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mertronus · 20 days

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Tricks and Stones

Read it on AO3 or keep reading below

Hermione stood at the opening of the tent and stretched. She had been inside reading all morning and needed to move around a bit. She was feeling stagnant and restless.

She smiled at Harry who was lost in thought, and considered sitting beside him to check in but noticed the locket dangling around his neck.

No, she thought, better to leave him be for now.

So instead she set off to see where Ron had gone. They were situated on some rocks near the edge of a lake. Hermione hoped that they could procure a couple of fish later for dinner.

A flash of red hair near the lake's edge caught her attention and she quickly navigated down the slippery rocks to get to Ron's side. It had been a rough few days with Ron, filled with rows and grumbling. She missed her Ron.

Maybe since he's not wearing the locket, we can have a good moment.

Hermione reached Ron's side just as he swung his arm back and whipped a stone into the quiet surface of the water. It skipped four times before it sank into the water. She smiled at the memories the scene garnered.

“Wow,” Hermione said. “Good one.”

Ron looked over at her and gave her his signature lopsided grin. That grin always seemed to send butterflies swirling around her belly.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice a bit gruff. Hermione figured he hadn’t used it in a while.

He picked up another flat stone and sent it into the lake—it skipped the water three times. Hermione pulled her eyes away from him and faced the water, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Yes, stepping out of the tent was a wonderful idea.

“Y’alright?” Ron asked.

Hermione nodded then opened her eyes to look back at Ron. “Yeah. I just…I got tired of reading.” She ignored his exaggerated look of surprise but the corner of her lip twitched as she fought a smile and continued. “I just needed to get up and move.”

Ron looked her up and down, an unreadable expression on his face. “Yeah…I get that.” He stooped, found another stone, swung his arm back, and let it fly across the water. This one skipped the water five times before it disappeared.

“You’re really good at that,” Hermione mused. She eyed a flat stone a few inches in front of her feet and her fingers twitched.

“Want to learn?”

“I—” Hermione stopped herself and a new thought formed in her mind. She smiled and nodded. “Sure. Show me how.”

Ron stooped and grabbed the very stone Hermione had been eyeing. “The trick is to find a nice flat one.” He held up the stone so Hermione could see and she stifled her smile. “Not too flat, mind, but definitely not round. And smooth too.” He took her hand and placed the stone in hers, his fingers lingering for a moment. Hermione looked up and her eyes caught on his, which were bright blue in the afternoon sun.

“Alright,” she forced herself to say.

“Um…” Ron broke eye contact and scanned the ground, finding a stone of his own. “Now…you don’t want to just throw it into the water, you want to flick it so it will bounce across the surface.” Ron demonstrated and they watched his stone hit the water one, two, three times.

“Alright, then,” Hermione said. She rolled her shoulders back, took a similar stance to Ron, and flung her stone into the water. It went straight in with a neat kerplunk.

Ron chuckled. “Needs some work.”

Hermione huffed. She reached down for a new stone. “This one flat enough?”

Ron surveyed it and then looked around their feet. “Here,” he bent and picked up a new stone. “Try this one better.”

Once in her fingers, Hermione swung her arm back in a fair imitation of Ron and threw the stone right into the water. She stomped her foot and pouted, feeling like a petulant child. Ron simply laughed and shook his head.

“Look, try this,” he grabbed a new rock and stood beside her. “When you find your rock, get kind of low and tilted.” She imitated his stance and tried not to feel silly. “Good. And when you throw, don’t just throw it like you’re tossing a quaffle. Toss is sort of sideways and flick your wrist a bit. Swish and flick.”

Hermione stood straight up and scowled at him. “Oh, haha, very funny.”

Ron laughed. “Sorry, couldn’t help it. But no, it’s true, it’s all in the flick of the wrist.”

“Alright,” Hermione toyed with the stone in her hand as she once again copied Ron’s stance. “Like this?” She pulled her arm back and attempted to flick her wrist, but the stone simply dropped into the water.

Ron laughed. “No,” he said shaking his head. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “Um…” He glanced around. “Let’s try this.” He picked up a new stone and got behind Hermione. He put one hand on her waist and the other hand on hers after he’d handed her the new rock. Hermione had to fight not to close her eyes at the feeling of his warm fingers on her, burning through the fabric of her shirt. Her heart was racing and with his chest against her back, she wondered if he couldn’t feel it. She took a steadying breath, but it didn’t help. His scent was wrapping around her like the very best drug. All she had to do was close her eyes and lean back into him, lean back into the high-

“Y’okay?”

His warm breath on her ear made her jump slightly.

“Yeah,” she squeaked. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She almost turned to face him but she realized that if she did, they would be mere millimeters apart. She wondered for just a moment if he would—

No. No, of course not.

“Alright now bring your arm back but keep it low,” Ron instructed, moving his arm with hers. She tried so hard not to focus on the low, grumbly timber of his voice—and the way it made her body feel. “And when you throw, put most of the movement into the wrist.”

They tried like that a few times with no results. When Ron released her, she fought the urge to shudder from the sudden chill. She missed his warmth.

When she tried on her own, without the distraction of her personal Ronald Weasley blanket, the stone skipped once and then sunk.

“Yes!” Ron cheered. “There you go! I knew you could do it!”

Hermione grinned at his praise.

“Let’s go for two, yeah?”

“Maybe three?” Hermione offered.

Ron shook his head with a laugh. “Don’t push your luck.”

After a few more tries, Hermione’s stone skipped across the water twice and they both erupted in cheers. Ron wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet in a hug, swinging her around once in celebration.

When he placed her down, she looked up at him wide-eyed. He cleared his throat and took a step back. “Knew you had it in you,” he smiled. She smiled back. After a moment, both of their smiles faded in the awkward silence.

Ron glanced at his watch and then back to the tent. “I uh…I should probably go and relieve Harry,” he mumbled. Hermione nodded and sighed as he turned to walk away. Relieving Harry from watch also meant relieving Harry of the locket. She knew her short glimpse of the Ron she knew and loved was gone for the day.

It was fun while it lasted, she thought as he disappeared over the rocks. Hermione turned back to the water and lost herself in thought for a moment. She glanced back to be sure Ron had cleared the rocks and was out of sight. Then, she picked up a flat pebble, toyed with it in her hand for a moment, and swung her arm back sending it flying across the water with a perfect flick.

It skipped the surface of the water five times and then sank. Hermione smiled, thoughts of skipping stones with her dad now intermingled with the fresh thoughts of Ron.

#romione fanfic #romione #ron weasley #hermione granger #ron and hermione #deathly hallows #missing moments #new fanfic

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adenei · 4 months

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Here it is. It is done. clocking in at just over 146k. The longest fic I've ever written in a universe that is all my own. I'm so proud of this story and of Fidesia. Thank you if you've followed/read it/plan to read it, whichever. I appreciate you more than you know.

Be My Queen

#romione #ron weasley #hermione granger #ron x hermione #hp fanfic #ron weasley x hermione granger #jily fic #ronmione #romione fanfic #romione royal au

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itsgrangerweasley · 11 months

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*Hermione and Ron are in Paris.* Ron: I'm...moved. I...I don't know what it is I'm feeling right now. I feel...destiny? Hermione: But... Ron: I don't know what it is. I feel like... I just never thought I'd see it with my own two eyes. And here it is. It's just there. It's right in front of me, and... Hermione: This is what you wanted to see? The bridge from Inception? Ron: Yeah. Hermione: But the Eiffel Tower is behind us, love. Ron: Yeah, but this is the bridge FROM INCEPTION. This was in a muggle film! It’s THE BRIDGE! Hermione: Okay, alright.

#ron weasley #hermione granger #romione #incorrect harry potter quotes #harry potter #ronmione #hermione x ron #romione incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #incorrect hogwarts quotes #gryffindor #muggles #inception #ronald weasley #hermione granger Weasley #romione fanfic

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flaming-brown-witch · 1 month

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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" 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.

#romione #romionetropefest #ron weasley #ron x hermione #romione fanfic #fanfic rec #fanfic review

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taurusmoonchild · 19 days

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Warmth of Home

Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley no TW this is just fluff <3

read here or on AO3 ____

Feburary 4th, 2007

Hermione huffed as she stepped into the cosy warmth of her family’s little cottage. It had been a long and exhausting day at the Ministry and she could still feel the weight of paperwork on her shoulders. She brushed the snow off her coat before taking it off and hanging it up. Stepping out of her uncomfortable boots into her comfortable house slippers. It was late and the house was dark. As she walked through the hallway she spotted a dim light coming from their living room. She approached it slowly, careful not to make too much noise and peeked through the slightly ajar door.

Inside, on the sofa, sat Ron, his lanky frame folded up to accommodate their daughter, Rose. She looked so small next to him, her tiny hands clutching Ron’s shirt and her breathing slow and soft. She was fast asleep, but that didn’t stop Ron from reading aloud from a brightly illustrated storybook on his lap.

Hermione watched and listened as his voice took on different accents and tones for each of the characters in the book. She smiled and her heart swelled with love for her two favourite people in the world.

Not wanting to disturb the precious scene before her, she quietly approached the sofa. Ron glanced up, a wide grin on his face as he saw her.

“You’re home,” he whispered, careful not to disturb the tiny human that lay against him.

Hermione nodded, “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“It’s aight, we are busy reading anyway,” he put the book down, “or well, were busy reading until a certain someone fell asleep.” Ron brushed a lock out of Rose’s face and smiled at her, “How can someone be so perfect?” He asked no one in particular.

Hermione couldn't help but smile even more than before.

Ron turned his attention back to Hermione as she sat down next to him and leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips "How was your day?"

"Long," Hermione sighed, “too long.” She wrapped an arm around Ron and leaned her head against his shoulder, feeling the tension of the day melt away. "But seeing you two like this makes it all worth it."

“I’m glad,” Ron whispered into her hair as he pressed another kiss to her head.

Together, the three of them sat in comfortable silence, the only noise being the soft snores of their daughter.

December 28th, 2021

Hermione hated working between Christmas and the New Year, but being the Minister of Magic meant she had no choice. The cold air stung her face as she hurried down the street to get home. As she stepped through the front door of their home, the weariness of the day began to weigh heavily upon her shoulders. However, the sight that greeted her in the living room instantly melted away her exhaustion.

There, on the large, comfortable sofa, lay her husband Ron. Their daughter Rose had her head lying on his lap and Hugo was sprawled across the other side of the sofa next to Rose, his feet just inches away from her head. Together they were a tangled heap of limbs and blankets. Hermione couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene. It was rare that her two children got along and she knew once Rose woke up Hugo would get hexed for putting his feet too close to her face.

The voices of the Christmas movie playing on the telly were the only noise filling the room. Hermione tiptoed closer, careful not to disturb the peaceful slumber of her family, and sat down on the edge, her eyes lingering on each of their peaceful faces. Ron stirred slightly at her presence, his eyes fluttering open for a brief moment before he smiled sleepily at Hermione.

"Hey there, love," he murmured, his voice warm with affection.

"Hey," Hermione whispered back, brushing a gentle kiss against his forehead. "How long have you guys been like this?"

Ron shrugged, his gaze drifting fondly to their children. "Not sure. I’m guessing I was the first to doze off"

Hermione chuckled softly, “Nothing new then?”

“Rude,” he grinned.

Hermione shifted closer to her husband and reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Rose’s ear. Her heart swelled with gratitude and pride for the beautiful family she and Ron had created.

“They are growing up too quickly,” she sighs.

Ron chuckles as he leans his head against Hermione, “I think they’re growing up just fine,” he whispers.

Hermione opens her mouth to retort but decides against it as her eyes fall on her husband who already had his eyes closed again. She leans into the back of the sofa and watches as Ron slides down her side, now halfway lying against her side and halfway across her lap. She shakes her head but smiles running her hands through his locks.

As she sat there in silence trying to grasp the plot of the film playing in front of her she could only think about how lucky she was. At that moment, Hermione knew that no matter how hectic life and her job could be, as long as she had Ron and their children by her side, she had everything she needed to find peace and happiness.

#harry potter series #ron x hermione #ronmione #romione #hermione granger #ron weasley #harry potter #romione fanfic #hermione x ron #hp fanfic

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redandbrown · 3 months

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Cold

Hermione was shaking violently as Ron watched her cast yet another warming charm over her body. He knew she was wearing about three sweaters and two pairs of pants. It was cold out here, but not that cold.

She sneezed loudly and immediately stomped her foot, almost like she was highly inconvenienced by getting sick.

Ron smirked to himself. That’s exactly what she was thinking. Typical Hermione.

She was still furious with him about leaving, but had finally started speaking to him again two days ago. Even if only in short, one word sentences. He thought he would try to thaw her cold shoulder towards him a little more.

“That doesn’t seem to be working,” he quipped as he walked closer to her.

She looked up at him noticing him for the first time in a while.

“Wh-what do you kn-know about it?” She sneered as her teeth chattered.

“I know a warming spell won’t work on a cold,” Ron told her calmly as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

He saw her blink rapidly, and knew this was new information to her. Sometimes growing up in the wizarding world had its advantages.

“You have a fever,” he told her.

“I know that!” She snapped at him.

“Then why would you want to make your body warmer?” He reasoned with her.

Hermione stared at him, her nose red and irritated from sneezing. He could see the wheels turning behind those warm brown eyes as she rocked back and forth, trying in vain to dispel the chills racking her body.

“I- You’re right,” she reluctantly admitted. “Why didn’t I th-think of that? I’m so stupid. I j-just f-feel so c-cold. That’s all I can think about.”

“You’re not stupid, Hermione,” he told her as he pushed off the counter and stood in front of her. “You’re just sick. Take that jumper off.”

Her eyes became large at his closeness and she took a step back.

“Wh-what?” She looked like she couldn’t believe what he had just said. He noticed the blush creeping up her cheeks from her neck.

He had to play this calm if this was going to work. He rolled his eyes at her.

“I know you have two more under that one. C’mon get rid of it.”

She looked alarmed. “Well what am I supposed to do? I can’t brew anything for a cold! I don’t have the ingredients and I’m freezing. My teeth feel like they’re going to shake out of my head!”

“I’m trying to help you, ‘Mione. Would you just trust me?” He soothed.

“No!” She stomped her foot stubbornly. “And don’t call me that! I’ll figure it out on my own! I don’t need you!” She yelled over her shoulder as she ran to her beaded bag looking desperately for something to help.

Ron sighed and jumped back onto his bunk.

“Have it your way then. If you change your mind, I’m right here.”

Hermione gave a loud huff in response to his offer and continued calling various objects out of her bag for examination.

Ron heard a soft sobbing and sat bolt upright in his bed. He must have dozed off. His eyes landed on Hermione. She was sitting on the floor now wearing one of his jumpers as well, weeping quietly into her hands. Random objects were sprawled out around her in a large mess.

He looked towards the tent flap. It would be time for Harry to come in soon. Ron had had enough of this.

He jumped off his bunk and swung his wand in the air as he walked towards her. The objects started flying back into her beaded bag, and she looked up just in time to see him scoop her off the ground.

“Ron! What are you-

“Enough of this, Hermione!” He sat her on his bunk and now they were almost eye-level. “I know you’re angry with me, but I won’t have you hurt yourself over your ego. Sometimes you need help, Hermione, whether you like it or not!”

“You don’t tell me what- She started, but Ron cut her off by raising his wand and pointing it at her chest.

She looked down to see not one, but two, three, all four of her jumpers disappear, leaving her in only her camisole.

Her arms flew across her chest, even though nothing was technically exposed.

“How dare you-

“Shutup,” Ron cut her off. He pushed her back on the bed by her shoulders, and she was so weak she didn’t even put up a fight.

“What are you-

“Would you shut up for minute?”

Ron grabbed his blanket and covered her with it, tucking it in tightly and casting a warming charm on it.

“When you have a fever you have to cast the warning charm on a blanket, not yourself,” he explained to her as her features went from realization to relaxed. Hermione took a deep sigh of relief, keeping her eyes trained on Ron.

“But you still need to break that fever. We can’t do that right now, so we’ll just have lower your body temp,” he continued, conjuring a cold cloth and placing it on her forehead. He conjured two more and instructed her to place them on her neck and stomach. This time she didn’t question him. She did as he told her.

He watched as her body finally stopped shaking. Those big brown eyes were watching him with gratitude and- was that admiration? His stomach did a flip.

“I know it doesn’t make sense to be covered in a warming blanket and cold cloths at the same time, but trust me it works. This is how my mum treats a fever while her fever potion is brewing.”

To his surprise, Hermione smiled at him. “Remind me to thank your mum. And-and you. Thank you, Ron.”

She squeezed his hand.

“Hermione, what’s wrong?” Harry sounded concerned walking into the tent.

“I have a cold.”

“And a fever,” Ron added.

“And a fever,” she confirmed.

“What can I do to help?”

“Nothi-

“She needs to rest and then eat. Make sure she gets some food in her, yeah? I’m taking next shift.”

“No!” Hermione tried to yell. Ron had already headed towards the door, but turned around at her shout.

“It’s my turn. It’s not fair to you-

Ron walked back, and to her shock leaned down and kissed her on the forehead.

“I’m taking next shift,” he repeated more firmly. “Rest. Eat. I’m right outside if you need me.”

Hermione was staring at him slack-jawed. All she could do was nod.

Ron didn’t dare look at Harry as he walked out the tent flap.

#ron weasley #hermione granger #romione #harry potter #romione fanfic #ron and hermione fanfiction #ronald weasley #romione fanfiction #ron and hermione #oneshots #little drabble #love these guys

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be11atrixthestrange · 2 months

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The Loft 8

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

Inspired by the TV Series ‘New Girl’

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Also on A03 | FFN

More Chapters

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

Chapter 8

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, because I respect his privacy.”

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

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

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

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

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

With a groan, Ron flicks on the burner.

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

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

“M’fine.”

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

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

“Sorry?”

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

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

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

“Yeah. That’s fine.”

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

“Where are you going this weekend?”

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

Hmm. Very odd.

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

“Vicky.”

“What about Viktor?”

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

Harry chuckles. “Since when?”

“The cabin trip we all went on.”

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

“I think he’s cheating on Hermione.”

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

“Gut feeling.”

“Ron—”

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Going in the first place is unreasonable.”

“Still gonna do it.”

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

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

“Tomorrow morning, after Krum leaves town.”

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

“Yes. But I don’t care.”

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

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

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

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

“Knew I could count on you.”

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

“None of this makes sense, mate.”

“Sure it does.”

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

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

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

“Ugh.”

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

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

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

“We’re going in through the window.”

“Breaking and entering, cool,” grumbles Harry.

“Just entering. No need to break.”

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

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

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

“Fuck mate, why would you say that?”

“To watch you squirm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck is this?” splutters Ron.

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

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

“It appears to be fanfiction.”

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

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

“She was killed by her lover, Harry.”

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

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

“Fanfiction?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dunno.”

“Want my opinion, Ron?”

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

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

Ron has to admit that Harry has a point.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re an awful influence, Ron.”

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

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

“Oh, hi Hermione,” says Ron.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

“Nothing, really.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, not really.”

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

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

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

“Okay, what are you saying?”

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

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

“Okay, but—”

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

Shit.

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

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

“Oh, I know.”

Does she know, though?

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

She laughs. “Okay, why then?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Does it not concern you?”

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

“What?”

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

“Are you serious?” Harry was fucking right.

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

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

Hermione shrugs.

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

“Not really, no.”

“And that you were killed by your lover?”

Hermione laughs but shakes her head.

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

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

“Why does he do it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ron cocks an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure!”

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

For now.

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

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

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

Before he can overthink it, Ron presses send.

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

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

“Oh my god, Ron, what is this?”

Well, he’s committed now.

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

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

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

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

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

“OMG now you’re getting carried away.”

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

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

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

“No, I’m writing a story!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have a boyfriend.”

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

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

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

“Night, Hermione.”

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

#be11a loft #romione #ron and hermione #ron x hermione #hermione granger #hpromione #ron weasley #angst #ronweasley #romione fanfic #hp fanfic #muggle au #slow build #slow burn

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heavensquill · 4 months

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The Prefect & The Moonchild

---- Ron Weasley has somehow, once again, pissed off Hermione Granger. When Ron receives glowing praise for his work as a prefect, the one person who should have been happiest for him wasn't. Can Ron figure out why Hermione's cold and distant? Can their friendship and Christmas recover from the jealousy threatening to tear them apart? Written for @taurusmoonchild as part of the 2023 HPRomione Discord Secret Santa Exchange. I hope this keeps you entertained this Christmas.

Hogwarts, December 1995 (5th Year)

Ron Weasley trudged through the frigid corridors of Hogwarts alone. The echoes of laughter and excited chatter from his fellow prefects faded into a distant hum as they rushed towards the warmth of their dormitories, leaving him behind. He was often the first to escape Professor McGonagall’s office following their weekly prefect meetings. Today, however, he hung back, rooted in place by the weight of what had just occurred.

The end of term was looming, and despite Dolores Umbridge’s best efforts, the atmosphere around the school buzzed with the promise of the impending Christmas holidays. Yet, for Ron, the festive cheer had suddenly lost its allure. Instead, a singular, unnerving certainty now consumed his thoughts—he had somehow, once again, pissed off Hermione Granger.

Following the meeting, his usually steadfast companion had left him behind without a word of warning, her retreating figure a silent testament to the chasm that had opened between them. As it typically did during times of hardship, his mind raced with speculation and scenarios, each more bewildering than the last.

----

Read the full story on FFN | AO3

#romione #romione fanfic #secret santa #romione fanfiction #ron x hermione #ron weasley x hermione granger #hermione x ron #ron and hermione #fluff #romance #christmas

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constitutionalweasleymonarchy · 4 months

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Romione kiss - 1813 edition

From the most recent update to my Regency Muggle AU, The Pride of Burrough House: chapter 23. I love writing Romione kisses and wanted to share this one.

“You’re full of odd questions today,” he remarked curiously.

When she didn’t respond, he decided, “No, I take that back — ” He sent her a sly look. “You’re full of odd questions every day — Hey!”

He laughed as she swatted him with her book.

“Now listen here, miss — ”

Hermione wasn’t expecting it, and the book slipped from her fingers easily when Ron grabbed it, rolling away from her and rising to his knees

“ — that’s no way to treat �� ” He paused, appraising the cover. “Now this one I haven’t seen before.

“Pride and Prejudice,” he recited as though reading aloud in class. His eyes glinted wickedly. “Is it about you?”

“Oh!” She lunged, but he was too fast for her, jumping to his feet and tucking it behind his back.

“It’s about a girl who meets a very rude boy,” she informed him pointedly, rising herself and brushing off her skirts. “Now give it here.”

Ron evaded her once again by lifting it high above his own head, feigning indignation. “Well, ask me nicely!”

She huffed.

“Mr Weasley,” she goaded, saccharine and affectedly courteous, “might I please have my book back?”

She punctuated her request by sticking out her tongue.

His laugh was the sort you couldn’t hear but could see, and he obliged her. When she grasped the small tome, though, her fingers closed over his and he didn’t let go, not right away.

Not for the first time she noticed that something about standing so close to him, face-to-face, set her nerves jangling — something inscrutable between them that made it hard to breathe, and not just because they were still breathless from their play.

Perhaps it was because they’d been so deliberately avoiding talking about it, instead talking in circles around it. Perhaps it was because they’d quietly refused to give it a name, that it grew impatient and decided to declare itself.

Whatever the reason, Ron decided to see about something, and Hermione decided to let him. She knew what was going to happen almost the moment the idea formed in his mind, just by his little intake of breath. Even so, at the first (somewhat inartful) clasp of their lips against one another, Hermione inhaled sharply. The book tumbled, abandoned, to the ground.

Ron’s face was flushed when he pulled away, and shyer than she’d ever seen him. He struggled to find his voice, and Hermione realised she couldn’t bear to hear him say he was sorry. Because she wasn’t, not at all.

Hermione solved that problem by kissing him again. She saw his clear blue eyes go wide, saw his hands gesture awkwardly at his sides, afraid in that second to do anything with them. Finally, when her hands rested at his shoulders, his came up to softly frame her face.

Hermione had always thought she was too sensible for this sort of thing. That maybe someday there’d be someone, because that was a nice thought, in its way; but not yet, when she still had so much to learn and do.

The trouble was, from that moment on, every minute of every day, Hermione wanted very little else than to be kissing Ron Weasley.

#romione fanfic #fic excerpt #romione #ron x hermione #muggle au #regency au #ron weasley #hermione granger #ronsgirlfriday #burrough house

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nena-96 · 11 months

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Tangible

Microfic May 2023. Prompt: Tangible. Characters: Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger

“Would you look at that”, Hermione said as the silence had gotten almost tangible.

There on the couch was Ron spoon feeding Crookshanks, if she wasn’t so tired she’d take a picture of them.

“Not a word”, Ron muttered as Crookshanks licked the spoon.

She smiles at her boyfriend’s irritation.

#microficmay2023 #microfic may #romione #ron x hermione #romione fanfic #ron weasley #hermione granger #prompt: tangible

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adenei · 2 months

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Welcome to My Life

New fic! New fic! New fic!

Well, it's not really new. It's been sitting in my drive for about a month and I honestly just forgot to post it.

Summary:

Being in a relationship is not all it's cracked up to be—especially when it's not with the right person. But what can Ron do? He's stuck between a rock and a hard place, not knowing how to let Lavender down easy OR how to find a way back into Hermione's good graces. So, he does the next best thing: ignores the problem. Which is fine until he and Harry run into a bit of a sticky switchuation.

6th year AU a la Freaky Friday with an Advanced Switching Spell gone terribly wrong—or perhaps right, depending on how you look at it.

Chapter 1 on AO3 or read below

Likes, comments, reblogs appreciated!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Trouble in paradise?”

Ron flips off a sniggering Harry, but keeps his pace as he ignores the calls of his girlfriend. “Won-Won! Wait! Where are you going? I thought you were going to walk me to Divination.”

Fuck that.

He can practically hear the pout in her voice, but there’s no way he’s turning around or walking all the way across the castle just to double back to the common room. It’s his free period for fuck’s sake. And he’s never been more excited for one.

Ron is desperate for the break—both from the constant, never-ending rigor his teachers keep pressing upon him and from her. It seems like every time he turns around she’s right there waiting for him. After class, during meals, in the common room after a long day of classes. Can’t a bloke just have some time to himself? Why does she feel the need to be attached to his hip all the damn time?

It’s not that he doesn’t like Lavender. She’s his girlfriend for crying out loud. But Merlin, has she always been this annoying? And clingy? It definitely wasn’t like this before Christmas. At least he doesn’t think so. But ever since they returned from the holidays, it's been ten times worse. All she wants to do is snog and he…doesn’t.

Maybe it’s because everything about her lost its appeal when he opened that horrific gift on Christmas morning. A gaudy, fake necklace? In what reality could she ever believe he’d want something like that? It was a simultaneous slap in the face while having a bucket of ice water dumped on his head. A stark reality of how well she didn’t know him—how well they didn’t know each other—and it was something he couldn’t overlook anymore.

Of course, it was all made worse when his first thought upon receiving the gift (after a hearty what the fuck?) was ‘Hermione would have never given me something like this.’ And while it was true, it was also the catalyst that spurred the downward spiral contributing to the very obvious, very slow demise of his current relationship. Which would go faster if Lav could cotton on to the fact that Ron’s lost interest. But he is losing hope that she’s going to get the hint, even in the midst of him blowing her off for the sixth time this week.

Once he and Harry round the corner and are well on their way up the grand staircase toward the common room, his best mate speaks again. “I still don’t understand why you can’t just chuck her.”

“Have you ever chucked a girl?” Ron sighs, tightening his grip on the bag slung over his shoulder.

“No, but—”

“Exactly. I don’t want to, like, hurt her or anything. Or blindside her.”

Harry snorts. “Well, if she’s blindsided at this point, then that’s entirely her fault.”

“She has to start getting the hints eventually. Maybe I just need to be more obvious,” he mutters.

“I don’t think you can be, mate.”

Harry’s probably right. Lav has to be ignoring the signs on purpose. Because in addition to bolting out of the room following any shared classes, Ron’s also taken up extra Prefect duties, rearranged his meal schedules, taken to studying in empty classrooms in the evenings (but never the same one so she doesn’t find him), and encouraged Harry to go out to the pitch for extra practices to avoid her over the last four weeks.

Only once has he been dragged out of the common room for an underwhelming snogging session where he succumbed to it for about twenty minutes—and only because he was thinking of someone else—before he made up some excuse about not feeling great and disappeared back to the boys’ dormitory. It’s amazing how much clearer his mind can be when it’s not distracted by a constant assault of sticky lip gloss and a tongue being shoved down his throat. And how much more he can accomplish. Ron’s pretty sure he’s further ahead on his coursework than Hermione is at this point. Not that he understood all of it. He still missed Hermione’s help with that.

Fuck. Hermione.

As if reading his thoughts, Harry contributes more to their stilted conversation. “Yeah, well, if she doesn’t, I’m sure you could just make nice with Hermione again. I bet that’d help her get the hint.”

Ron rolls his eyes. He knows why Harry’s suggesting it. His best mate is sick of splitting his time between the two because they can’t seem to get their shit together. And yeah, Ron would like everything to go back to the way it was, with the three of them being friends again, but he has no fucking clue how to fix things. And it’s not like breaking up with Lavender is going to magically solve anything.

According to Ginny, Hermione still snogged Viktor. Which is why Ron let Lavender snog him. Then Hermione set those fucking birds on him, they didn’t go to Slughorn’s fucking party together, and now they haven’t spoken in two fucking months. Ron wouldn’t even know where to begin to try and rectify the shit show that is their friendship—if there’s anything left to salvage at all.

Ignoring Harry’s suggestion, he changes the subject, desperate to talk about anything other than Lavender or Hermione. “Want to get that advanced switching spell practice out of the way when we get back to the common room?”

“You actually want to do work? Thought you were planning on taking a kip by the fire.”

Ron shrugs. “Yeah, but it seems dead useful. Might be a good skill to have for the Aurors.”

“True. Alright, yeah, we can give it a go. McGonagall might give us extra house points if we can pull one off too.”

For whatever reason, Professor McGonagall had revisited switching spells today. At first, Ron thought it was laughable, given they were first-year spells. But then he’d actually paid attention to her lecture. Like really paid attention. More than usual. It was during her explanation of the types of objects and animals you could use that Ron realized there was more the professor was saying if you read between the lines. Especially with the war against You-Know-Who looming outside the castle walls.

Who knew when something like this could be beneficial to them? Like switching owls to gain intel through intercepted letters or even switching places with someone else if Polyjuice wasn’t a ready-made option. Not that McGonagall had expressed any of that in the lesson, but Ron could extrapolate. It wasn’t that difficult.

And if they could pull this off, it’d be beneficial to have in the future, which Ron plans to tell Harry once they’re alone. A fleeting thought to include Hermione passes through his mind, but now isn’t the time. Maybe when they’re on better terms. If that ever happens.

“What are we going to use though?” Harry must have been rambling because he stops and stares at Ron after giving the Fat Lady the password.

Oops.

Ron must have tuned him out. “Oh, er, hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

They climb through the portrait hole as Ron considers their options. Sure, they could play it safe and stick to switching similar objects, but that wouldn’t be enough to impress their Transfiguration professor. They had to challenge themselves. But with what?

And then, it hits him clear as day. Owls. Sure, they’re still the same, but also different.

“Is Hedwig in the dorms? Pig was there this morning. I bet we could use them!”

Harry looks warily at Ron. “Er, are you sure? We’ve never attempted the spell.”

“We’ve done it hundreds of times on animals that were similar in size. Hedgehogs, rabbits, tortoises. Pig’s small, yeah, but Hedwig isn’t a giant, so that shouldn’t cause an issue. Plus, they’re so different, we’ll know right away if the spell worked and then switch them back.”

Harry eyes him a moment more before giving in. “If you say so.”

“Brilliant. I’ll go grab them.”

It doesn’t take long to retrieve the owls, and by the time he returns back to the common room, he sets their cages on the table in the center of the room. Hedwig stares curiously at Harry while Pig flits to every corner of the cage, eager for whatever is about to happen. Harry puts his hand against the metal, stroking the snowy owl’s feathers from between the bars.

“It’ll be alright, just a quick practice for Transfiguration.” Then he turns to Ron. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

“Right. What’s the spell again?” Ron asks.

“You don’t remember?”

“Uh...”

Harry groans. It’s not Ron’s fault Lavender chose the exact moment McGonagall was going over the incantation to slide a note under the desk to him, her fingertips grazing his inner thigh in the process. Parts of him hadn’t gotten the memo that he really wasn’t interested in her like that, so he’d had to crumple the paper in his fist to get a grip.

All he can offer Harry is a weak look in response, and he’s pretty sure his best friend puts the pieces together. Holding up his hand, he shakes his head. “Nevermind. I don’t want to know. It’s either Inter se Mutatio or Altera Mutatio. But I don’t remember which.”

“Is it in the text?” Ron reaches for his bag, but stops when Harry’s eyes bug out of his head.

“Okay, you and Hermione seriously need to get sorted because I don’t need two of you.”

“Fuck off.” Ron snorts. “You know I wouldn’t care about looking it up, but since we’re about to perform a switching spell on our owls, I’d rather be accurate. Unless you want something to go wrong.”

“Yeah…right,” Harry begrudgingly agrees, but doesn’t seem convinced. “Well, it’s not in there. At least I don’t think it is. McGonagall usually tells us what page to open to if we’re working on something out of the book. This…wasn’t.”

“Ah, right. Well, do you remember the difference between the two?”

“No. Just that one should rarely be used, unless it’s a dire circumstance. Whatever she meant by that.”

Ron resists the urge to smack his forehead. He has a distinct feeling that McGonagall is teaching them this on purpose, yet Harry can’t be bothered to pay—fuck, maybe he is starting to sound a bit too much like his other—former—best friend. He seriously needs to lay off the studying. And he will. After they practice this.

“Okay, well, think. Which one did she discuss first?”

Usually, McGonagall will tell them the spell first, and then end the lecture by reiterating it before giving them time to practice. So, chances are, whatever she said in the middle was the one they shouldn’t use.

“Er…” Harry squeezes his eyes shut to think. “‘Inter se’. She definitely said ‘inter se’ first.”

Ron nods. He seems to have some recollection of this. But then he remembers the end of the explanation. Just before the bell rang. “Didn’t she end with ‘altera’ though?”

“Yeah, but that was right after she explained what not to do.”

“Right. Yeah. Alright, let’s go with ‘inter se’ then.”

They each practice the wand movement a couple of times before Harry gestures for Ron to try. “Want to go?”

“Y-yeah. Sure. It’s not gonna be, like, painful for them, is it?” All of a sudden, hesitation swept over him.

“She never said. But when we did it with animals and stationary objects, they always seemed fine. Besides, McGonagall wouldn’t have taught it to us if it was dangerous. Right?”

“Y-yeah. That makes sense. Didn’t Sirius always used to say Animagi transformations weren’t painful too? Just uncomfortable until he got used to it.”

“Exactly. So, they’ll be fine. Just don’t fuck up the incantation.”

“If I fuck it up, it’ll be because you told me to use the wrong one.”

Harry waves him off. “Just do it so we can enjoy the rest of our free period, will you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ron raises his wand, pointing it at Hedwig. Always start with the bigger object and move to the smaller one. Harry stands behind his owl, and it appears as if he’s holding his breath.

Bloody tosser doesn’t have faith. Well, I’ll show him.

Without delaying the attempt any longer, Ron begins the spiral motion with his wand while stating the incantation confidently. “Inter se Mutatio.”

As he finishes the flourish of the spell, his wand jerks off course, seemingly of its own accord. The tip is pointed at himself by the time it settles. For a moment, nothing happens.

“What the fu—”

“Uh, Ron, what did you—”

Then, a weird rippling feeling comes over his entire body. His wand clatters to the floor and Pig and Hedwig begin hooting frantically in their cages. Ron tries to look for Harry, uncertain of what is happening, but before he can lay eyes on his best friend, another peculiar sight distracts him. The spitting image of his body appears before him in ghost form.

Oh shit. This isn’t good.

He’s not sure what he’s just done, but he doesn’t have a chance to make sense of anything more. Unconsciousness threatens to take over, and the next thing he knows, his lifeless frame crumples to the ground.

#romione #a la freaky friday #ron weasley #hermione granger #hp fanfic #ronmione #romione fanfic #6th year au

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