were starting to pair off or try to find someone to kiss at midnight. He wondered what he would do. Cheer, he supposed, with the singles in the room. The thought didn’t leave him very happy.
At about ten minutes to midnight, he found himself sitting in a great, cushy armchair not unlike the ones that had been in the common room at school. Harry and Ginny had settled themselves on one end of a couch with Ginny sitting on Harry’s lap, and Luna was standing in the doorway, smiling softly to herself. He saw other faces he had known for years throughout the room, as well as the occasional work friend of Harry’s. He settled himself in with his glass, getting ready to cheer in the new year. At one minute to midnight, some of the overly ambitious (or drunk) in the room began to count down.
“Fifty-seven … Fifty-six … Fifty-five …”
Ron supposed he would see Hermione for dinner the next night, after she got off of work. If she wasn’t too busy.
“Thirty-three … Thirty-two … Thirty …”
He took a long drink from his glass and didn’t look around when a door opened nearby. Some couple was probably slipping away from the crowd and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know who it was.
“Twenty-five … Twenty-four … Twenty-three …”
The closer it got to midnight, the more people seemed to be joining in. Looking around at all the people staring up at the clock, he felt like his heart stopped.
Hermione was there. Taking off her jacked and hanging it neatly in the closet as she toed off her boots, being completely and utterly Hermione, she was there. She looked around as the count passed twenty, growing more feverish as the moment approached. Spotting him, she smiled, looking almost embarrassed and made her way over to him.
He reached a hand out to her and pulled her into the chair onto his lap, snaking one arm around her and staring at her as though he thought she might vanish.
“I thought you weren’t going to be here,” he said.
“I’ve got news,” was her response.
“Oh. What’s that?”
“I’ve been promoted. That’s why they had me work tonight and so much for the past couple of weeks. I’m a real employee now!”
“Hermione! That’s great!” he squeezed her hands, not wanting to pull her so close that he couldn’t see the look of pride on her face.
“It’ll be fewer hours for a higher salary. It’s going to be so much better,” she beamed. “And I was thinking, er, if you’re interested…” she trailed off, her voice being swallowed by the counting around them.
“Seven … Six . . Five … Four …”
“What was that?”
“Do you want to move in with me? I’ve missed you and, Ron, I love you.”
Ron gaped at her. The chanting around them broke into cheers as the clock on the wall struck midnight. Then Ron pulled Hermione close and kissed her, again and again until she made him stop, reminding him they were in a room full of people.
“I know I haven’t been a very good girlfriend lately, Ron, but I want to be with you. I want us to live together and spend every evening together. F-for as long as we can stand to.”
He simply looked at her. “Well, Miss Granger, that could be a very long time.”
“Good.”
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The Night Before (Or What Really Happened On Ron’s Stag Night)
A/N - Merry Christmas from your Secret Santa, @longbottomtrash. I hope you enjoy this fanfic.
“Ron, you are getting married tomorrow - you need to write your vows now,” Harry shouted from the upstairs bathroom.
“Oh, thanks for that reminder Harry.” The sarcasm in his voice more than noticeable. “I really wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t told me.”
“Okay, okay. I’m just trying to help.”
—–
“Hermione, your hair is good.”
“‘Your hair is good’.” Harry shook his head. “You’re getting married to this women and all you can say is 'your hair is good’.”
“Do you want to help then Mr. I-am-an-expert-in-all-things?”
“I’m alright thanks, Ron,” Harry said grabbing a beer from the fridge. “And it’s not Mr. I-am-an-expert-in-all-things - 'The Boy Who Lived’ or 'The Chosen One’ will do.”
Harry only just missed the cushion that came his way.
—–
“I’ll just wing it.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Ron?”
“Why not?”
“Our sixth year at Hogwarts. After we had won that Quidditch match, you had to make a speech. The only thing that stopped the awkward silence was Lavender dragging you off to attack your face.”
“Good point.”
—–
“Right, I better go, mate,” Harry said, pulling on his cloak.
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Ron replied, not even looking up from the still blank piece of paper.
“Good luck.”
—–
“Hermione, I love you. I have loved you for longer than I have dared to let myself realize. Because of this, I promise just one thing. To always make sure you know how much you are valued, supported and loved. Also, your hair is good.”
—–
“Nice one, mate” Harry pulled his best friend into a hug. “Finally, got them wrote then.”
“Yep, got them done,” Ron said in an unconvincing tone.
—–
“I love you, Ron.”
“I love you too Hermione.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.” The worry in his voice was clear.
“I know it’s been 5 years but… well… did you wing your vows?”
“I wouldn’t say… Yes, I did. Sorry.”
“Oh thank god, I did too.” A wave of relief passed over both of their faces. “I didn’t want it to be forced. I wanted to speak from my heart.”
“I have never loved you more, Hermione Weasley-Granger.”
“I love you too, Ron Weasley-Granger.”
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