#Romione FicFest 2020

[romioneficfest]

Masterpost of Submitted Fics

To everyone who contributed in various ways, by reading the fics, reblogging, commenting, and so much more - You have my thanks to those who contributed these amazing fics to the fest. For those reading at home and elsewhere, please give these wonderful writers a huge round of applause for their hard work, dedication to this lovely fictional couple for which we all appreciate, and hope they are enjoying their best lives possible, in Every Possible Universe. This cranky crusty Dragon appreciates every single one who took the time to contribute to this fest. Without you, everyone who participated, this would have been a bust. Instead, there are 84 new works for people to appreciate going forward.

For the second most anticipated moment that almost everyone’s been waiting for....

The Romione FicFest 2020 Masterlist:

His favourite part of the Day by @april-thelightfury115

Guard Duty by @azaleablueme

No Regrets by @chicgeekgirl89

a peculiar discovery by  @clinioelerrante

An Unbreakable Vow by @dameintoyland

Until it’s over by @isidar-mithrim

What if? by @melted-heart-of-ice

Ring by @nena-96

Shattered Hearts by @puppyduckster

Here now by @romionejilyfics

Soul Searching by @vedic-anarchist

The Last time by @wildegreenlight​

Submitted by @honouraryweasley12

Aftertaste

Comfort 

Reconciliation 

Submitted by @all--waswell

Broken 

We’ve got time 

Career Change 

Christmas 

Submitted by @josilemapa

Positive 

The Moment 

A Light in the Dark 

Promise 

Submitted by @hillnerd

Ignoring Ron

Unsaid Things

Watch my stuff

Put a sickle in the swear jar

Submitted by @aprofessionalprotagonist

Hope for the summer 

Million Galleon Idea 

Hide and Sneak 

The Clash by  

Hugo and the Dragon Pants 

Submitted by @ballerinaroy

Like a whisper

A Hogwarts, A History, A Mistake

A Space to Grow Into

a stroll through the park

Hermione’s Boyfriend

Submitted by @abradystrix

Hiding

At the Platform

Roses

Pants

The first and Last

Wands

A Cup of Tea

Submitted by @headcanonsandmore

helping her relax

New possibilities

A Bun in the Oven

A Good Day

Safe Harbour

A long night

Something to come back to 

Submitted by @utternonsense​

Relative Potency

Reputation

Namesake

Out with a bang

Food, or a Book

Last match of the season

The kinks in the plan

Fallout

Submitted by  @personallyvictimizedbythegnote

Missing Trousers

A surprise visit

Truth or Dare

Going back without You

The moment I knew (abridged)

Halloween at the Burrow

Something Growing

Normal Kids

Rosaceae

A Family Movie Night, in three Acts

Need a hand?

Constellations

The Second Dance

A different kind of apology

Afterglow

Interrupted Sleep

Teaspoon Vindication

Tell me I'm pretty

The moment I knew (unabridged)

In Another Universe

Submitted by Yours Truly (and thus weren’t eligible for voting)

Lose Yourself

The Setting Sun

Growing Twilight

3:00 AM

To listen

Penannular

Windfall

And this concludes the 2020 Romione FicFest. With tremendous appreciation for everyone who submitted fics, to those who read them all, and to those who reblogged and comments - I thank you. All. You’ve made this fest truly special.

#Romione FicFest 2020 #Mod Post #Masterlist #Masterlist for 2020 #Queue Up for the Dragon

[isidar-mithrim]

Until it’s over

“Come and dance,” said Ron abruptly.

Hermione looked up at him, surprised, but incapable to hold back a smile. Maybe he had listened when she’d said that next time there was a ball, he should have asked her before someone else did, and not as a last resort.

Or, the brief story of a whispered promise made during a long due dance.

{Written for the prompt “A wedding reception” (Day 11) of the RomioneFicLetFest2020}

Also on Ao3 ^^

________________________________

Thank you so much to Ina for betaing (and doing so super quickly because I finished the fic just the day before it was due!), and to @romioneficfest​ for organizing the Fest! ^^

Disclaimer: there are a couple of freely quoted lines from HP (GoF and DH)

[More notes on Ao3]

_________________________________

“Come and dance,” said Ron abruptly.

Hermione looked up at him, surprised, but unable to hold back a smile. Maybe he had listened when she’d said that next time there was a ball, he should have asked her before someone else did, and not as a last resort.

Pleased and a bit flustered, Hermione got up, following Ron toward the dancing floor. He walked forward with resolve, and Hermione could barely keep his pace, her heels unsteady on the grass.

“Ron,” she called with amusement, tugging at his sleeve. “My legs are quite shorter than yours, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Ron turned, his eyes wide in realization, his ears bright red. “Blimey,” he said, getting at her side with one stride. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry.” Hermione smiled, linking their arms together. “I won’t let you run away so easily.”

Ron stared at her for a long moment, and Hermione’s cheeks heated up under his intense gaze. She could sense her blood pumping fast in her veins.

“I’d never run from you,” said Ron, voice low and deep.

She swallowed. “I know.”

There was a brief moment of silence, then Ron playfully nudged her shoulder. “Shall we go?”

They were soon engulfed by the growing throng, whirling around the dance floor with her hands on Ron’s shoulders and his long fingers tentatively laid on her waist.

“I think your legs are the perfect length, by the way,” said Ron with an affectionate smile. His eyes dropped on her bare thighs, and Hermione’s face flushed in a heartbeat. When their gazes met again, he definitely noticed the blush on her cheeks, because his eyebrows shot up, as he’d just realised what he’d said.

“I mean, er… with the heels, and… you know…” He made a vague gesture, shrugging. “It’s not like I’ve seen you often in a proper dress. It’s… you look great.”

“Thank you,” said Hermione, trying to ignore the butterflies in her squirming stomach. It was the second time he’d complimented her appearance in a single day, and she was pretty sure it’d never happened before. “You look pretty dashing yourself.”

She had spoken sincerely, but her honest remark was met with a scoff.

“I mean it!”

“Sure,” mumbled Ron skeptically, fidgeting with his collar.

Hermione smoothed it with her fingers after Ron had finished tormenting it. “Well, at least you’re more elegant than your ghoul.”

Ron chuckled, and she beamed at him.

“How flattering,” he joked, rolling his eyes, but Hermione could tell he was quite pleased from the way he tightened the grip on her hands to make her swing around the dance floor.

“What about Krum?” asked Ron abruptly one song later, his uncertain tone tainted by a hint of dread.

Hermione hesitantly lifted her head to lock their eyes together. “What about him?”

Ron’s Adam’s apple bobbled up and down, and he stayed silent for a long moment, holding her closer. Hermione suspected it was a pretext to avoid her gaze, but she still savoured the proximity of his lean body, the cosiness of his arms around her torso, the firmness of his chin against her temple.

“Would you pick him over me?”

The concern in Ron’s words was so blatant that Hermione felt her eyes prickle.

“For being so good at chess you’re really thick, sometimes,” she murmured.

Ron’s lowered his head and looked at her, a poorly-concealed and quite endearing hopefulness written all over his face.

“How so?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper. His breath was warm on her cheek, and she could smell the musky scent of his hair lotion.  

“I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

Ron nodded slowly, his nose almost brushing hers, his lips slightly parted. Her skin tingled, and a shiver run down her spine. He was close, wonderfully close. Excessively close.

The realization of what they were about to do cut her breath, and Hermione hastily took a step back, her hands pressed against his chest to keep them apart, pushing away any lingering temptation to close the infinitesimal, immense distance between their lips.

Hurt flashed over Ron’s face, crumpling his beautiful feature, and her heart ached with sorrow.

“We can’t,” she said in a low voice, clasping his wrists. She needed him to understand, she needed him to see why they couldn’t jeopardize everything for that. She’d dwelled about it too long not to know it was a terrible idea. “We… we need to stay focused. We can’t let ourselves being distracted by… by anything that isn’t a Horcrux, or Harry, or… or getting back to our families in one piece. Getting our families back in one piece.” Her eyes watered as every damn time she thought about her parents, but before Ron could offer her a tissue, she pressed her fingers under her eyes to stop the tears without ruining her makeup. “I wish everything was different, Ron. I really do. But… we can’t afford to have other priorities. We can’t afford… this. Not now. Harry –” Hermione shut her eyes and inhaled deeply, bracing herself before saying out loud what they’d both always known, but had never dared to put into words. “Harry has to come first. At least… at least until everything is over,” she added, hoping it didn’t sound as desperate and naive as it did to her ears. Hoping she wasn’t the only one dreaming of an after that might never come. She grabbed his arms with urgency. “Please. Please, tell me you understand.”

Ron’s expression was pained, but he took a long breath and nodded. “I do. You’re right, we have to be there for Harry. We will be there for Harry, and we’ll do everything we can to get rid of those bloody Horcruxes and end fucking You-Know-Who, and then we’ll bring your parents back, and then…” His gaze flickered down to her lips and her heart beat erratically, then Ron cleared his throat, looking into her eyes with an adorable mix of sheepishness and determination.

“I could really use something good to look forward to for when it’s all over. You know, in case a world without You-Know-Who turns out to be a bit boring.”

“Yeah… I could too,” said Hermione, her lips tugged upward in amusement.

Ron looked at her with a tenderness that made her knees wobble. “So…  just until it’s over?” he asked, voice loaded with hope and promises.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist, flushing their bodies together to rest a cheek over his beating heart.

“Just until it’s over.”

They kept swirling and dancing for several more songs, fueled by the prospect of a brighter future waiting ahead, driven by the certainty of having yet another thing to fight for.

They only stopped when her feet ached too much to stand, beaming at each other in the delusion that, at least until they left tomorrow, it didn’t mean having yet another thing to lose.

#romione #romione ficfest 2020 #missing scene #canon compliant #deathly hollows #bill' and fleur's wedding #dancing #hurt/comfort #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #harry potter

[ao3feed-romione]

Afterglow

Afterglow by rosequartzstars

After Ron and Hermione bring home their second child, they take a day off with all three of them in bed— and take a moment to rediscover how beautiful they think the other is. (Domestic Romione/Granger-Weasley family one-shot)

Words: 974, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Hugo Weasley

Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley

Additional Tags: Family Fluff, granger-weasley family - Freeform, rff 2020, romione ficfest 2020, romione, mentions of breastfeeding, Married Life, Married Couple, Family, Family Bonding, Domestic, Domestic Fluff

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25193779

#AO3 Feed #Romione FanFic #♥ #Romione #R:General #A:Rosequartzstars #Fluff

[clinioelerrante]

A peculiar discovery.

“This is absurd, Mr. Weasley!”  said McGonagall. There was a touch of weariness in his complaint and a perfect point of exasperation and disbelief when he rolled her eyes and raised her hands to heaven like asking to Most High for enough patience to be able to keep his composure.

“My arse it is!”  Ron mumbled underneath his breath retorting her decision in a rare emotional tidal wave from the professor of transfiguration and head of the Gryffindor house.

“I beg your pardon?” The expression of astonishment on the old teacher’s face is immediately replaced by the frown, the stony countenance, and the gaze above the crescent glasses which the students of Hogwarts have learned, since their first year is the equivalent of an imminent and particularly original detention.

“Nothing. Doesn’t matter”, the whisper escapes from a head down, red as hellfire, which, if it keeps going down, there was a good chance of ending up inside its own arse.

Minerva McGonagall has been a teacher at Hogwarts for many years and has certainly seen students from all classes with all kinds of families, personalities and individual problems. So, in theory, she should be versed in dealing with students from all walks of life, but even so, there is always someone in every generation of students, who simply do not fit into any of the classifications made to date. She thought that classification was complete when she had to face the gang led by James Potter and his friends Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, but it seems that this new generation has its own challenge to her patience. A really serious challenge, it seems, and one that is going to require all her patience and experience as a teacher and head of the one of the house of the school.

“Mr. Weasley”, she asks him, after taking a deep breath and composing herself in her office chair while she rests her forearms on the desk in front of her and leans slightly forward.  “This situation cannot be sustained any longer. Please look at my face as I speak to you”, She demands, causing the furious fire in front of her to be replaced by two blue eyes of surprising intensity despite her youth. “Mrs. Pomfrey has already noticed that you have been visiting Miss Granger in the infirmary every night outside curfew. She understands your concern for her and has been turning a blind eye to it to this day, but this situation is already unacceptable.”

The old teacher cannot help but feel a lump in her throat when she remembers the scene before her just a few hours ago when, at the request of the school nurse; she came to the nursing wing.

There, leaning on the bed occupied by the petrified Miss Granger, it stands amidst a jumble of scrolls of sloppy calligraphy; it was the head, with the traces of crying on his face, of a sleeping Ronald Weasley sitting by the bed while holding his friend’s hand.

“Mr. Weasley, from this moment on, you are “expressly" forbidden to go back to the infirmary outside visiting hours and especially outside curfew.”

“But Professor…” Minerva is not so much surprised by the interruption as by the vehement and passionate tone in which a hint of despair seems to be hidden. “Hermione has been petrified for weeks. She must be deadly bored, so I go and tell her all the things that happen at school, only the nice ones of course. Like the mandrakes are maturing and she’ll soon be fine and how boringLockhart’s classes are or how Harry’s great at quidditch and he swept the pitch with Malfoy’s stinking ass…” and then his face lights up like if he’s found the definitive and irrefutable point “… she’s been out of class and out of notes for a long time. When they wake her up, she’s going to be distraught, so I read her my own while I’m with her. I know they’re not as good and fucking perfect as hers…” the strict instructor’s hair stands up on the back of her neck when she hears such language, but not as much as when she feels the intensity of the feeling shining in the child’s eyes and translating it into his words, “…but at least they’re something and I’m sure she’ll be able to improve them as soon as she starts studying because she’s the best in the school, whatever asshole face Malfoy says and…”

Minerva’s detecting something now. There is loyalty in the child’s body language, but in his words, she finds something else - devotion. There is a genuine admiration for his friend, an unwavering desire to help her. Hagrid had told her about the slugs incident, and the teacher’s pride in her pupil was burning. Initially, she thought of punishing him, but the Gameskeeper’s recounting convinced her that the youngest of the Weasley boys had had enough punishment. McGonagall detected something else also: a threat to anyone who dared to harm her.

“Mr Weasley!” She interrupts him. “I think Professor Dumbledore has explained to you that petrified people feel absolutely nothing”. She uses a calm and instructive tone in an attempt to calm his own distress. “For them time has stopped. When Miss Granger is unpetrified, it will have will be very similar to that of having consumed a sleeping without dreams potion.”

“But she’d certainly be looking at how to help Harry and me if we were the ones petrified and missing class. Right now she would be raiding the library trying to find some way to wake us sooner, even if we were as dry as a one-eyed dragon’s eye. She’s crazy, I know, but I’m sure she would, and besides”, the intensity in his gaze that existed until that moment, disappears and is replaced by a shadow, while his shoulders fall and his voice descends to something more than a whisper. “Besides, it’s the only thing I can do after that stupid idea of the kiss failed so, I’m going to keep doing it no matter what”. At that moment Ronald Weasley seems oblivious to where and with whom he is, giving the impression that those last words are, rather, a reflection out loud to himself.

“Mr Weasley!” The professor suddenly stood and looked with open eyes at a stunned redhead whose facial expression quickly changed from surprise to understanding and from understanding to panic-. “Are you telling me that you abused a helpless… ?”

“NOOOO!”  The scream from his mouth was if he had been slapped by the accusation. “No. It’s not like you think… well, it’s … but not… I mean, I did kiss her, but it’s not like that, it’s not like that at all any way.”

“Explain yourself”. McGonagall’s voice suffers no kindness. It’s a pure ice knife ready to attack as soon slightest transgression it detects.

“Last year Hermione was talking to us about the differences in how muggles understand magic, and she was telling us some muggles stories of spells and curses. One of them tells the story of a woman who seems to fall under a spell so similar to the living dead potion and how she is reanimated, not by a potion, but a kiss! Yes. I know it’s crazy and that real magic doesn’t work that way, but I thought… FUCK!” The imprecation escapes meanwhile he runs his hands through his hair in a reflex act of desperation over his inability to explain the obvious. “Professor Dumbledore spends his time talking about magic and that it has aspects that are completely unknown and mysterious to us, and my best friend survived to the killing curse from the most evil and powerful wizard of all time so I thought, why not? Maybe the crazy muggles were talking through their hats and written their own version, so there was nothing to lose, so I kissed her on the forehead. I did it for her and because I don’t like seeing her like that. That doesn’t look like Hermione. That doesn’t look like my best friend”, he says, collapsing on the chair with his face in his hands.

With all her years, with all her experience, Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, member of the secret society known as The Order of the Phoenix, cannot help but gaze in disbelief at the revelation. One, which very few have had the opportunity to see in all its grandeur: Rebellion, concern, sacrifice, dedication, tenderness, loyalty, devotion, protection… desperation. All from an eleven-year-old boy already irrevocably in love with his schoolmate. Too young to be able to recognize her own feeling and give it a name, but so strong and indestructible that the old teacher can only pray to heaven that Hermione Granger’s heart will harbour the same feelings for the impetuous and stubborn Ronald Weasley.

The owner of all rights is JKR.

This was my work for the Romioneficfest 2020.

I apologize to the heirs of Shakespeare, but, I was really dying to publish something on Romioneficfest. I hope you can forgive my terrible English. A million thanks to the festival's moderator, who revised my grammar and put this story on a diet to keep it within the regulated parameters.

There's a dragon lady. That even though she always looks angry, we all know she has a tender heart.

Thank you.

#Romione FicFest 2020 #Fic Post#Romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Submission #Queue Up for the Dragon #Rated T #Rated PG-13 #Mod note: Emailed to me and asked to edit.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26120641/chapters/63539629

[romioneficfest]

Christmas

Title: Christmas

Prompt/Day: Day 8: Skirt

Tumblr name: 

Rating: T

Brief summary: ‘You saw me in uniform every day for six years!’

Warning: Alludes to sex, swearing

There was a flurry of snow that wisped around her as she apparated into the dark courtyard of Grimmauld Place. It was past midnight, so she rustled into her bag for the key to the house, walking quickly across the road to the front steps.

She took two at a time before pressing her hand against the door as she turned the key. The hallway was dark, except for one small light coming from the sitting room to the left. She closed the door gently, and took a few steps inside, letting out a breath at the warmth that engulfed her.

Hermione had noticed that the boys had started to make the place their own. The house seemed less dank and depressing as it had during the summer, and pictures and posters began littering the walls, shoes scattered in the hallway, a pile of washing at the bottom of the stairs, clearly chucked from a higher level.

Harry was fast asleep on the couch, a book resting on his chest, his glasses askew. Hermione smiled, backing out of the living room and began to creep up the stairs – hoping the soft creaks did not wake him.

She reached the landing on the third floor and saw Ron’s door ahead. She couldn’t get there fast enough, moving quickly, opening the door and sliding into the room quietly.

He was asleep in a pile of blankets, quilts and pillows. Sprawled on his back, snoring softly. She smiled, stepping closer, dropping her bag on the floor. A warmth filled her, took her breath away almost. God, she had missed him.

The snow had begun to fall in earnest now, Hermione could see out of his window. The streetlight illuminated his room in a soft glow, making his red hair look even more vibrant against his white sheets. She admired her choice of linen for a moment before she began to undress.

She pulled her cloak off and put it gently on the floor, sliding her shoes off before placing one knee on the bed, sinking under her weight. He didn’t stir.

Slowly, she crept closer until she placed a hand on his cotton t-shirt and he moved, his head jerking to the side, his eyes cracking open slightly.

Suddenly, his eyes were wide.

‘Hermione?’

He looked at her incredulously, like he was dreaming. She laughed softly and he obviously decided quickly she wasn’t a dream because he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down on top of him. She squealed, laughing, before his lips met hers.

The laughter died in her throat because his hands were moving and she moaned against his lips.

‘I missed you,’ she whispered, as he kissed her neck.

‘I wasn’t expecting you til tomorrow,’ he murmured, slowing down and leaving her neck to face her.

‘McGonagall let me leave early.’

‘Could fucking kiss that woman.’

‘I’d prefer if you didn’t,’ Hermione laughed, grabbing a hold of Ron’s shirt and pulling him down.

He kissed her deeply, like he hadn’t done in over seven weeks, his hands roaming further down until he came to the hem of her skirt.

He groaned, putting his head against her neck. ‘You left you’re uniform on.’

Hermione laughed, swatting him on the shoulder. ‘You saw me in uniform every day for 6 years.’

Ron’s mouth was at her neck again and her breath hitched in her throat as he nipped her ear.

‘Yeah but I didn’t get to take it off you, did I?’

It was 3am when Hermione stirred, opening her eyes to see her boyfriend, curled up against her, sleeping soundly. She smiled, pulling the blankets up and drifted back to sleep.

Her uniform lay forgotten on the floor.

#Romione FicFest 2020 #Fic Post #Romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Submission #Queue Up for the Dragon #Rated T #Ace Safe

[romioneficfest]

An Unbreakable Vow

Title: An Unbreakable Vow Prompt/Day: Day 2 Prompt (Pants. Hermione’s Office. Ron talks about the Snatchers.) Tumblr name:  Rating: T Brief summary: A wardrobe malfunction at the Ministry leads to a discussion about a, not so secret, secret Ron’s kept about his run-in with the snatchers. (AKA, that time I was really dense and thought I had to work in all the word prompts into one story). Any possible triggering/warning tags: Partial nudity, extremely mild suggestive language, and discussion of violence.

“Ron?” The red head turned around at the sound of Hermione’s voice. She stood frozen in the doorway of her office at the Ministry with several rolls of parchment tucked under one arm and confusion beaming from her face. Ron watched as her eyes traced up his form until she caught his eyes and fixed him with a scrutinizing glare.

“Why are you practically naked in my office?” she asked, still holding onto the knob of the open door.

“Hello, love,” Ron called back to her as he picked up an oxford shirt he had draped on the back of a chair and began slipping it on. “Do you mind closing the door? I don’t fancy your whole office seeing me in my pants.”

Hermione jolted at his words and quickly moved inside the room and shut the door. She walked over to her desk and dropped off the parchment she’d been carrying without taking her eyes off him.

“Sorry, about this.” Ron motioned to his state of undress. He finished buttoning his shirt, leaving the top two buttons undone and grabbed a pair of trousers off the chair before sitting down to put them on.

“I ran into some kid handling confiscated doxy pheromones after I got to the Ministry,” Hermione wrinkled her nose at those words. “Exactly, even scourgify can’t undo that smell. So I changed into the spare outfit you keep for me when we go out with your ministry stiffs. I hope you don’t mind.”

Ron finished buttoning his trousers and walked around the desk to stand next to Hermione. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips and then her forehead.

“I would say sorry for running late to lunch, but it seems you’re a bit late yourself,” he mumbled against her forehead. Ron started to pull back but froze when Hermione grabbed him by the bottom of his untucked shirt and tugged it up.

“Saw something you liked?” Ron started with a wry grin, but he quickly noticed something was off as Hermione merely continued to tug up his shirt with one hand while the other hand gently turned him around.

“What is this?” Hermione asked in a low voice. She ran cool fingers along the lower left side of Ron’s back. Her fingers ran over a particularly painful spot, and Ron couldn’t help but flinch and suck in a pained breath between his teeth.

“What happened?” Hermione asked again.

“Oh, I think that happened a few days ago,” he said nonchalantly. “Fell in the stock room and hit my back.”

“Why didn’t you or George properly heal it?” Hermione asked after a few seconds.

“It didn’t really hurt at the time, and I just sort of forgot about it.”

Hermione groaned disapprovingly at his response and he could hear the rustle of her robes just before the healing heat from a nonverbal episkey charm radiated across his back.

“So, a few days ago.” Hermione said pointedly and Ron turned to face her. She stood a little farther away from him than he remembered with her arms crossed over her chest. “Ron you know the rules. You’ve always followed the rules before.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s our little unbreakable vow,” he joked but stiffened after Hermione fixed him with an unamused stare. “I’m supposed to let you know of any injuries no matter—”

“No matter how big or small.”

Ron closed the distance between them in one step and ran his hands down her arms before pulling her into a firm hug.

“I promise, I wasn’t hiding anything,” he said, pressing his nose into her hair and breathing in her apple cinnamon shampoo. Ron had learned various techniques over the years for calming Hermione before she had a chance to lecture him, and a good cuddle was top of the list.

“It wasn’t a big deal, honest,” he continued in the soothing voice he always used when Hermione was especially stressed. “It probably looked worse just now than it did that day.” Ron figured he’d achieved his objective, when he heard Hermione let out a sigh and felt her wrap her arms around his waist.

“Do you know why I always ask you to check in with me about these things?” Hermione asked.

“Besides an excuse to see me naked?”

“Don’t be silly, I never need an excuse for that,” Hermione replied. Ron looked down at her with a grin and leaned in to kiss her lips, but she leaned back and shook her head.

“This is serious,” she said. “Do you remember the story you told Harry and me about the snatchers?” she continued. “You said they weren’t that bright—”

“Part troll were my exact words,” Ron interjected.

“And you said that you were able to get away from them with two splinched fingernails as your only injury, but I know you lied because of this,” Hermione said as she pulled back the collar of his shirt and ran her fingers across a small scar on his shoulder that was almost obscured by the larger swirling scars running down his arms. “I know it wasn’t there before the tent.”

“How would you have known that?”

“We may not have been together, Ron, but let’s just say I was well acquainted with your…erm…form even then.”

“Good to know,” Ron replied with a crooked smile.

“Focus, Ron,” Hermione commanded but seemed to be biting back her own smile.

“It was after you came back,” she continued, her fingers still tracing the edges of the old scar. “One morning when you came to take over a shift for me, I saw it there. It was a lot more noticeable. It had that bright red look of a recently healed scar. At first, I figured you probably just splinched yourself worse than you wanted to admit. Besides, I was still trying my best to ignore you. But when you weren’t looking, I couldn’t help myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“I still watched you all the time even if I wasn’t speaking to you. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

“I might have.”

“Naturally, the more I watched you the more I realised that this was a wound from something sharp. Like a knife—and the only time that could have happened…” Hermione sniffled. “I’m right, aren’t I? This is from the snatchers?”

“You’re not wrong that it was from the snatchers, but I swear most of the encounter went as I said. They really were quite daft, but when they first grabbed me, one of ‘em held a knife to me. In the struggle to get away he did nick me a bit—”

Hermione raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Alright, yes he stabbed me—once, but it was shallow and my adrenaline was so high at that point that by the time I knew what happened I was already safe.”

Hermione frowned at him. “Was the knife cursed?”

“No,” he answered. His mouth was set into a grim line for the first time since their conversation began.

Hermione nodded almost imperceptibly at his response before resting her head back on his chest. They stood in their embrace for a few more moments.

“I always just figured you thought it was part of my scar from the brains.” Ron finally broke the silence. “You weren’t mad that I never said anything?”

“I was, but mostly I didn’t say anything because I was still stubbornly trying to avoid speaking to you at the time.” Hermione chuckled, and Ron smiled at the memories of her futile efforts to stay mad at him.

“But, a part of me realised that you didn’t want Harry and me to worry. So I decided to respect that,” Hermione added. “It’s something of a habit for you.”

“I know,” he whispered.

“It’s one of my favourite things about you, but it also makes me worry. That’s why I made you promise me, back when you became an Auror, to tell me about every scrape, every scratch, every—”

“Splinched eyebrow and fingernail, were the words I recall.”

Hermione pinched his side but otherwise didn’t break their embrace. “And I meant it,” she mumbled.

“I haven’t forgotten,” he murmured back. “But I’m not even an Auror anymore, doesn’t that cancel the agreement?”

“Are you joking? Working with George makes it even more important. At least as an Auror I could count on Harry to keep you safe, and honest.” Hermione looked up at him and brought her hands up to rest on his neck. “So you better not forget it Ron Weasley, or else…”

“Or else?”

A playful smile crossed Hermione’s lips and she rose up on her tiptoes. Ron bent down to meet her, stopping just before their lips met.

“Next time it will be a real unbreakable vow,” Hermione said just before pressing her lips against his.

#Romione FicFest 2020 #Fic Post #Romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Submission #Queue Up for the Dragon #Rated T #Not quite Ace Safe #See CW notes

[romioneficfest]

Aftertaste

Title: Aftertaste Prompt/Day: Wand Tumblr name:  Rating: PG Brief summary: Ron is feeling unwell after defending Hermione. Any possible triggering/warning tags: Some mild colourful language

“Blech!” He made a face of disgust as the taste and smell hit him. He slumped down in his chair in front of the fire, staring daggers at the Spellotaped wand sitting on the table in front of him—the cause of his current discomfort. If his stupid wand had worked, he would have shown bloody Malfoy a thing or two.

Ron groaned, dropping his head into his hands. He was used to it, never having anything good to call his own. Things never going right. His body convulsed as he gagged on the foul flavour again. He’d gladly eat a thousand bogey-flavoured Bernie Botts to get rid of the slimy, sulphuric taste those slugs had left behind.

It had already been a few days, and still it lingered. He’d tried eating the strongest tasting foods he could find and had brushed his teeth over and over again.

What had he been thinking? He knew his busted wand was next to useless. Ron rubbed his eyes with his palms, upset at himself. When he heard that word, he stopped thinking and just… reacted. No one deserved to be called that, especially not Hermione.

Though she didn’t understand how horrible that word was, she knew it was meant to be hurtful. He saw red when Draco used the slur, and he instinctually wanted to pummel the wanker. His parents always taught him to stand up for what was right.

She was one of his best friends after all. He couldn’t help but grin slightly and shake his head at the thought, considering only a year earlier he couldn’t stand her. Somehow, she’d already become an important part of his life. He, Ron Weasley, cared about the swottiest girl in the whole school. Would wonders never cease?

He heard the portrait hole open and he glanced up, making eye contact with his bushy-haired friend. She caught his eye and smiled, making him feel uncomfortably warm. Harry had gone up to bed a few minutes earlier, and there was a smattering of fellow Gryffindors still working in the common room.

She must have been at her favourite place, because as usual, she was balancing a pile of books. Her overstuffed bag had been flung haphazardly over her shoulder as she teetered over.

The books dropped with a thud on the table, landing next to his wretched wand.

“Brought the library here, have you?”

“I’ve just been reading about Wizard-Muggle relations and how they affected the classism in our world, based on the false idea that your bloodlines impact your ability to perform magic.”

“Utterly fascinating.” Ron replied, playfully rolling his eyes.

She shot him a dirty look, but continued on. “Ever since the fight with Malfoy the other day, I wanted to find out more about the prejudices against Muggleborn wizards and witches. Unfortunately, history hasn’t been kind in that regard.”

Ron nodded. “Mum and Dad always told us it was silly. They knew lots of Purebloods who were pants at magic. Those wankers like the Malfoys think they’re so much better than everyone. I mean, you’re easily the best in our year.”

Hermione blushed. “Well, that may be true, but many in our world will still think of me as a Mudblood.”

“Shhh!” He leapt up, looking around. “You can’t just say that so casually; it’s taboo.”

“I refuse to let it hurt me. I refuse to let it mean something.”

He lowered himself back down, glancing around again. “Yeah, well, it does mean something, to a lot of people here.”

“Why do you care what people think?”

He bristled. “I don’t care. I just don’t like you calling yourself that.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t deserve to be called something so horrible. You’re too good for that.”

She looked at him oddly, her cheeks again pink. “Thank you.”

His face suddenly twisted into a look of disgust, his hand barely covering a harsh cough.

“Are you alright?”

“Just a bit of sluggy aftertaste.”

She shot him a look of sympathy, before abruptly bouncing on her seat in delight.

“Oh! I almost forgot! I have something for you.”

Ron leaned forward in excitement. “Really? For me?”

Hermione nodded vigorously, before rummaging through her bag for a moment and pulling out a package wrapped in brown paper. She shoved it in his hands.

He stared at it for a moment, somewhat in awe. He rarely got anything for himself, outside of birthdays and Christmas.

“Go on then, open it. It’s not much, but I thought it might help.”

He tore off the paper and his brow furrowed in confusion as he read the label on the bottle of green liquid she’d gifted him.

“Hermione!” Ron gaped at her, absolutely scandalized. “You… you smuggled alcohol into the school! That’s brilliant! I didn’t know you had it in you!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “It contains alcohol, but not the kind you’re thinking of. It’s mouthwash. You see, I wrote to my parents and asked them to send some right away. They’re dentists after all, so they help keep people’s teeth and mouths clean and healthy.”

He looked at it dubiously. “Well, I’m not sure how drinking this will help.”

“You don’t drink it! Just swish a capful around in your mouth for a minute, then spit it out. It should help with the slug taste. The alcohol will help kill the germs. It might burn a bit—I asked them to send a strong one.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Ron peered curiously at the liquid again. “I’ll give it a try.”

She wrung her hands in her lap. “It was the least I could do for defending me. That was one of the nicest things you’ve ever done for me.”

He grinned and looked down shyly. “Don’t mention it.”

Before he knew what was happening, she sprung to her feet, grabbed her bag, and leaned close to him.

“Thanks, Ron,” she whispered, before giving him a friendly peck on the cheek and scurrying away to the dorms.

He sat in shock, his hand finding the tingly spot on his cheek. He was sure his ears were aflame.

Maybe the taste of slug wasn’t so bad after all.

#Romione FicFest 2020 #Fic Post #Romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Submission #Queue Up for the Dragon #Rated K+ #Rated PG #Ace Safe

[romioneficfest]

Promise

Title: Promise Prompt: Day 8/Date (Night) Name: Rating: K+ Brief summary: While down in the Chamber of Secrets Ron makes a promise. Trigger(s):

The huge room gave a big grumble and her agonizing scream echoed through the chamber. She got dizzy, and the next moment Hermione felt her knees give out. She collapsed onto the cold stone floor, the small golden cup now showing a large bulge. Hermione took a deep breath and tried to control her ragged breathing.

“Hermione! Shit! Hermione!” Ron’s voice sounded far away. “Hermione! Are you alright?”

She noticed how strong arms supported her and she slowly opened her eyes while taking a shuddering breath. Ron looked panicked and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead.

“Are you okay? Can you stand up?”

She nodded awkwardly, but when Ron tried to help her up, she collapsed again. He sat down as well and pulled her into his lap, supporting her exhausted body with his arms. Only then did she notice that tears were running down her cheeks.

“I’ve got you. It’s okay,” he tried to comfort her but his voice seemed slightly desperate.

“I just need a moment,” she mumbled. “It…this thing,” she pointed to the destroyed cup, “it said…I…”

“I know. I could pick up a few words.”

Hermione flushed. Had he heard the hissing voice speaking about her parents? That they would never remember her again? Had he heard the voice whisper that she was a worthless, useless and filthy mudblood? That her friends only used her for her brains? That she was an unbearable know-it-all? Had he heard that cruel voice calling her ugly and disgusting? Telling her that a pureblood like Ron would never fall in love with her?

“It was all lies. Every single word. You hear me?” Ron’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. “None of it is true. It was all lies.” She sniffed loudly and kept her head down. “Can you look at me? Hermione? Whatever it said…” He gently brought her head up with his shaking hands and looked directly into her eyes. “Don’t believe anything. It was just trying to torture you.”

Somewhere water was dripping from the ceiling and onto the cold stone floor. A few yards away lay the dead basilisk which they had knocked out years before.

“You’re beautiful,” Ron said so suddenly that Hermione shot him a startled look. His cheeks were fiery red now. “None of it is true,” he said. “Your parents will remember you. And…”

Hermione blinked a few times, not quite believing what was happening.

“And…and…sometimes you may be a know-it-all, but I am by no means friends with you because I use you for your brains or because I pity you.”

Oh God. He had heard it all. Every single detail.

“You…I…it wasn’t…I…,” she stammered, not really sure what she wanted to say.

“It’s okay.”

“I’m so embarrassed,” she whispered and solved herself from his embrace. The situation made her uncomfortable, and she wanted nothing more than to hide in a dark corner. She tried to stand up, but Ron stopped her. He gripped her shoulder and made her look at him.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” His tone was serious, and Hermione could feel him shivering. She smiled sheepishly and he intertwined their fingers. “I mean it,” he said. “You are.”

They both fell silent for a moment, staring at each other.

“I do mean it,” he repeated seriously. “You’re beautiful.”

She stared at him with disbelief, but there was nothing but truth radiating from his words. His hand moved towards her cheek, and he awkwardly wiped away a few tears. He was looking at her with his piercing blue eyes, and she was sure the whole castle could hear her heart beating. His eyes flickered towards her lips, and she felt her insides slowly melting. And then her heart almost skipped a beat when he leaned in a bit, his lips slightly parted and his hand still resting on her cheek. The world around them had become entirely silent. He seemed slightly uncertain. She lifted her hand to where his fingers rested on her cheek, twining their hands together. This seemed to reassure him. His other hand reached up to her face, the warmth of his palms heating her cheeks. Her lips tingled and she closed her eyes.

But then, suddenly, cruelly, the world around them came crashing back with a horrible ear-deafening shake of the castle. Small rubble began falling down the bleak walls of the chamber and they both startled. Ron jumped to his feet in lightning speed and pulled her up as well. Hermione felt dizzy, and her heart still pounded madly against her ribcage. She watched as he picked up some basilisk fangs, his face almost matching the color of his hair.

When he got up again, his crystal-blue eyes searched hers. He looked stricken and his eyes seemed slightly wet, but she couldn’t tell if there were tears. He shook his head barely noticeable. She closed the gap between them and buried her face in his chest. His arms enfolded her immediately. But then the castle gave another big shake and more rocks fell down.

“Let’s go. Before this bloody place comes down.”

Hermione only nodded sadly, hoping that they would live to see the next morning so they could continue wherever they had left off. She looked up and saw a thousand words reflected on his sad face.

“When all of this is over…when…I…” He seemed to struggle to find the right words. “If we survive this…if I survive this…and bloody hell, I will make damn sure of it…I’m…I’m going to ask you out on a date.”

Hermione felt goosebumps creeping up her back. She nodded and smiled. “Promise?”

Ron reached out for her with his free hand. Hermione took it and gripped it like her life depended on it. He gripped it even tighter and gave her a reassuring smile.

“Promise.”

#Romione FicFest 2020 #Fic Post #Romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Submission #Queue Up for the Dragon #Rated K+ #Rated PG #Ace Safe

[romioneficfest]

Hermione’s Boyfriend

Title: Hermione’s Boyfriend Prompt/Day: hair / day 5 Tumblr name:  Rating: G Brief summary: Ron reassures Hermione after she has to cut her hair. Any possible triggering/warning tags: n/a

Ron watched from the foot of Hermione’s camp bed as she frowned, turning this way and that, a hairbrush held indecisively in her hand. It’d been nearly an hour, the same as it’d been every day since Hermione had been forced to axe the burnt section of her hair, taking almost all of her length with it.

“Charlie has a spell you know-“

“I know Charlie has a spell,” Hermione said, frustration oozing from every word. “I don’t want to risk doing any more damage.”

In the past Ron might have tried pointing out how illogical she was being when she could research the spell for herself in one of the dozens of books or magazines Ginny had stashed away, but he felt sensed it better to move on.

“I think it looks nice,” he attempted and she turned, hesitation in her eyes.

“You have to say that, you’re my boyfriend.”

Ron’s retort was lost. Boyfriend. He grinned and Hermione blushed.

“Your boyfriend?” he teased, delighted and sat up straight.

“Well, I—“ she stammered, “I know we haven’t had an actual conversation about it-”

“Claimed me for yourself, have you?” Ron asked.

“Sorry, you’re right,” she faltered, face as red as Ron had ever seen it. She turned back to the mirror. “It just slipped out I-I’m happy with the way things are going I don’t need us to-“

“Don’t go revoking it already, I rather like the title. Hermione’s boyfriend.”

Her eyes widened and then her face split into a smile. He stood, wrapping his arms around from behind and putting his chin on her shoulder, staring into the mirror with her.

“I’ve just…” she whispered, eyes still raking the shoulder length bob, “I’ve always had long hair. And I know it’s silly and doesn’t make me any less feminine but-“

“I think it looks good,” Ron told her, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “And as your boyfriend-‘

Her lips curled.

“-I’ve no reason to lie to you.”

Hermione gave a final apprizing look and then turned, stilling his arms, wrapping her own around his shoulders.

“You really like it?” she questioned. “You don’t miss my long hair?”

“Hermione I like you. Long hair, short hair, hell, we could go and buzz it off and I’d still be fond of it.”

She shook her head. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible in a good way?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Impossible in the best way,” she breathed against his lips.

#Romione FicFest 2020 #Fic Post #Romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Submission #Queue Up for the Dragon #Rated G #Ace Safe

[romioneficfest]

Something to come back to

Title: Something to come back to Prompt/Day: Ron leaves for a mission Tumblr name:  Rating: T for teen Brief summary: Before Ron leaves for a long Auror mission, Hermione gives him a reminder of what he will be coming back to Any possible triggering/warning tags: None. 

‘You’ve got everything you need?’

‘For the fifty-sixth time, Hermione; yes.’ Ron said, patiently, as he threw his auror jacket on. ‘All my equipment is fine, and we’ve got rations sorted already.’

‘I know. I’m just… worried.’

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘You better be,’ Ginny said, from nearby. ‘I’m counting on you to get Harry back to me in one piece.’

‘Oh, thanks for your confidence in my abilities,’ Harry chuckled, pecking Ginny on the cheek.

Ron and Harry were leaving for an auror mission. Neither of them had any idea how long it would last, and all information about it was classified, even to their partners. Which didn’t sit well with Hermione.

‘Hermione, c’mon,’ Ron said, softly, stroking her cheek with one hand. ‘I’ll be back before you know it.’

‘But I will know it. I… I hate not knowing how you are.’

‘I promise; I’ll be fine. I’m touched that you’re worried, but-’

Hermione threw her arms around Ron’s neck, and kissed him full on the mouth. Reacting without a second thought, Ron lifted the bushy-haired witch off her feet.

‘Oy!’ Ginny groaned as, next to her, Harry rolled his eyes. ‘I don’t want to see my brother snogging someone like that!’

Hermione directed a rude hand gesture at them, as she continued to press herself closer to Ron. She wasn’t normally in the habit of swearing, but needs must. After all; she put up with Ginny snogging Harry (who wasn’t blood related to Hermione, but brother nonetheless), so she deserved the same consideration.

‘Urgh,’ Ginny said, before leading Harry out of the door.

Ron and Hermione stayed like that for a while, their kisses becoming less intense and more comforting. Ron’s newly-grown beard tickled Hermione’s chin softly.

‘Not that I’m complaining,’ Ron said, as they broke apart. ‘But what was that all about, ‘Mione?’

Hermione bit down on her lower lip.

‘Just… giving you a taste of what you’ll be coming back to after your mission.’

‘I bloody love you.’

‘And I love you. So please come back to me.’

Ron pulled something out of his pocket. It was the Deluminator.

‘You still carry it?’

The redhead smiled.

‘Every day, ‘Mione. Every day.’

#Romione FicFest 2020 #Fic Post #Romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Submission #Queue Up for the Dragon #Rated T #Ace Safe

[romioneficfest]

A Cup of Tea

Title: A Cup Of Tea Prompt/Day: Arthur’s Shed, Trainers, Day 3 Tumblr name:  Rating: G Brief summary: A cup of tea, in the days after the war. Any possible triggering/warning tags: Mention of war, possible PTSD.

Hermione wasn’t sure exactly how she fit in.

She’d been at the Burrow for two days now, ever since the battle. It had become apparent in their preparations to leave Hogwarts that she didn’t really have a home to go to. Though shocked by the revelation of what had happened to the Grangers, Molly had been unequivocal in her insistence that both Hermione and Harry return to the Burrow as part of the family.

So Hermione did what she could to be useful. She cleared plates, she fed the chickens, she brewed endless cups of tea. She kept a distance from the collective family grief, knowing her place. She did everything she could to show the Weasleys how much their acceptance meant to her.

She was standing in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil once more. The cavernous and pleasingly weathered Weasley teapot sat on the counter, and as Hermione measured out tea leaves, she thought briefly of a classroom full of incense, and a much simpler time.

Slowly she filled the pot with water, stirring methodically. She poured three mugs - one for herself, and one each for Ron and his father, who were in the shed. Molly had taken to bed for the afternoon, and Harry and Ginny had disappeared to the orchard.

She levitated the cups and made her way out the back door and across the yard. The door was ajar, and she called out a gentle greeting as she crossed the threshold. Ron and his father looked up, and she was struck by how similar they looked in that moment, and saddened by how much of that resemblance was held in the sadness of their eyes and the slump in their posture.

Ron stood leaning against one of the counters that ran along the walls, while Mr Weasley perched on a stool, crouched over his workbench. He had a screwdriver in one hand and a wand in the other, and was playing with what appeared to be an old Muggle kettle. Ron’s arms were crossed and he was looking at his father with a mix of affection and amusement.

‘Oh, tea! Lovely, thanks Hermione.’ Mr Weasley smiled at her, his face tired.

She moved to stand next to Ron, her hands wrapped around her own mug.

‘What, none for me?’ Ron frowned.

She rolled her eyes and smiled.

‘Are you a wizard or not?’

‘Oh yeah.’

He summoned his own mug, and despite a liberal sloshing of tea over the side, it arrived intact. They sipped in silence for a moment, watching Mr Weasley prodding at the inside of the kettle, inspecting the element. His heart didn’t seem to be in it.

‘How are you both?’ He asked suddenly, setting both his tools down.

Hermione was a little taken aback by the question. Ron stiffened slightly.

‘We’re… I’m… okay.’ She said, meekly, feeling the scar on her neck burn with the lie. Ron wrapped an arm around her and squeezed.

‘You’ve been through so much.’ Mr Weasley said simply, his eyes trained on them. ‘It’s perfectly fine to not be.’

‘We know,’ said Ron, gruffly. ‘But we will be.’

Again, Mr Weasley looked at them with a deep sadness in his eyes. He stood slowly and picked up his mug.

‘I think I’m going to go and check on the chickens. Let you two have some quiet time.’

‘But it’s your shed!’ Hermione cried, feeling oddly awkward.

‘I know,’ he replied, ‘but it’s your home too.’

With that he left, pausing only to clap a hand to Ron’s shoulder.

Ron turned to look down at her.

‘He’s not okay.’

She put down her mug, and wrapped her arms around him.

‘He will be.’

Ron’s voice is low in his chest as he presses her to him.

‘I found blood on my trainers this morning. From the battle.’

She feels a pang in her stomach and holds him closer still.

‘It — it brought it all back. The sounds. The smells. Fred.’

Her eyes are burning now. She wishes she could just make it all better somehow.

‘I couldn’t get it off.’ His voice is cracking. ’So I just burned them. Out by the chickens. Dad found me. So he took me here to show me some stuff to take my mind off it.’

‘Did it?’

‘I still don’t know how electricity works, if that’s what you mean.’

She laughs gently, relieved to hear him attempting a joke. She looks up at him, with his red eyes brimming. She lets him hold her around the waist as she moves her hands up to his face, rubbing his cheeks gently. He leans into her touch.

She steps up on her toes and presses a kiss to his mouth. He reciprocates gently, his hands pressing into her back.

‘We will be okay,’ she says, softly. ‘I promise.‘

#Romione FicFest 2020 #Fic Post #Romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Submission #Queue Up for the Dragon #Rated G #Ace Safe

[romioneficfest]

Put a sickle in the swear jar

Title: Put a Sickle in the Swear Jar Prompt/Day: Day 11- St Mungo’s Tumblr name:  Rating: PG Brief summary: Ron is having one of those days… (bit of a post-Hogwarts domestic day in the life) Any possible triggering/warning tags: one bad swear, blood, allusions to Ron and Hermione doing it.

Ron let their dog Chudley into the back garden, then collapsed onto the sofa with a heavy sigh. The shop had been unaccountably busy for a Thursday, and almost half their staff were out sick with Fwooper Flu, including George. He had a few investor meetings, a Ministry contractor for their Defense products, and had to simultaneously man the floor of their flagship shop so it wouldn’t be a complete disaster when his meetings convened.

As it always was when a shop was lean staffed, his work shift produced the worst customers in the world. Each was ‘talk to the manager’ types: high maintenance and generally unpleasant.

The very worst was a dad who had let his terror of a four-year-old go wild through the shop. He started his visit by setting off five decoy detonators in the potions aisle, then poured love potion into the pygmy puff enclosure, and ended it by licking the outside of the glass case full of sweets.

The kid’s dad had a ‘never tell your child the word no’ policy in place. He made quite a stink when Ron dared to use the dreaded word to his child when the blighter sprinted around the shop and nearly toppled a full display case of fart sprays. Ron was only lucky they had left the shop by the time his meetings started.

He had to do his meetings on the sales floor, but it gave him a chance to show off a new prototype. He set the Secrecy Spellorator down and it created a field about two meters wide where no one could hear them ‘plan mischief.’ It even turned the volume down to noises outside the field ‘so as not to distract you from your pranking plans.’ Ron explained its alternative uses for Defensive magic and overcrowded offices, and given the way their eyes lit up, Ron could tell the pitch had gone well.

Now all he wanted was some beer or a long nap, neither of which he had proper time for. He needed to pick Hugo up from school and figure out something for dinner. He languidly pulled his arm up to catch the time. Ugh, five minutes more and he might be late.

He slumped up the steps, changed from business robes into his much preferred Muggle clothes, and let the dog back in, before Apparating a few streets away from Hugo’s school. When he arrived, a few of the mothers were gathered and chatting about an upcoming event.

Maybe if he looked busy they wouldn’t try to rope him in… He fished in his pocket for his sporadically used mobile, but realized he’d forgotten it at home.

In moments he was surrounded.

“Ron! We were just talking about you! Weren’t we, Claire?”

“Yes!” she answered with an enthusiastic clap of her hands. Whenever they were talking about him it usually meant manual labour was needed. “We’re doing a school fundraiser the fifteenth and could use your help setting things up. Also, could you bring your bakewell buns? We’ve all been simply craving them since last year!”

His brain went horribly blank of excuses, but he was saved from having to answer by his son.

“Dad!” Hugo cried from across the schoolyard, a giant grin splitting his freckled face. Ron waved at him but blanched when Hugo started running. His overly large backpack wildly swang from one hand, while his puffy jacket flailed like a flag caught in the wind from his other. Ron could see disaster looming.

“Don’t run, Hugh!” Ron hollered. As if time had slowed he watched in horror as the strap of Hugo’s backpack caught his foot, sending the seven-year-old flailing. Normally Ron could have prevented a painful crash with his wand, but with all the mums about him he couldn’t pull his wand out in time.

Hugo face-planted straight into the ground, his giant thud pulling a chorus of high-pitched gasps from the mothers.

Ron sprinted to his son who was whimpering and not moving.

“Shhh now, you’re okay, little man,” Ron said, trying his best to sound calm as he removed the backpack from around Hugo’s ankle and turned him over.

“Oh shit!” Ron let out. His son’s large brown eyes filled with tears, and his mouth overflowed with blood. His chin looked to be split open as well. “Merlin! Er, okay, Hugh, we’re gonna get you to a healer, but I need to carry you ‘round the corner so the Muggle mums don’t see us Apparate, okay?”

“You- you g-gotsta put a sssickle in the sssswear jar,” Hugo managed to lisp, before breaking into a wail as he saw the blood hit the ground.

Ron scooped up his son, somehow managing to hold the backpack and jacket as well.

The mums all had a variety of questions as he tore down the street, but he simply yelled over his shoulder that his car was round the corner. Checking about him, he Apparated them to St Mungo’s waiting room.

He vaguely recognized the lady behind the check-in desk. Her glare jogged his memory. He might’ve yelled at her a year or two prior…

“My- my son. He fell, and —”

Her glare softened after noticing Hugo’s cries and the blood soaking through Ron’s jacket. Cleared of blood by the healers Ron was infinitely grateful to not be Muggle. Chipped teeth, split lip and lacerated chin… The kid was a mess! Hugo was healed in just a few minutes, leaving him with only a small plaster for his chin he’d need with a topical ‘scar-begone’ potion for a few days.

“Do you have any plasters with brooms on them?” Hugo asked, feet kicking against the exam table.

The healer shook their head.

“Trains?”

“Just beige, I’m afraid,” the healer said with an apologetic smile.

“Dragons?”

“Hugo, we have some at home,” Ron said, knowing Hugo would continue to name things if he wasn’t stopped. “Plus we have some ice cream with your name on it!”

Hugo let out a cheer. They took the Floo home, as Ron was far too tired and rattled to be Apparating with his son.

Ron and Hugo were working on their second helpings of ice cream when Hermione arrived home via Floo.

“Hello boys,” she said, before stopping in her tracks. “Ice cream? Ron, it’s not even five-thirty!”

“We deserve it, believe me.”

“We deserve it, Mum!” Hugo repeated, with a chocolate smeared grin. “Believe me!”

Ron told her about the day they’d each had, and Hugo was happy to inform her how ‘Dad hadn’t put his sickle in the swear jar yet.’ He also was in dire need of a better plaster for his chin.

By the end of the tale she had a cautiously amused look on her face, and went to get their boxes of plasters.

“Okay, Hugo, looks like we have trains or dragons.”

“Both!”

“Choose one.”

“But Mum, I deseeeerve it, believe me!” Hugo said, a pleading look on his face.

She and Ron traded smiles over his curly head.

“Just today, because you were so brave at the hospital.”

“Gryffindor!” Hugo declared, before running after the dog, two plasters on his chin.

“How are you after all those adventures?” she asked, cuddling into Ron’s side.

“Better now that you’re home,” he said, leaning down to kiss her. “You okay with ice cream for dinner?”

“Not my first choice, but I’ll manage.” She smiled at him. “Ginny should have Rose back from Quidditch practice soon.”

“Can I feed her ice cream too?” he moaned, closing his eyes.

“You don’t have to. She’s eating with Ginny and the kids.”

“Thank Merlin, because I feel like I’ve been pulled through a keyhole backwards.”

“Oh, I guess that means we can’t…” Hugo ran by and Hermione stopped herself. “Can’t ‘you know,’ tonight.”

“Can’t… Oh right! That!”

He felt a bit chagrined that they had to schedule it ahead, but the past few weeks hadn’t allowed for much spontaneity.

“Honestly…” he sighed, before looking sideways at his beautiful wife and slowly smiling. “I’ll manage.”

“We deserve it,” she grinned.

“It’ll be boring and passionless,” he teased, leaning in to plant a kiss on her neck, lingering a bit too long.

She shivered in pleasure. “Of course.”

“You won’t even have to put a silencing spell up,” he said before kissing her more deeply. “Over in five minutes.”

“I’ll prepare myself for the disappointment,” she purred. “Twice.”

“Twice?” he asked with a disbelieving look. She stared at him quite seriously before she broke and began laughing.

“Can you imagine?” she giggled.

“After the day I had?”

“On a school night?”

“Twice?!” they repeated, laughing and snorting,

There came a great crash from the other room. Hugo shouted ‘I’m ok!’ while Chudley barked. Ron began to get up, but Hermione pulled him back down to the couch.

“Don’t forget to put a sickle in the swear jar,” she said as she rose, going to check on their chaotic son.

#Romione FicFest 2020 #Fic Post #Romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Submission #Queue Up for the Dragon #Rated PG #cw: #cw: blood

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The Moment

Title: The moment name:  Prompt: Day 13/rings Rating: K+ Summary: Escaping Percy’s wedding for some alone time leads to the big moment for Ron and Hermione.

Trigger: fluff, fluff and did I mention fluff?

Music filled the tent, making the walls shake as they danced. Hermione had almost forgotten how much she loved dancing. She had lost track of time. All she could see were Ron’s eyes that clouded her brain with happiness. Her fingers were so numb that she could barely feel his hand in her own. Her feet felt like jelly. She wanted to ask Ron for a break but he beat her to it.

“Break? I can‘t feel my feet anymore.”

Together they made their way through the crowd. Past Audrey and Percy, both with brand-new glistening wedding rings on their fingers, looking happier than Hermione had ever seen them. Past Bill, who danced with a tipsy Ginny, and past Charlie, who looked like he was trying to dance with himself. When they finally reached the end of the garden and the old tree house loomed above them, Ron sighed in relief. Hermione giggled as she took off her shoes. After they had both climbed up the rotten ladder to their hiding place, they both sank onto the rough wooden floor at the same time. Ron pulled her towards him, and she rested her head on his chest.

“Bloody hell, I feel like my legs are about to fall off,” Ron laughed and Hermione laughed along. His deep blue eyes pierced hers, and he pulled her head closer, kissing her gently but firmly. There was a rustle from somewhere, and Ron broke away from her. He swung his wand and all of a sudden the clear night sky shone through the roof. A mild breeze blew through the old cabin and the leaves danced merrily. Hermione felt how her hair slowly loosened from her updo, and she was about to put it back up when Ron stopped her.

“No, I like it like this,” he said, smiling before pressing his lips to hers again. His lips felt so good that Hermione wanted to cry out in happiness. All she could feel were his lips on hers, his tongue tenderly seeking out hers and the rough floorboards under her bare legs. His strong arms wound themselves around her body, and she could feel his fingers on the bare skin of her back. She sighed, and Ron slowly broke away from the kiss.

“It’s beautiful up here,” Hermione said, moving even closer to her boyfriend. Ron nodded in agreement and tightened his grip on her back. Whenever they were in the tree house, it was magical. It was their own little world. His eyes searched hers, and she raised her head to look at him.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered and brushed his thumb gently over her cheek. “And I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she breathed, smiling happily at him. His blue eyes bored themselves into hers and she wanted to ask him what he was thinking. But there was not enough time to conclude the thought as he kissed her again. A pleasant shiver spread over her back and everything around her blurred with the happiness of the moment. Their lips and tongues melted together but when she ran her hand over his chest to open the buttons of his shirt, he stopped her.

“What is it?” she asked. “Is everything alright?”

He looked at her with piercing ice-blue eyes, his red hair sticking out more than usual, and she knew that he could see right through to her soul. The corners of his mouth twitched before he leaned forward and kissed her again. Hermione sighed softly as he took his lips off hers and started kissing her neck, his hands trembling on her hip.

“What’s wrong, Ron? You’re shaking.”

“Nothing, I’m just a little cold.”

He drew a gentle line from her collarbone to her cheek and Hermione flinched when she heard his deep, harsh voice right next to her ear.

“I can’t put into words how much I love you,” he breathed, and the seriousness of his words gave her goose bumps across her back. She was about to open her mouth to answer him when he put a finger to her lips.

“Shush. It’s my turn,” he whispered and Hermione fell silent.

His lips trembled, and she could feel his hand still quivering on her back.

“I love you more than anything. I don’t know how to describe it. After all this time I’m still afraid that I might wake up at some point and realize that it had all just been a dream.” He swallowed hard. “And even though you’re the bossiest, most stubborn and persistent witch of all time, I can’t imagine my life without you. I love it when you yell at me. Your look when I did something wrong or said something stupid. I want to watch you read for the rest of your life and I want you to be the one waiting for me when I come home.”

He kissed her on the lips before staring at her again. The sparkling stars of the night sky reflected in his eyes.

“I want to sneak away from our children’s wedding some day and climb up here. I want to lie here with you and tell you how much I still love you.”

Hermione slowly but surely realized what was happening. Her heart was pounding madly in her chest and her knees had become weak. He kissed her cheek as his hand left her back.

“Maybe you think I’m mental. We’re barely 21. But all I know is that I love you more than words can say. And if everything else in the world was gone, it wouldn’t matter as long as you were there. I don’t want to live another minute without knowing that you’ll be mine forever.”

She felt his trembling hand gently squeezing something small into her hand before he slowly closed her fingers over it and pressed another lingering kiss on her cheek. And then she heard the words, feeling his warm breath against her ear as his fingers held hers tightly over the small velvety box.

“Marry me, Hermione.”

The stars around them were still there, trapped in the sky above them, but Hermione felt like she had left the world. She leaned her forehead against his and raised her eyes to look into his deep blue eyes.

“Yes,” she breathed, beaming at him through a wave of tears. “A million times yes.”

#Romione FicFest 2020 #Fic Post #Romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Submission #Queue Up for the Dragon #Rated K+ #Ace Safe

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Interrupted Sleep

Title: Interrupted Sleep

Prompt/Day: Anything goes

Tumblr name: 

Rating: T (for references to trauma/PTSD)

Brief summary: It’s understandable that Ron and Hermione would have trouble sleeping, after living through a war and through harder times than most. The good thing about sharing a bed, however, is that they have someone to comfort them when the dark memories rouse them.

Tags: implied references to trauma/PTSD

Ron has nightmares.

Wake-up-in-a-scream, sit-up-bolt-upright nightmares.

He can’t explain them— they’re not exactly coherent, just a flash of green light here, a maniacal laugh echoing from a locket long-destroyed, the sound of a wall crashing down on Fred, the emptiness that comes with being alone in a forest you don’t know your way out of and your throat stripped hoarse from calling for your friends. He doesn’t remember them, and they die out in his memory as he comes into wakefulness, leaving behind only his heart thumping frightfully in his chest, his brow dripping with sweat, and his breath jagged and panting.

It inevitably wakes up Hermione, but she never complains. She knows it’s collateral damage from fighting a war, and one she carries too, only in different ways. She’s brimming with words, usually, but she never says anything to him. She knows it’s loud inside his head, and the last thing he needs is more noise, with the voices of his past pounding at the inside walls of his mind. He —usually so loud, so boisterous, such a joyful racket to be around— needs silence.

So she doesn’t speak. She holds him until his shoulders have stopped shaking, until his breath has steadied, until he’s comfortable enough to close his eyes again. Slowly, she helps him fold back into bed. She curls around him without a word, spooning him in the crevice of her body even though he’s significantly taller. She drapes an arm around his middle and places her hand above his heart, and she doesn’t go to sleep until it’s beating normally again. She feels his chest heave under her, but she only holds him closer, until he’s calmer, until he’s asleep again in the warm comfort of her arms. She knows this is what he needs— no words, just a home to fall asleep in. She knows she’s that home.

When, at last, he’s gone back to sleep, she intertwines her legs with his, presses a soft kiss to the back of his neck, and falls asleep with her head against his back, breathing in synchrony without letting him go.

Hermione cries.

Not consciously, or anything— sometimes her whimpering wakes Ron up, and it’s not long after that sobs begin to rack her body, waking her up in a flood of tears and unable to stop bawling. She doesn’t know where it comes from, but she knows where it started. It started when she was seventeen, when she spent sleepless nights wondering whether her parents would ever remember her, tears streaming down her face at the thought that they wouldn’t. And then Ron left her and Harry in that forest, and she cried herself to sleep practically nightly, wondering whether she was suffering in the name of a lost cause.

It may be because she’s used to being so brave, so strong all the time. She’s always been an only, lonely child, even before she met Ron and Harry, and her skin has grown thick from years of bearing taunts about her intelligence, her serious demeanor, her appearance… Hermione’s strong. She’s resilient, and she doesn’t crack under pressure. It’s only under dark of night that her body can no longer hold it, and she breaks.

When this happens, Ron knows she needs to come back to reality. That she needs to be yanked away from whatever long-rooted, deep-seated sadness is stirring at her soul, that she needs to be reminded of how much better she is now, how much lovelier life is.

So he talks to her.

He draws her to him and pulls her close, so she’s enveloped in his arms, her head resting on his chest, so that his lips are right next to her ear. And, one hand stroking her hair and the other lightly rubbing her back, he whispers to her all the stories about his childhood. He tells her about his first broomstick— a hand-me-down of Charlie’s, bucking and worn-down, on which he bruised everyone in the house’s ankles by bumping into them. He tells her about degnoming the garden and the time Fred dared George to lick a gnome’s bald head. He tells her about his favorite Christmas, one winter that Arthur received a massive boon from the Ministry for great work on a long-drawn case of exploding plantpots, where he spent the whole day grinning madly and everyone thought it was because he'd finally gotten a present that wasn’t a hand-me-down, but it was really because it had been the first time in a while that he’d heard his mom laugh so loudly.

He tells Hermione about all the wonderful things in his life before her, all the things little Ron remembers, and Hermione stops crying to listen closely to all the finer details about the man she loves. Ron keeps talking, keeps telling her stories, until she’s started faintly snoring (something Ron thinks is adorable, though she’ll never tell her or she’ll kill him), the unmissable marker that she’s gone to sleep. Then, utterly happy at being able to be the one to hold her in his arms and comfort her, he presses a kiss to her forehead and falls asleep with her head still on his chest, and his embrace stays tight the whole night through.

#Romione FicFest 2020 #Fic Post #Romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Submission #Queue Up for the Dragon #Rated T #Ace Safe #CW: #CW: PTSD nightmares

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The Last Time

Title:  The Last Time

Prompt/Day: Free prompt

Tumblr name:  

Rating: M

Brief summary: They agreed not to do this, but can they resist?

Any possible triggering/warning tags: Tiny bit of angst (resolved), sexual tension (resolved? Not likely with these two!)

Despite his Auror training and what many considered to be the best instincts in the Corp, Ron Weasley was unaware of his bedroom visitor until he felt his blankets being pulled back. In his defense, he had been out rather late for a more than eventful evening. Sleep had come  so quickly that he couldn’t properly remember drifting off.  There was also the fact that there were very few people who could have made it through the defensive spells continually encasing his home, and those few were people he trusted implicitly.

“Ron..budge over,” the whisper was in his ear as he felt her body slide in behind his own.

“‘Ermione…what are you doing here?”

“Missed you.”

“But we agreed…we can’t do this.”

Despite his words, he did not protest when she hugged him against her.

“Just tonight,” she ran her hand over his chest and then down to his stomach.

He sucked in a ragged breath as her touch traveled lower, “That’s what you said last time.”

“You want me to go?” Her voice was hot against his neck, and she was so close that he could actually feel her bottom lip as she pouted out her question, “ Is that what you’re saying?”

“You know I don’t,” she had to feel just how much he did not want her to go, “but tomorrow…”

“Tomorrow will sort itself out, I need you now.”

A tiny part of him protested that this was a bad idea, that she might regret this decision later, but as he felt her hardened nipples rub across his bare back, that part was swept out on a wave of desire. Her hands grew even bolder, and soon he was arching into her grip. He was quickly losing the battle of rational thought. The feel of her mouth across his back, the sound of her breathy moans, ran through his veins like an expertly brewed potion.

“Please Ron, just one last time.”

He was just as powerless to resist her as he had been every other time she’d begged him over the past month.  Being apart hadn’t even been his bloody idea anyway, but he’d agreed with her because…he wasn’t really sure why he had agreed. Maybe it was some ancient sense of moral decency, or some need to torture himself, or hell, maybe he went along with it because he loved her more than life itself and wanted her to be happy.  

She seems pretty happy driving me mental with her wicked little hands.

He reached down and removed her hand almost laughing aloud at her huff of frustration, If he hadn’t been so turned on by her it would have almost been worth it to send her away, to prove her wrong, but, he needed to be honest with himself, he had no such willpower when it came to her, never had.

Turning himself toward her, Ron wasted no time threading his fingers through her hair and pulling her close. Even in the dim light he could see her, eyes wide, lips parted, wanting him. It made him a bit drunk to feel the power he had to please or deny her at his choosing. But denying her was not even an option at this point.

He covered her mouth with his own and she met him with a soft moan that made him suddenly desperate for her.  Through the years they had made love many ways, Many times it was slow and tender. They had often worshiped each other’s bodies for long hours. There had been more than a few stolen moments that had been quick and explosive. But tonight, this would be, he realized, raw need. No pretense, no finesse. She needed him to pour his own need into her. To take what she offered freely, and give himself in the same way,

He relished in the heat of her as they were joined completely. Their kisses were fierce and she gripped his back and urged him on with her heels. It was as if she could not possibly get him close enough. He lost himself in the pursuit of their pleasure, only returning when he felt her tremble around him. She swallowed his moans as he followed her spectacularly over the edge.

She settled into the curve of his body as his breaths returned to normal. After a moment he spoke, his question rumbling in his chest.

“Better?”

“Much.”

“We need to talk about this,” he propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at her knowingly.

“Do we?”

“Yeah…as much as my ego would like to think that this is all about how you can’t get enough of my body, I know you well enough to know that there’s more to it than that.”

She shook her head, but he could see the tears beginning to form in her eyes. He felt a small sliver of panic; he had assumed that this was something she had to work through and all would be sorted soon, but what if he had been wrong? What if this was more serious?

“I’ve just been thinking a lot about tomorrow,” she glanced over to the clock on the nightstand, “I mean today.”

He braced himself. He wasn’t quite sure what he would do if she said what he was afraid she might.

“And?”

“I’m afraid of it changing…us…everybody says it will, and what if you stop,” her voice was very small in the quiet room, “wanting me.”

His heart started beating again, and he couldn’t help but bark a boisterously relieved laugh.

“So let me see if I can piece this together. You came to me with this plan to stop shagging before our wedding because you wanted our wedding night to be more meaningful, right?”

“Yes.”

“And I haven’t even been able to keep my hands off you for more than two days in a row since then, but you’re worried that I will stop being completely, totally, mad for you?”

She shrugged her shoulders in that adorable way that told him that her mind knew she was being ridiculous, but he had to convince her heart.

“I love you. Have loved you for so long that it is part of who I am. Will love you every single day I’m in this world, and then, I’ll love you in the next.” He pulled her more tightly to him. “As long as my body is able, I will shag you any and every time you will have me. No ceremony muggle or magical could ever change that. I know that today is a big day, but it doesn’t change how I feel about you, about us.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks, but her smile was wide, “How did I ever get so lucky? I can’t wait to marry you Ron Weasley.”

“And I can’t wait to marry you,” he kissed the tip of her nose playfully, “Hermione Granger.”

“Although, I guess this was the last time you’ll get to shag me as just Hermione Granger.” She smirked at him playfully, teasing him with her still very naked self.

“In the first place, you have never been “just” Hermione Granger.” He pushed an errant curl tenderly behind her ear.

“And in the second place?”

“The wedding’s not until tonight.”

#Romione FicFest 2020 #Fic Post #Romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #M rated #not ace safe #not safe for ramadan #Queue Up for the Dragon

[romioneficfest]

Guard Duty

Title: Guard Duty

Prompt:/Day 6 Vest, Ron’s Bedroom, Day of Fred’s Funeral Tumblr Name: 

Rating: K, K+ Brief Summary: One more day in Ron and Hermione’s life and one more promise is made. Trigger Warning: mention of death, grieving 

It had been a long and hard day for everyone, but finally, the evening was slowly drawing to a close.

Hermione picked up the two mugs from the table and hastened her steps towards the living room where Ginny sat huddled against Harry, her legs folded under her, body resting heavily against him. Harry looked up as she approached and Hermione placed both the mugs on the table, indicating one with her finger and gesturing silently towards the young girl.

‘Dreamless Sleeping Potion,’ she mouthed quietly to Harry and his eyes moved over to Ginny as he wrapped one arm more snugly around her shoulder.

“Thanks,” he muttered, his smile not reaching his eyes, looking way older than he was- but exactly like the man who had the weight of the world on him. Hermione bushed the top of his head lovingly before patting Ginny’s arm tenderly. But she turned around quickly before Harry could see her tears, walking away briskly, in dire need of someone.

“He is upstairs,” Harry provided softly and she paused mid-step.

“I know,” she replied just as quietly.

It had been two whole days, she reminded herself again as she trudged up the rickety, old staircase- two whole days since the war had come to an end. Perhaps it would take many more before the realisation actually sunk in, she reckoned. After all, these two days had somehow managed to be harder than the months in the forest- except for the weeks when Ron had left.

She pushed open the familiar door to his bedroom, faintly noticing how it still creaked the way she remembered from back in their fourth year. It felt like an eternity had passed since then. Despite all their cleaning spells the previous day, Ron’s room still retained a little of the mouldy odour from the time the ghoul had taken up the place, but at least now it was spotless. Cleaning it had been almost therapeutic, she realised, as she closed the door softly and noticed the man lying on his stomach, arms and legs splayed out on the bed that was a little small for his tall frame.

He had discarded his button-down on the chair and was just clad in his inner vest and the black trouser he had worn in the afternoon during the funeral.

Death had struck so hard this time, taking away so many from them. Hermione couldn’t fight the tears anymore, and for a few long minutes, stood still, watching the gentle rise and fall of his back, breathing deeply and in tune with his. He was safe, she reminded herself again, broken perhaps, but safe- the war had been won.

She released a shuddered breath and noiselessly walked to where he lay. A sigh escaped her as her arms reached out to touch his hair and then his arm, and she greedily soaked in the slight warmth of his skin- the war was won, Ron was safe…  

Hermione bit down her lips to cut down on a sob as she placed her head over his, quickly wiping off the moisture that trickled down. She couldn’t wake him up no matter how much she needed him, she reminded herself. He had barely slept the past couple of nights, having spent them guarding the house instead…  

After a few minutes, she pushed herself up but before she could move any further, his arms clasped around hers.

“Stay,” he called, voice muffled in the pillow but not hiding his exhaustion.

Hermione collapsed on the floor readily and Ron turned his head to face her. She let out the tiniest of moans as his eyes found hers, and placed her hand on his face to brush aside his fringe from his eyes.

“I thought you were sleeping,” she whispered, rubbing the pad of her thumb over his stubbled cheek. “Hoped you were sleeping,” she added.

“Did try,” he replied, grabbing her hand in his and bringing it to his lips. “Couldn’t. Where were you?”

“Got your parents and Ginny some tea with some Dreamless Sleeping Potion,” she replied sadly. “Thought they needed it today,” she added in a quieter voice.

Ron pushed himself up to rest on his side and when he just continued to watch her, she looked away, blushing at the intensity of his gaze.

“What would I ever do without you?” he asked with the softest of smiles and placed a tender hand over her cheek, brushing the corner of her lip, his finger lingering a little longer. “I’m so tired, Hermione,” he said at long last as he pulled his hand away and ran it through his hair. “George?” he exhaled, not meeting her eyes.

“He’s with Lee,” she told him, grabbing his arm in hers, tracing the intricate patterns of the brain scars with the tip of her finger. She tried hard to fight the image haunting her, but she could hear the ominous boom as the spell crashed close to them again, she saw Fred’s lifeless form - and suddenly, his face morphed into Ron’s and she shuddered violently, clasping his hand tightly in hers.

“Again?” he asked and she nodded, exhaling.

“C’ mere,” he called and she climbed up on the bed beside him, resting her back against the wall as Ron took to gazing at the lines on her palms.

“I’m so bloody tired,” he exhaled at last, “but I can’t sleep. What if-”

Hermione knew they had cast some of the strongest protections around the house. She too feared some hiding Death Eater would target them again, but she pushed that thought aside.

“We’ll take care of them,” she promised, sniffing away her tears and entwining her fingers with his. She folded her legs under her, tugged him by the arm, silently gesturing for him to place his head on her lap. Ron collapsed back on the bed and pressed his face into her lap as his arm wrapped around her legs.

“We’ll take care of all of them. But it’s my guard duty now, and your turn to sleep,” she told him as she tenderly ran her fingers through his hair.

And finally, after two long days, sleep Ron did.  

#Romione FicFest 2020 #Fic Post #Romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Submission #Queue Up for the Dragon #Ace Safe