#Romione Trope Fest

[romione-trope-fest]

Something to Believe In

Fic Title: Something to Believe In

Author Name: voldemorts-tap-shoes/smjl

Selected Trope: Soulmates

Brief Summary: An unusual witness sparks a disagreement between Ron and Hermione about the existence of soulmates.

Word Count: 5286

Rating: M

Any Trigger Warnings: non graphic discussions of death and murder, mentions of suicide

***

Hermione hunches over the desk, her eyes skimming the familiar words for what feels like the thousandth time. Victim: Brendan Hughes. Found alone in his flat. Avada Kedavra. Nothing peculiar about the scene. No witnesses.

She can’t remember the last time she was this frustrated by a case. They’ve been working on this one for over a week with absolutely no forward progress. Any leads they had were exhausted as dead ends within forty-eight hours, so she’s sent Dean and Seamus out to do yet another canvas of the victim’s neighborhood, hoping to find something, anything they might have missed. Meanwhile, she’s back at the DMLE poring over the paltry case file, looking for any insignificant detail that may offer a clue as to what happened.

Ron returns from his coffee run and flops into his usual chair beside her. He sets two paper coffee cups on her desk, the smell of the hot beverages warring with his woodsy cologne over which is the more intoxicating scent. “Anything?”

Forgoing her usual no-caffeine-after-four-pm rule, Hermione takes a large sip of the coffee. If nothing else, letting the nutty aroma hit her nostrils might help distract her from her partner-in-crime-fighting.

“No, nothing,” Hermione replies with a sigh. She flips the case file shut and hands it to him. “Maybe you can work your magic on it. See if there’s a story in there somewhere.”

The pages flutter as Ron gives a perfunctory rifle through them. “I’ve tried. But this is seriously the most boring case ever. Even the bloke’s life was boring. Maybe he Avada’d himself just for something to do.” His blue eyes flicker up at Hermione, pursing her lips in thought, and he laughs. “You’re not really going to check his own wand, are you?”

“Well, it’s about the only thing we haven’t checked,” Hermione says defensively. “You never know.”

“Hopefully Dean and Seamus will turn something up.” Ron sets the file down and Hermione reaches for it again immediately, even though it won’t tell her anything she doesn’t already know. She scans the words again, willing them to make sense in her head. Ron, now idly twirling a quill around his fingers, seems to have abandoned all effort to do any work on the case—not that he actually works here in the first place. He’s generally more helpful than this, but they also generally have more to go on.

Hermione is about to surrender for the day as well, when the sound of heavy, booted footsteps alerts her to someone approaching her desk. “Detective Granger?”

She looks up to find one of the junior Aurors approaching her desk and does a quick glance at the shiny badge pinned to the younger man’s uniform. “Yes, Auror Casey? How can I help you?”

Casey motions to the far side of the room, where a witch about her age is waiting. She’s bundled up in a heavy coat and several scarves, though the weather is mild today, and dabbing at her red-rimmed eyes with a handkerchief. “I think you’ll need to talk to this woman.”

“Auror Casey,” Hermione starts, trying to temper the irritation in her tone. It’s not his fault that she isn’t making any progress on her case, but the interruption isn’t going to help. “They’re still teaching you how to take witness statements in the Academy, I presume?”

“Of course.” The young Auror straightens his spine as if to prove his merit. “But she, uh…she says she witnessed that murder you’re working on.”

Ron, who had been tipped back in his chair staring at the ceiling, sits up abruptly, and the legs of the desk chair make a resounding clatter against the tile floor. “That’s great news!” he exclaims. “I mean, not for her, of course, but you know.”

Hermione shoots him a brief but withering look before she turns back to Casey and lowers her voice. “None of our evidence suggests that there were any witnesses to the crime. Are you sure she’s credible?”

She’s never one to turn up her nose at a lead, but Hermione also has no patience for wasting DMLE resources on false claims. For a witness to suddenly come out of the woodwork, she can’t help but be suspicious.

“We haven’t released any details to the press,” Casey replies. “So if nothing else, she knew our victim.”

Hermione sighs but shifts her gaze back to the woman and offers a reassuring smile. It’s not like she has any other work to do on this case, anyway. “Could you set up Ms…?”

“Davis,” Casey supplies. “Lizzie Davis.”

“Set her up in interrogation, please. We’ll be there in a minute.”

While Auror Casey escorts their new witness into one of the interrogation rooms, Hermione gathers up her notes and some fresh parchment to prepare for questioning. When she turns to Ron to ask if he’s ready to go, the amused look on his face stops her short. “What?”

“This is the least excited I’ve ever seen you about a lead,” he teases. “What’s wrong?”

Ron knows her entirely too well. It’s a wonder she’s able to hide anything from him anymore. “I suppose this case has just brought out my inner pessimist.”

“Inner?” he snorts, and Hermione narrows her eyes at him..

“The whole thing has been one giant dead-end,” she huffs. “My gut is just telling me this will be more of the same.” Hermione shrugs and gets to her feet. “But let’s go find out.”

***

The conversation begins the same way Hermione always starts her witness interviews, with basic information about the person in front of her. But she only gets one question further—how do you know the victim, still an easy one—before she’s completely thrown. Her pen hovers over the parchment, halted from writing the answer as she stares back at the woman across the table. “I beg your pardon?”

“He’s my soulmate,” Lizzie repeats, but the words don’t make any more sense the second time.

“You mean you were involved with Mr. Hughes?” Hermione clarifies. “Romantically?”

Lizzie shakes her head, her eyes wide. “Oh, no, we never met.”

Never met? How in Merlin’s name would this woman have any idea that their victim is her soulmate if they never even met? More importantly, how is she supposed to have witnessed his murder? Hermione sighs heavily. This is a waste of her time, just like she was afraid of. “Ms. Davis—”

Before she can get the words out to conclude the interview and offer her opinion on wasting law enforcement resources, Ron’s hand darts out under the table and squeezes her leg just above the knee, dumbfounding her into silence. The witness momentarily forgotten, Hermione turns her head to gape at Ron, but his attention is elsewhere.

“That’s terrible,” he says sympathetically to Lizzie, leaning forward to offer the woman a fresh handkerchief with his other hand. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It is,” she agrees, taking the kerchief as a fresh round of sniffles surfaces. “Thank you.”

While Lizzie swipes at her teary eyes again, Ron looks pointedly at Hermione. Her shock at his unexpected touch has given way to indignation, and she merely quirks an eyebrow back at him. He’s on his own if he wants to play good cop to her bad cop.

Taking the hint—and finally removing his hand from her leg, leaving it cold—Ron turns back to their witness. “Had you been aware of your connection to Brendan for very long?”

“Brendan,” Lizzie sighs with longing, and Hermione forces herself to hold back an eye roll. “No, I don’t think I realized it until he was gone. But then I just knew.”

“You felt his absence?”

Lizzie nods, clutching a hand to her heart. Ron slides the parchment and pen out from underneath Hermione’s clenched fingers to jot down a note before continuing his questioning. He’s been with her—working with her, she corrects herself—long enough now to conduct a decent interrogation without her guidance, but it’s hard to consider it a worthwhile contribution to the case when the person they’re interviewing is clearly delusional.

“You told Auror Casey that you witnessed the murder,” Ron prods, bringing them back on topic. “Did you have plans to meet Brendan?”

“Meet?” Lizzie asks, puzzled, then repeats, “No, like I said, we never met.”

Ron shoots a questioning look at Hermione as he touches the corner of the case file. She gives him a brief nod in answer, prompting him to reveal, “He was killed in his flat.”

“Yes.” She seems neither surprised nor confused by this fact.

“So…you were there?”

“No. But I saw it.” Lizzie taps her temple with a slender finger.

It’s clear that despite Ron’s silent request to continue the interview, he’s struggling to make sense of what they’re being told. Hermione can practically hear him in her head as he turns to her again with a pleading look. A little help here?

Hermione smirks back at him. She’s your witness now.

Ron takes a deep breath and slides the parchment back to Hermione, who picks up the pen again, ready to take notes on the off chance that Lizzie says anything worth retaining. Ron folds his arms against the table, the muscles in his forearms belying a tension that isn’t evident in the patience of his tone. “Let’s start at the beginning,” he suggests softly to Lizzie. “Why don’t you take me through the last two weeks?”

They spend another half hour with Lizzie Davis despite the interview being filled with increasingly ridiculous claims, and Hermione is not at all sorry to see the lift doors close behind her. She finally lets her eyes roll skyward as she turns to head back to the office. “What an absurd waste of time,” she grumbles as they walk. “Hopefully Dean and Seamus had better luck.”

“What are you talking about?” Ron counters. “She told us who the killer is!”

Hermione stops and glares up at Ron. And here she was, thinking what a good job he had done with a very difficult witness. “You’re not serious.” Ron just blinks at her, and she folds her arms tight across her chest. “Mark Richards—whoever he is—is not a killer. And do you know how I know that? Because Lizzie Davis did not witness Brendan Hughes’s murder.”

Ron puts his hands on his hips, readying his stance for an argument. “Even if she just made up a name to give us, she knew how the victim was killed.”

“He was killed with a killing curse,” Hermione reminds him. “It’s not exactly an earth-shattering guess. And you said it yourself, this case is boring. The crime scene was boring. The details are boring. We could drag any person in here off the street, and they could tell us what happened with as much accuracy as Lizzie did.”

“But it’s not a story for her,” Ron insists. “She knew because they’re soulmates. She felt it.”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, of all the ridiculous—there’s no such thing as soulmates.” Hermione starts walking again, in the opposite direction of the DMLE this time with her new target being the coffee cart in the Atrium. She’s going to be awake half the night at this rate, but she needs something stronger than tea to deal with Ron’s outlandish theories.

“No such—” Ron cuts himself off, looking flabbergasted as he follows her. “How can you say that?”

“Honestly, you’ve known me for how long now?” Hermione pauses to order her usual hazelnut coffee from the witch at the cart. “You can’t be shocked by this.”

“I can and I will be,” Ron replies indignantly. He orders a triple espresso, and Hermione shudders at the thought of all that caffeine. “You really don’t believe in soulmates?”

“Oh, come on, you know I don’t believe in Divination and all that rubbish,” she says. “And soulmates? The idea that there’s just one single person out there for everyone—that your match, the person you’re meant to spend your life with, has been predetermined for you—that doesn’t sound crazy?”

“I’m just saying, we’re surrounded by magic.” Ron gestures around them—at the fountain that flows without plumbing, at the interdepartmental memos fluttering past every which way, at the coffee pot that pours itself. “Soulmates is just as crazy an idea as anything else, isn’t it?”

“This from the man who I have seen roll his eyes on multiple occasions about Rose’s mum’s research,” Hermione points out. “So, sure, I’ll give you that one. Soulmates are at least as crazy an idea as the crumple-horned—what is it?”

“Snorkack.”

“Yes, that. And just as likely to exist.”

“So, not at all, you’re saying?”

“Correct.”

They take their drinks from the cart and start back toward the DMLE. “I’ll be the first to admit that Luna has some…interesting pursuits,” Ron concedes, and Hermione snickers. “But soulmates! It’s the magic of love! How can you not believe in that?”

“Okay, let’s say they are real,” Hermione ventures. She’s not sure why she’s even entertaining this argument other than to pass the time back to the Auror offices, though she always enjoys sparring with Ron. “Do you believe everybody has one?”

Ron shrugs. “Nah.”

“Really?” That surprises her. She’s not well-versed in the finer details of Soulmate theory, but the general concept seems to lend itself to a sort of universality. Why wouldn’t everyone have a soulmate if anyone had one? “Then what’s the point?”

“Okay, it’s like Seers. Our Divination professor at Hogwarts—fuck, you would’ve hated her—she made, like, three real prophecies in her life. Real ones—they’re downstairs if you want to go check.” Hermione rolls her eyes again but motions for him to continue. “But then, she was always predicting that Harry was going to die and shit, and obviously none of those ever came true.”

Hermione laughs at the absurdity of his explanation. “I’m sorry, are you trying to explain why soulmates are real by telling me what absolute nonsense Divination is?”

“Divination is only ninety percent nonsense. That’s the point.”

“It’s a terrible point.”

“Okay.” Ron stops and snags Hermione’s elbow, pulling her around to face him. “Where do you draw the line, then? Soulmates can’t be real, but your gut has magical properties?”

“My gut was right about that interview,” Hermione argues as she shakes out of Ron’s grasp and starts walking again. “It was absolutely a waste of time.”

“We don’t know that yet. You haven’t even looked up this Mark Richards character.”

“We don’t even know he exists. Honestly, it’s more likely that Ms. Davis is our killer and she told that story to throw us off.”

“So, killer comes out of hiding and waltzes into the DMLE without a care in the world to lie to the Aurors about a crime she committed?” Ron rolls his eyes as he holds open the department door for her. “And you say my theories are ridiculous.”

“They are, and I’ll stand by that assessment forever.”

Dean and Seamus are waiting back at the office, and they both look up as Ron and Hermione enter. “What are you two arguing about now?” Dean quips.

“Do you think soulmates are real?” Ron fires back in answer.

“No,” Seamus says immediately. “But if Romilda asks, I never said that. She’s into all that Witch Weekly mumbo-jumbo.”

“‘Witch Weekly mumbo-jumbo’,” Hermione echoes, her tone gloating as she looks at Ron. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” Ron glares back at her but sits down at Hermione’s desk to face her two partners. “Did you two find anything on the canvas?”

“Yeah, actually.” Dean opens his notebook and Hermione is immediately at attention. “We met one of our victim’s neighbors—he wasn’t home the last time we went door-knocking, so we must have missed him. Anyway, Mr. Richards said that—”

“Wait,” Hermione interrupts. Ron looks positively delighted, and it makes her insides squirm. “What is the neighbor’s name?”

“Richards,” Dean repeats. “Mark Richards.”

Hermione’s head spins. What are the chances?

“Go ahead.” Ron pokes her in the ribs, grinning annoyingly at her. “Say it’s just a coincidence.”

“It’s a common name,” she retorts instead, and Ron snorts indignantly.

“And Lizzie Davis is just a lucky guesser, I suppose.”

Seamus raises his hand as if they’re in school, and the confusion on his face matches Dean’s. “Who’s Lizzie Davis?”

“Nobody,” Hermione says firmly as Ron answers, “Our victim’s soulmate.”

Dean’s eyebrows knit together as he slowly closes his notebook again. “Maybe you two should fill us in on your afternoon first,” he suggests.

Ron, still smirking triumphantly, motions for Hermione to answer. She heaves a sigh and explains, “A woman came into the office claiming to have witnessed the murder. She told us this whole silly story about how she and Brendan were soulmates but they never met, and she saw his murder in her mind because of their ‘ethereal reciprocity’.”

Dean and Seamus both erupt in laughter, and Ron’s face falls. “You, too?” he questions, then sighs dramatically. “I’m surrounded by skeptics.”

“Okay, wait, but how does Mark Richards fit in?” Dean asks once they calm down. “Does this woman know him or something?”

“She, um—” Hermione can hardly bring herself to admit it, but it is awfully odd that their supposed witness could have pulled the name out of thin air, common or not. “She seems to think he’s our killer.”

Despite the disbelief  among them, Dean and Seamus both adopt a more serious expression. “We’ll see what else we can find on him,” Dean says. “Just in case.”

“You said you talked to him today, though?” Hermione prompts. “What did you find out?”

“Apparently our victim had gotten himself into a bit of gambling trouble with our old friend Ludo,” Seamus explains. “He borrowed some Galleons from Mark to pay off his debt.”

“Let’s see if Harry will put in a word with Mr. Bagman. Maybe Ludo wasn’t the only person Brendan owed money to.” The detectives scatter at Hermione’s instructions, and Ron props his hand on his chin to look expectantly at her. “Oh, stop,” she scolds. “I’m sure the neighbor is just a coincidence.”

Ron chuckles. “Mm-hmm. Just because you can’t explain something—”

“Yet,” Hermione interrupts. “I can’t explain it yet. But there has to be a connection with Lizzie Davis.” Ron opens his mouth to speak again, but Hermione jumps ahead of him. “A real connection. One we can prove.”

“Who needs proof when it’s such a great story?”

“Well, that’s why you’re the novelist and I’m the detective.”

Hermione walks over to Dean’s desk and picks up his notebook to flip through his notes from the afternoon. Ron’s brow furrows as he thinks, turning more serious as he watches her read. “Money is always an odd motive to me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, how does our killer expect to recover the debt from a dead person?”

“Fair point. I’m sure I’ll regret asking, but do you have a different theory?”

“Mark Richards is not the killer, but he’s involved with Lizzie Davis. Or was. Things ended badly, and so she decides to frame him for her true love’s murder.”

Hermione frowns. “And the actual killer is…?”

Ron shrugs, unbothered by the absence of this detail. “I dunno.”

“Why is Lizzie still mad at Mark about their breakup if her soulmate is someone else?”

“I dunno.”

“A brilliant theory, as always,” Hermione quips, and Ron sticks his tongue out at her.

“Have you got a better idea?” he retorts, his tone teasing.

“Sadly, no.” She replaces Dean’s notebook and grabs her coat off the back of her chair. “And on that absurd note, I think it’s time to call it a day. See you tomorrow?”

“C’mon, a magical love triangle? Now that is a classic motive.” Ron grins at her. “Just think about it.”

Hermione rolls her eyes as she heads for the Floo. “Goodnight, Ron.”

***

Rather than go straight home, Hermione decides to stop at Flourish and Blott’s before picking up dinner. The bookstore has an extensive section on Divination but relatively few books about soulmates. It seems like even within one of the most speculative branches of magic, the concept isn’t widely accepted. The lack of available reading material on the subject puts Hermione’s mind at ease a little. She doesn’t deal well with the unknown. She’s good with facts and evidence. And if there isn’t any evidence to prove the existence of soulmates, then she’s bolstered in her distrust of Lizzie Davis.

But as much as she doesn’t want to believe the how, there’s no denying that Lizzie knows something about their victim and the murder. It’s impossible that she was there—by her own account, she was vacationing in Tuscany during the entire week of the murder, and the Portkey logs corroborated her whereabouts—so she must have learned of Brendan Hughes’s death by some other means. Possibly even from the killer.

She’ll have to see what else they can find out about their apparently lovestruck witness. Like she said to Ron earlier, there has to be a connection. And an explanation. One that doesn’t involve ridiculous notions of the farthest-flung outlying beliefs of magic.

Until she finds it, though, Hermione is stuck with the inexplicable. She’s never believed in any of this stuff, even before her mother’s death turned her into the frosty cynic that all her friends and coworkers know. It always sounded so ridiculous, like something out of a child’s fairytale or a terrible romantic comedy on the movie channel. Then again, she never would have believed that magic was real either, if she weren’t living it. Maybe Ron is right.

Hermione scoffs at herself. Her thoughts always seem to drift back to him; maybe there’s something to that. Hand-in-hand with the idea of soulmates is the concept of fate, destiny. She had been working in the Auror department with Harry, Ron’s best friend in the world, for nearly two years before the copycat murders forced their paths to cross. Harry could have introduced them any time, but they only met by chance. What was that if not fate?

Not that she and Ron are soulmates—or even some less fantastical version of it. They haven’t even—she can’t bring herself to admit that she has anything but friendly feelings for him, and even those were a very slow thaw from the frozen facade she gave him at first. Every once in a while, she thinks that maybe he’s grappling with the same internal conflict. But if he is, he’s never acted on it. And if he had feelings for her, why wouldn’t he? Act on it, that is.

He could have—and has had, according to Witch Weekly—any woman he wants, though his appearance in the gossip pages has decreased significantly since they started working together. If he wanted more than their current partnership, Hermione would know.

Maybe that’s the problem with her lackluster love life. Soulmates are real, and she just hasn’t met hers yet. The thought releases an audible chuckle, and Hermione slides the book back into place on the shelf. How ridiculous.

Filled with a renewed sense of determination after a good night’s sleep, Hermione arrives early to the DMLE the next morning, surprised to find the office quiet. It’s not unusual for her to be in before Dean and Seamus—and definitely before Ron—but she would have thought given everything that happened yesterday, they might have wanted to get a jump on things.

Maybe they’re already out in the field. The light is on in the Head Auror’s office, so Hermione makes her way across the room to say hello and check in. Harry has his head bent over a case file—hers, it appears—but he looks up as she enters. “Morning, Hermione,” Harry greets her. “I was just about to owl you.”

“Have we had news about the Hughes case?” she asks excitedly as she sits across from him. “Did you speak to Ludo?”

“I did, but the case is closed. So you can take the day off, if you want.”

“Closed?” Hermione blinks in surprise. “How?”

“Well, Mr. Hughes’s gambling debt was a problem, but only for him. Padma’s ruling it a suicide.”

“You’re kidding.” She almost forgot about Ron’s quip yesterday afternoon suggesting just that before they met Lizzie Davis. “But it wasn’t his wand that we found at the scene.”

“Not his Ministry-registered wand,” Harry concedes. “But Padma checked the spell signature against his wand. He’s definitely the one who cast the AK.”

Harry hands her the case file, with Padma’s forensic report on top. Hermione reads over the test results as Ron’s voice sounds from down the hall, carrying easily across the empty office.

“Okay, I thought about it all night, and I’ve got a new theory. There’s not a huge dragon population in Italy, but they could definitely be using Tuscany as a stopping point along a more prolific smuggling route. Lizzie Davis doesn’t necessarily strike me as the courier type, but I can owl Charlie if you want, and—what?” Ron appears in the doorway halfway through his diatribe but stops short as he takes in Harry’s raised eyebrows.

“Looks like your first theory was spot-on,” Hermione tells him as she hands the file back to Harry to finish. “It was a suicide, after all.”

“Oh.” Ron frowns. “But what about Lizzie? And Mark Richards?”

Hermione shrugs. “I guess their illicit love triangle will have to remain a mystery.”

“But—well, can’t you get her on making false statements or something? It’s so unsatisfying when a case ends without an arrest.”

“So you admit that she was lying about being Brendan’s soulmate?” Hermione teases.

“Not about that, but she obviously didn’t witness his murder if he wasn’t murdered.”

Harry smirks. “We could, yeah. Hermione, you’re the lead on this case. Do you want to press charges on Lizzie Davis?”

“If I never see that woman again, it will be too soon.” Hermione rolls her eyes and brushes past Ron to leave the office. “Come on,” she says, tugging at his sleeve. “We can drown your disappointment in a plate of bacon and eggs.”

“Oh, now that’s not fair,” Ron complains, though he follows her without hesitation. “You know I can’t turn down breakfast.”

Once they’re settled in the Muggle diner across the street and Ron has ordered half the menu, the conversation naturally turns back to their now-closed case. “This one is going to haunt me, I just know it,” Ron says dramatically. “Lizzie Davis accused someone of murder. I feel like that deserves a little more digging. Even if there wasn’t actually a murder.”

“Do you really want me to press charges on her?” Hermione asks as she sips at her tea. “With everything she said, I’m inclined to believe she’s less a criminal mastermind and more so just mentally unstable.”

“Because you’d have to be mentally unstable to believe in soulmates?” Ron challenges.

“To be fair, I’ve known you were crazy since the day I met you, so your belief in soulmates doesn’t really move the needle.”

Ron smirks at her, and Hermione is hit with a feeling of deja vu. She likes to think she’s gotten to know Ron fairly well over the past two years, but the look he’s giving her reminds her of the early days of their partnership when he was always three steps ahead of her, and his next words confirm it. “I never said I believe in soulmates.”

“You—yes, you did.” As Hermione plays back their conversation from yesterday, though, she can’t pinpoint where he actually said it. He challenged her beliefs, and argued on behalf of Lizzie Davis’s, but not once did he admit to his own. Ron doesn’t even bother to contradict her now, just waits while she comes to the conclusion on her own. “You don’t believe in soulmates?”

“No.” Ron shrugs and reaches for the little bin of sugar packets, pulling out a handful and dumping them all into his coffee without even tasting it first.

“Then why were you arguing with me so much yesterday?” She knows the answer, of course: it’s just what they do. Finding out that they share this non-belief, though, has her more confused than ever.

“You’ve known me for how long now?” Ron shoots back, echoing Hermione’s question from yesterday. The rhythmic clinking of the spoon against the ceramic coffee mug as Ron stirs in his sugar makes Hermione grit her teeth in annoyance, but he misunderstands the gesture. “You’re not seriously mad at me, are you?” Hermione reaches across the table to still his hand, and he flashes her a sheepish grin as he sets the spoon aside. “Sorry.”

“So all the things you said yesterday—about Divination, and the ‘magic of love’, and crumple-horned snorkacks—you were just messing with me?”

“Not all of it. I believe in love.”

A snort escapes Hermione’s lips. “Has that line ever actually worked?”

“It’s not a line.”

As Ron lifts the coffee mug to his lips, Hermione searches his face for any sign that he’s once again taking the mickey, but finds none. Two years ago, when she met the presumed playboy seated across from her, she might not have believed that statement. But despite the—relatively few, compared to his reputation—women that have flitted briefly in and out of his life in that timeframe, Hermione doesn’t think she’s ever seen Ron Weasley in love.

Taking advantage of Hermione’s silence, he continues, “It’s all around you if you know where to look.” Ron tilts his head toward the counter, and Hermione turns just in time to see the waitress tuck an engagement ring back into the pocket of her apron with a fond expression before ducking back into the kitchen. At the end of the counter, an elderly couple are sharing a plate of pancakes, and Hermione smiles at them before turning back to Ron.

“There’s nothing magical about that, though.”

Ron chuckles. “If you don’t think so, you’ve never been in love.”

She hasn’t, but she’s not going to tell him that. She’s definitely not going to tell him how close she’s coming to falling in love now. “Have you?” she deflects, then immediately regrets it. She’s never given much scrutiny to Ron’s romantic pursuits, and she’s not sure how close she can get without getting burned. This current conversation feels dangerously close to the flames.

He lifts his coffee mug to his lips again, obscuring his expression so that all she can see are his intense blue irises over the rim. “Once.” He doesn’t offer any further details, and she doesn’t press. When he lowers the mug back to the table, he rotates it slowly between his hands, and Hermione finds herself entranced by the motion. “You have to at least believe in it, though, don’t you?” Ron asks, both of them staring at the dark brown liquid.

Her internal monologue from the bookstore last night floats back through her mind, mixing in with the present discussion. “In theory, I suppose.”

Ron laughs, breaking the tension of the moment. “‘In theory’,” he repeats teasingly, “listen to you.” The waitress reappears then and sets several steaming plates between them, but other than sliding a plate of toast to sit in front of Hermione, Ron ignores the food for a moment. “You know you can’t prove everything, Hermione,” he says, more serious than perhaps she’s ever seen him. “Soulmates aside, don’t you ever just feel like something is right?”

This. Us. You.

“Sometimes,” she says instead. “But I don’t always trust it.”

“You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. Trust yourself.” Ron tucks into his breakfast and then shoots her a wink across the table. “And believe in a little bit of magic.”

[unhinged-romione]

i need to go outside and touch grass

[katenoteight]

Who wants a teaser of Magic Matches part 2?!

I'll just leave this here... "A Bar, A Bet and a Night She'll Never Forget" coming soon 🤫🫢

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“We should probably de-glitter a bit more,” He suggested, reaching up to ruffle his hair, inadvertently causing more confetti to flutter down.

“Allow me,” Hermione raised her hand and patted his shoulders and chest. “Wait a sec,” She laughed, “There is a heart-shaped one stuck to your nose.”

“What?”Ron's hands flew to his face, peeling it off and shooting her a questioning look.

“You’re good. Me?” Hermione asked, dusting off the front of her blouse.

“I think your hair might keep a few despite your best efforts.”

“Taking a bit of magic with me then.”

“So, you admit you were in there to find some magic?” Ron wiggled his brows suggestively.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Hermione replied, striding past him into the cool night. Ron swiftly followed suit, hands buried deep in his pockets, matching her pace.

“Bet I’ll read you like an open book after a few shots.”

“Oh, you do that, do you?” Hermione quipped, turning to see him already fixed on her with those intense blue eyes.

“Read?” He shot back immediately, “I do, yeah, quite a bit actually. Mainly for work, which, in turn, has refined my tastes when it comes to leisure reading.”

...

🤭🤭🤭

[incalculablepower]

some fics i've liked lately

it's been a weird year. when i made this list of recs back in january i fully intended it to become a monthly thing, but life happened and then i guess it just kept happening. in early 2023 things were ramping up in my new career, i was practicing and playing a lot with my band to prepare for our first show, i was settling into dealing with depression and anxiety with medication, i was getting over a miserable breakup. then i fell in love. i lost my job (the best and most favourite job i've ever had) abruptly this past may. this is my longest period of unemployment since i was a teenager and while you think it would be the best time to lose yourself in fandom, i felt the opposite. fandom was such a lifeline to me when i had a miserable job and was in a bad relationship and needed an escape but i was very present in my own life this summer. i took my partner to visit my family and spent a lot of time with friends and played shows (and recorded some music... shameless self promo once again) and in between i watched so much star trek on my couch. this is such a long preamble to explain why i haven't been fandoming as much lately and why idk if i'll write anything again anytime soon (let's say, once i have a job i want to procrastinate at) but -- i HAVE been reading fic! not as much as before, but i have been, and there's enough for a fic rest list so that's what i'm giving you today. when times are dire [podfic] - @aibidil

drarry. i have such a soft spot for middle aged draco and harry falling in love, the relationships they have with their friends and their grown children. @aibidil reads her own podfics and it's an utter delight. i usually only listen to podfics or audiobooks when i'm doing work around the house but i can going on walks with my headphones just so i could listen to more of this one.

purple haze by @ashesandhackles

romione. i was so so honoured to see this pop up in my ao3 gifts during @thethreebroomsticksfic pride fest this year. it turns the well tread romione ground of shell cottage and the yule ball over a bit, using them as settings to explore a confusing mix of jealousy and sexuality for ron and hermione. ashes knows i love mess with these and it captures that teenage chaos wonderfully, then lets them laugh at it as secure and settled adults.

crookshanks by @ala-baguette

gen. warning that this is a tearjerker, especially if you've ever loved and lost a pet. i think the pure and simple expressions of love and gratitude from crook's pov here would be a comfort to any pet owner.

at some point this year, i got REALLY into the idea of a one-sided dramione. it's hard to look for, especially since it's such a popular ship but i managed to find a few that scratched the itch until i find the time and/or motivation to write one of my own new years eve by 2daughtersofathena, the guardian angel by mylifebelongstothebbc, and a boy of hans by elixirsoflife. the last one being my personal favourite, a grim take on the hanahaki disease trope.

every mother is a grave by witchofimber

this was recced by @whinlatter in @thethreebroomsticksfic discord (btw i feel like no one on my followers lists needs anyone to remind them to read beasts -- but please read beasts) and when i saw "gillian flynn treatment" in the tags i slammed the mark for later button. this is probably the most balanced and realistic portrayals of molly weasley and her role as a mother that i've ever read in hp fic. it's not weasley family fluff but it doesn't devolve into something so flat as bashing either. molly is regular mother with flaws and strengths like anyone else and how they amplify and shift with love and grief and pain and stress and duty and pressure. every single relationship she has with her children is uniquely expressed and the way it ties the past to the direct aftermath of the war is so well done and a great way to organize this giant, messy family. particular care here went into fred and george, giving them their own identities in a way that can be difficult, given the source material. a favourite line:

“Probably have tried to make us name the twins after them.” He stopped laughing, sucked in a breath. “Do you want to?”  For a second she considered it. It would be wonderful, getting to use those names again like living things. But -  “No,” she said. “I - if they were alive, I’d have said no, so I’m saying it now. Let the boys be their own people.”  The truth was that she didn’t want to lose her brothers. To have their faces erased in her memory, painted over with her sons. To have to say no, not THAT Fab, I mean UNCLE Fab - he died before you were born. Anyway, she liked the names Fred and George. It was easier like this. 

the scrunchie by @saintsenara

another fic i've meant to read for ages and finally got around to just yesterday. the background drama of these side characters as a cheap scrunchie from boots floats around them is so perfectly teenage. reminds me of the other series i loved as a teenager around the time HP was coming out: georgia nicolson and gossip girl. i could also compare it to derry girls a little, how despite the environment surrounding them these girls are still being girls, arguing about stupid things and getting crushes on boys and having the absolute most ridiculous blowout fights with your sister (parvati and padma's portrayal here is probably my favourite i've ever read!)

i also can't leave without reccing @saintsenara's wip, one year in every ten. i can't get enough of a good case fic. tomarry/harrymort (both versions of this ship, oddly, apply to this fic) is not something i've ever sought out but i really think the way it's handled here could win over any non-believer. it's sharp and funny in a way that makes it turns into poignancy hit even harder. i screenshotted two full phone screen pages of chapter 27 so i could go back and read them over and over. it might be one of the best things i've ever read from ron's POV (emphasis mine):

It had been a long ten years, with a chair at their table always left empty and a hole in their hearts always unfilled. Grief was exhausting and boring and dully painful, like a slightly sprained ankle which you can still walk on, but which always bothers you a little bit.  But there had been love among the grief. There had been love before the grief - indeed love had caused the grief - and there had been love after. His love for his parents and his siblings had changed, the way wine left in a barrel changes and becomes richer and deeper. There was more sorrow in the love, as he threw a quaffle around with George and saw the tired lines at the corner of his eyes. There was more recrimination, more struggle with the mistakes they had all made in the past, as he finally sat down and had a real chat with mum and dad about how a lifetime of corned-beef sandwiches and maroon jumpers had made him feel. But there was more joy there too. And with joy came forgiveness and understanding and hope and fun.

image used is wildflowers (1915) by tom thomson

[starlingflight]

hello, can you recommend any romione fics?

Ah, anon, I don't think I'm the best person to ask for Romione recommendations because I typically only read them as background to Hinny!

That being said, @lanaturnergetup's Life Plan is canon Romione's proposal to me!

I am also peripharally aware that @romione-trope-fest starts posting today, because I am planning to read and hopefully get more familiar with Romione authors myself! So, you'll probably find lots of good Romione fics and people who like to write primary Romione there!

Lovely mutuals, please reblog or reply with your Romione recs for anon! ❤️

[ashesandhackles]

Fic Author Self Rec

Thanks for the tag, @turanga4 ❤️

When you get this, reply with your 5 favourite fics that you've written. Then pass it on to five other writers. Spread some self love.

My favourite fics are some of my popular ones and I talk about them all the time, so I am going to showcase the little known ones I have soft spots for.

Ariadne - Cho/Harry, canon compliant. Set in OOTP.

When I was rereading OOTP, I was utterly fascinated by the mess that is Cho/Harry. (The messier a relationship, the more I am interested in it). Grief propels this teenage relationship, and there is a certain morbid quality to Cho's attraction to Harry in OOTP. It's her need to be as close to, or have closure to her feelings about Cedric that she processes via her attraction to Harry. And that eroticisation of grief is incredibly - true to life and deserves exploration. This was my attempt to explore that using the myth of Ariadne and the Minotaur to add a surreal quality to Cho's inner life.

Purple Haze - Ron/Hermione, canon compliant.

This bi4bi Romione was written for @thethreebroomsticksficfest Pride fest! The envy/attraction paradigm is a pretty common experience for queer kids - do I want to be them or do I want them? and I wanted to take some really pivotal Romione moments in canon and offer a different interpretation for the potent jealousy both characters display at different points in the series. I actually remember struggling with the Fleur/Hermione scene in the beginning, and I remember hashing it out with @artemisia-black who was such a lovely sounding board for it!

Also, I was pretty daunted at writing Ron - a character I think I understand well, but cannot, for the life of me, write his voice. I still feel the choices I made for his POV is a style I am comfortable writing rather than something that actually suits him, but I'll get better I suppose.

Breathe the Air of Elsewhere Places - Asexual Charlie.

Also written for the @thethreebroomsticksficfest ❤️ As a 31-year-old queer woman who keeps getting asked when I plan to marry etc, I wanted to push back against privately, in my fanfiction world, to heteronormative ideas of happiness. Charlie of this fic is very comfortable with who he is, but is also looking for a home - however that might look like. I have also had a queerplatonic dynamic in the past, and wanted to pay a little tribute to thr relationship which has profoundly changed me (as it would change Charlie). I directly lifted - "I believe in serendipity when I'm with you" from there. Anyway, found family tropes for life.

October - Gen.

Three drabbles written for the Halloween celebrations at TTB. One focuses on Barty Crouch Jnr, one focuses on Ginny and one on Snape. I am particularly proud of "Disappointing Fathers" which was my attempt to get into BCJ's head.

Death, a Thief, an Old Friend - Harry & Hermione.

Using oppositional sides of thematic narrative which Harry and Hermione occupy with regard to faith/death to explore their friendship. Inspired by @bluethepineapple who said this: "Hermione serves as Harry's antithesis on the Death theme dripping through the books. When it comes to symbols of Death, it is Harry and Hermione who are in conversation with each other, and this conversation is series wide. The Grim (Harry responds to this with humour, avoidance) while Hermione fights the idea that it is an omen. She represents the fight for life, and fear of unknown that comes with Death. The story repeats this symbol with the Veil in OOTP, and then again, the grave and Resurrection Stone in DH."

Tagging @thecat-isblogging-blog @artemisia-black @yletylyf @saintsenara @hinnyfied @lanaturnergetup @somesunlitdays @broomsticks

[hinny-canons]

can someone plsss give me romione fic recs, like multi-chapter ones? i’ve been reading the stories written for the trope fest and am dying for moreeeee!!!!

[acnelli]

I posted 1,284 times in 2022

132 posts created (10%)

1,152 posts reblogged (90%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@romione-trope-fest

@harryronfest

@disneyprinceronweasley

@oxydiane

@acnelli

I tagged 1,279 of my posts in 2022

#hp - 904 posts

#harry potter - 847 posts

#ron weasley - 627 posts

#hp fanart - 467 posts

#hermione granger - 408 posts

#romione - 321 posts

#hp fanfic - 289 posts

#rarry - 164 posts

#harry james potter - 143 posts

#romione fanfic - 139 posts

Longest Tag: 124 characters

#and also for yourself btw because we might filter out your story because you felt the need tagging every single side pairing

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I'm looking to read some friends to lovers Romione fics??? Plz???

Hi anon,

you mean like...in canon? ;)

Jk, I assume you mean AU fics?

One story comes to mind which perfectly fits the bill and that is Pulley System by @reallybeth9. It's a Muggle AU where the two know each other since childhood.

Another one would be all my best lies by @remedialpotions. It's 6th year AU where Hermione asks Ron to be her fake boyfriend for a wedding.

These three I haven't read yet (at least not all of it) but they should also fit the bill:

Isolated by @cheesyficwriter (6th year AU), 12 Fail-Safe Ways To Charm Hermione Granger by @be11atrixthestrange (a canon-compliant Ron POV of their relationship) and Miracles Happen by @accio-broom (also a 6th year AU).

I also have a teeny tiny self-rec which is a little reminiscence of Ron's about his relationship with Hermione throughout the years.

If someone else has more stories to recommend which focus on the Friends to Lovers trope, please add them in a REBLOG!

And never forget to leave Kudos and comments if you enjoyed reading those stories 🙏 It's so important to keep the fandom alive and get more of the content you crave.

Thanks for the ask, anon 💛

48 notes - Posted February 1, 2022

#4

OH AND SEAMUS/DEAN who happens to be my favorite but I never seem to find any good long ones

Hey anon,

this part of your ask I can answer with two lists. I too like this ship but unfortunately I haven't read that many stories about them yet. These two rec lists though should provide with plenty of Deamus goodness.

Deamus Library Google Doc by @nienna324

Seamus/Dean Masterlist by @hpfanfictioncatalogue

Don't forget to leave kudos/comments/reviews for the stories you enjoyed reading. It gives good karma points as we all know.

Thank you for your ask, anon. I hope you find some more reading material.

50 notes - Posted June 25, 2022

#3

Black & White

@microficmay Day 10: Black & White [Blaise/Ron, rating: GA]

***

"One game, Weasley," Zabini pointed at the chess board in front of him, "and if I win, you'll go to Hogsmeade with me."

Ron sat down, turning the board around, so he could play black. He had to give Zabini at least some chance to win, hadn't he?

***

Part 2

Read on AO3

70 notes - Posted May 15, 2022

#2

hullo! do you have any good ron centric fic recommendations? they could be ship or gen i don't have a preference, I'm just in need of good ron centric stuff :3

Hello anon,

okay, since you're not picky with pairings, I'll recommend a little bit of everything. Oh, and there are also WIPs among them. If we don't read and support ongoing stories, how would we ever get new content?

This became a longer post than I thought, so I put the recs under the readmore line (I really hate long posts showing up in my time line).

And dear anon and everyone else who'll read these stories, please please take a minute to leave a comment. No matter how old the stories are, no matter how many comments & kudos the fic already has, it always means something for the author and also for other readers. All this content might be free, but it's still good to get something back. Writing is hard work. And the more you support the writers who write your fav characters, the more content you'll get.

I'll start with the Gen Fics, then Romione, then Rarry, then Other Pairings.

*** *** ***

GEN (there might be pairings, but they're not the focus)

Harry Potter and the Lack of Lamb Sauce by @imagitory

Inspired by a post on Tumblr, this is a AU story set during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts, with one big, foul-mouthed difference. Instead of Horace Slughorn, the position of Potions professor will be taken on by...Gordon Ramsay.

While the summary doesn't indicate it, this story is actually very very Ron-centric.

*

Pendragon: The House of Pendragon by @chuchiotaku

An unsung hero haunted by the loss of his brother's love. An overshadowed youth abandoned by everyone he ever loved. Why the enigmatic Lady of the Lake chose these two as her new champions against the growing threat of the Dark Lord--or why she chose now, of all times, to do so--is beyond anyone's rhyme and reason.

But the Lady does what she wants. All Ron Weasley and Regulus Black can do is hold on for the ride.

Very promising! I'm looking forward to the next part.

*

Tugging Sleeves by @windschildfanfictionwriter

Ron struggles with what to do when he realizes that there can only be terrible reasons for why Harry isn’t responding to his letters. Little does he know that Ron’s distress is just as worrying for his family.

This is adorable, angsty and just beautiful. I also recommend everything else by that author, but all of their stuff is over on FFN. My favs are The Boogeyman (read the A/N at the beginning!) and Spitfire.

*

Pawn to C3 by Realmer06

Teaching Lily chess started as a way to keep her occupied and out of everyone’s hair. It grew into much more than that.

This is a really great story about Ron and Lily Luna. A sweet family story.

*

How to Succeed in Dark Wizardry (Without Really Trying) by technically_direct

Ron maybe accidentally-on-purpose becomes a dark wizard, and everything changes.

This is so so funny. I'm looking forward to the next chapter. I cracked up several times while reading this.

*

ROMIONE

See the full post

76 notes - Posted March 27, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Masterpost for all my entries for @microficmay 2022! Thanks to the mods of this fest, this was so much fun. I kept them all under or exact at 50 words. That was harder as I thought it would be.

I'm also taking requests which of these fics should turn into a longer story.

If you prefer reading my microfics on AO3, click here.

Ron x Hermione

Ignite | Crisp | Lost & Found | Expectations | Radiant | Fire & Ice | Hesitate | Promise | Epilogue

Ron x Harry

Heartbeat | Survive | Ferocity | Balance | Progress | Hopeful | Wax & Wane

Ron x Draco

Irresistible | Decadent | Secrets | Pain & Pleasure

Ron x Blaise

Black & White | Wander | Train Tracks

Other Pairings

Open the Door (Remadora) | Remember (Perciver) | Sand & Sea (Linny) | Serenity (Flonks) | Why? (Harry x Ron x Hermione)

Gen

Solitude (Andromeda) | Symphony (Bellatrix) | Invincible (Narcissa)

99 notes - Posted May 31, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[voldemorts-tap-shoes]

I posted 128 times in 2022

22 posts created (17%)

106 posts reblogged (83%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@romione-trope-fest

@accio-broom

@acnelli

@adenei

@folk-melody

I tagged 117 of my posts in 2022

Only 9% of my posts had no tags

#romione - 86 posts

#ron weasley - 69 posts

#hermione granger - 68 posts

#ron x hermione - 59 posts

#romione trope fest 2022 - 25 posts

#romione fanfic - 24 posts

#romionetropefest - 13 posts

#romione trope fest - 12 posts

#dh missing moment - 11 posts

#fake dating - 10 posts

Longest Tag: 30 characters

#ron weasley x hermione granger

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

IWSC Writing School, round 2–Ron after leaving the tent in DH. Hints of Romione.

A Costly Mistake

He knew he had made a colossal mistake before his feet even hit the ground, but the realization that he was not alone in the forest only amplified Ron’s regret at leaving the relative safety of the tent.

“Well, well, what have we got here?” A tall wizard in baggy robes strode toward him as the others moved to surround Ron. He raised his arm, but his wand was wrenched from his hand by a silent disarming spell before he could fire off one of his own.

“Looks like a student,” said another wizard, now pulling Ron’s wand through his fingers in examination. “You running from ‘ogwarts, mate?”

“No.” Ron coughed and lowered his voice, wanting to render unrecognizable any part of himself that he could manage. His heart was pounding, but he forced himself to remain calm. He had to get away from this gang of wizards that he had unwittingly Disapparated into and back to Harry and Hermione. “Been out of Hogwarts for years. And who the bloody hell are you?”

A third wizard withdrew a scroll from his pocket and consulted it. “We’ll be asking the questions. What’s your name, then?”

“Why should I tell you?”

A hard blow was delivered to his stomach, knocking the breath from Ron’s lungs, as a strong arm was wrapped around his middle from behind, holding him in place. The tip of a wand dug into his neck, and Ron let out a gasp of pain before he could restrain it.

“Because we got no qualms about killing you either way.” The voice in his ear was gruff, and the wizard holding him smelled like he was in desperate need of a shower. “But you’ve got nothing to fear if you’ve got nothing to hide.” The man echoed words Ron had once heard from Dolores Umbridge, and the implication that these men were from the Ministry made his blood run cold. “Now, you on my friend’s list of runaway Mudbloods, or not?”

“Stan,” Ron gulped, blurting the first name that came to mind as the wand pressed deeper into his neck. “Stan Shunpike.”

None of the wizards surrounding him called out his lie, so he figured he had at least bought himself some time as the wizard with the scroll scanned the list in his hand. “No Shunpike on the list,” he confirmed.

“Told you,” Ron snapped, swallowing his relief. “I’ll take my wand back now.”

“Hold on.” The wizard who had first addressed him took a step closer and peered at him. “We sure he’s telling the truth?”

“He looks like Stan,” replied the wizard holding Ron’s wand with a shrug.

“Yeah, but we can’t afford to be making any mistakes, now, can we?”

The two wizards began to argue, and Ron saw his opening. He bent his arm and swung it backwards into the gut of the wizard holding him. He doubled over, allowing Ron to snatch the man’s wand and disarm the one who was holding his, Disapparating with both wands before they could make another grab at him.

“Ow—bugger,” Ron groaned, looking down at his hand. Two of his fingernails were missing, and the wounds were bleeding profusely where he had splinched himself. Of course, he had no one to blame for this injury but himself. He hadn’t really blamed Hermione for the first one, but he knew he’d had a funny way of showing it in the past few weeks.

That bloody locket.

He would apologize for his behavior later; he had to get back to them first. He had to get back to her. Ron’s gut was twisted with guilt as Hermione’s yells echoed in his mind. He’d heard her calling for him to stay, and he’d ignored her.

He took a look around his current location. It looked like the forest where the campsite was—similar foliage, and the ground squelched under his boots from the earlier downpour—but without any landmarks to go by, he wasn’t sure how far he had really gone. They had pitched the tent by a creek, he knew that much, and he couldn’t hear any running water. He raised his wand to try again, but the blood still dripping onto his coat from his splinched fingers made him pause.

Destination.

Ron took a deep breath to steady himself. He had to focus if he wanted to make a safe return to the tent; if he kept splinching himself, he’d soon be in pieces throughout the forest, and he shuddered at the mental image he conjured.

Deliberation.

His wand gripped tightly in his hand, Ron spun and Disapparated again. He landed this time near the creek, but as he let his eyes scan the winding path of the water, he could tell he was miles from where he’d left. Heaving a sigh, Ron prepared to Disapparate again.

Determination.

When his feet hit the ground this time, he knew he was in the right spot, though the forest was still. Even the pouring rain had slowed to a drizzle. Ron’s steps were slow and measured as he approached the area of the campsite, and his heart sank as he crossed where the boundary of the wards had been. It wouldn’t have surprised him if they had blocked him from entering, but the lack of resistance told him that the wards were gone.

They were gone.

30 notes - Posted February 5, 2022

#4

Wishing the bestest of birthdays to the lovely @accio-broom ! 🥳🎂❤️

I wrote a little Muggle uni drabble to celebrate, enjoy!

Strawberries 🍓

Hermione heaves a sigh of frustration that’s just a bit too loud for the library, hoping her agitation reaches its intended target. This library is her favorite of the several on campus—it’s quiet compared to the main library, it’s not far from her class buildings, and it has a coffee shop right there on the bottom floor. The downside, though, is that it has far fewer computer stations, and she’s been waiting for an open bay for nearly twenty minutes now.

She’s not the only one with work to do; she knows that. But one student in particular is the subject of her ire. While the others are hard at work, their screens displaying research, or documents, or complicated calculations, she can see over his shoulder that he’s been playing a game since she arrived. That would be annoying on its own—a gross misuse of university resources—but the fact that it is currently delaying Hermione’s own task has her seeing red.

A quick glance at her watch shows that it’s now been closer to thirty minutes, and she decides enough is enough. Hermione hauls her rucksack onto her back and marches over to the computer station to confront the redhead.

“Excuse me?”

The boy swivels his chair around, and Hermione is met with the bluest eyes she’s ever seen. “Yes?”

“You’ve been using this computer for a while now, and I was hoping that you might let me use it,” Hermione began. “You see, I have this paper to work on.”

“How do you know I’m not working?” he responds, and Hermione gawks at him. Up close, his little farming game is on full display, rows and rows of cartoon fruits and vegetables and livestock, and Hermione snorts.

“You’re very clearly not.”

He shrugs and spins his chair back around. “That’s your opinion.” Hermione opens her mouth to argue, but he points at the screen and continues, “This is a lot of hard work. See, if I don’t harvest this corn in time it will wither up and die, and then what would I feed my cows with?”

Hermione takes a deep breath and taps her foot to the rhythmic click of his mouse, trying to channel her irritation into the movement. “Fine, so when you finish harvesting your corn, can I have the computer?” She huffs as he begins another task. “What are you doing now?”

He throws a grin at her over his shoulder. “Planting strawberries. Here, I’m sorry. What’s your name? I’ll send you a sheep for your troubles.”

“What am I to do with a digital sheep?”

“Make digital blankets.”

“Look, this is really not funny,” Hermione hisses, her patience waning. “I have a paper to work on—“

“So you said.”

“—and you are—“

“A sociology major working on a research topic about students’ tolerance for inconvenience in their educational pursuits.”

Hermione narrows her eyes at him. He rattled it off so quickly that she’s not sure whether to believe him or not. “You just made that up.”

“How do they react when their favorite coffee shop is out of the blend they like? What do they do when there are no tables left in the dining hall?” He pauses and spins the chair back around to face her. “You have a higher tolerance than most. The other day, this bloke and his girlfriend were having an argument so loud even the librarian got involved, but you never looked up from your book.”

“You’re studying me?” Hermione isn’t sure whether to be creeped out or flattered.

He shrugs in reply. “I just notice things. But I’ll be sure to make a note—FarmVille on the library computer is crossing the line. Zero tolerance.” He closes the game and stands up from the chair. “All yours.”

“Thank you.” Hermione takes the empty seat and inserts her thumb drive to open her paper. She only needs to check a source before she continues, and she’s done in five minutes. Of course, by this point several of the other computers have been vacated as well. Figures, Hermione thinks as she grabs her backpack again.

As she stands, she sees the redhead sitting at the table nearby. Now that she’s done what she needed to do, her annoyance has fizzled, and she can’t deny she’s curious.

He looks up as she approaches and gives her a crooked smile. “I’m Ron, by the way.”

“Hermione.” She studies him for a moment. “Are you really a sociology major?”

“Let me buy you a coffee, and I’ll tell you,” he says with a grin. “The shop downstairs. Nothing inconvenient, of course.”

Hermione laughs, not sure what to make of this handsome stranger. “Okay. You’re on.”

33 notes - Posted November 26, 2022

#3

Some Jily for @cruelsummer-ficfest ❤️

Everything Has Changed

“I can’t believe I’m letting you lot drag me to Hogsmeade when I’m so behind on my Potions revisions.”

Marlene’s complaint is contradicted by the fact that she’s leading the way through the castle, and Lily chuckles. Marlene would never let school get in the way of a good time, and they all know it.

“Professor Slughorn’s not that bad,” Lily says as they traipse down the stairs. “I’m sure his exam next week won’t be as tough as you think.”

“You can say that because you’re his favorite,” Dorcas grumbles. “The rest of us haven’t got the chops you have, Lils. Remind me why we carried on to NEWT level anyway?”

“It’s required coursework for Healers. Or have you changed your mind again?” Lily can’t help but tease.

“Okay, enough about school, please?” Marlene jumps in, to which Lily snorts.

“You are the one who brought up potions, Marls.”

“And now I’m changing the subject.” Marlene reaches for the front door with a smile, and the fall chill assaults them with unexpected force.

“It’s only October,” Lily complains with a shiver. They have barely even made it down the front steps onto the grounds, and at this rate she will be frozen solid by the time they get to Hogsmeade. “Why is it so cold out?”

“You could always ask James Potter to warm you up,” Dorcas snickers.

Lily rolls her eyes even as she can feel her cheeks flushing. “Oh, very funny. I would rather set Fiendfyre to my own coat; much more effective and not nearly as annoying as Potter is.”

Marlene scoffs. “Sure you would. Seriously, what’s going on with you two?” she presses.

“Nothing.” The answer is more true than ever, as James has barely said two words to her since term started. She frowns and tugs her coat tighter around her waist, changing the subject herself. “I think I’m going to run back upstairs and grab a scarf.”

“No,” Dorcas groans. “I’m already running late for my date with Paul.”

“Go on, then. I’ll catch up.” Lily breaks off from the other two, and Marlene fixes her with a discerning stare.

“Don’t think I’m letting you off that easily about this James business,” she warns.

Lily waves a dismissive hand at her, though she knows her best friend means business. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you there in a few.”

She trots back up to the castle, while Dorcas loops her arm through Marlene’s and continues down the path.

Most of the eligible students are already down in the village, leaving the castle quiet for a Saturday. Lily is halfway back to Gryffindor Tower when she sees none other than James himself coming down the corridor toward her. He and his crew are usually the first ones to Hogsmeade and the last ones back at night—any opportunity to escape the school for a bit—so she’s surprised to find him near the library, a bulging satchel slung over his shoulder.

“That’s a lot of books for Hogsmeade,” Lily jokes as they approach each other. “Or have you actually got a bag full of pranks?”

James shrugs, not quite meeting her gaze. “Not going to Hogsmeade today.”

“Why not? I figured I’d see you there.”

His hazel eyes flash up to hers. “Did you?”

Lily frowns up at him, startled by his defensive tone. “Yes. First weekend of the year? I thought you’d be leading the parade, not holed up in the library.”

James lifts his shoulder in another nonchalant gesture, and Lily’s heart races. Things have been weird between them this year—mostly because Potter has ceased asking her out every five seconds—but she isn’t sure why their friendship has delved into such awkwardness. James has always been an open book, and now that he seems to have put walls up to keep her out, all she wants to do is tear them down.

“Guess things have changed,” he replies. “Enjoy the village.”

He turns away from her, and she lets him take a few long strides before she calls to him. “Potter?”

His quick sigh echoes in the deserted hallway before he swivels his head around to look at her again, one eyebrow raised in question. “Evans?”

See the full post

48 notes - Posted July 14, 2022

#2

Some DH tent angst for the @cruelsummer-ficfest 💕

You’re Not Sorry

It’s raining tonight.

It shouldn’t be raining—it’s the dead of winter, for Merlin’s sake—but the incessant splatter of water against canvas has Hermione on edge.

It hasn’t rained since the night he left.

Even now that he’s back, she can’t take her mind off it. Watching the storm clouds roll in as they pitched the tent earlier this evening, she knew then that she would be in for a rough night. Every clap of thunder, every flash of lightning takes her right back as if it were yesterday.

Her grip tightens on the handle of her pale blue toothbrush as she scrubs the faded bristles against her teeth. An over-zealous nighttime dental routine probably isn’t the most effective outlet for her frustration, but she’s got to do something. And besides, her toothbrush is too worn down by now to cause any real damage.

Hermione leans over to spit a minty mouthful into the sink, but starts when she stands up and realizes her face isn’t the only one in the mirror.

“Sorry,” Ron blurts, their gazes meeting only briefly in the reflection before he averts his eyes. “Didn’t mean to scare you, I just—“

“You’re supposed to be on watch.” Hermione folds her arms across her chest as she spins to face him. He’s much closer than she realized, so near to her in the cramped tent bathroom that a strong inhale might have her brushing against his chest. She presses the curve of her back into the sink in a futile attempt to put some distance between them.

“Well, yeah, I was, but I need to use the loo. Didn’t reckon I’d have to fight anyone for it at this hour.” His lips twitch on one side in a timid smile, and Hermione forces her already tense mouth into the most intimidating frown she can muster.

“You know, it defeats the whole point of having a watch if you’re just going to up and leave in the middle of it.”

Ron shuffles his feet, and the quick purse of his lips gives away the effort he’s exerting to not get in a row with her. He’s been quiet—too quiet—since his return, constantly walking on eggshells around her, and it almost feels like it’s not her Ron that’s come back at all.

Her Ron. She scoffs at herself; he’s never been any such thing.

“I meant to be quick.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

“You, you barmy witch!” Regret flashes across Ron’s face as soon as the words leave his lips. “Sorry, I—“

“Stop it!” Hermione snaps, cutting him off. “Stop saying that. You’re not sorry.”

Interspersed with the long stretches of tense silence have been Ron’s various attempts to apologize for leaving, and although she knows this isn’t the same, she’s sick of the meaningless word.

Ron tugs the door shut behind him, closing them into the tight space, and mutters a silencing charm. “Do you really believe that?” he asks as his blue eyes bore into hers.

Hermione’s heart pounds with the proximity. “What?”

“Do you really think I’m not sorry? Or—” He blinks, shifting his gaze to a spot over her shoulder. “Or does it not even matter that I am?”

“It’s—“ Hermione shakes her head, lost for words.

It’s not that she doesn’t believe him. It’s just that sorry doesn’t erase the chill in her bones leftover from standing in the cold rain for far too long, staring at the spot where he disapparated from. Sorry doesn’t drown out her own voice echoing in her head, screaming at him to stay.

“It’s not enough,” she says finally, blinking back tears.

Ron’s face falls as he takes a step toward her, his own eyes watering. “Hermione—“

“The loo’s all yours.” She ducks away from him, flinging the door open as she wipes a hand across her eyes.

Hermione hurries to her bunk before Ron can follow and buries herself under a pile of blankets. The thick wool coverings are a poor substitute for the arms she wishes were wrapped around her instead, but she’s not ready. Not yet.

She barely hears Ron’s footsteps over the pouring rain as he pads across the tent to resume his watch without another word to her.

74 notes - Posted June 29, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Happy birthday to the amazing @be11atrixthestrange ! Christmas in July is overrated so I wrote Halloween in July instead 🧡🖤

(Also nsfw)

Haunted

“This is barmy,” Ron grumbles as the queue inches forward. Hermione nudges him in the side, and Ginny disentangles herself from Harry just enough to shoot Ron a glare over her shoulder.

“It’s just for fun,” Hermione replies, looping her arm through his as she glances at the eclectic crowd around them. They’re surrounded by witches, vampires, and magical creatures—or at least, Muggles dressed as such. The back end of a drunk unicorn stumbles into Ron, contradicting Hermione’s statement.

“Right,” Ron snorts with a roll of his eyes. “Fun.”

The entrance looms above the four of them, the words Hugo’s House of Horrors spelled out in giant letters that have the grotesque appearance of being written in dripping blood. It reminds Ron of the message scrawled outside the Chamber of Secrets in their second year, though ironically, it was Ginny’s idea to spend Halloween at a Muggle haunted house after one of her teammates had recommended the experience. Harry and Hermione had both readily agreed, but Ron found the whole concept a bit ridiculous. After all, weren’t there enough real horrors in their lives without this manufactured bullshit?

“Oh, hush,” Ginny chides, extending her arm to the zombie bellboy who waits at the entrance with a handful of neon orange wristbands. “We’ll go to the pub after.”

“Should’ve gone there first,” Ron mutters as the attendant affixes a wristband to him.

“Beware the terrors that await you inside,” the zombie says in an over-dramatic greeting. “Four of you will enter, but take care that all four of you exit.” He adopts what Ron assumes is meant to be an evil laugh as the front door of the building swings open to admit their group. The spiderwebs strewn above the door are clearly store-bought, but Ron can’t help giving them a scrutinizing look before ducking beneath them, Hermione’s hand clutched tightly in his.

The door slams behind them, leaving them alone for the moment in complete darkness. Ron knows that the fear a haunted house is meant to instill is based on shock and awe more than anything else, but the anticipation fills him with unexpected dread. It’s all fake, he knows, but there must be a reason these things are so popular among Muggles.

Across from them, a door appears in a sudden glow of green light around its edges before swinging open with an eerie creak. Ginny and Harry lead the way into a room filled with more zombies like the one at the entrance. The characters groan and make a show of reaching for them as they pass through, though none of them come nearly close enough to try and eat the brains they’re moaning about.

The next rooms feature a chainsaw wielding maniac, a deranged butcher, and a mad scientist, all of whom keep a very safe distance from their guests.

“It’s a liability issue,” Hermione leans up to whisper to Ron, though she jumps as an animatronic monster rises from the scientist’s table. “So no one gets hurt for real.”

“How terrifying,” Ron replies sarcastically. “Remind me not to let Ginny make plans for us anymore.”

“I know it’s a bit silly,” Hermione agrees. “It was just something for the four of us to do together.” They exit into an empty hallway lit only by the light show of cartoon ghosts that move across the walls. Ginny and Harry have gotten ahead of them, apparently not realizing that they’ve left Ron and Hermione behind.

“It’s okay,” Ron concedes, reaching for Hermione with one hand and the next doorknob with his other. “Just hard to find this stuff scary when we went to school with real ghosts and shit.”

“I’d say the ghosts were the least of our worries at school.” Hermione chuckles as she follows his lead, but Ron stops short just inside the room. It’s clearly part of the haunted house, but it looks more like storage than an active segment of the route. A scarecrow missing its head is propped up in a corner, a mess of plastic headstones stacked on top of one another lines the wall beside them, and the room lacks the cheesy light and sound effects that permeate the rest of the structure.

“You’d think they would have this door locked.” Ron shakes his head as he turns to leave, only to find Hermione leaning against the door, blocking their path out. “What are you doing?”

“I think we just found a way for you to enjoy yourself on this little outing,” Hermione whispers.

The sultry look in her eyes is unmistakable, but Ron still finds himself asking in disbelief, “Here?” The haunted house isn’t exactly ideal for romance, surrounding them in a facade of death and destruction...but then again, their first kiss was in the middle of a war. Sod it, he thinks as Hermione throws her arms around his neck, and he responds to her kiss with matching enthusiasm.

She tears her lips from his just long enough to mutter a locking charm on the door before propping herself on the nearest tombstone—belonging to a Zom B. Hunter—to wrap her legs around his waist. Ron groans as his arousal presses against her, his trousers already tight. He’s not sure how far she intends to take this spooky romp, but he’s excited to find out.

He unfastens the buttons of her coat and slips his hand under her sweater, pushing the cup of her bra aside to palm the soft skin of her breast. Hermione lets out a moan as his thumb finds her nipple, only to clap a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t cast a silencing charm,” she whispers between her fingers.

“We’re in a haunted house,” Ron murmurs in reply as his other hand slides around to her back, popping the clasp of her bra with practiced fingers to give him better access. “You could just be a very randy ghost.”

Hermione glares at him as she reaches for his belt, releasing the buckle in one easy motion. “Or we could just go back to said haunted house and finish the tour,” she says even as she unfastens his jeans, letting her fingers drag behind his zipper and causing Ron to see stars.

“You don’t want that.” He retaliates by sliding his hand down between her legs. He can feel the heat even through her corduroy and he knows he’s right.

“No, I don’t.”

Ron ducks his head to fuse their lips together again. Their hands are a flurry of motion as fabric is pushed aside and buttons unfastened. They’ve had a lot of practice at making the most of hurried opportunities for sex in less than ideal locations, between time spent at the Burrow and Hermione’s last year at Hogwarts—his father’s tool shed and the potions cupboard on the third floor both immediately spring to mind—but Ron has to admit that a haunted house is not one he’d ever thought they’d check off.

They’re both undressed in short order—or, as undressed as is strictly necessary for a haunted house quickie—and matching sighs of satisfaction escape them as Ron buries himself inside her. Hermione crosses her ankles behind his bum, pulling him deeper and urging him on. Their surroundings fade to the background as they move together, and it’s not long before Ron feels his release approaching.

Wanting to make sure Hermione gets as much out of this as he does, he slips a hand between them, fingers working furiously to bring her to her peak. She moans out his name as her walls clench around him, and that’s all it takes to send him tumbling over the edge with her.

See the full post

83 notes - Posted July 31, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[redandbrown]

Absolutely loved your entry for the Romione trope fest

So hot 🥵 and funny that Ron was trying to continue while answering to Harry’s questions on the Quidditch game

Thank you so much! 🥰 I feel like it would get to a point that not even Harry could stop Ron from getting into Hermione’s pants. 😂

[romione-trope-fest]

Finish

Fic Title: Finish

Author Name: voldemorts-tap-shoes/smjl

Selected Trope: Weasley Weddings

Brief Summary: Ron and Hermione find time on the horcrux hunt to finish what they started at Bill and Fleur’s wedding.

Word Count: 1859

Rating: T

Any Trigger Warnings: none

***

It feels like she has packed and repacked this bag a hundred times since the start of the summer. Even with magically infinite space to bring whatever they need, Hermione has second and third and fourth guessed this book and that potion and everything in between. Sometimes she worries that the beaded bag and its contents are all she’s contributing on this mission, and she wants to get it right.

As she reaches in again, her fingers snatch onto floaty fabric that she recognizes by touch alone and after a moment’s hesitation, Hermione pulls out her dress from Bill and Fleur’s wedding, letting the chiffon unfurl toward the dark and dingy floorboards. What a perfect day that might have been if not for—well, everything. Spending the reception dancing with Ron was a bright spot in an otherwise mostly dreary day, from the Minister’s visit that morning to the uninvited guests that crashed the post-wedding party. But even that…

She thought she knew how Ron felt about her, thought that they were making strides toward something more than friendship. But even though he had snagged her away from Viktor to dance, showcasing a jealousy that reminded her of fourth year and the only other time he had seen her so dressed up, there had been nothing more. He hadn’t kissed her, he hadn’t told her how he felt. Of course, she hadn’t done those things either. There’s a war coming—it’s here, really—and what the hell are they waiting for?

Hermione tosses the dress over the back of the sofa and reaches back in for Ron’s dress robes. She’s not sure why they’re still in the bag anyway, why she hasn’t hung them up in a closet somewhere under a preservation charm to keep the dust off. Of all the things that they might or might not need hunting horcruxes, she thinks it’s fairly safe to assume that her dress and his dress robes are a do not need. But they’re also the only things they have with them that remind her of a happier time. Everything else in the bag is so…tactical.

“Hey.” Ron’s voice jolts her out of her thoughts, and he raises a quizzical eyebrow at her as he enters the room. “What are you doing?”

“Packing. Unpacking. I don’t know.” She motions to the pile of clothing draped over the sofa she’s been sleeping on every night, her fingers entwined with Ron’s. That means something, doesn’t it? “I don’t suppose we have any need for these anymore.”

“Probably not.” Ron trails his fingers down the sleeve of his robes. “It’s a shame that we didn’t really get to finish the wedding.”

Hermione shrugs. “It was a lovely ceremony. Fleur looked beautiful, and at least we made it past the cake and everything before the Death Eaters showed up.”

“Oh, er…I meant us,” Ron says, and Hermione’s breath catches in her throat. “We didn’t really get to finish the wedding.”

What is he saying? Did he have plans for them that evening? Was that going to be the night, before everything fell to pieces and they were running for their lives?

He smiles at her, that lopsided grin that’s been melting her heart since she was fourteen, and suggests with a laugh, “We could always get dressed up again, and have our own little celebration here.”

Hermione chuckles too. As much as she would love to do that—to know what exactly they didn’t finish the night of his brother’s wedding—they have more important things to focus on. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh. Yeah, alright.”

“I just meant with the mission—”

“No, no, you’re right.” Ron gives her a tight-lipped smile. “I’m gonna go see what I can round up for dinner.”

He leaves her alone in the drawing room without another word, and Hermione sighs, wondering how she always manages to say the wrong thing to him.

She gathers up the clothing, but rather than put the pieces in a closet, she folds them carefully and places them back into her beaded bag.

Maybe one day we can finish what we started.

***

Ron’s feet are heavy as he trades places with Harry, who’s about to finish out the night watch. The winter air outside is nothing compared to the frostiness inside the tent. Not that he’s surprised. Not that he doesn’t deserve it. But he and Hermione are both as stubborn as they come, and her resolve is stronger than his.

She’s barely said five words to him since he returned to the hunt, so the sight that greets him behind the tent flap hits him harder than a stunning spell: Hermione, wearing that tantalizing lilac dress from Bill and Fleur’s wedding.

Obviously, she’s gone completely round the twist.

Ron takes a step forward into what he now realizes is a suffocating heating charm on the tent, mimicking that same stuffy August evening. Before he can raise any questions, Hermione thrusts a bundle of fabric into his arms. “Put these on,” she instructs, her tone clipped as her lips set into a thin line.

“My dress robes?” Ron asks as he examines them. “Hermione, are you feeling alright?”

“Peachy,” she snaps, the only response he’s apparently going to get. After a loaded moment without further instructions, Ron takes a step toward the loo.

“Uh…okay. Be right back.”

Hermione’s request makes absolutely no sense, but he’s not really in a position right now to deny anything she asks of him. If putting on his dress robes will get her to talk to him, it seems a very minor sacrifice to make.

He puts the robes on as quickly as he can and then heads back out to the main area of the tent, where Hermione is waiting. They’re a pale echo now of themselves from that night—clothes hanging loose from months without proper nutrition, both a bit scraggly and in need of a haircut, and a shave in Ron’s case—but she’s still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Her expression is one of grim determination, but her brown eyes are wide and bright as she looks up at him.

“You said we never got to finish the wedding,” Hermione says softly.

“You want to now?” Ron asks incredulously, shock winning the battle against common sense. He had suggested this, only sort of joking, back at Grimmauld Place and she had shut him down. The conditions now are even less ideal, and he’s flabbergasted that she’s bringing it up.

“I need to know if I’m crazy,” she answers, and though Ron has some thoughts on that at the moment, he wisely keeps them to himself, “or imagining things. I need to know what we didn’t finish that night.”

“Hermione—” She holds a hand up, silencing him instantly.

“Show me.”

Stubbornness grips them both again as they stand frozen, eyeing each other across the room, neither willing to look away. She doesn’t know what she’s asking. She doesn’t know that he had every intent of pulling her out to the back garden to tell her how he felt, to maybe finally steal a kiss, but a combination of having fun dancing and debilitating nerves at the idea of taking that step had kept him putting it off for one more song. One more glass of champagne. Until there was no more music and no more champagne, only fear and chaos, and their focus had been forcibly shifted to other things.

She doesn’t know any of that, so what does Hermione think they’re finishing?

Sod it. She’s the brightest witch of their age. Maybe she does know.

Ron crosses the room to the wireless and gives it a couple of taps with his wand until it’s playing the soft, slow song that had been the last one they heard at the wedding. He turns back to Hermione, who holds her hand out in invitation. “Come and dance?” she whispers his own words back at him, her voice shaky as her eyes glisten with unshed tears.

He takes her hand and wraps his other arm around her waist, pulling her in close, and Hermione’s head settles against his chest as they barely sway to the music. Even before he left, they haven’t been this close since the wedding, and Ron never wants to let go again.

“Do you really want to finish this the way I wanted to at the wedding?” Ron asks softly as the song ends and then starts over. “You’re hardly even speaking to me, let alone—” He cuts himself off with a sigh. Despite Hermione being the one to initiate this, kissing her feels like a boundary he shouldn’t cross. 

Hermione pulls away to look up at him, but holds onto his hand. “When you left, it made me question everything I thought I knew about you. About—us.” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “So yes, I want to know. I need to know. Unless—”

She stops, and Ron braces for her rejection. Maybe he should’ve just kissed her and not second-guessed himself. Hermione bites her lip anxiously and drops his hand, and his fingers dangle uselessly between them, still half-reaching for her. “Unless what you want has changed since the wedding because in that case there’s no point in pretending that—”

Whatever else she’d intended to say gets swallowed up by Ron’s lips. What he wants hasn’t changed at all, only gotten stronger, and he doesn’t want to wait any longer to show her.

Hermione melts against him, her hands finding their way into his hair, and kissing her feels like coming home. Every brush of her lips against his is a taste of forgiveness, and he drinks it in like he’s dying of thirst.

He doesn’t stop kissing her until he tastes salt, and he pulls away to find tears streaming down Hermione’s cheeks. She leaves her hands tangled in his hair to keep him close, though, and presses her forehead to his to whisper in anguish, “Why did you leave, then? If that’s what you wanted, Ron, why did you leave?”

Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. He never expected it to be. Ron sighs. “That’s a story for a different night, I think,” he replies, and at that Hermione does let him go with a hollow laugh.

“Of course you’re not going to tell me,” she scoffs. “Why would this change a damn thing between us?”

Ron reaches for her again, tugging at the chiffon that hugged her body like a glove four months ago but is now loose enough for him to grab an entire handful. “I just meant—not this night.” He motions to their outfits, to the purple dress and the navy robes that aren’t yet tainted with thoughts of the locket. “Let’s get changed, and I’ll tell you everything.”

Hermione trails her fingers down his lapel as she looks up at him. “Promise?”

“Yeah,” he agrees easily. All he’s wanted to do since he got back is tell her the truth; he’s just been waiting for her to want to hear it. “I promise.”

[unhinged-romione]

what is your favorite romione fics and what are the ones you’ve written you like the most 👀👀👀👀👀 finding fics on archive have been impossible and a girl is desperate 🌞

Oooh chileeee *rolls up sleeves*

Okay, so I'm listing my all-time favorites below (mostly on FFN since it's been YEARS since I've been plugged into this fandom).

As for my stuff *buries head* this ridiculous ass fic that I wrote when I was FOURTEEN is my main claim to fame (it's trash but also still kinda slaps?). BUT I'VE BEEN WORKING ON A TON OF NEW STUFF. I have six fics coming out this month through the @romione-trope-fest (btw the best active Romione writers are participating in that fest, so you should definitely follow it if you haven't been already! Here's the AO3 collection for the fest.).

ALSO I saw that you are a Renaissance fan. I have one that's 50% done called "Virgo's Groove" (EDIT: it's here!) and it takes place in the seventh book when Lupin announces Teddy's birth. I can share a snippet tomorrow if you'd like 🙂

Okay enough self promo lol. On to my recs!

Seven Simple Years by HalfASlug (FFN): Best Romione missing moments series ever. I think HalfASlug has the best Ron voice. Everything she's ever written for Romione is worth reading.

Moments by Armaysha (FFN): Another missing moments (I'm a sucker for those) that I feel kind of mixed about, even though it's still one of my favs. The writer has a different take on Romione than most of the fandom. It generally works IMO, but some of the choices she made I really didn't understand. But what she did well, she did really, really well.

I Must Not Tell Lies by TMBlue (FFN): I think this is the best one-shot of Romione's first fuck. TMBlue is GREAT at writing Ron and she's like the queen of Romione smut.

Six Foot of Ginger Idiot by Pinky Brown (FFN): This classic is HBP from Ron's perspective. Pinky Brown is another iconic Ron writer. You can't go wrong with anything she's written, but Biscuits (her missing moments series starting in Book 1) starts dragging in the last few chapters IMO.

Australia by MsBinns (FFN): Post-war series, arguably the greatest Romione fic of all time. To be totally honest, I didn't finish it because it does kind of drag. But I'm always meaning to get back into it. Just know that it's heavy.

Love Me Forever by Aloemilk (AO3/FFN): I JUST read this and I can't stop thinking about it. It's a post-war series that has a great mix of angst, trauma, and fluff (lighter than Australia). The slow burn from Romione's first kiss to a full-fledged adult relationship is perfect and the smut is SO GOOD. Reminds me of the time I stumbled upon porn that made me ugly cry (in a good way?)

Not single fics but thesecondself and realmer06 (both on FFN, although realmer06's next gen stuff is also on AO3) are my favorite one-shot writers.

[katenoteight]

Miss. Eight,

If I may?

Ah, alright, *lights up fake cigar* you go by the name Kate, I suppose? If I’m correct, 🧐

Well… Miss Kate, *blows out fake smoke and coughs……sweet Merlin….give me a second *

*awkward silence*

A-As, hmm….as I was saying, Miss Kate your wip intrigues me so much. That I wonder what made you think of writing it? Now, no pressure, I know how writing can be difficult. I just want to let you know that you have succeeded in having me think about that cliffhanger, everyday.

It’s almost as if that was your wicked little plan, very fair.

*tips hat*

I bid you good day….. I said good day 🤨🥺

The score:

Kate: 1 + ♾️

Nena Anon: 0

Well hello again Nen - I mean... Anon! 🥸

Nice touch with the fake cigar. I could almost see you turn in the office chair all film noir style.

Now, to answer your question - the WIP was the initial idea for Romione trope fest and I have it outlined and all... then realized it would be such a multi that I did not have the time to do it now and leave it hanging 😅 (bc of the fics I effing need to finish first). So did Magic Matches instead.

Anyhow, to quench your curiosity for now - its muggle AU, Hermione is married and living a life she is not enjoying... She hops on a train one Saturday morning and ends up in a little place where she stumbles into a certain redhead. They gravitate to one another, becoming the most peculiar friends first... 🤫🤭 It's gonna be a long ride 🥲

And yes, I am terribly wicked. All cliffhangers and shameless teasing from me. But you love it, so hush 😘

[imnotfunnysblog]

Also there is a trope fest actively happening for March. @romione-trope-fest if your interested. Lots of good ones!

LOOKING FOR RON X HERMIONE MAIN PAIRING FICS PLS HELP IM BEGGING ON MY KNEES (preferably getting together or already established relationship i don’t love pre stuff as much but also i’m desperate)

[be11atrixthestrange]

The Law

I started this fic for the Romione Trope Fest, and then life got in the way and I wasn't able to finish it on time. Better late than never! Enjoy my indulgent, silly little attempt at Marriage Law, and please don't think too hard about the world-building. ;)

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

The Law

Even though The Daily Prophet is as light as a feather, Ron feels like he's holding a brick. He scowls at today's headline.

Marriage Law enacted with a unanimous vote. Unless previously engaged, all pure-blood magical folks must marry within two months.

Fuck.

Luckily, Hermione is at work and isn't around to see him crumple up the newspaper and toss it into a nearby bin. But that doesn't mean she won't become aware of the news at her job. They've already faced so much marriage pressure from his mother, and they don't need it from the Ministry too.

"Something wrong?" asks Harry.

Ron's best friend stands at the kitchen counter pouring himself a glass of orange juice. Like Ron, Harry's still wearing his pajamas, but instead of blazing orange and studded with Chudley Cannons emblems, they're dark green with a repeating pattern of gold talons. If Grimmauld Place wasn't already full of Holyhead Harpies gear, Ron would think Harry had chosen to represent Slytherin.

It would have been a safe fashion choice, given the state of the Ministry.

"Oh you know," says Ron. "More propaganda." Ron clears his throat and puts on his best impression of Lucius Malfoy, assistant to the Minister of Magic. "One of the biggest issues facing the modern magical world is the slow dilution of magical blood. We must use all of our resources to combat this."

Harry snorts. "You know they're all talk."

To a certain extent, it's true. Ever since Voldemort 'won the war,' he's proven that his preference for winning is stronger than his penchant for ruling. Since his rise to power, disorganization within the Ministry has prevented any new bills from being passed into law. He's packed his speeches with empty promises to ensure the safety of all pure-blooded citizens by restricting the rights of half-bloods and muggle-borns, yet won't respond to the media's accusations of his own questionable blood status. His attempts to squash rumors of senility don't hold a lot of weight when he can't remember small details of the war, like where the battle took place, who he had been trying to kill, or the fact that he never actually won in the first place.

As it turns out, the best way to remove the threat of a dictatorship is to make them believe they'd succeeded. That way, no Death Eaters are running about hungry for revenge, and the magical world can see what a joke a Voldemort-run Ministry really is.

Harry reaches into the bin and smoothes out the article. "Oh darn. You have to get married. How sad for you."

"Shut up," says Ron, only to get hit in the face by a crumpled-up news article.

"It's not real," states Harry. "I mean... it is. To him. Not to The Order."

"But Harry, it was a 'unanimous vote'," says Ron, using air quotes.

"Who voted?"

"I dunno. Voldemort himself, maybe."

Harry takes a seat at the dining table and opens his laptop. He clacks away at the keyboard, most likely crafting an email to Kingsley about how the order would deal with this new "law." Ron's still impressed at Harry's familiarity with the keyboard — it was quite the learning curve for Ron when The Order transitioned to muggle technology. But he was willing to learn it, as it was the best way to remain undetected by the Ministry. Why would Voldemort bother with archaic means of communication when he could enact something fresh and modern, like a Marriage Law?

"Notice how it doesn't specify we need to marry other pure-bloods?" asks Ron. "Reckon that's an oversight?"

Harry laughs. "Either that or he'd have to make marrying your cousin legal first."

"Good point," says Ron with a chuckle.

Ron's laptop dings, indicating a new message. He's pleased to see that Kingsley has copied Ron into his response.

Harry - we've heard of the new law, yes. We'll have an Order meeting tonight to discuss the best way to handle it. Stay tuned for time and location. 

"You probably won't have to get married," jokes Harry. Since you two are too cool for that."

Ron smiles at his friend, who's fiddling with the gold band on his left ring finger. Little does Harry know, it isn't the only ring in the house. Tucked away in Ron's bedside drawer is a blue sapphire on a gold band, safely protected by a velvet ring box and a disillusionment charm. One of the benefits of learning how to use a computer was the discovery of Hermione's Pinterest page, a blatant contradiction to her assurances that 'marriage is overrated anyway' and she 'doesn't need a fancy ring'. Discovering her account had felt like finding a clear, static-free radio station that hadn't existed before, full of fresh explanations to previously indecipherable mysteries.

"Thank Merlin for that," says Ron, breathing a sigh of relief that he can only hope is convincing. As the news sets in, Ron's palms begin to sweat and his jaw clenches and everything begins to feel less like a joke.

Of course, to The Order, this is a non-issue. Voldemort's laws don't hold any weight with 99% of the magical world — pretty much everyone looks to The Order for real news along with guidance on how to convince the Ministry they still have power. Within the next two weeks, there'll likely be a slew of fake engagements and falsified marriage documents followed by very real parties and celebrations, because why not? In general, the magical community loves how The Order strings the Ministry along like a hopeful suitor. It's childish, sure, but the war has stolen a generation's innocence, and this is their way of reclaiming it. Plus, tricking the dark side requires collaboration and unity. What better way to heal from the war's attempt to isolate and divide?

But Ron doesn't want a fake marriage. He wants a real one, one that isn't overshadowed by hoaxes or inspired by an archaic law. His heart sinks as he thinks back to the ring hiding in his bedside drawer. The thought of having to postpone his proposal or convince Hermione that he's serious makes Ron wonder if they'd truly succeeded in stripping Voldemort of his power.

"You okay?" asked Harry as he glances at Ron from the corner of his eye.

"Yeah. I'm fine." Ron's ears burn with heat and he knows Harry can see right through his response. He stands up from the dining table and pushes his chair back. "I'll be upstairs if you need me," he says as he brushes past Harry.

"Whatever you say," his best friend mutters before Ron proceeds to his bedroom to regroup.

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

Ron hadn't meant to fall asleep, and he nearly panics when he wakes up to see what time it is. Harry had confirmed the Order meeting at Grimmauld Place, and they will be over any minute, so he reluctantly rolls out of bed with a groan and hobbles to his bathroom to make sure he looks somewhat presentable.

When he deems his appearance professional enough, Ron leaves his bathroom and heads down the stairs, where he nearly collides with Hermione.

"Hermione, hi. What… what are you doing home so early?"

Hermione beams and flings her arms around Ron's neck. "Just wanted to see you."

Ron smiles back and tightens his grip around Hermione's waist. "I have an Order meeting, unfortunately."

"Oh, when?"

"Tonight," he murmurs into her bushy hair. "We're meeting here."

"What's the meeting about?" she presses. Her embrace strengthens, and Ron basks in the warmth of her body against his. Maybe he can miss the Auror meeting… Harry can fill him in later, right?

But he hesitates to tell her what it's about. It would change things

"I guess I'll find out soon," he says.

Hermione pulls away, her hands sliding to meet his. "Well, if you're meeting here, then it makes sense why the drawing-room looks the way it does."

"Huh?"

"Yeah. I didn't realize you decorated for Order meetings."

"Uh…we don't." As far as he's concerned, they've never done that. Ron peers over Hermione's shoulder to see a dimly-lit room. The light that emanates is a warm glow. Are those… candles?

"Weird, right?" chirps Hermione.

Why would the Aurors set up candles? Unless they really wanted to make a joke of the whole Marriage Law announcement.

Or…maybe…

"Hermione." Ron's voice cracks as though he's a teenager entering puberty. "What is this?"

"She meets his gaze and flashes a smile. "Something I should have done yesterday," she says as the tugs his arms toward the drawing-room.

Does she know about the law? Did Harry say something? "Hermione—"

Hermione clears her throat, and says in the most demanding, Hermione-like tone, "Ron, listen. Let me do this right."

When they enter the drawing-room, Ron is instantly reminded of their first date after the war. The first time they'd dressed up for a night out Ron had taken her to a candlelight muggle restaurant, a place where no one would recognize them. Complete privacy. With a flick of her wand, the drawing-room doors shut, closing them off to the rest of the world and its drama, conflict, and outdated laws. "What are you doing—"

"Ron,"

"What about the Order meeting?"

"RONALD."

When the tone Hermione usually reserves for sparking an argument surfaces, Ron quiets down. Hermione's mischievous smile confirms at least one thing, that there's no Order meeting here tonight.

Harry's such a git.

Hermione clears her throat and continues in a trembling voice, "I've been meaning to do this for ages. I mean, I've had the ring for months. But I kept talking myself out of it because I didn't want you to feel pressured, or I didn't want it to sound like an ultimatum, but with the today's news I didn't want you to think I felt pressured either, and Harry suggested—"

Git.

"Yes," he interrupts, his heart racing, his hair standing on end. There's a part of Ron that's annoyed, frankly, that Hermione beat him to the punch. Maybe his traditional upbringing had given him the idea that men were supposed to decide when to move things forward. But it had never been that way with Hermione. He recalls how she slammed into him and kissed him for the first time, her timid, yet confident tone when she asked him to Slughorn's party, and the way she called him out for not taking her to the Yule Ball. She'd always been the one pushing him further down the road while he hesitated, not because he wasn't ready, but because he didn't feel worthy.

Plus, that prickle of annoyance felt like the first time he met her. 'You've got dirt on your nose.' It made his palms sweat and his heart beat faster, like a young boy who doesn't realize he has a crush.

"Yes," he reiterates.

"Ron, let me finish."

The prickle returns, accompanied by an overwhelming desire to squeeze his girlfriend and bury his face in her hair, run his teeth along her skin, tracing the fine tightrope between anger and lust. It had always been like that with Hermione. "Okay, but the answer's yes."

Hermione beams as she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a ring box from her pocket. "Ronald Weasley," she continues in a cracking voice, "Will you marry me?"

She pops open the ring box to reveal a black band with a subtle orange stripe down the middle. Chudley Cannon's colors — just like the ring on his Pinterest board, the gallery he had made for himself when he found Hermione's.

"You saw my board?" he asks, knowing full well that his ears are glowing red.

"Yeah. You're such a dork," she says with a laugh. "So it's still a yes?"

"Yes. A thousand times yes," he says, rushing forward to embrace her and bury his head into the pillow of his hair. He thinks of the ring nestled in his top drawer, and is torn between running to retrieve it or living in her embrace forever, refraining from stealing her thunder. "I wanted to be the one to propose to you."

Hermione chuckles, then in a voice muffled by Ron's jumper, "You shouldn't have taken so long, then."

Normally, it pains him to admit that she's right, but once in a blue moon, she says something he simply can't argue with, and this is one of those times. He pulls her closer. "You're right. I shouldn't have taken so long."

[firethecanonsfanfiction]

The Taste of Your Lips

Title: The Taste of Your Lips

Pairings/Characters: Ron/Hermione

Summary:  Ron and Hermione spend some time together before Harry's rescue from the Dursleys.

Warnings: Very sutble sexual references.

Challenges/Prompts: 'DH Missing Moment' trope for @romione-trope-fest

Originally published: March 21, 2022 on ao3, Fanfiction.net and Tumblr.

Reposted: N/A

The days were warm in the lead up to the plan for rescuing Harry. And they were busy.

There was so much planning to be done, from who was going to travel with who, to planting the false information with the Ministry, to the more finer details such as the Portkeys.

There was hardly any time for relaxing or thinking about anything else.

Hermione didn't mind, of course, because it was for a good cause, but her mind felt full. While others worried about getting Harry from his aunt and uncle safely, she and Ron also had the issue of the Horcruxes to worry about.

She had no idea when it'd be time to leave. Ideally after Bill and Fleur's wedding, but she wasn't taking her chances. In these times, something could happen at any moment and she was preparing for the worst.

She was packing — little things every few days. Clothes for herself and Ron — and for Harry when he got here. Books she thought they might need, a small medical kit because she wasn't expecting it to be easy, wherever it was they went.

So, in what spare time she did have, she used it to prepare for other things.

She'd just come down to the pond by the Burrow to collect some of the weed in there. She hadn't realised at first, thinking it to be just standard water weed, but her books bad alerted her to the fact that it contained a type with healing properties.

She hadn't asked, but she sure Mrs Weasley wouldn't mind if it meant it could help them along their way (though she didn't really have any intention of letting Ron's mum know what was happening anyway).

"Hey. What are you doing?"

Hermione stood up from where she was crouched by the water's edge, stuffing some of the weed into a flask. Rather than answering, she handed an empty flask to him. "Help me collect it," she said.

For a moment, Ron simply stood, staring at the object in his hand. Then he asked, "Why?"

If it had been Harry, she knew he would have just done it without any questions, but Ron always had to know why she was doing something. He was never happy by the fact that she just knew. As annoying as it was, she was actually glad. It made her rethink things and realise she'd made a mistake at times.

"The pond weed has healing powers," she explained. "I thought we might need it."

"For tomorrow?" Ron questioned as he knelt by the water and started pulling off long strands.

"And for other things."

He nodded, needing no further explanation.

For a while, they worked in silence, filling ten flasks with the weed. Then, after setting the last of them aside, Ron sat back and looked out over the water.

Hermione joined him, feeling their shoulders brush as she sat.

"Things are going to change tomorrow, aren't they?" Ron asked.

Hermione nodded. She didn't know if he meant the bigger picture being the fact that Harry's protective charm would be broken after tomorrow, meaning he could be more easily hunted, or the much smaller picture that Harry was going to be present again, with them.

She really did love Harry dearly, but there was a tiny — maybe rather large — part that had enjoyed her few weeks at the Burrow with Ron, alone.

Something had shifted between them in the course of the few weeks, and whilst neither of them had the time or the energy to act on it, nor did she think it was appropriate to do so in the scheme of things, she enjoyed all the possibilities of being alone with him.

There seemed to be an understanding between them now, something that had never happened before. They had worked out where they stood with each other, even if they'd never discussed it verbally. She didn't know if they'd ever discuss it in a way normal people might, but she didn't think they needed to.

Whatever was unspoken between them was enough; at least for now. When she knew it couldn't progress further than what it currently was.

Anything more would complicate their plans. Wherever this Horcrux search took them, she didn't want to worry about him along with everything else. Of course, she'd always worry about him, but it was much easier to worry about Ron, her friend, than if it was Ron, her something else.

And she was confident he understood that as clearly as she did.

"At least we have now, this peaceful moment," Ron added. "Before the chaos begins. Once Harry's here and we're all safe, you realise Mum is going to go into complete wedding mode. We'll probably be busier than we are now."

Hermione nudged him with her shoulder, smiling.

"What?" he asked, smiling back.

"At least it will be something good to be busy about."

"I didn't think you approved of Fleur."

"I am well aware that you do," Hermione retorted. She meant it as a joke, though Ron's infatuation with Fleur Delacour bothered her more than she'd care to admit. She knew that it wasn't real, and that it was probably due to the Veela in her, but it annoyed her. Whenever Fleur was around, Ron wasn't himself. He had some desire to impress her, to do anything to get her to notice him.

Then, when she wasn't around, he was his normal self again.

She hated it and wished he was better at controlling himself around her, even if it was subconscious and he didn't know what he was doing.

Ron went red at her comment. "That's… that's not true," he mumbled.

It was, but she decided not to press the matter. Instead, she said, "We're meant to have a partner for the wedding, right?"

"I don't think so," Ron answered, frowning. He suddenly looked worried. "Are we?"

No, probably not, you clueless — adorable — idiot.

She sighed. Apparently she wasn't very good at making her intentions clear. She'd made that mistake last year when she'd not clearly stated she wanted him to be her date to Slughorn's party.

"Well, we can solve that problem by going together, can't we?"

It didn't take him long to understand. "Oh, I suppose that does solve the problem."

She caught a smile from the side of his mouth and felt pleased. Sure, nothing serious could happen between them, but one night wouldn't hurt, would it? It was a wedding, after all, a celebration of love.

Their hands were resting on the long grass, almost touching, but not quite. A year ago, she wouldn't have had the courage to do what she did now — but a year ago, she wasn't certain of her own feelings, let alone his.

But now she was, even if they hadn't spoken of them, so she moved her hand and covered his.

If he was surprised by the gesture, he didn't show it. Instead, he laced their fingers together and said nothing.

They both sat there grinning like idiots, the happiest maybe either of them had felt in weeks.

After a moment, he asked, "So, just to be clear, you want to be my date to my brother's wedding?"

"Unless you've arranged with someone else…"

"No, I haven't!"

"Then, yes. If that's okay with you."

"It's more than okay!" His reply came out quick and breathless, and he seemed to realise what he'd said, because he withdrew his hand and was now a very deep red. "I mean…"

He was trying so hard and she didn't think he realised that with every gesture, every little thing he said or did, won her over just a little bit more.

"Is this pond good for swimming in?" she asked quickly to save him the embarrassment she realised had encompassed him.

"What?" He blinked.

"Can you swim in it?"

"I… I guess you can."

"Why don't we swim, then? It's a nice enough day. The sun is shining…"

His eyes widened.

"Come on!" Hermione said. "What's the harm?"

"I've got my clothes on!" he protested as Hermione climbed to her feet. She tugged on his hand, dragging him up too.

"Would you rather be naked?" she asked.

His whole face had turned a bright red. "That's… that's not what I meant!"

"Come on, jump in the water!" She gave him a little nudge, but he was bigger than her and resisted easily enough.

"I'm not!" he argued, seeming to understand that this was a game. He now smiled. "Not unless you come with me!" He spun, his hand gripping around hers. And because he was bigger than her, he was able to pull her into the pond.

Hermione felt herself go under, felt something tickle her face, and then when she reached the surface, blinked and found a very wet Ron grinning at her.

"I wasn't ready!" she cried, splashing him with the water. It really wasn't very clean or clear, and yet she had never felt more refreshed. What was magic for if she couldn't enjoy a moment or two like this with her… friend?

"Are you a good swimmer?" Ron asked after a moment.

"I'm alright, why?"

"Because I grew up learning to swim because I had to race against my brothers. Do you think you can beat me to the end?"

Before she had a chance to respond, he took off across the pond, leaving Hermione to go after him. He beat her by a mile, being longer and having a head start.

"I thought you were supposed to be good at things," he teased.

"You cheated!" She splashed him with her hands, and he splashed back. For a while, they kept at it, getting into some battle that had them laughing and giggling. Their worries from the day, for tomorrow, were gone, at least for the moment.

When it died down, when they were both breathing heavily, Ron moved forward so suddenly it took her by surprise. She braced herself, almost anticipating him to kiss her, but then he reached out his arm and pulled a long strand of the pond weed from her hair.

"You're a mess," he said, stepping back again and leaving Hermione alone with her thudding heart.

"And you're not?" she retorted, feeling goosebumps rise up on her skin that had nothing to do with the air or water.

"At least I don't get weed in my hair." He came closer to her again, pulling out more of the stuff that had tangled itself into her hair. She didn't move, but let him do it, because despite her wild fantasies that sometimes came to her, this was the probably the closest she was going to get to having his fingers running through it.

After a moment, he laughed.

She jumped back, looking up at him. "What?" she demanded.

"Nothing." He smiled down at her. "We should probably get out now before we get too cold. Or Mum sends someone in search of us for shirking our duties."

"I need to clean up," Hermione confessed, and they began a gentle swim back to the edge. When they climbed out, they both laid against the long grass. Side by side, their arms almost touching.

Ron rolled onto his side and propped himself onto his elbow. She turned her head to find him watching her.

"What?" she asked warily.

"I like this," he said.

"Swimming?"

"Being with you."

She smiled, looking him in the eye despite the urge to look away. "I like it too."

They continued to look at each other, and although it had never happened to her before, she could sense that maybe in a moment they would kiss. She wanted to kiss him, even if the logical part of her brain screamed at her that if she went there then she couldn't come back. If she gave in, then she'd break all the barriers she'd put up to protect both of them from any further worry. At the same time, she needed his comfort right now more than ever.

She felt more than saw the shift — he was already close enough to her, but his head lowered towards hers. The arm that he wasn't using to hold himself up moved around her waist, firm, yet soft at the same time. He'd never touched her like that before and she loved the way his hand felt on her.

His lips were so close now she could hear his rapid, excited breathing. She closed her eyes, feeling his arm tighten around her, embracing for the impact.

And it never came.

"Sorry to interrupt this cozy catch up."

Hermione opened her eyes, a wave of disappointment washing over her. They'd been so close. Seconds away from it and then Fred had just had to show up.

Hermione and Ron both sat up, turning to Ron's brother who was smiling brightly at both of them.

"So, whatcha both doing?" he asked cheerfully.

"What do you want?" Ron snapped, his face red once more.

"To let you know that Mum is looking for you. She's got jobs for you both. If you'd rather I tell her you're otherwise occupied… I can. But then she'd want to know just what was more important than ensuring Harry's safety, so I'd have to explain my version of events…"

Ron scowled, scrambling to his feet and looking very put out by the interruption. "You keep your mouth shut," he said.

"At what price?" Fred asked with a wide grin.

Ron seemed to contemplate Fred's words, but then shook his head. "You just keep your mouth shut and we'll all be happy."

Fred didn't answer, but continued to look at both of them knowingly, causing Hermione to blush. This was the reason she hadn't wanted to start anything. Not because Fred caught them, but because if he told Mrs Weasley then she'd be furious that they were having fun when Harry's life depended on them. And then she'd do everything in her power to keep them apart.

"Well, I can't make any promises," Fred said. "But you two better get cleaned up and do everything Mum tells you."

They both nodded and began making their way back to the Burrow without speaking.

Though, Hermione did sneak a glance Ron's way, discovering that he was watching her too.

Despite herself, she smiled, and he smiled back. She was disappointed nothing had happened, but at the same time she was relieved. Kissing Ron would have completely taken her focus away from what was important — she probably would have wanted to do it again. And she — they — needed to stay focused; on Harry and the job Dumbledore had given them.

If they got through this and came out alive, then, maybe things would be different if he still wanted it to be.

Until then, she was happy with the way the day's events had played out and she would remember what the edge of his lips had felt like against hers until she got to do the real thing.