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#Romione
answer-eight42 · 13 hours
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ronweasleys-world · 3 days
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Can someone tell Ron Weasley that he is loved.
Thanks.
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starlingflight · 19 hours
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A/N this is too long to count as a drabble but I have no self control.
Prompt: I20 — She went to the toilet and on her way back, opened the wrong door.
AO3 or read below:
“Did I mention it's infused with the natural rejuvenating properties of the spring?” Hermione asked for what must have been the fourth time since they'd begun the uncomfortably hot walk back from the ancient Grecian temple.
“Yes,” Fleur replied shortly. “You did.”
If Hermione heard her, she did an excellent job of not showing it as she continued. “It's said to have exceptionally powerful healing capabilities…”
Ginny stopped listening, letting Hermione's voice become a distant buzz which melded with the far-off rush of the sea sounding from the bottom of the cliff. Not for the first time, she wondered how exactly Ron and Harry had managed to get out of this particular excursion.
She kept her eyes focused on the villa, which finally came slowly into view ahead of her as Ginny tried very hard not to think about her dry throat, or the sticky sweat running down her back, or just how bloody warm it was.
It really shouldn't have been called a villa at all, in Ginny's opinion. The house – mansion – was huge, rising up against the dramatic backdrop of foliage-covered hills that lay behind it, shimmering like a brilliant white jewel in the blazing Greek sun as the three of them approached it.
Finally, they reached the whitewashed front steps. Ginny retained just enough self control to stop herself moaning in relief as they stepped through the rustic front door and into the blissfully cool air of the villa's lavish interior.
“I'm going to the bathroom,” she announced, cutting off Hermione's seemingly never ending lecture on the magical properties of ancient Greek amulets.
“I will get some wine,” Fleur said, her tone more like a command than a suggestion, but not one that Ginny currently felt inclined to argue with. “We will meet you by the pool.”
“I'm just going to put this in our room,” Hermione said, holding up the offending bronze amulet, which flashed eye-catchingly in the sunlight coming through the villa's many windows.
The three of them went their separate ways; Fleur headed straight ahead, towards the ridiculously opulent kitchen; Hermione turned left towards the wing – wing– that housed her and Ron's room for the week, and Ginny went right, hoping she could remember the route to the bathroom.
Upon locating it, Ginny went directly to the marble sink, set beneath a mirror which covered the whole wall, giving an excellent view of her red, and blotchy skin, and the way her hair, now damp with sweat, clung to her neck, hanging limply around her shoulders.
Desperately, she turned the shining golden tap, sighing in relief as a gush of cold water met the bare skin of her arm. She cupped her hands together, gathering pools of water and splashing it over her hot, irritated skin.
The relief, however, was fleeting, lasting mere seconds before the water evaporated and Ginny felt the closeness of the mid-afternoon heat surrounding her oppressively once more. Longingly, her mind filled with tempting images of the azure pool awaiting her outside.
She turned the tap again, ending the stream of cool water, before spinning on her heel intent on her new destination.
Her mind wasn't fully on the route to the bedroom that had been claimed by herself and Harry; Ginny was much too preoccupied fantasising about her plans to change into the smallest bikini that could still be considered acceptable for a family holiday, before sinking into the pool's inviting water for the rest of the afternoon.
It didn't become clear she'd chosen the wrong door until she'd already pushed it open and her lips had parted slightly in surprise at the scene that greeted her.
The room she’d entered was not their bedroom at all, but rather the small, richly decorated, library beside it, which she'd only bothered to enter once so far in the two days since they'd arrived in Crete, intent on finding a book for beside the pool. It was not, however, the shelves lined with books that captured Ginny's attention now, but rather the sight of Ron, who was balanced on one knee, holding a sparkling diamond ring aloft to Harry who was standing in front of him, one hand clasped in Ron's.
They both turned, evidently alerted to Ginny's presence by the creak of the door, identical looks of horror on their faces.
“Oh,” Ginny heard herself say.
“Ginny!” Ron hissed, dropping Harry's hand as though it was as burning hot as the sun outside.
“It's not what it looks like,” Harry added, nervously running his now-free hand through his hair.
The corners of Ginny's mouth twitched, her shock giving way to a great deal of amusement as she battled to keep her expression blank. “I'm so sorry to intrude.”
Harry shook his head vehemently. “You're not – obviously you're not – we were just –”
Ron shoved the delicate looking ring roughly back into his pocket as he stood, turning to her with panic in his eyes. “You weren't supposed to see–”
“It's alright,” Ginny assured, unable to stop her smirk from spreading across her face as they both rushed to give an explanation. “All I ever wanted was for the two of you to be happy – I'd assumed it would be with me and Hermione, but the heart wants what the heart wants, I suppose.”
“My heart doesn't–” Harry started.
“Don't be ridiculous!” Ron proclaimed at the same time.
“I'm not being ridiculous,” Ginny said through a laugh. “You know, Ron, when Mum taught us to share, I'm not sure spouses were what she had in mind.”
Ron surged forward, grabbing Ginny by the arm and pulling her into the room before kicking the door shut behind them. “Don't be so loud!”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “I don't think there’s much chance of Hermione hearing me from the other side of this ridiculously large house.”
Ron turned sharply to look at her. “Who said anything about Hermione?”
“Well, I'm assuming the ring’s for her,” Ginny countered reasonably. “...Unless you actually are planning on stealing my fiance, which would make the rest of this holiday very awkward.”
“Obviously it's for Hermione,” Harry confirmed quickly, shooting Ron a look that quite clearly said, 'help me out here.’
“Don't tell her,” Ron begged Ginny, ignoring Harry altogether. “I haven't figured out how to do it yet – Harry was helping me.”
Usually, having Ron at her mercy in such a manner would give Ginny an immense sense of satisfaction, on this occasion, however, she felt only a warm rush of affection for her brother and an uncharacteristic willingness to help, not that she would say as much to his face.
She crossed her arms, leaning back against the nearest bookshelf as she looked expectantly between Harry and Ron. “And what have you two Masters of Romance come up with so far?”
Harry frowned indignantly at her dry tone. “I got you to say yes, didn't I?”
Ginny shushed him with a wave of her hand, which incidentally bore the evidence of the truth of his argument in the form of a ruby and diamond engagement ring. “This isn't about us.”
She returned her attention to Ron, her eyebrows rising in silent question.
“Well,” he said weakly, the tips of his ears turning magnificently crimson. “I thought I could do it here – the island is nice – and I have the ring so the time seems right –”
“I told him not to overthink it,” Harry cut in, obviously pained by Ron's stuttered attempts at an explanation.
Ginny caught his eye and suddenly they were both grinning. “Was that before or after he got down on one knee for you?”
“Before,” Harry confirmed, unabashed now that the shock of being caught had worn off. “You interrupted the actual proposal… Ron's still waiting on my answer.”
Ginny shrugged unapologetically, her shoulder bumping against the leather-bound books behind her. “I can't say I'm sorry to have come in between the two of you.”
Harry sighed wistfully. “You never are.”
“You never want me to be.”
“Can you stop flirting for five minutes!” Ron snapped. “I'm trying to do something life changing here!”
Ginny dragged her eyes away from Harry's and back to Ron who was now leaning heavily against the antique sofa beside the window. “Harry's right, you're overthinking it. She was very charmed by the temple this morning– take her there at sunset and ask her.”
“Today?” Despite being on a Mediterranean island in the height of summer, Ron suddenly turned so pale it was hard to believe he'd ever seen the sun in his life. “You think I should ask her today?”
“Yes,” Ginny and Harry said in unison.
“You said yourself the time seems right,” Harry reminded him.
“Really, there's no time like the present,” Ginny concurred.
“But I don't know what to say,” Ron croaked, looking desperately between Ginny and Harry.
“‘Will you marry me?’ Is usually a good starting point,” Harry suggested.
Ginny hummed in agreement. “Yeah, that bit's quite key, I'd say.”
‘Will you marry me?’ Ron mouthed the words as though they were completely foreign to him. He suddenly bore a striking resemblance to his teenaged self in the run up to a Hogwarts Quidditch match, and for the first time since she'd entered the small library, Ginny felt as though she was intruding.
“I'm going to go,” she said gently, taking pity on Ron in the face of the enormous task ahead of him. “You two can keep practising.”
“You could stay?” Harry suggested. “We could probably use the help.”
Ginny shook her head, her part in this mission becoming clearer to her by the second. “I'm going to go and let Hermione talk my ear off about ancient Greek magic customs for the rest of the afternoon so she doesn't notice you're both missing.”
She and Harry shared a look of equal parts amusement and exasperation as Ginny took a step towards the door, both no doubt wondering which of them had the more challenging task ahead of them.
“I'll come and rescue you soon,” Harry assured her.
Ginny smirked at him as her hand found the door handle behind her. “Just promise me you'll try to resist Ron's charms.”
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albondiguilla007 · 2 days
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So:
I mostly opened this account to talk about Harry Potter with other fans. I need potterhead friends I’m begging you, take pity on me.
Stuff I’m constantly thinking about:
✨ We don’t judge here, every ship is welcome
✨But if it’s gay better
✨ I love the golden trio, I won’t stand for ANY kind of SLANDER, not of Ron, not of Hermione, least of all Harry. They are human, and they are good friends with flaws who love each other very much. They are growing up, grieving, taking care of each other and learning about life. I adore their friendship, and fanfics that give a realistic portrayal of their relationship will always be a soft spot of mine.
✨ Hot take: If you have any fanfic recommendation where they are romantically together (the three of them, as in an actual relationship), I would appreciate it very much
✨ Drarry (please) 🥵
✨ Wolfstar (they are my parents) 🐾🌒
✨ Jegulus (depending on the mood) Jegulily thooo 👀
✨ Tomarry? I’M A SLUT FOR TOMARRY (please I need more time travel fanfic recommendations) Some very good ones tho:
Terrible, but Great.
you belong to me (i belong to you).
Of Kings, of Pawns, and of Men.
Wear me like a locket around my throat
(all of them are in ao3)
✨ My boy Harry is incredibly underrated on his own series. He is amazing, I love him, I wish him all the happiness in the world. WE NEED MORE FANFICS WHERE THEY PORTRAY ALL HIS MENTAL STRUGGLES AND GRIEVING PROCESSESS. (He’s gone through so much, I don’t buy the way canon just swept everything under the rug and moved on)
✨ Draco Malfoy is a power bottom and you can’t change my mind
✨ Support sophithil on insta
✨ Another soft spot of mine? Fanfics where Harry time travels to a time where his parents are alive or a different dimension all together.
To make it better
Devil’s White Knight
Across the universe
You’re somebody else
(all in ao3 except Across the universe, that’s a short story in fanfic.net)
✨ My bedtime readings are hardcore Drarry smut with some very questionable dom/sub dynamics
✨ Canon Remus was a bit of a people pleaser with no personality, but I forgive him because fanon, obviously
✨Canon James Potter was a dick, but I forgive him too. He did change a bit after Hogwarts, but I keep hoping he would’ve matured more if he’d had the chance to grow up into an actual adult
✨ Aaron Taylor Johnson and every other version of James Potter is mine, no arguments
✨ NO SNAPE SLANDER. He is an amazing character, and a very complex one at that. He is not supposed to be a good person, but a complicated one with a gray set of values. Y’all do not understand that, and I’m tired of watching Marauders stans be so fucking hypocritical when it comes to him.
Crime and Punishment (an amazing severitus fic on ao3)
✨ August, Cardigan and Betty are about these three idiots (Lily, James and Regulus) and you can’t change my mind
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toorumlk · 3 hours
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grumpy when cold gf x warm bf
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romione-trope-fest · 2 days
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The Girl From The Bar
Title: The Girl From The Bar
Author: Be11atrixthestrange
Trope: Muggle AU
Summary: While studying at a coffee shop, Ron spots a missed connection from years ago. 
Word Count: 2015
Rating: M
-Four Years Ago-
The Leaky Canteen was a total dive. As much as the Weasleys wanted it to be a high-end establishment, it simply wasn’t, and it would never be. Grime and dirt lived on the floor permanently, no matter how hard Ron scrubbed and mopped at bar close. The upholstery on the booth benches ripped and frayed, revealing the discolored foam underneath, the paint peeled from the walls, and there was a permanent smoky stench that permeated the air, even though there were strict rules against smoking indoors. 
That aside, the bar managed to remain a hot spot on Friday and Saturday nights. Maybe it was the centralized location, the event calendar that was always too packed to staff appropriately, or the fact that they offered half-priced cocktails to all hen and stag parties. Scratch that, it was definitely the half-priced drinks. That was the reason that it was always bursting with loud, messy, disrespectful patrons, yet still struggled to profit enough each month to pay the lease. 
“Another Gold Rush please!” 
Ron glanced over his shoulder to see a blonde girl, probably mid-twenties, leaning against the bar. The bartop, which was still wet with a combination of beer, vodka, and water, left a dark mark across her dress, but she didn’t seem to notice. One hand held an empty cocktail glass, while the other clutched the countertop for stability as she teetered to the side. 
“You doing okay?” Ron threw his dish towel over his shoulder and propped his elbows onto the bar to look her in the eye. As he had predicted, her pupils were as wide as saucers. 
“Sogood,” she slurred, flashing him a smile. “Havingsomuchfun.”
“Gotcha,” said Ron, rising to his feet. “One Gold Rush, coming up.”
He reached for a coupe glass and a boston shaker, and filled the shaker with lemon juice, orange juice, and honey syrup. He eyed the bourbon whiskey, which the cocktail would normally call for, but instead traveled to the refrigerator, where a small container of chopped jalapenos was waiting. He used a pair of tongs to plop one into the shaker, and a muddler to smash it up. 
A bit of ice and a few shakes later, the blonde was happily shuffling back to the dance floor, her drink dripping down her hand. 
While rinsing the shaker,  Ron half watched the flock of girls clad in feather boas and sparkly dresses laughing and bouncing in the middle of the bar. It wasn’t technically a dance floor as the Canteen wasn’t a nightclub, but the weekend crew didn’t seem to notice or care that there wasn’t an official DJ. In fact, Ron was just playing a random Spotify playlist, complete with the internet’s favorite early 2000’s dance hits. He didn’t even pay for the premium subscription, and the crowd was too drunk to notice they were dancing to car insurance advertisements between songs. 
“Interesting choice with the jalapeno.”
Ron looked toward the voice to see another girl sitting at the other end of the bar. Her phone was lying on a towel on the counter, screen up, as she scrolled with one hand. 
“Shit, didn’t see you there.”
The girl laughed. Ron took in her appearance. Like the other girls on the dance floor, she was wearing a sparkly dress, but the way she tensed up underneath the fabric suggested she’d be more comfortable in a pair of jeans. Her long brown hair formed tight curls that landed halfway down her back. Her makeup was simple and natural, and her deep brown eyes looked like he could get lost in them. She was beautiful, in an effortless, understated way. 
“When you’re completely smashed, it’s hard to tell the difference between the kick of a jalapeno and the bitterness of bourbon.”
“Ahh.”
“And she was completely smashed.”
The girl nodded. “I agree. I was actually coming over to suggest she drink water for the rest of the night, but it looks like you were on it.”
Ron smiled. “Part of the job.”
The girl turned back to her phone, and Ron felt a flash of disappointment. He frequently craved sober conversation during his long weekend shifts, and the fact that she was beautiful was a plus. 
“So, how’s the hen party?”
She glanced up. “It’s fine. I was actually about to head out soon. We’ve been partying since noon.”
Ron snuck a peek at her phone and recognized the uber app. “They’ll miss you if you leave.”
She laughed. “No they won’t.”
“I take it you’re friends with the bride?” asked Ron.
“Hannah? She’s my roommate.”
“But not your friend?”
The girl shrugged. “Well, both. Since she got engaged I don’t see much of her, to be frank.”
So, she’s single. “I know how you feel. Well, sort of.”
The girl raised an eyebrow. 
“My roommate just proposed to my sister. But now I see too much of them.”
She smiled. “That must be awkward.”
“A little. Part of the reason I take Saturday night shifts so often.”
The girl looked back at her phone, and Ron’s stomach sank, willing her to keep talking. He felt his palms sweat when she closed out her phone, plopped it into her pocket, and looked back up at him. “Rideshare surcharges are insane right now.”
“It happens,” said Ron, trying to sound casual, and not overly excited. “Probably best to wait on the uber.”
“You’re probably right.”
“So, can I make you a drink?” he offered.
Her face brightened. “I’ll try that jalapeno one that you made for Hannah.”
“Coming right up.”
Ron disappeared behind the back door to gather his ingredients, and hoped he had managed to hide the blush creeping up his neck. There was a lightness in his movements that he hadn’t felt in a very long time, and he formed a genuine smile at the thought of spending more time with this girl. 
Frankly, things weren’t going so well in the relationship category as of late. He and Lavender had broken up just a few weeks ago, and she was still in the process of moving out of Grimmauld place. They were only living there temporarily while they searched for their own apartment together, much to Harry’s annoyance. They had been looking for the perfect flat for months, and finally found one close enough to school and work that miraculously fell within their budget. But the day before they were supposed to sign the lease, she left him. 
He honestly didn’t know why, but he assumed she had met someone else. All the talk about it being too big of a step, and her not feeling comfortable living together felt like reasons to postpone apartment-hunting rather than end the relationship entirely. But what was he going to do, beg her to stay? He didn’t want to be with someone who didn’t want him. 
But it didn’t make it hurt any less. 
Now Lavender would get to live in that big apartment by herself, and Ron would still be stuck at Grimmauld Place with Harry. As if to rub salt in the wound, Harry proposed to his sister a few days later Now he found himself third wheeling with the star crossed lovers almost every weekend since then, which only served to remind him how single he suddenly was. 
That was the reason he had taken so many Saturday shifts at The Canteen. 
Fred and George insisted he needed a rebound, and working at the bar was the perfect way to do that. Ron disagreed. He wasn’t one to take a random stranger home with the intention of using her to forget about someone else. He just wanted a distraction. Someone to talk to. 
The non alcoholic Gold Rush nearly made itself as Ron got lost in his thoughts. He garnished the edge of the glass with an orange slice sandwiched between two jalapenos. An added touch for the girl at the bar. 
“Voila,” he said as he emerged from the back. “A gold rush for the lady.”
“Why thank you very much.” She carefully pinched the stem of the glass and took a tentative sip. “Wow. It does taste alcoholic.”
“And I promise you it’s not.”
“Well done, sir. Compliments to the chef.”
Ron felt his cheeks turn pink. “Thank you.”
“I like the garnish.” The girl pulled a jalapeno slice from the edge of the glass and plopped it into her mouth. Her eyes watered under the heat of the spice, but at the same time, she gave a satisfied smile.
“It’s all about presentation.”
She smiled and extended her arm toward him. “I’m Hermione, by the way.”
Ron wiped his hand on the dish towel that was still hanging around his shoulders, and shook hers. “I’m Ron.”
“Nice to meet you, Ron.”
-Present Day-
Saturday mornings were usually busy at Flourish and Pots, the coffeehouse and bookstore where Ron practically lived at the moment, but he didn’t mind. The commotion helped him focus, while also providing a distraction from his tedious economics textbooks when he needed one. The cafe’s close proximity to the airport meant it was frequently visited by tourists and provided the perfect people watching opportunity. And the fact that it was far away from the Leaky Canteen was a plus. No family members would crash his study sessions and insist on burdening him with administrative work that no one else knew how to do. 
His intention behind obtaining his business degree wasn’t necessarily to fix the family bar or turn it into a profit machine, but to hopefully run a better business in the future. Something completely unrelated. But his family didn’t quite understand that. 
Ron reached for his latte and brought it to his lips. He hated to disturb the intricate leaf pattern the barista had formed with the foam, but his second year of graduate school required sufficient caffeine, and his admiration for latte-art would have to come later. 
As he put this mug down, a flash of red caught his eye. A young girl, no older than three had plopped down into an armchair that was way too big for her. Based on her hair alone, she could have been one of Ron’s nieces or nephews, and if Ron wasn’t absolutely sure she was a new face, he’d be looking for Bill or Percy in the bookstore. 
Where are your parents, little girl?
The girl picked up a newspaper from the side table and opened it. The fact that it was upside down made him smile. Her red hair frizzed out at all angles, and her eyebrows furrowed at the newspaper in a way that was strangely familiar. 
“Rose?” came a frantic whisper from across the room. “Rosie, where did you go?”
The voice lingered in Ron’s mind like a once-forgotten song. He’d heard that voice before. 
“Rosie, there you are!” 
A woman came sprinting around the corner and breathed a heavy sigh of relief upon finding the little girl. 
“Mama!” Rosie popped out of the chair and wrapped her arms around her mother’s leg. The newspaper glided gently to the floor as if falling in slow motion. 
“You scared me! Don’t run away from me again.” The woman picked up the newspaper, folded it back up and set it on the side table. “Ready to go sweetheart?”
The little girl nodded and reached for her mother’s hand. The pair turned toward the entrance of the shop and Ron’s stomach felt like it turned to stone as he watched them walk away. 
He didn’t even need to see the woman’s face. Her voice, her hair, the way her hips swayed as she walked away. It was all too familiar. That was the girl from the bar. 
Holy shit. Ron’s whole body immediately tingled, and his heart pounded like a bird trying to escape his chest. He felt like he was observing himself from outside the room. How long ago was that? Three, four years? Give or take a few months? 
Ron lifted a hand from his textbook to find that his palm had stuck to the page, leaving a sweaty handprint behind. He reached for his latte and took a sip, but his hand trembled so much that he nearly spilled it. The timeline matched. And Rosie’s flaming red hair was unmistakable. Unless the girl from the bar shagged one of his brothers too. Or maybe she just had a thing for gingers? 
Who was he kidding? So much had happened in his life since that encounter, and maybe he didn’t even know the half of it. 
But, fuck, he had to find out. 
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“How do you know you ship them?”
When I see them together, a noise comes out of my mouth and it sounds like a dying horse.
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homosandhomies · 2 years
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you ever see a ship you love so much and saying "i ship them" isn't enough. like no you don't understand they give me mental illness
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wizardemotions · 1 month
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the question came to mind of "in your ship, how might the larger/stronger party pick up or carry the smaller one?" and these were the answers i came to
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naw-sya · 1 year
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Hermione and her two red cats
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uchihaculture · 1 year
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oddikon · 1 year
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Harry’s Snapchat
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meemoop · 2 months
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The moral compass of a Malfoy
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the-original-gays · 2 months
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Ginny: You know that voice of morality and reason in your head?
Ron and Harry simultaneously: You mean the one that sounds like Hermione?
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cimerran-714 · 29 days
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The fandom likes to talk about how Ron was willing to let himself get hit by the Cruciatus curse in order to prevent Hermione from getting tortured. What happens afterwards, though, is that Romione shippers argue about how Harry hadn't done anything like that. After all, he was just asking Ron to shut up.
This, they claim, is evidence that Ron cares more about Hermione than Harry does. Or that Harry doesn't care about her at all.
I do think what Ron did here is very admirable, and there's absolutely nothing to critique about that. What I hate is how it turns into Harry bashing to justify shipping Romione.
First, it's important to keep in mind that Harry's comparatively more level-headed than Ron is. He's not as emotional & he rarely displays them openly (and when he does, it's in Hermione's presence, but that's something for another post).
As Harry wanted to figure out a way from the problem, he was getting disturbed by Ron screaming, which was affected his. concentration. Unlike Ron, who was reacting emotionally, Harry wanted to think about whether they would be able to escape the place. That's why he was asking him to shut up.
And that's a good thing. When you are in trouble and someone you like is getting tortured, you attempt to try and escape instead of getting carried away by your emotions.
To try and spin Harry trying to save Hermione into "he doesn't care about her" is a flat-out lie.
Honestly, if I were Harry, I'd be pretty pissed as well. Just look at it:
"HERMIONE!” Ron bellowed, and he started to writhe and struggle against the ropes tying them together, so that Harry stag- gered. “HERMIONE!” “Be quiet!” Harry said. “Shut up. Ron, we need to work out a way—“ “HERMIONE! HERMIONE!” “We need a plan, stop yelling—we need to get these ropes off—"
Harry wants to get the bindings off and work out a way. He wants to save Hermione, instead of just screaming to the void.
If even more evidence were needed:
Hermione was screaming again: The sound went through Harry like physical pain. Barely conscious of the fierce prickling of his scar, he too started to run around the cellar, feeling the walls for he hardly knew what, knowing in his heart that it was useless.
Her screaming "went through Harry like physical pain". And, also notice how he was "barely conscious of the prickling on his scar".
He's only done that once before, and that was when he was thinking about Sirius.
His love for Hermione is so powerful that he was able to block Voldemort out of his mind.
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