ballerinaroy

[ballerinaroy]

[💗🍄🌿📚] (ꈍᴗꈍ)♡

[ballerinaroy]

1 for rarry (it literally screams rarry omg) please and thank you!!

It was only once Harry was in his cot, half an hour passed and his breathing slowed that at last Ron felt that he could breathe. When had their friendship gotten so hard? From the moment he’d met Harry it’d been easy…well, aside from the pesky You-Know-Who business…but being with Harry, being his mate, it’d had been the easiest thing he’d ever done. That was until Harry had left and returned from his month-long worldwide adventure a different person.

Now Ron questioned everything he did. Regretted every time he made Harry back away, felt pain when Harry’s eyes would turn from laughter to pain and Ron knew not the cause of it. The only thing that he was certain was that Ron didn’t jump when someone else lay their hand on Harry’s shoulder. Didn’t evoke awkward laughter.

Had Harry outgrown him? Or had it been Ron that had changed? When did things between them go so wrong?

  He awoke in the middle of the night suddenly, just as he had hundreds of times while in the tent. He forced himself to lay still for as long as it took to identify the cause of his abrupt awakening, even if the source was his own mind.

A floorboard creaked and Ron became aware that the room was absent of Harry’s snores. He was about to roll over, to raise alarm when the footsteps stopped at the edge of his bed, and seconds later the mattress dipped beside him as it took on the weight of another.

Without a doubt, he knew it was Harry even though he’d never approached Ron like this. They stayed still in the dark depths of the night and Ron could feel Harry’s eyes taking him in. What was he doing?

Ron was almost afraid to breathe but knew that Harry would know he’d awoken him and feared the moment would disappear before it was realized. Harry did nothing, simply sat there, studying him. He was so close Ron recognized his aftershave, one Harry’d picked up from the store only last evening, seeking Ron’s council on the right one.

A strange desire to smell more of it came over him and when Ron took a second whiff he startled himself with a sneeze erupted from him.

Harry was gone before Ron realized what had happened, scampering back to his bed and under his covers like he’d never been beside him at all.

What was that about?

  The previous night’s events played over and over again in his mind. It was all he could think about as they went through their day. Tending the chickens, mending the fence, weeding the garden. Mundane chores Ron welcomed. Yet as they went to bed that night, exhausted from a good day's work Ron found it hard to sleep.

What had Harry wanted? Just to see his face? It was a whim Ron could understand completely. He’d lost track of the number of times he’d awoken during Harry’s brief absence and searched for him only to have to remember where he was.

Had Harry done the same? While he was away? The idea brought about a strange comfort to Ron mixed with a deeper, burning sensation he couldn’t name.

He wondered if Harry might not do it again and with anticipation bubbling in him he made a show of rolling over and shutting his eyes, mimicking what he hoped to be convincing sleep. It was almost an hour when his efforts were finally rewarded. The rustle of a bedsheet, Harry’s feet testing the floor, padding over so quiet Ron might have missed it if he hadn’t been straining his ears.

And then he was there again, his gentle weight dipping the bedsprings, the smell of him filling Ron’s nostrils. Just as the night before he sat there, silent in the moonlight for a very long time.

“There’s something I’ve been too coward to say,” Harry whispered and for a second Ron wasn’t sure if Harry had seen through his ruse and meant the words for his conscious self. “I think I’m in love with you, and I’m terrified.”

Ron forgot to breathe, forgot his position as the confession rolled over and over again in his brain. Love? In love? With him? The notion seemed to foreign.

What could Harry possibly see in him?

  Harry seemed more relaxed around him, the next day. As though the confession had erased the tension between them and brought back his best friend. They made the same jokes they always had, caused the same laughter. Yet even though Ron was overjoyed to have his best mate back, really back, he now felt the weight of the secret holding him down.

Had that been why Harry had left without him? Only, he’d come back. Had missed Ron enough to come back into his life burdened.

That night he waited for Harry to come, to feel the heat of Harry’s body through only bedcovers and pajamas but Ron waited all night to nothing. And what would he do? What would he say? Those words hadn’t been meant for him. A confession meant to be kept secret by darkness.

Only, now he knew. And he now it was his turn to decide.

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[ballerinaroy]

31 for Hinny! :D

She’d expected their reunion to have more….flourish. Built it up in her head. Imagined a thousand scenarios each to the same ending. it had been the thought that had consumed every lonely hour. Demanded space in her brain even when all she could think about was the overwhelming fear of dying. So long as she could see him again, hold him again, feel his lips against hers one last time she thought that she could withstand just about anything.

But here he was. Alive. Living in the same space, sharing the same food and conversations and all he would give her were hidden, desperate minutes where the air in their lungs were the same. Never the quiet reassurances he had once whispered. No desolations of love, of fondness, no cherishing her hair or the shape of her eyes or any of the sweet things he did in her memories.

She was sick of it. They had been through something terrible…impossible. They deserved a happy ending. They deserved happiness.

“I love you,” she whispered as their chapped lips pulled apart and she

He winced at her words, his body detaching from hers and she only kept him there by the weight of her body on his lap.

“I love you, Harry,” she repeated, nuzzling her nose against his stubbled jaw, his bruised neck. “I love you.”

But he was stiffening, slipping away from her even if she’d physically trapped him there. She tried softening him again, kissing the places she’d daydreamed about, attempting again to illicit that little groan he let slip when she did it just right. His hands reached out and wrapped around her wrists, pushing her away and she was forced to give up, forced to look at him.

His eyes lacked kindness and sternly he said, “I don’t deserve to be loved.”

It stunned her. She felt petrified to the spot. All this time missing him and the man returned to her had a shell so thick and toughened that she feared she might not ever find the man she’d missed inside it.

“You don’t get to decide that,” she replied, just as stern. “You don’t get to decide who loves you.”

“Ginny.”

She waited, but he did not continue.

“I love you,” she repeated again, noticing for the first time wetness in his eyes. She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his forehead, allowing him to take refuge in her chest. “And that’s not going to change.”

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[ballerinaroy]

75 Hinny?

“You can’t keep doing this,” Harry groaned as Ginny’s lips trailed his color bone.

“Doing what?” she asked, a familiar mischievous look in her eyes that made Harry have to bite his lip, distracted. She ducked her head once more, her eyes never leaving his as her lips resumed the slow, painfully erratic “This?”

“No,” Harry breathed, “Don’t stop that.”

Victorious she began kissing up his neck, coming painfully close to his lips before diverting away. She was going to drive him insane, she really was. He managed to regain his train of thought and tugged on her hair to get her attention.

“No you can’t keep doing this…all this… and then leaving.”

She made to kiss him again and he tightened his grip on her hair. She let out one of those noises- breathy, needy- that drove him wild and bit her own lip.

“And what else am I supposed to do?” she asked of him. “You’re the one that didn’t want to move in together.”

“I-“ he stressed, “was the one that didn’t want to move in with you and your brother.”

“Mmh, this sneaking around has been fun,” she answered him.

He relaxed his grip on her hair, running his fingers all the way to the ends. “How about it then? We’ll get a place of our own? Then you’ll never have to leave.”

From her expression, he could tell she was delighted, but in her typical Ginny way (the way that he loved) she didn’t give in all at once. 

“I’ll think about it,” she said after a minute pretending to ponder while he took his turn exploring the tender surface of her neck. “Perhaps you can give me a reason to stay.”

[ballerinaroy]

18 or 69 for linny?!

beauty by the shivers was running through my head the whole time I was writing this. Enjoy!

~~~

It was still strange to see Ginny smile like that and to know that Luna had put that smile on her face…that blush on her cheeks. Adorable every time that Luna complimented her and Ginny responded with a blush. She’d never had this effect on someone before, though Ginny had had this effect on her for a while now. And to know she felt the same. It made her heart feel incredibly light, doing strange twists and turns with every giggle or flustered reply.

“I need to go,” Ginny whispered for the dozenth time though she made no move to get up, to remove her head from Luna’s chest, untwine their legs or fingers.

“Mmh,” Luna hummed, kissing her temple and feeling giddy when Ginny smiled. “How about tomorrow?”

“It’s supposed to rain,” Ginny said confidently. “We’ll get soaked.”

She didn’t sound too upset at the prospect.

“You could come over,” Luna offered, “Have dinner with me and daddy.”

Something in the air, inside Ginny, shifted and she stiffened.

“Luna, er, have you told your dad? About us that is?”

Inside her, something froze.

“I’m scared,” Ginny said very quietly, ashamed. “What if someone finds out about us?”

Luna was used to being kept a secret. Almost every friend she’d ever had had kept her to themselves. Only Ginny had never….Luna thought she would never….

“And that would be a bad thing?”

Ginny winced and detached herself very slowly. “Hey,” she murmured, bringing up a hand to Luna’s cheek but it felt different now. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“It’s okay,” Luna managed, brushing her hand away. “I understand.”

It worked, Luna realized, because it was a secret. Because she was a secret. Luna pulled away her legs and looked away out at the field they had hidden themselves in. The sun’s warmth felt very far away.

“Luna,” Ginny cooed, begging her back.

“I’m going to go,” she said carefully, standing up very slowly and without meeting her eye. “If you want to stop by then…”

“Luna,” she cried again as she made to walk back towards the half rebuilt house that had once been her home. “Please, I didn’t mean….let me just…”

Luna paused without turning. “I know things are hard right now. You’ve got your family and Harry-“

“This isn’t about Harry!” Ginny said sounding horrified. “Luna I want you. Only you.”

She turned, staring at her, at last giving her a chance to go on.

“Things are so…so weird right now,” Ginny said. “And you, you make me so happy. So happy that I feel guilty about it. I want to keep you a secret because if people find out then there’s going to be questions and you’ll be around it and I just want you to myself. And I know how that sounds and how selfish I’m being so-“

Luna cut her off, closing the distance between them and putting a hand on Ginny’s cheek. She let out a soft noise, leaning into her palm and resting the weight of her head against it.

“Being with you is the only reason I’m still sane,” Ginny told her. “And if you want to tell people then I-“

“It’s okay,” Luna whispered. She pressed her forehead against Ginny’s and when she opened her mouth to protest cut her off with a kiss. “It’s okay.”

They closed their eyes, hands finding and fitting together.

“I can be your secret,” Luna whispered, “For as long as you need one.”

[ballerinaroy]

62- 'Our song came on and I needed to talk to you after I heard it'

66-'Back then I lied when I told you I didn’t love you. You needed to move on from me… I needed to protect you from me'

Ron and Hermione, taking place at a Ministry Gala

Omg couldn’t have picked two lines better myself. Hope you enjoy! 

PS: My ask box is open! Send a prompt (or two)!

~~~

Six months, almost seven since the fight that hadn’t ended. Since she had stormed out and he hadn’t come after her.

At first, she’d kept track of the days. Counting them up and down, marking a life without him. A life she’d never wanted, or never known to want depending on the day.

It wasn’t as though they didn’t see one another. For all their efforts to avoid each other, all their friends were the same, their plans and social commitments. They’d agreed (after Seamus’s birthday party which they had spent a good half hour screaming at one another in the kitchen) not to fight at them which, more often than not, meant they didn’t speak at all.

But they were both here, tonight. The second anniversary of the battle. Honored guests, a commitment they couldn’t escape no matter how much groaning and moaning they did about it.

“God I hate these things,” Harry hissed, tugging at the collar of his dress robe. “I swear if one more person tells me how proud my parents would have been-“

He dissolved into grumbles and Hermione, alarmed, met eyes with Ron for the first time that night.

“Oh but you look so handsome,” Ginny said, sharing their concern and swooping in. “Come on, let’s have a dance. I’m known for hexing people that interrupt.”

Harry grinned his bad mood dissolving and allowed Ginny to guide him away. Hermione smiled after them. She’d never been able to tackle Harry’s bad moods with as much grace. Ginny was good for him.

It didn’t occur to her that their buffer was gone until the band struck up another song and when she looked over to make a general comment about this being the first song produced after the war had ended, that she realized only Ron was in her audience. The comment fell apart before it could reach her lips. He knew. It had been their song after all.

“I uh,” she faltered, wanting to excuse the fact her mouth was hanging open.

“Care to dance?” he saved her.

“Not trying to break our riling up rule, are you?” she said, testing the waters.

Ron shook his head, giving her a grin that still did something to her heart. He offered his hand and they stood, claiming a corner of the dance floor where no one would bother them. Neither of them were particularly good dancers, but when he placed his hand on her waist and she rested her hand on his shoulder they moved in synchrony.

“This was our song you know,” Ron said as though it wasn’t the only thought running through her mind.

“I remember,” she agreed.

“I heard it on the wireless the other day.” He looked pained. “Our song came on and I needed to talk to you after I heard it.”

“So why didn’t you?” she asked, feeling overwhelmed. “Why did you talk to me?”

They’d stopped moving, stopped keeping time with those around them. It, as it often was, was only them in that crowded room.

“You said you didn’t love me, Hermione,” Ron said plainly. “You can’t just say something like that without meaning it.”

Tears filled her eyes. She wanted to duck into his chest. Wanted to run away. Wanted to turn back time and take those awful words out of her mouth. His hands pulled away from her though she tightened her grip to keep him there.

“Ron, please, let me-“

“Hermione let me go,” he told her firmly. “I told you I wasn’t going to start something, we agreed not to start something in public.”

She released her grip, honoring his request. It left them standing only a wand’s length apart, staring at one another. She didn’t want to let this go. Wanted a chance to explain herself. He wasn’t pulling away anymore. Looking just as miserable and what was already a terrible excuse for a party seemed ruined.

“Then can I take you home?” she braved. “Can I start something there?”

For a moment she was convinced he would say no. He was staring at her as though trying to pick the best insult to fling at her and then, defeated, he nodded and followed her back to collect their things.

~~~

Her flat was vast and empty compared to the one that they had shared. Purchased with the help (and taste) of her parents it lacked all of the feelings of being lived in that she had cherished. Ron had been there only once before, dropping off the last of her things

Now he frowned, looking around at the unpacked boxes and sharp corners. She pulled his attention away from the bookcases she had yet to fill and into the kitchen

“It’s a nice place,” Ron lied, opening and shutting a cabinet at random as she made them both gin and tonics.

“It’s not,” Hermione challenged. “Feels like a hospital in here.”

Ron snorted. “If you put up a picture or two you might feel different.”

Part of her didn’t want it to feel any different. Didn’t want to settle into her new life. She passed the glass to him, and they dinged their glasses together just as they’d always done and took a sip at the same time. The tension built between them as they swallowed and looked at each other from the corner of their eyes.

“Hermione I-“  Ron started just as she blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

They both stopped and Ron nodded at her to continue.

“I’m sorry, for what I said, I didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t mean what?” he asked.

“Any of it,” she said and he sighed, not believing her. “I didn’t mean that I didn’t love you.”

“Hermione-“

“How could I not love you, Ron?” she asked, setting her glass down and trying to get closer to him. “Of course I love you, I’ve always loved you.”

He shook his head, pushing himself further away. “But that’s not all you said to me Hermione. You told me to move on and that’s what I’ve been trying to do.”

“I was a mess,” she told him, “I was overwhelmed by everything and you just had it all figured out.”

“That wasn’t true Hermione-“

“But that’s how it felt,” she pressed. “I was fresh out of Hogwarts. I was still having nightmares every night and you, you were settled into your job. You had friends. I was just tagging along and drowning and you were fine.”

He opened his mouth and then shut it again, shaking his head. The tears from before were back, falling out of her eyes and ruining what was left of her make up.

“Back then I lied when I told you I didn’t love you.” She continued. “You needed to move on from me… I needed to protect you from me.”

Again they stared at one another. Now it was Ron trying to get closer to her and she using the distance of the counters to keep him at bay.

“You never said,” Ron murmured. “You should have said-“

“I didn’t want to ruin you,” Hermione whispered. “You were fine.”

“I wasn’t fine, Hermione.” He insisted. “There was no part of me, is no part of me that’s fine. I spend all day at work terrified that I’m not cut out for this, even now.”

She struggled to comprehend.

“If you think I’ve got it all together it’s a fucking front Hermione,” he continued, stepping towards her again. “Believe me I’m trying. For mum and dad, for Harry….for you.”

Again they found themselves so close that she need only raise a hand to press it again his chest, to feel his heart thumping beneath her palm.

“I dunno, maybe there was a part of me that thought I had it figured out.” He continued, “Maybe you were right. But then you left me and it just, it just made me realize how fucked up I really was.”

Their eyes met and her pain was reflected in his.

“I’m sorry if I wasn’t there for you the way you needed me to be-“

“No, Ron, don’t do that,” she whispered. “I didn’t want to leave you but I think I needed to focus on myself.”

She felt his hand on her waist again, pulling them closer together.

“I’m still not okay,” she admitted, “Ron I’m still-“

“So am I,” he echoed, breath hot on her cheek.

“And I don’t want to hurt you,” she continued, feeling herself melting. “I’ve regretted those words-“

“I know,” he forgave her. “And I’m so-“

“I know,” she forgave him, stealing the words from him as her hand pulled on the back of his neck until their lips brushed together. “I know.”

[ballerinaroy]

Hello love your work, would you be able to do a fic about Ron coming back from a particular brutal Auror mission and he's in shock almost (Think Thousand yard stare and hand trembling) Maybe Rose comes to greet her daddy and is surprised by his odd demeanor?

Omg thank you so much! This prompt about broke my heart so repaying the favor here. 

~~~

He’d only stayed on with the Aurors to keep himself sane. The few months he’d tried stepping away he’d pestered Harry into madness trying to stay up to date until the Head Auror himself had to stage an intervention.

“Either in our out Weasley,” Gawain said harshly. “I can’t risk my Aurors for your own peace of mind.”

So they’d come to a compromise. Not all the time. Sometimes not even months at all. Mostly fieldwork, keeping an ear low to the ground from the twin’s shop or sometimes asking someone out for a drink just to figure out what they knew. The part of the job he’d enjoyed.

Then of course there was Harry. The real benefit of his arrangement with the ministry was that he could still be there for his best mate. Completely. Gawain never asked him to go on a mission again but whenever Harry even whispered that Ron was needed he was always ready.

He’d do anything for Harry. Always had. Always would. Even the impossible.

It had been a bloodbath…no that wasn’t a strong enough word it had been….God. Days spent in hiding, blinded, bleeding, not knowing if he’d make it out not knowing if he’d been made, if Harry…if they knew…if Hermione and the kids were in danger…God he’d never forgive himself if Rose or Hugo…

“It’s okay,” Hermione whispered as she shook him awake the dozenth night in a row. “It’s okay, you’re home. It’s okay.”

He blinked at her, bolting up in the bed and wiping the blood from his chest frantically. He could hear himself grunting as he scrubbed at his skin it was turning raw it was…

“It’s just sweat,” Hermione whispered tugging at his hands. “Ron, breathe, come back.”

He looked down at his hands but they weren’t stained with red. Panting he looked up at her, a worried look on her face.

“It’s okay,” she whispered again, holding her hands out in an open position as she crawled out of the bed and over to him. “It’s okay, I’m here. We’re fine.”

He should have quit a long time ago.

~~~

The kids had been staying at Hermione’s parents ever since he’d been found. Their whole lives he’d gone away for days at a time. They thought it normal to be staying with relatives while their mother worked.  

Too young to understand what it meant for their father to be in the hospital

“Daddy!” Rose squealed, her voice an impossible pitch. “Daddy you’re home!”

“Rose,” Hermione hissed, grabbing their daughter’s shoulder before she could fling herself at him. “Remember what we talked about?”

Rose pouted but stayed back, smiling at her father. “Daddy, grandma took me to the art museum and out to tea and-“

Her voice quickened with excitement and the words became jumbled, a story about a painting, no a statue, no a big ball of-

Ron closed his eyes against the noise, words floating to him, pulling him back. Red. His ears began to ring. Red. A painting, no, red like the-

“Ron,” Hermione whispered and he opened his eyes. Rose was staring at him differently now, confusion littering her face.

“That’s nice,” he managed, but could not force his cheeks to arrange into a smile.

Rose looked up at Hermione, worried.

“Why don’t you go to your room Rose?” Hermione instructed their daughter, bending down and managing a teasing look. “I think I saw a special surprise on your bed.”

Rose’s face light up and she, distracted, ran from the room. Ron listened as her little feet echoed down the hallway and heard her excited gasp as she spotted the stuffed dragon on her bed. Her little squeal made him wince.

“Is it too much?” Hermione asked quietly. “Because my mum said she could take them both again and I can still get to school if I-“

“It’s fine,” Ron replied, standing up and walking out the door.

~~~

He hadn’t meant to stay out long but when at last his stomach grumbled with hunger he looked around to find the street lamps had already kicked on. He looked around, not entirely sure where he was, didn’t recognize the park, or the bench he’d been sitting on.

He’d left the house to get a breath of fresh air and then-Ron supposed he’d been walking for a while.

Disappointment sunk into him as he stood in the kitchen. Dinner already eaten and put away. Down the hall, he could hear the sounds of their nighttime routine taking place without him. Brushing teeth, using the toilet, and then quiet playtime or a story before bed.

Lately Rose had decided she was too old for someone else to read her a bedtime story and had begun arranging her stuffed animals to have an audience. Ron could remember all the times he had stood just outside her doorway, listening to her recant the stories they had told her.

He snuck towards the bedrooms, listening to Rose’s little voice, pausing in places as they did so Hermione might read a word to her.

“And then the- do you remember what this word is mummy?”

“Hmmm,” Hermione said, presenting to ponder. “B-e-a-r-s,” she read-out-loud. “Be-ar-s. Bears.”

“Oh, thanks you,” Rose said in a perfect imitation of her mother.

“And then the bears lived happily ever after.” Rose finished. “The end.”

“Oh, thank you for the story,” Hermione said and then the soft sound of her kissing Rose’s head. She gave an exaggerated yawn. “I think I’m all ready for bed myself.”

Ron listened as she stood, putting the book back on its place on the shelf and then back to Rose’s bed to tuck her in a final time.

“Mummy?” Rose asked quietly. “Is daddy okay?”

“He just went for a walk Rosie,” Hermione explained. “He’ll be back soon.”

“Oh,” Rose answered and Ron could picture perfectly her little frown. “He seemed sad.”

“Do you remember how we talked about daddy getting hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Well, when we get hurt it can take time to feel better. It’s like when we get sick. We time and quiet to make the bad feelings go away.” Hermione explained. “And we can help daddy by telling him we love him and keeping our voices down.”

“And he’ll feel better?” Rose asked in a sleepy voice.

“Yes, he’ll feel better,” Hermione said, “Now go to sleep. We’ve got to get up for school in the morning.”

He pictured her bending down to kiss her temple. “I love you.”

“Did I scare her?” Ron asked Hermione as she emerged. 

She shook her head, unsurprised to find him standing there. “No, she’s just worried about you. She’ll be okay.”

Ron blinked a couple of times, staring at the wall their daughter lay on the other side of. “Maybe I should go away, for a little bit. Let you and the kids-”

“Please, don’t say that,” Hermione said quickly and for the first time she looked terrified. “Please don’t even think it.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “I’m just trying to do what’s best for all of you.”

“Then don’t suggest it again,” Hermione begged. “I need you, here.”

She reached for his hand and gave it a little squeeze though his fingers did not respond. “Please, Ron, I’m okay, Rose is okay. We’ll be okay so long as you stay here.”

          My ask box is open for prompts!

[ballerinaroy]

oh…..birthday boy…..

[ballerinaroy]

Ron and Hermione on patrols during 6th year, they're not 'talking' to each other just making side comments

“You’re not Ernie,” Hermione said snidely as they met outside of the staff room.

“Sorry to disappoint,” he replied with just as much snark.

“Why aren’t you Ernie?” she pressed. “I traded with Hannah so I-“

“Wouldn’t have to see me?” Ron finished for her and she glared at him.

“No,” she lied, twisting her fingers together as she always did when she was looking for an excuse. “I had study group.”

“Oh, is that what you call it?” he asked nodding. “Tell me, who’s in this group?”

Hermione didn’t answer, glaring at him.

“When did you start going? Where do you meet because I would just love-“

“You have to have at least one Oustanding to join,” she quipped and it was his turn to scowl at her. She turned before he could think of a reply and started up the hall. “Shall we?”

“Yeah, let’s get this over with.” He said, putting his hands in his pockets and following after her.

It had been almost a month since their last patrol together. Ever since the quidditch match when he and Lavender had started dating, he’d asked about every favor of his fellow Prefects to ensure they weren’t stuck alone together. He rather liked having the badge and didn’t want to risk losing it because of Hermione. If they were to get in a fight on patrols Ron had no doubt who they’d side with.

Doing the patrols with the others wasn’t half bad either. Anthony was alright, even if he did prattle on about the N.E.W.T.s far too much. The one patrol he did with Padma she wouldn’t speak to him the whole time even after he’d awkwardly apologized. Ernie would propose splitting up the castle and then never be heard from again.

Only, he’d sort of missed it, patrolling with Hermione. They’d been doing it for so long together they didn’t have to speak even, always took the same paths. Hermione doing through searches of all the spaces students were known to hang out in as he stood watch at the doorway.

With her, he didn’t even have to do any of the disciplining. Just stand behind her and look intimidating until the student left. That was unless they got smart with Hermione and then he’d throw in a line or two. Tonight though the castle was surprisingly quiet. Mondays tend to be pretty tame.

Before he knew it they’d already finished two floors and when he checked his watch nearly an hour had gone by.

“Somewhere to be?” Hermione asked when she saw him.

He opened his mouth to comment on how quickly their shift was passing when she threw in-

“Does Lavender even know how to breathe without you blowing air into her lungs?”

All the fond reminiscing of their patrols together vanished in an instant as Hermione threw back her hair and smirked to herself.

“Mmh, tell me more about this study group of yours,” Ron went back to. “You know Lavender got an Outstanding, maybe she could help tutor you.”

Hermione let out a dismissive laugh. “And what could she possibly know more about than I do? What does she teach make up classes? You do seem to be wearing a lot more lipstick these days.”

“Why looking for tips?” Ron asked, wiping off his lips even though he’d checked himself a dozen times before leaving for patrol. “I didn’t know you were interested in make up, Hermione. You never seemed particularly interested in girly things”

He knew he’d gone too far the moment the words had left his mouth and the regret settled in his stomach like a rock as Hermione’s smile disappeared and fire entered her eyes. She turned, pointing her finger in his face.

“I don’t have to waste my time painting my face or spend hours fretting over my hair to be a girl, Ron.”

“That’s not what I said-“

“I have better things to worry about than how boys perceive me. Just because she managed to bat her eyes at the examiner enough to get an ‘O’ in divination doesn’t mean she’s intelligent.”

“Just because you couldn’t figure out how to read a crystal ball doesn’t mean divination isn’t a valid branch of magic!” Ron replied hotly. “You’re not the smartest person to walk this earth, Hermione!”  

They were close, uncomfortably close. Ron seeped back as she did and he shoved his hands back into his pockets as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Ron said again. “You just keep your patrol from here on out and I’ll make sure this never happens again.”

My ask box is open for prompts!

[ballerinaroy]

It’s July 31st, 2002.

Harry Potter wakes up to Ginny making a mess of their kitchen. And Harry Potter loves Ginny Weasley for many reasons, but her competence in the kitchen isn’t one of them. Over salvaged eggs and hotcakes the paper arrives and to Harry’s utter embarrassment a giant picture of him takes up almost all of the front page. 

And Ginny teases him because “it really is a nice photo” but Harry can’t find it too mortifying because when he tries to throw the paper into the fire she insists on taking it to work with her and pinning it up in her locker. 

He goes to work and his co-workers wish him a Happy Birthday (and only one mockingly asks him to sign their paper) and he goes out to lunch with his best friends and everything feels normal. 

And then, in the middle of the weekly defense practice for the new recruits (because things have finally calmed down enough to have a proper training program instead of just throwing new recruits on Death Eater hunts), one of them asks what his plans are for his birthday. And he says he’s spending it with his family and the confused trainee replies, 

“But I thought your parents were dead?” 

Harry laughs and clarifies because the Weasleys are his family and the trainee realizes what they’ve said and refuses to meet Harry’s eye for the rest of the hour but he doesn’t even notice.

Because for the first time ever it occurs to him that he’s 22.  And his parents never were. 

#happy birthday harry #harry potter #the boy who lived #roywrites

[ballerinaroy]

Thirty Years

Title: Thirty years Prompt/Day: table Tumblr name:  Rating: G+ Brief summary: She’d laid it all out, beginning to end. A whole life, theirs. Any possible triggering/warning tags: n/a

“I have something,” Rose said, “For the party.”

Hermione watched, curiously, as Rose stood and, weaving around her youngest who was still at the age she insisted being underfoot at all times, unrolled a cloth across the table.

“What’s this?” Hermione asked, surprised at all the papers upon it.

“Just an idea,” Rose said demurely. “Take a look.”

She’d lay it all out, beginning to end. The scraps from their school days. A surprisingly few number of pictures given how, per the accounts of her children and great nephews and nieces, their adventures were still told today. The years after. News papers from after the war she’d never wanted to read then but was now glad Molly had saved. Their wedding when the pictures began to multiply as the birth of their children was documented thoroughly. Ron’s awards from his years of service to the ministry. Her first speech as minister, half the page scribbled out and written over.

Hermione felt her breath catch as she bent down to read the little note of encouragement Ron had scribbled in the margin when she had not been looking. Could still remember the calming breath of pause it had caused her to take, the courage it had given.

A whole life. Theirs.

Overcome, Hermione couldn’t find the words to convey how impressed she was and, tucking back a piece of her hair, she looked up, teary eyed at her daughter.

“Well?” Rose asked, a sly grin she’d inherited from her father on her face. “What do you think?”

“Where did you find all this?” Hermione managed at last, her eyes caught on a photo of Rose’s wedding, her and Ron standing on either side of their daughter. She’d been so radiant.

“Here and there.” It was clear she was pleased with herself. “We all had a hand in it.”

Hermione looked again at her daughter and while she could not verbalize how she was feeling, it was easy to say, “You are so incredibly thoughtful. I don’t know what we did to deserve you.”

Again looking like her father, Rose rolled her eyes and offered her arms. They embraced, clinging to one another as they often did these days, knowing time was precious, and then, arms still around one another, looked together back at the table.

“I was going to make it a surprise,” Rose said, “But I thought you might want time to look it over before tomorrow.”

No more than any other day, Hermione couldn’t wait for Ron to come home, for the chance to pour through these memories together, either of them exclaiming as they often had as of late thirty years, can you believe it? Most days she couldn’t. It felt like yesterday when they were first holding hands, giddy in teenage love. But now, gazing at the evidence, it was hard to believe that it had only been thirty years. That such a short time could be filled with such sweet remembrances.

“Thank you,” she managed, giving her a final squeeze as her granddaughter had begun to make it known she didn’t like not being the center of attention. “It’s perfect.”

And every single memory had been.

#roywrites #romione ficfest 2021 #Romione

[ballerinaroy]

Before and After

Title: before and after  Prompt/Day: post-war// day 4 Tumblr name: Rating: G+ Brief summary: It’s hard to remember before. Any possible triggering/warning tags: n/a

Before and after. For years it feels like they’re only living their lives in afters. After her Hogwarts letter. After becoming a Gryffindor. Becoming their friend. The before feel far away. But this after feels just as foreign of thinking that there was a part of her life without magic, or Ron or Harry.

“It doesn’t feel over,” she voices one afternoon.

They’ve come back to help with repairs but the patch of sunlight in the library had been so much more inviting than the endless task of book repairs.

Ron squinted up at her a thoughtful look on his face. “No, sometimes it doesn’t.”

She reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze as the endless of an after pressed on her chest and made it hard to breathe. He pulled the hand she clutched towards his lips, giving the back of her hand a tender kiss and rose up. “This is how I know it’s over.”

It was her turn to look inquisitive as he kissed her wrist, her shoulder, the skin of her neck and as his lips grazed her ear, “because I can do this.”

She leaned in as he peppered her with kisses. Her cheek, the side of each lip and with each kiss he whispered, “And this.” And this, and this.

Her racing heart skipped a beat and found herself giving an unintended giggle.

“And this?” she asked, kissing him on the lips hard and fast and it felt oh so right. Perhaps she could get used to an after that promised her this.

#roywrites #romione ficfest 2021 #romione

[ballerinaroy]

And I’m in love with every color of you

Title: and I’m in love with every color of you Prompt/Day: blue Tumblr name:  Rating: G+ Brief summary: He fills her rainbow. Every color is made better because of him. Any possible triggering/warning tags: child loss 

Red. His hair. Flaming in the setting sun. The passion in his voice as he spoke of quidditch or training or just about anything. He was brilliant. There was no one better for her. The color as her heart swelled with love. Love for him. His love for her. In love. And they so deserved it.

Orange. The bedroom where they spent the summer lying side by side. Talking. Not talking. The feel of his hands against her hip, warm, comforting. Conforming to the curve of her skin. Reaching in. Heating parts of her that had never been touched.

Yellow. Happiness like she’d never felt. Bright and bursting whenever he walked in a room and went straight to her. The little hat he’d bought when they’d first found out. So small it was hard to imagine anything ever fitting in it. But it had been perfect in every way. Even if it was the only hat the baby had ever worn. Was still wearing even after all these years.

Green. Jealousy. Never their finest colour. The thing that had spent years keeping them apart. The thing she suspected just might keep them intertwined. The flash of possessiveness even after he’d grown out of the childish games. The color of their bedspread in that first tiny flat. The one that the dog gave birth on years later and they’d no choice but to pitch.

Blue. His eyes. Bright and sparkling. The ones she’d stared into for hours at a time. The ones she wanted to one day see winkle. She wanted to grow old with him. Wanted his name to be the last on her lips. His love to be the only one she’d ever felt. It was pure chance that her wish came true.

Indigo. Night spent sleepless with only each other for company. The heavy air in the thick of the storm. Unending. In need of a tether and his voice reminding her that it too would pass. That they could weather any storm and weather they did.

Violet. The flower at their wedding. Bright and bold and lasting. The same ones he brought her every anniversary after even if he acted surprised to have done such a thing when she pointed it out. The color of the light in the mornings as they drank tea and spoke in cheery voices about what was to come. A future. Theirs.

#romione #romione ficfest 2021 #roywrites

[ballerinaroy]

It wouldn't be difficult to spend the rest of my life with you two

[ballerinaroy]

Harry, Ron and Hermione being in love friends...

[ballerinaroy]

Bottom of the Bottle

Title: Bottom of the Bottle

Prompt/Day: fire whiskey + angst

Tumblr name: 

Rating: PG-15 / T

Brief summary: He’s been search for the answer in firewhiskey but it’s never been there.

Any possible triggering/warning tags: drinking

Without asking Ron downed the glass that had been placed in his hands and fought against sputtering as the warmth trickled down his throat. It wasn’t enough. This day, this week, ever since they’d buried his brother and gone on with the endlessness of after it hadn’t been enough. The bitter cold of winter was nothing in comparison to this. His brother had died. His friends. His mentors. All dead and what use was he still here.

“Another,” Ron demanded, thrusting out his glass and he wasn’t sure who tipped the bottle towards him.

Always the same. Ever since Hermione had left for her parents and Harry had run off to clear his head leaving him stuck waiting for them to come back. It was the only thing that helped, Firewhiskey. Only lately it never seemed to work quite right.

“Please,” he muttered, thrusting out his glass towards the table of strangers who would be his friend only for tonight.

They were looking at him with morbid curiosity. He wondered if they knew his name. If he was living up to his new reputation. Pretty soon they’d be asking him.

Are you that Weasley?

And then he’d get pissed because they were all that Weasley in their own fucked up way. The not a Werwolf. The dragon tamer. The prodigal son. The no longer a twin. The chosen-one’s lover.

What was he in that line up? Perhaps he should just go home. But he was out of the good stuff and  that was why he demanded their company for two rounds more.

It was nearly midnight when he spotted her. So drunk he was half convinced she was an illusion. But his illusion’s hands never felt so warm going around his neck and never smelled so perfectly Hermione. Then again his memories of her were usually more cross and less kind when they whispered in his ear,

“It’s time to go.”

He looked at her, expecting to be reprimanded but her exhausted features were somehow worse of a punishment. Obediently he rose to his feet and after a brief scuffle with his chair and an even longer battle with the sleeves of his cloak he followed her, sulking, out the door.

The summer air should have been warm, the sticky heat of August, but even with the dementors banished the air was still frigid. Their bundled up looks were the pinnacle of fashion in Hogsmeade these days.

It wasn’t a long walk. And he was well practiced in stumbling home, his lips reeking of cinnamon. As they approached the entrance to his and Harry’s rented room, Hermione fished the key from his pocket before he had the chance to fumble with it and waited for him to race up the stairs before she shut the door behind them.

He was still bracing himself for the lecture. For the sigh and the cold shoulder.

In truth he was just counting down the days until she finally realized what he’d known for a long time. He wasn’t enough for her. This was all he was worth. He tried fumbling with the buttons of his cloak as she entered the kitchen but it was useless. His fingers fat and frigid.

When at last she entered, carrying a glass of water she looked at him appeasingly.

He wanted to lash out and he didn’t know why.

Instead her soft voice whispered, “let me help.”

Before he could push her away her nimble fingers had undone the mis-buttoned mess and when she pushed it from his shoulders, her fingers brushed against his skin and for a moment the numbness dissipated.

“Sit down.” She requested of him and he obliged, letting his cloak pool around him.

He reached for her hand and the soft warmth of her fingers had the same radiating effect. They fell into the chair, her weight warm and welcome. This was the feeling he’d been searching for at the bottom of every bottle.

“I’m sorry,” he slurred, breathing her in.

“What’s wrong?” she begged and for the first time her face betrayed her emotions. Sadness, fear. Not of him but for him. “Why are you-?”

He supposed she’d heard the rumors. Last weekend it’d been a fist fight that had left them both with shining eyes. The week before a ban from the Three Broomsticks that Madame Rosmerta hadn’t had the heart to enforce.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered again helplessly.

Finally, pity. “I wish you didn’t.”

“It’s the only thing that helps,” he tried. “It takes away the edge of all this shit.”

The temporary sobering of the cold was fading with his vision. And for the first time that night he didn’t want it. Didn’t want the world to be blurred. Didn’t want the only sound to be his heart pounding. He wanted to be here, with her.  

“Kiss me,” he begged although he had no right to ask it of her in this state.

But of course she obliged. She was what he’d been yearning for after all. Hermione’s lips were tender against the corner of his mouth and he did not dare demand more. This was a gift. It was all he needed.

“I really missed you,” he whispered against her skin.

“I miss you,” she echoed, brushing back his dirty hair and gave another apprising look. “I missed you so much I could hardly stand it.”

And he couldn’t help the insecurity that slipped from his lips. “Did you?”

If he’d been sober perhaps he could have made the words teasing but he wasn’t.

“More than I can put into words,” she assured him and with every brush of her fingers he felt it again, the warmth.

“Don’t go away again,” he asked although he had no right to.

Yet she rewarded him with a little smile, kissing his temple and he could feel himself trembling.

“Not without you.”

#roywrites #romione ficfest 2021 #romione

[ballerinaroy]

b is for bored

a is for (not an) anniversary

To nearly universal delight, the middle of May had brought with it a heatwave which made it difficult to be anywhere but out on the grounds enjoying the tease of spring. It was known that it wouldn’t last, being so far north promised at least a week longer of drafty corridors and jumpers, but the momentary reprieve had been welcomed. Particularly after the somber mood which had infected them all not so long ago.

It had been a fortnight since the anniversary. All of that pain and relief and joy (god she felt horrible still for how much laughter there’d been). Weeks spent dreading it, winding herself so tightly her shoulders had ached and with her jaw clenched. But it had come and gone and with Ron and Harry there, everything had been okay.

Yet still she found she couldn’t shake this feeling of lethargy. Yes, she was sleeping through most nights and yes she was much less irritable with…well…everyone, but there was still something off. Had to be. Never before had she sat in a lecture (Defense Against the Dark Arts no less) and feel her eyes blur.

“Hey,” Ginny hissed, nudging her. “You alright.”

“What?” Hermione asked, blinking as the haze disappeared. “Yeah, fine.”

And she was. For a moment. Should she go to the hospital wing? She hadn’t felt this way since the tent what if….

Hermione blinked, trying to focus, aware of Ginny still staring at her from the corner of her eyes and she forced herself to pay attention long enough to write something down. It was only once Ginny was satisfied enough to return to her own work that Hermione felt herself drifting once more and it was as thoughts of lunch and fond remembrances of her boyfriend that it hit her. For the first time in her magical career, no, for the first time in her life while in a classroom Hermione was bored.

Oh, if Ron and Harry could see her now. The looks on their faces nearly made her burst out in laughter and she disguised the outburst with a sputtering cough. Hermione Granger. Top of her class. The girl who had come back to Hogwarts even though she could have had any job she wanted. Bored.

She considered doubling her focus but they were only reviewing Dementors and other O.W.L. Level creatures she had long since encountered. Indeed as Hermione snuck a glance around half the class was glassy-eyed and half asleep.

Perhaps, Hermione reasoned, Just this once, it wouldn’t hurt to let her mind wander.

Carefully she settled back in her seat, quill still posed over the paper so should anyone notice…but already with the simple permission her mind was miles away. Hundreds in fact. Right back in the flat where she’d spent her Christmas holiday. With the wooden floors that creaked and the fireplace with a roaring fire to minimize the draft. To the couch, second hand and lumpy and the feeling of being home.

She’d missed them so much that by the end of last term it was like having a constant stomach ache though she hadn’t been able to diagnose the cause. Then she’d seen them, laughed herself off the train before it had even come to a stop and at once the feeling had dissipated.

It had been the perfect holiday. Every second of it. Even the sad parts.

Even having just seen them she missed them. Yes, she and Ginny were closer than ever but it wasn’t the same. And neither her, nor Harry’s company compared to at last, being alone with Ron.

Only six weeks remained in the term. Forty days and then graduation, the traditional ceremony of those oarless boats propelling them across the black lake, back to the station where friends and family would be there to greet them and then….then it would feel like that all the time. Not having to be apart if they didn’t want to.

The thought wasn’t as scary as it might have been a year ago. Perhaps she had never been scared of loving him. Spending the rest of their lives intertwined. The notion of waking up next to him. Celebrating milestones and heartache (though she thought their respite from hard times was well earned).

Date night. Coming home at the end of a long day. Finding his smile around every corner. His lips just there for her taking.

“Hermione?” Ginny hissed, forcing her to shake her favorite day dream.

It was hard not to glare at her for interrupting but to her alarm it had been a warning.

“Miss Granger?” the elderly, retired auror who’d been roped into teaching them asked.

“I’m sorry?” she asked, doing her best to resist a blush as Ginny gave her a knowing stare. “What was the question again?”

#roywrites #ROMIONE #romione fanfic