mina-roman

[mina-roman]

[mina-roman]

Happy Christmas

[mina-roman]

*Ron removes his sweaty T-shirt after playing Quidditch*

Molly: Merlin Ron! What are those on your back?

Ron: what?

Molly: it looks like someone has scratched you violently. Ronald Bilius Weasley, how did those happen?

Ron: umm... mum its nothing.

Molly: do not say it's nothing, young man. Those look awful. Tell me right now what happened?

Ron: I- umm... Crookshanks. Crookshanks attacked me yesterday. It was my fault too. I stepped on his tail in the darkness.

Ginny(grinning evilly): are you sure, Ron? it was Crookshanks or someone who is close to Crookshanks?

Molly: what does that mean?

Ron: nothing mum. Ignore her. I told you the cat attcked me.

Molly: I am gonna prepare some murtlap essence for you. Tell Hermione to control her cat(leaves)

Ginny: yeah Ron. You should really tell Hermione to control... her cat I mean.

Harry(laughing): yeah mate. Tell her to control her cat.

Ron: fuck you both.

[mina-roman]

[mina-roman]

TY @adenei 💜💜 I was worried when it said angst, and I wasn't sure how bad it would get 😩 but it was just the perfect amount!!

Punctuality

Happy birthday @mina-roman!!!

Enjoy a little post war angst <3

Hermione was late. Again. Though Ron knew she never meant to be. 

She once explained when she was little, her parents said it was always the excuse of ‘just one more chapter.’ At Hogwarts, she’d lose track of time studying in the library. And now, with no windows to help her gauge the time of day and a clock inconveniently placed behind her workspace, Hermione was probably too absorbed in her case files to realize it was time to go.

If it was any other night, Ron wouldn’t care, but they were supposed to see each other tonight. He only had twelve hours leave from Auror training, and she promised they’d spend every minute of those twelve hours together.

A loud crack drew his attention from the window he was staring out of.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. I was elbow-deep in parchment and I thought I had enough time to finish the report, but then I hit a snag and—”

“Save it, Hermione.” 

He didn’t want to fight with her, but if he’d known she was going to choose work over him, he wouldn’t have bothered with getting the time off in the first place. She froze, halfway to him with outstretched arms and frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re two hours late.”

“I know, and I said I was sorry! I didn’t—”

“Have you ever thought that maybe sorry isn’t enough? Bloody hell, Hermione, this isn’t the first time this has happened. Do you even know how much trouble I went through to get this twelve-hour leave to see you? And you’ve fucking wasted two hours because you don’t know how to check the time!”

Hermione flared her nostrils and set her jaw. “Sometimes I have things I need to finish. It was either get the report done tonight or have to leave early tomorrow to make sure it ends up on Montague’s desk in time.”

“What? Is the trial tomorrow?” Ron scoffed.

Hermione stamped her foot in frustration. “Stop being ridiculous! I supported your decision to join the Aurors even though I knew it’d mean we’d be separated from each other for the better part of three years. The least you could do is support me in my own endeavors!” 

“I do! But not when we make arrangements to see each other and you can’t even bother to owl me that you’ll be late! I could have had dinner with my parents. But no, I’ve been sitting here for the past two hours, bloody starving, waiting for you to show up!”

“Oh, sure, that’s the reason you’re upset! Merlin forbid I interrupt your meal schedule!” Hermione let out a derisive laugh and threw her hands in the air. “Well, I’m sure it’s not too late if you’d rather spend the evening with your parents. Then I can go back to the office and get a headstart on next week’s—”

Ron leapt out of his chair and grabbed Hermione by the arm in one swift movement. “Don’t you bloody dare.”

“Why not? I’m clearly not everything you hoped for in a girlfriend.” 

She tried but failed to shake her arm free. Tears shone in her eyes but her gaze didn’t back down from Ron’s. And just like that, his anger melted into guilt. His tone softened as he pulled her closer.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I love you just the way you are.”

“Even if I’m late sometimes?”

Ron sighed. “Yeah, but I’d prefer it if you weren’t.” 

“You do realize that’s not loving someone just the way they are if you want them to change, right?” Hermione burst into laughter. 

“I’m not asking you to change. Just set some limits when it comes to work. When I’m finally done with Auror training, I’m not going to want to share you with paperwork on the nights we have off together.”

Hermione smiled as she trailed her fingertips up his arms, sending shivers down his spine. “I think that can be arranged.”

“I love you.” Ron leaned in and pressed a long-overdue kiss to her lips.

“I love you too. Now, what do you say we make the most of your remaining time off?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

#adenei #romione #ron weasley #hermione granger #ron x hermione #hp ff #hp fanfic #post war

[mina-roman]

OMGGG!!!Did I expect to be treated to Lumberjack Ron on my birthday? No. Did I need to? YES!!! 🥵🪓 Thank you so much!!!!

Wishing a very happy birthday to the lovely @mina-roman !

Sorry in advance for any Christmas songs you may find stuck in your head

🌲🎄🌲

A Thing For Lumberjacks

“Let’s pop in here,” Hermione says, tugging at Ron’s hand to pull him towards the holiday shop. “I need a new tree, mine’s gone out.”

Ron chuckles, but lets her drag him along without resistance. “You mean your lights have gone out.”

“Well, yes.” The bell over the door chimes their arrival, but the soft tinkle goes unnoticed in the low, constant hum of the shop. “But they’re twisted up in the tree, you know. So many of the artificial trees are pre-lit now. The lights fail, and then you have to replace the whole thing. It’s quite a racket, really.”

“Pre-lit?” Ron echoes, following her through the crowded shop as she searches for trees among the myriad decorations available for purchase. “Artificial?” When she turns to look at him, he’s clutching his heart as if she’s said something horribly offensive. “No, no, you’ve got to get a live tree. It’s the only way to go.”

Artificial trees had been the only type to ever grace the Grangers’ living room as she was growing up, and she tells him so. “Besides, I wouldn’t have the faintest idea how to care for a real one. They’re a fire hazard once they dry out.”

“Good thing your boyfriend was raised on a Christmas tree farm,” Ron retorts, drawing out the words.

“Oh, stop, no you weren’t.” They had enough mutual friends at uni to have met on multiple previous occasions, but they’ve only been seeing each other properly for a few weeks, since reconnecting at Susan Bones’s Halloween party. Even so, Hermione is sure she would know by now if Ron’s family farm raised Christmas trees as its main crop.

“Yes. I was.”

She halts her search and looks up at Ron, scanning his face for any sign that he’s joking and finding none. “An actual Christmas tree farm?” she questions. “That’s what Weasley Farms is?”

Ron laughs, and the sound warms her down to her toes. “Yeah. What’d you think it was?”

“Well, I don’t know, I suppose. Not Christmas trees.”

He wraps an arm around her shoulder and steers her to the back corner of the shop, where a variety of plastic pines and firs stand glowing and blinking with their pre-installed lights. “Go on, then. Pick out your artificial rubbish, and then I’ll take you out to Devon next weekend so we can get you a proper tree.”

🌲🌲🌲🌲

Hermione had no idea what to expect, really. A Christmas tree farm. But she’s sure, had she tried to envision Weasley Farms, her imagination would have fallen far short of the reality.

A perfectly curated forest of evergreen stretches out before her, and Ron’s hand entwined with hers staves off the chill that nips at her nose. Behind them stands a sprawling farmhouse—Ron grew up with six siblings, after all—that maintains its charm despite its size, and beyond that is a small tool shed.

“It’s not much,” Ron says with a shrug, “but it’s home.”

Hermione turns to gawk at him. “Are you serious? It’s beautiful here.”

“Well, yeah, I mean…I think so, but…” He trails off, and a smile spreads on his lips. “Come on, let me show you around.”

The house is surprisingly quiet, though Hermione supposes it’s not too unusual as all the kids are grown, and Ron notes that his parents have probably gone into town.

“They know we’re coming,” Ron says as he leads her to the tool shed. “Mum’s probably at the market prepping a feast for twelve.”

The hinge creaks as the door swings inward. It’s dim inside, but Ron seems to know exactly where to go as he paces a straight line down the front wall and grabs something from near the floor. As he returns to Hermione, she realizes that what he’s holding is an ax.

Giving the tool a puzzled frown, she asks, “What on earth are you going to do with that?”

Ron laughs as he latches the shed behind them. “We’re getting you a proper tree, remember?”

“I—” Hermione stops, lost for words. It seems silly to ask; even if she had gotten a live tree in London, it would have to come from somewhere, but she’s never before considered the logistics. “You’re going to cut it down yourself?”

“Yeah, of course.” He smirks at her. “Unless you want to give it a go?”

Hermione snorts. “No, thank you. We both arrived here with two arms and two legs, and I would like to leave the same way.”

Ron slips his free hand into hers as they make their way to the trees. “Alright,” he says, stopping at the edge. “Pick one.”

“Pick one?” Hermione repeats. “Just like that? Aren’t you going to give me any pointers?”

“Well, what’s your preference? There’s tall trees, short ones, thicker branches…Do you need a solid stem up top? How heavy is your tree topper?”

“I can honestly say I’ve never given so much thought to a tree before.” Hermione begins a slow walk down one of the rows, letting the needles sift through her fingers. She expected them to be tough and pointy, to prick her hand, but they’re actually quite soft, and the scent of pine wafts into the air from her touch. “I don’t know. What sort do you like?”

Ron takes her all through the farm, showing her the different types of trees and explaining the benefits of each. She finally settles on a type that Ron deems the most low maintenance, terrified that she’ll forget to water it properly, and stands back to watch him cut down her selection.

He shrugs out of his coat, tossing it carelessly to the ground beside him, and pushes up the sleeves of his jumper before he raises the ax. Hermione watches the muscles of his arm tense as he chops into the tree with practiced strokes, cutting it down in no time.

As it tips to the ground, he turns and grins at her. “There you go. Your first real tree.”

Hermione approaches him, ignoring the tree as she laces her arms around his neck. “How long do you think we have before your parents come home?” she murmurs.

Ron laughs as he leans in to kiss her. “I had no idea you had a thing for lumberjacks.”

“Mm, neither did I, but…” Her eyes flicker to the tree, and the ax still in Ron’s hand, before landing back on his piercing blue gaze.

His lips meet hers eagerly, and she doesn’t bother finishing her sentence.

#voldemorts-tap-shoes #romione #ron weasley #hermione granger #ron x hermoine #hp au #hp ff #hp fanfic #hp christmas

[mina-roman]

I’m here to leave you some love and tell you that you are SMASHING IT! Have a lovely Sunday 😘

Not a Sunday anymore bc I’m bad at checking Tumblr but thank you 💜💜

[mina-roman]

Ahhh hello! 😍

Not a Last Resort

We can’t get enough of #fakedating! Enjoy this take from @mina-roman!

Fic Title: Not a Last Resort Author Name: Mina_Roman Selected Trope: Fake Dating Brief Summary: Hermione tells a fib when she gets asked to the Slug Club’s Christmas Party Word Count: 2,771 Rating: G

* * *

Part I: The Lie

As Hermione perused the aisles of the library, running her fingers down the leather spines of books, she became lost in her own thoughts. After an early rise this morning, she’d finished the ten inches for Defence Against the Dark Arts, revised her Ancient Runes translation, and gotten started on her Arithmancy reading—and she would still be able to meet Ron and Harry for a late breakfast in an hour. Finally, her eyes halted on the copy of New Theory of Numerology, Vol. II that she’d been looking for. Pulling it off the shelf, she flickered through its pages, absorbing the information as her fingers hovered over key names and theorems until a shadow caused the words to disappear. 

Hermione looked up and frowned at the sight of Cormac. 

“Hey, Granger.” 

“Hi.”

“I thought I’d find you here. You always have your nose in a book. Or your hand on one.” Cormac flashed her a pearly-white smile as if he’d taken lessons from Professor Lockhart. “So, the Slug Club’s Christmas party is around the corner. I’m single, and I know you are too…” When Hermione didn’t reply, he added, “Come as my date.”

“No.” Realising how curt she sounded, she forced a small smile. “I can’t.” 

It wasn’t the first time she’d been asked to a dance by someone she hadn’t wanted to go out with. When Viktor had asked, Hermione hadn’t processed that he was asking her as his date. Lost in the moment, she’d stuttered out a yes though her heart had cried out against it. Then Neville had also asked, but turning him down had come easily because she already had a date. Ron asking was different. Her stomach had squirmed with the admission of the truth and how much she wished it weren’t the case. But still, she knows now that her pride would’ve kept her from agreeing as he never had truly considered to even ask. 

Keep reading

#mina_roman #original #ron x hermione #romione #ron weasley #hermione granger #hp au #hbp #hp ff #hp fanfic #fake dating #romione-trope-fest

[mina-roman]

The Games

For today’s second fic, enjoy a brilliant Hunger Games inspired Fuck or Die from @voldemorts-tap-shoes!!

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Fic Title - The Games Author Name - @voldemorts-tap-shoes/smjl Selected Trope - Fuck or Die Brief Summary - Forced into a brutal competition that pits purebloods against muggleborns, Ron and Hermione encounter an unexpected obstacle in the arena. Word Count - 4335 Rating - E Any Trigger Warnings - mentions of non-character death and wizarding prejudice, explicit sexual content

***

If she lived to be a thousand years old, Hermione Granger would’ve never expected to be here again. Traipsing through these dense woods, stripped of her wand and fighting for her life. Not that she’d been given a choice either time that her name was drawn for the Games.

The competition was different this time. There were, of course, a few of the purebloods who were hungry for another victory to notch in their belts, but the general feeling among the victors that had been plucked from their plush post-Games lives for a special anniversary clash was one of resentment. Why us? Why now? Why again?

The underlying discontent had forged a loose alliance among the majority of the group, an idea that maybe they weren’t their own worst enemies. The Games were, for the first time, the tributes versus the Ministry and not each other.

Of course, that only went so far in practicality, with the more avid purebloods still on a violent quest to be the last one standing. They thrived in this environment, which was why the Ministry continued to include them in the annual Games, and why Hermione was currently hiking through the forest, looking for a place to hunker down for the night. Her legs and lungs burned from the added exertion of the extra weight she was supporting, from her injured ally: pure-blood Ron Weasley.

He wasn’t like the others; their paths had crossed before, as there was no denying a request from the Ministry when they wanted their victors to make an appearance. A muggleborn, even the few like Hermione who managed to win their Games, was still a muggleborn, and most of the purebloods gave her a wide berth at Ministry functions. Not Ron.

The first time she met him was at the victory celebration for his Games, just the year after hers. His had been one of the shortest on record, ended by the early elimination of all the muggleborns rather than by having a single victor. There was absolutely nothing about the event that Hermione felt like celebrating, other than the passing of the torch that meant she was no longer the reigning winner of the Games, and when Ron had cheerfully introduced himself, she had brushed him off. He was a pureblood, after all, and they were all the same. Or so she had thought at the time.

Keep reading

#voldemorts-tap-shoes #trope fest 2022 #ron x hermione #romione #hp ff #otp #ron weasley #hermione granger #one shot

[mina-roman]

I love this missing moment 🥺

Hey :) if you are taking requests I’d love if you could write something cute for romione in Deathly Hallows when (I just have this headcanon but it’s obviously canon because it doesn’t make sense otherwise) Ron and Hermione slept in the same room together while Harry slept at Sirius’s (I mean Hermione didn’t want to sleep alone and the fact that Harry wants to sleep by himself doesn’t change that yk?… I mean you get it lol) so yeah anything with a lot of fluff. I’ll love anything you’d write anyway ;)

This is a lovely idea and I've ended up writing something Hinny/Romione related with a bit of guy love too, since I've written so many drabbles already that feature around someone being in bed.

Hopefully, you'll still enjoy this one!

---

Grimmauld Place is empty, devoid of all the noise that made it one of Harry’s favourite places. He’s sure that’s why the smallest creak of the floorboards from the level below forces him out of bed, even though it’s barely morning. After grabbing his wand, and igniting it with a quick Lumos, he stumbles out of the room towards the stairs.

It had been too difficult to sleep anyway, and as soon as he stepped into Sirius’ old bedroom, Harry regretted telling Ron and Hermione he preferred to be alone. But his best friends had been too consumed in something else and Harry couldn’t handle the oppressive loneliness that sunk over his heart.

Ron emerges from the second floor bathroom as Harry reaches the bottom of the steps. Not noticing the wand light, the redhead creeps towards the bedroom Hermione picked out yesterday.

His loneliness forgotten, a swell of pride fills Harry’s heart. Although their timing could be better, and the bubble of jealousy still simmers low in his stomach at the realisation that his best friends are getting something still well out of his grasp, Harry is glad Ron and Hermione are finally on the right track.

Clearing his throat, he grins as his best friend spins around, his own wand now raised in defence.

“Harry!” Ron whisper-shouts. “You scared the fuck out of me! Why are you awake?”

Harry lowers his wand before replying, “Couldn’t sleep. I thought you were crashing in our old room?”

The tips of Ron’s ears shine pink through the darkness, and the gangly git shifts awkwardly from foot to foot. “Yeah, I am. I’m just checking on her.” Before Harry can speak again, Ron’s rambles continue, “Alright, she didn’t want to sleep alone. But I promise there’s no funny business. We wouldn’t not whil—”

“Ron,” Harry interrupts with a laugh. “I’m not Molly. It’s fine, I promise. Not that you need my permission.”

“But she’s like a sister to you, and I know I gave you shit about Ginny.”

Ginny. Harry can’t let the grief from his missed love take over, or he’ll never survive the hunt. Instead, he chooses to get a little more joy out teasing Ron.

“Mate, I’m just glad the two of you finally sorted your shit out. It’s been a fucking nightmare being caught in between you the past six years.”

Ron’s blush shifts from his ears to his cheeks and he stares at his feet briefly before lifting his gaze to meet Harry’s. His eyes sparkle with excitement, taking Harry by surprise. Another surge of jealousy flips Harry’s stomach, but he bites back the bitter taste.

“Yeah,” Ron says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Reckon it’s been a bit hard for you. Sorry.” He glances towards the door once more before adding, “Cheers Harry, see you in a bit, yeah?”

“Yeah, alright.”

But despite the good news, sleep is out of Harry’s grasp. With a small smile, he heads down to the basement kitchen to get on with his plans.

#accio-broom #romione #ron weasley #hermione granger #ron x hermione #mm #dh #ff #hp ff #harry potter #brotp

[mina-roman]

Just a friendly reminder and PSA for those who engage in fanfic & art of all fandoms:

For Fic Readers:

Please remember we do this for free.

Writers are always thankful for kudos, notes, and reviews!!

BUT when you send us requests asking when something will update, that can be stressful and can turn us off from wanting to provide an update.

We are no longer writing and outputting fics as fast as we could during quarantine. Lives are resuming, and we don't have as much writing time.

We love your support but please support us by sharing your reactions and excitement when we ARE able to update (not by asking when because honestly, we don't know any more than you do most of the time).

Seriously, we love that sort of interaction.

Please be patient with writers because again, we do this for free.

For fic writers:

It is OKAY to take a step back from writing if you need it.

It's okay to take as long as you need for an update.

You don't owe anyone speedy updates.

You are loved and appreciated (even in the responses that include nothing above a 'more please').

Keep on keepin' on, but only if your heart is in it!

Do this for you 💜

💜 Be kind and spread the love 💜

#fanfic author #fanfic writer #positive support for content creators

[mina-roman]

Valentine’s day Illustration! 🧡 This time, the cute/awkward moment between Ron and Hermione from Harry Potter and the prisoner of Azkaban. Hope you like it!

#romione #ron weasley #hermione granger #fanart #ron x hermione #hp fan art #virtual-spell

[mina-roman]

CONGRATS ON 500 FOLLOWERS you truly deserve it and way more I just love you writing so much whenever you post something new it just always makes my day 💞

Can you write a drabble of Ron and Hermione when Molly ask them to do something (some chore, cooking or something) before harry comes to the burrow in deathly hallows and they’re blushing a lot because they’re fcking in love and so cute

tysm<3

Thank you so much lovely anon. Your ask actually sparked TWO ideas, so here's one story now and I'll be posting another on the 21st! I hope that you enjoy them both! <3

---

The laundry basket rests on the edge of Ron’s bed, and Hermione sighs as she digs out another item and blindly folds it. Although the monotony of the task allows her the brain space to run through the plans and lists of things she, Ron and Harry might need when they leave the Burrow, she can’t help feeling that it’s wasted time.

Adding the folded top to the growing pile, she reaches in again. She loops her fingers around it and pulls it out, but she’s distracted by the bedroom door swinging open.

“What the hell are you doing with those?”

Ron’s shout makes Hermione jump out of her skin, and if her hands weren’t already full, she might have reached for her wand to hex him. Instead, she glances down at the bright orange material in her hands. The Chudley Cannons logos emblazoned all over the boxers confirms that yes, they do belong to Ron.

“Hermione, what are you doing with my pants?”

The tips of his ears are pink as he glares at the offending item, unable to meet Hermione’s eyes. His reaction gives her a strange sense of glee as she waves them in his face.

“They’re only boxers, Ron,” she says with a laugh.

“But they’re mine. Give them back!”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you manhandling my pants. What are you doing with them, anyway?”

Hermione scoffs. “Your mum asked me to sort the laundry, so that’s what I’m doing. But now I'm looking at them, I should add these pants to my ‘to-pack’ pile because these are the least holey I’ve spotted.”

“So you’ve looked at more?” Ron is incredulous, and now his whole face is red.

A wicked thought grasps hold of Hermione, and she smirks at Ron as she asks, “Don’t you want me looking at your pants?”

“Well, yes, maybe.” He’s so flustered, he’s struggling to get the words out. “Not like this.”

“Not like this?”

Ron gets close enough to yank them out of her hands, and he holds them close to his chest, like a dragon defending it’s eggs. “Look,” he spits out. “Just leave packing my pants to me, okay? Or I’ll head downstairs to Ginny’s room and have a nose at yours!”

Dread fills her body, sending a shiver down her spine. She doesn’t want Ron looking at her pants! “You wouldn’t dare!”

He’s more confident now, and he quirks an eyebrow at her as he challenges, “Won’t I?”

Before she has a chance to grab hold of him, he leaves the room, his feet thundering down the steps like a stampede of Hippogriffs. He still has his own pants with him, but now she’s worried he’s going to look at her knickers.

And if he finds them in her bag, he’ll spot a whole wealth of other things she doesn’t want him to see.

“Ron Weasley!” she shouts from the top of the stairs, a serious look on her face. “Get back here right now!”

#accio-broom #romione #ron weasley #hermione granger #ron x hermione #dh #mm #hp ff #ff

[mina-roman]

This was so awkward and sweet 🥺

3rd year Romione hogsmeade kiss fanfic <3

Hiiii @cynthia-granger thank you for the ask. As soon as I saw it, I knew what I had to put down. I hope you enjoy it! <3 I know the moment at the Shrieking Shack is movie!canon, rather than book!canon, but I couldn't resist exploring what might have happened if Malfoy and his goons hadn't turned up. ---

It’s cold in Hogsmeade today, but I haven’t turned into an ice cube. Although my breath fogs the air and there’s a hole in my gloves, my body is warm.

It could be because of the person standing next to me. Ron radiates heat all of the time, but I’m not complaining about it for once. My heart pounds as we peer at the Shrieking Shack. I’m not sure if it’s my imagination or the stories we’ve been fed about the place, but I’m sure I can see the building tilting and wavering in the harsh winter wind.

A howl sounds from across the valley, sending a shiver down my spine. We’re here alone. It’s the first time we’ve ever done something only us two, and it’s strange, but not all together un-welcome. There’s a relief I wasn’t expecting on discovering we can maintain conversation without Harry, and that Ron and I get along fine.

“Do you want to move a bit closer?” I ask, even though it’s the last thing on my mind.

“What?”

It’s like my words have snapped Ron out of a reverie and he peers at me, one eyebrow cocked in confusion.

It takes me a moment to work out why he’s perplexed. Although we’re close enough that I could stretch out my pinky and touch his hand on the wire fence, there is still the slightest of gaps between us.

I’m aghast by the insinuation. It’s not that I’m grossed out by Ron or anything—far from it—but, I’ve never considered him that way ever before.

Okay, that might be a lie.

I tilt my head towards the building that’s still swaying and groaning in the wind. “The shack…”

“Oh.” Pink heat floods Ron’s face, from the bottom of his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “No thanks. I’m fine here.”

A moment passes between us as we maintain eye contact. My body betrays me as my gaze slips to his lips. They’re cracked and dry from the frozen tundra blowing around us, yet still they invite me in. Without registering what’s going on, I step closer, and my hand finds its way to the zipper of Ron’s coat.

I lose control of my body, stretching on my tiptoes to press the softest of kisses against his lips. It’s so light, it’s almost like it barely happened, yet fireworks explode as our lips make contact.

As I pull away, I spot a strange look on Ron’s face, as if a rogue bludger has hit him on the head. He touches his lips with his fingers before a massive lop-sided grin breaks over his face.

“Uhm, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

It’s awkward as hell, but what do I expect from inexplicably kissing my best friend? With a sigh, I turn back to watch the Shrieking Shack, but he shifts close enough for our shoulders to touch, and I smile to myself.

Maybe that wasn’t so bad after all.

#accio-broom #poa #ron weasley #hermione granger #ron x hermione #romione #fluff #fluffy #drabble #Hp ff

[mina-roman]

I've read this so many times and I'm not over Ron calling himself a monster 😩 Thank you friend 💜

Hello you! Your writing is beautiful and makes my day anytime I read it 💜 It's not in your list, but please could you write a piece post-DoM about Ron dealing with the brain tentacle trauma? 🥺 I enjoy having my heart ripped out. Thank you!

iya pal, thank you so much for suggesting this, and giving me IDEAs but encouraging me to read stuff I wouldn't normally. You're one of the best people in my life (you and the Circle Crew) and I know how much you enjoy your heart being stomped on.

So here's your drabble, I hope you cry! <3

Before anyone reads, there's a massive TW for angst and PTSD here. You can all have your hearts broken, but please be safe about it.

My ask box is always open, whether you want to request a story from my prompts list, or just need to chat.

Almost Broken

Ron knows when Hermione is around, but he hasn’t always.

It’s a feeling that’s been growing for a while. Her presence sets every hair on his arm on edge and sends his pulse racing. Sometimes, it’s hard being in the same room with her, but he tries his best anyway.

He’s not surprised—they’ve spent almost every waking hour together since the age of eleven, studying and hanging around. And since McGonagall made them Prefects last September, their closeness has only grown.

Maybe he’s just used to her being there.

This morning, the sun is low, barely poking its head over the top of Stoat’s Head Hill. Ron isn’t usually awake this early, but Mum promised the rays would help with the scarring on his arms. But he isn’t sure he wants anyone else to see yet. So he comes out to the garden at the crack of dawn to bask in the morning light.

It’s easier to hide at this time of the day.

Ever since Dumbledore delivered them back to Hogwarts, and to the safety of the Infirmary, the adults have been asking questions. “What happened? Why did you go to the Department of Mysteries? Why did you accio the brains?”

He doesn’t know. He can’t even remember what spell the Death Eater hit him with. All he can recall is finding everything far too funny, and the tightening grip around his neck as something tried to choke the life out of him, and then nothing until the Headmaster’s booming voice woke him.

Footsteps sound in the gravel behind him, and Ron scrambles to pull down the arms of his sleeves before Hermione can see them. He doesn’t even get them to his elbows when she mumbles, “Don’t,” before plonking herself on the blanket next to him. “You don’t need to hide them from me, Ron.”

“Yes, I do. They’re disgusting.”

This is the way their conversations are now. Stark and honest, with no pleasantries before them. If Harry were around, they’d be acting differently—more civil with over the top banter—but while it’s only the two of them, they’re more open with each other.

Hermione tuts and Ron turns his head to look at her, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. How often have they exchanged this back and forth since she arrived at the Burrow five days ago with her own bandages, a pale face and deep purple circles under her eyes.

They’re both concerned about each other, although neither of them will admit it.

“Would you say that about mine?” she scoffs, tilting her head back to expose her own wounds.

A white plaster pokes from the collar of her t-shirt, protecting the spot where Dolohov’s curse hit her. The healers are stumped—none of them can work out what he used—but thankfully, Hermione seems to be healing okay.

At least outwardly.

“Never,” Ron replies. It’s a simple statement, but it’s one that’s loaded with far more that he longs to say. Your scars make you even more beautiful. You’re ferocious, amazing, scary as fuck. And I’m proud.

She rests her hand on his arm, being careful of the jagged circles of pink flesh, still raw and hurting. It’s an automatic action, yet the sensation of skin on skin sets off a riot of revulsion in Ron’s head. Because it’s her, he manages to keep a slight grasp of control to stop the sickness from overcoming him. But still, he pulls away from her touch and winces at the hurt look spreading over her face.

“I said don’t.”

Hermione sighs and moves her hand back to her lap before staring out at the garden as it wakes. The Gnomes are already out and about, getting on with whatever business Garden Gnomes have to do whilst trying to avoid the yellow-eyed glare of Crookshanks. The trees in the orchard wave their greetings to each other in the light summer breeze, and everything looks hopeful and fresh and new.

“Thoughts leave deeper scars than almost everything else,” she finally says. “At least that’s what Madam Pomfrey says. Don’t you remember anything about…”

“No,” Ron sighs out. “Nothing. I wish I did. I wish it hadn’t happened, so I could have protected—”

“Ron. Stop.”

She touches his cheek as if to stop the words from spilling out. Although he braces himself for the flinch, it doesn’t come. The heat that spreads from Hermione’s palm spreads across Ron’s pale skin, distracting him from the voice screaming to knock her hand away. His chest heaves and a tremor passes through him as the war inside still rages on.

But on the outside, he rests his head against her hand and closes his eyes.

After the attack, he wasn’t sure if he would ever be the same old Ron Weasley. The brains and their tentacles left behind far more than the scars running over his arms. And although it’s been a month since their failed mission at the Ministry of Magic, the nightmares still haunt him, each one worse than the last, as if they’re building up to one final explosion.

But it never comes.

They seep past the dreamless sleep, the worried whispers of his mum as she tucks him into bed despite his age. They’ve gotten so bad, Ron has considered stopping trying to sleep altogether.

If he were old enough, he’d have hit the Firewhiskey hard. Maybe that might numb everything he feels.

Ron came close to losing everything he loved—Hermione, Harry, Ginny, his friends. He’s not sure how he would have coped. They all survived, so why is he so fucking fucked up?

Well, almost everyone. A wave of guilt crashes over Ron as he remembers Harry’s devastation at losing Sirius—his best friend’s one hope of a proper family. Yet the Death Eaters got away scot-free.

It’s so unfair.

“It’ll get better, I promise,” Hermione whispers, her thumb caressing a circle over his freckles.

He blinks away the tears burning behind his lids, the tips of his ears heating up in shame. Ron has never felt so exposed before. Hermione’s gaze burns into him—it’s as if she can see inside him and right through to his deepest fears and desires. Yet she’s not running away.

Ron risks a glance at her face and, instead of judgement, only sees kindness and concern. And perhaps something else? He shakes the idea away. There’s no way someone like Hermione would fall for someone like him. Especially now he’s so damaged. Girls like her don’t go for monsters like him, with his inability to sleep and body covered with scars.

Why would she want someone who can’t even handle anyone touching him? What kind of relationship could he give her?

That door has been closed for good.

But maybe she’s right. Perhaps Ron’s head will eventually get better. He has to believe in something to get him through the darkest of his thoughts, so he nods.

“Yeah, probably.”

#accio-broom #ron weasley #hermione granger #post ootp #pre hbp #ronmione #romione #angst #the feels #angsty #hp ff #hp fanfic #drabble #one shot #hbp #mm

[mina-roman]

SUBMIT HERE!

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[mina-roman]

It's @adenei's birthday today! She is the most amazing Romione, Hinny & Jily writer and if you haven't already read ALL of her fics, then why are you still here? She's been on at me for a long time to have a go at writing some Jily, and I figured if I was going to try it for the first time, then it should be for her birthday.

I hope you enjoy this story, Adenei, and I really hope you have a lovely day. Merlin knows you deserve it! xxx

Secret Santa

Shopping in Muggle London is grim. Of course, this is the only experience Sirius has had of it so far in his short life, but it’s nothing like he expected or hoped.

It doesn’t help that he’d rather be anywhere else than here. Perhaps cosied up next to the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room or sitting in the Three Broomsticks with a glass of Firewhiskey. Instead, his feet burn with the pain of being on them for far too long. He’s cold and wet and thoroughly pissed off.

He thought Christmas was about snow, festive music and kindness to all men. It hasn’t stopped raining, and it’s not a light drizzle, but the icy stuff that falls sideways in an attempt to soak every inch of his bones. The rest of the shoppers on Oxford Street have been mean and rude, using their shoulders to shove past him and even shouting a few choice swear words at him if he dares to stop to glance at a storefront.

Not even the fancy decorations—thousands of fairy lights and garlands strung from shop to shop and across the bustling road—can cheer him up. Nope. Sirius Black has made his mind up—Oxford Street and Muggle London can fuck right off.

“Come on, Prongs,” Sirius whines. “We have to admit defeat, there’s nothing here for her.”

James stands in front of the last spot they have to visit, a sprawling department store with a green facade. It’s already growing dark, and the light from the many vast windows illuminates the wet pavement under their feet.

He sighs before turning to his best friend. “One more. There has to be something here. The sign says it sells everything. Look, whatever the outcome, I promise we’ll go back to the Leaky after this, and I’ll treat you to a Firewhiskey before we get the Knight Bus back North.”

“Make it two?”

“Fine.”

Dropping his head to one shoulder and the other, Sirius winces at the loud crack that comes from all the tension he’s held in his neck all day. If James knew what Sirius had done, he would argue that Sirius deserves the punishment since he was the one who suggested the bleeding Secret Santa in the first place. Sirius regards the store for a moment longer, letting his thoughts drift back to the evening in the common room when he first floated the idea amongst his friends.

⁂

“What have you been taking?” James asks, his eyebrows raised high into his black floppy fringe. “What is this Secret Santa malarkey?”

Sirius grins in response, passing out the parchment slips he’d spent the last ten minutes of Potions preparing. “It’s our last Christmas at Hogwarts, and most of us will be at home for it. So I reckon it’ll be a great idea to swap presents before we get on the train. Write your name and chuck it in the hat. Once everyone is in there, you pull a different name out and buy that person a present.

“Only, you have to keep who you have a secret.”

The rest of the Gryffindors stare at him, looking unsold on the idea.

“Look, I promise I’m not up to something or yanking your wand,” he continues. “The Muggles love it, some do it every single year, especially if you work in an office. Would I propose something that could potentially be harmful?”

“100%,” Remus quips, eliciting a laugh from the rest of the watching students.

Lily joins in with a bright smile on her face. “I’m usually with Remus and always err on the side of caution when you’re involved, Sirius. But I can vouch that Secret Santa is safe and a nice way for us to share presents without having to buy for everyone.”

Her words are enough to bring assurance to everyone else, and soon, the pointed black wizard hat is full of folded up slips of parchment. Sirius’ stomach leaps with excitement as he watches James and Lily add their names in, too. He’s not saying that his idea is an elaborate plan to force the pair of idiots together, but if it’s a result of the present giving, well, James will surely owe him for life.

It’s easy enough to fix the draw. The Seventh year students have been practising wandless and non-verbal magic since last September, and Sirius is one of the best in the class. As the hat makes its way back around the group, he mutters a quick name-switching charm when it reaches James. Despite Potter’s best attempts to dig deep, Sirius is confident he can only pull one name out.

James regards his slip without surprise before folding it back up and shoving it in his pocket. His gaze falls to Sirius, and he questions above the heads of everyone else, “You meddled, didn’t you?”

“Nah, how could I have? The concept is far too simple to be susceptible to magic.”

Maybe Sirius should be offended about the lack of trust his so-called best friend has in him. They’ve seen each other at their best and worst, after all. Surely James knows Sirius only has his best interests at heart.

The hat moves on, and Sirius remembers to remove the charm after it’s been past Lily.

I’m a fucking genius. If this pays off, I should get an Order of Merlin.

⁂

“Are you coming or what, Padfoot?” James’ weary voice cuts through Sirius’ daydreams. The curly-haired wizard shakes the thoughts out of his head before pasting the biggest smile on his face.

One more shop, and then it's Firewhiskey time.

“Alright,” he says with a sigh. “But after this, I’m going home, with or without you.”

⁂

If the atmosphere on the street was terrible, it’s ten times worse inside the department store. Sirius loosens his scarf and coat, already burning up from the intensity of the heating. It’s like they’ve let a dragon loose inside the shop.

He’s always considered himself a Muggle-friendly kind of guy. He devours the information in their Muggle Studies textbooks, and when he’s home for the holidays, he enjoys being out and about around the village or drinking in the local pub with them. But the brutal shoppers and lack of manners on display outside Oxford Street are intensified under the harsh white strip lighting in the store.

Sirius is beginning to understand why Voldemort might want to eradicate all non-magical folk.

They follow a set of brightly coloured posters and red footsteps on the linoleum floor to the Christmas department. Surely there will be something there for them?

“She likes music,” James mutters for the hundredth time that day. “It’s all she harps on about. Sha-woddywoddy, Fabba and Hot Chocolate. What if I get her something musical related?”

“I know just the thing.”

The voice appears out of nowhere, and both men turn around in surprise to find the source. A pretty shop assistant who wears a ton of makeup and has her blonde hair piled high on her head waits next to the fairy light stand. She had unbuttoned her blouse enough to show only a hint of cleavage, and Sirius feels a stirring deep in his belly at the sight of her.

Don’t get distracted now.

She’s the exact kind of woman he looks for when he ventures into Muggle areas in search of a date, but James is determined to ruin his day.

“Really?” he asks, plonking his hands on his hips. “You know the perfect present for a music loving seventeen year old?”

“Absolutely. I was one of them not long ago. Follow me.”

Turning left and right a few times, the trio weaves their way through stalls and stands, and Sirius soon loses his way. They pass through numerous departments, past posters for shaving products and the newest fancy lingerie. Sirius ponders stopping them and suggesting to James something red and fancy might be the perfect present idea, but the thought of being hexed to oblivion stops him, and he chooses to wait to see what the assistant offers first.

After what feels like an hour of walking, but can’t be more than a minute, she stops in front of a set of empty shelves. “Ah. I’d hoped we still had some left, but it seems we’ve missed the rush.” The assistant pulls a piece of paper out of a pocket in her skirt and consults it for a moment. “We may have something similar left, but they’re for—”

“It doesn’t matter. We’ll take it.”

“Are you sure because—”

“Nope. You’ve sold me on it. Just tell me where to go and pay.”

She raises her eyebrows at James’ keenness and points them in the direction of the cash desk. “It’s over there. I’ll get it wrapped.”

⁂

Ten minutes later, the two men are back out on the street, a plastic carrier bag swinging from James’ hand between them.

“Well, if we’d only visited there straight away, we could have been home in time to visit Hogsmeade,” he jokes, his voice light with the knowledge he’s achieved his task.

“Don’t,” Sirius warns. “I don’t even want to consider how long we’ve wasted today. And I’ve bought nothing. She better appreciate the gift.”

“I know she will. And it turns out it was a lot cheaper than I expected, so it’s the perfect present. Now come on, it’s time for Firewhiskey.”

⁂

A couple of days later, with bags already packed, the Seventh year Gryffindors crowd around the massive Christmas tree in the common room. A pile of presents sit at the foot of it, and they’re all eager to get stuck in before boarding the train home for the holiday. Sirius, wearing a red Santa’s outfit for maximum effect, completes a quick head check to ensure they’re not missing anyone.

He observes with great amusement how James has chosen to sit opposite Lily this morning, giving the specky git the best spot to watch her. They’re sharing looks as if they’re the only people in the room, and Sirius resists the urge to roll his eyes. Soon, this annoying tension between them will dissipate, and if the Secret Santa doesn’t work, he’ll resort to bashing their heads together.

Sirius passes out the presents one by one, taking glee in announcing everyone’s name as he does. Only once the pile is diminished does he help himself to his own and sit back with it, smiling as he reveals a nice enough quill and notebook set.

Probably from Remus or Dorcas. I should have fixed it so I had someone fun, too.

Lily unpicks the tape and takes her time to unwrap her present. A quick glance tells Sirius that James hasn’t made a start on his. He’s too fixated on ensuring he gave Lily the right gift. The nervous energy radiates from James, and Sirius gulps down the lump of nerves that have collected in his throat as his heart races in his chest.

She reveals the box, a frown appearing over her face. Lily flips it over, reading all of the information on that side too. The confused look soon disappears, and she erupts into a fit of giggles. “Who on earth bought me this?” she says through gasps of breaths, the box still gripped in her hand. “Honestly, this is genius, so clever.”

Sirius can tell James is taken aback by her reaction by the confusion plastered all over his face. James’ lips pull into a tight line as he watches her with wide eyes. “It’s a music player, isn’t it? The woman at the shop said it would be perfect.”

“It’s supposed to be a secret—”

“Oh James.” Lily wipes her eyes with her spare hand. “It is a music player, of sorts. Only…well…it’s a children’s version and only plays small snippets of well-known nursery rhymes.”

She snorts as her laughter continues, and soon, the rest of the students are giggling too. Well, everyone apart from one. James’ confused look morphs into a frown. “But…she said…I thought…” Anger clouds his face. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Throwing his own still wrapped present on the floor, James jumps to his feet and storms out of the common room, earning a disgruntled shout from the Fat Lady. Although the laughter continues to bounce around the room, Lily’s giggles have stopped as she stares after him. She makes a move as if she’s about to get to her feet, but Sirius stops her.

“Let me go first.”

⁂

James hasn’t gone far, only to the end of the corridor. His Head Boy badge allows him a lot of special treatment, including the impromptu shopping trip to Oxford Street, but he’ll be in serious trouble if he misses the Hogwarts Express. He kicks the stone wall next to the coat of armour and curses.

“Come on, Prongs, we didn't know Muggles have different versions of things for children. Especially not their crazy music players. I still think she loved—”

James shoots Sirius’ words dead with one glare. “I’m so fucked off. I tried so bloody hard to find something perfect for her. Nothing too romantic, because she’s so fed up with me trying it on with her. Nothing that could be interpreted as being too friend-like either, just in case she does have feelings for me. It’s a damn fucking minefield. I could kill you for suggesting this stupid Secret Santa thing. Either that, or hop on the Knight Bus and hex the bloody shop assistant. She knew who I was buying for.”

Sirius allows James to rant. He should get it all out of his system before Sirius tries to placate him, or Lily shows up because Sirius knows she will.

“You done?” he asks, trying his best to keep his face neutral. “Did you see how happy Lily was at the present? She loved it, and she saw the funny side of it. You need to calm down. And if you need to hex someone don’t bother with the Knight. We’lle’ll be back in London in a few hours, anyway.”

James runs his hand through his hair as Sirius searches for more ways to appease his best friend, but sympathy and caring has never been one of his strong points. And who can blame him, considering the family he was born into. But James has done so much for him, and all Sirius wanted was to make the guy happy.

“There’s no way we could have known. The woman told us it was a music player. It all looked perfect on paper.”

Footsteps cut through their conversation, and James’ head shoots up from where he’s staring at his trainers. His cheeks colour with heat, and Sirius spins around to see who’s approaching them.

“Red!” he declares, holding his arms out to Lily. “I promise we tried our best. We shopped for fucking days for you.”

Lily shushes Sirius and pushes past him, her attention fixed on James. “It was a lovely idea. I’ve been desperate to play some of my music for you, but I don’t think it would have worked in the castle. Muggle technology isn’t great around all this magic. Who the hell sells tiny versions of things for kids, anyway?”

Sirius’ heart pounds in anticipation as he watches the two of them. He should give them some space, and he’s surprised neither of them has told him to fuck off yet, but he can’t resist lingering for a moment longer.

His plan worked.

Sure, it didn’t pan out exactly how he wanted it to, but sometimes that’s better.

He takes a slight step back to give them the illusion of being alone but keeps his eyes trained on them, not wanting to miss a beat. Someone has to be around to witness Lily Evans and James Potter getting together, or nobody would believe it.

“You didn’t open your present,” Lily continues, her voice softer now as she passes James the small, squishy parcel. “It’s from me, a scarf. I made it myself.”

“It sounds lovely….”

It’s clear they only have eyes for each other. James takes the present, his fingers pressing against Lily’s for a moment longer than expected as his gaze drops to her lips. Red heat still burns in his cheeks, but he doesn’t make a move.

James, you fucking idiot. Take the hint. It’s clear she wants you too.

Maybe there’s one last thing Sirius can do for them, one final Christmas treat. It might be the push his best mate needs to close the gap and finally land the girl of his dreams. He slips his wand out of his sleeve and mutters a quiet incantation. Green sparks emit as he slices it through the air, drawing a wreath above the lovebird’s heads. Before tucking his wand away, Sirius adds a final flare—a sprig of mistletoe.

“Oh.” Lily gasps. “Would you look at that?”

James chuckles as he tears his eyes from her lips to look up, mirroring her moves. “Mistletoe…”

“Yeah…”

“Merry Christmas, Lily.”

“Merry Christmas, James.”

When James closes his eyes, Sirius takes it as his moment to move away. The corridor is quiet as he turns his back on the couple and gives them some privacy. Sirius doesn’t need to look to know that they’re finally snogging. Plus, he’s sure he’ll get all the gory details once they’re on the train later.

As Sirius walks back to the portrait hole, there’s a notable spring in his step. He puffs his chest out in pride. He’s delivered one of the best Christmas gifts ever, and finally, two of his best friends are sorting themselves out.

And it’s about bloody time.

#accio-broom #jily #james potter #lily evans #sirius black #james x lily #pre Hp #marauders era #hp ff #seventh year