Harry Potter Fic: Time of Arrival (Hermione/Ginny)
Title: Time of Arrival
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Hermione/Ginny
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Word Count: 8,700
Summary: Ron is having a rough week: Ginny seems determined to make his life miserable and Hermione is moving to the States for two years. Are the two events related? Will Ron ever figure it out? Ron's POV.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the creation of J.K. Rowling. This is a derivative, non-commercial work of fanfiction.
Author's Note: First, Ron is good-hearted but clueless in this, anyone sensitive to how he is portrayed should proceed with caution. Second, I am from the United States, please excuse the Americanisms. Third, I apologize upfront for any and all mistakes.
~*~*~*~
"Well, that was fun, eh?" Ron smiles widely and claps Harry firmly on the back. The smaller man grunts in surprise and stumbles a bit beneath Ron's enthusiasm, but Ron doesn't notice and continues cheerily, "Nothing like Quidditch, really."
He, Harry, and Ginny had just finished their third round of "Catch the Snitch", one of the variations of Quidditch played when there aren't enough players to field two teams. It isn't Ron's preferred game, he's never had much of an eye for finding the Snitch, nor the patience, but he'll play it in a pinch. After all, some form of Quidditch is better than none he's always thought.
"Please. You're only saying that because you managed to win." Ginny, a few steps behind the two men, gives Ron's backside a less than friendly swat with the flat of her broom. Ron, unable to see the blow or defend himself, starts in surprise, an indignant squawk escaping his lips. "If you'd lost people would have been able to hear your caterwauling all the way to the old Lovegood place."
"Hey!" Ron cradles his offended cheek and rounds on his younger sister, ready to jab at her with his own broom. Normally he doesn't resort to such childish tactics, at twenty-six he's mostly out-grown such things, but Ginny started hounding him the moment he walked through the Burrow's front door yesterday afternoon, and she's been merciless ever since. Snorting whenever he speaks, loudly arguing that the Chudley Cannons are the laughing stock of the British and Irish Quidditch League, and making baseless accusations about his insensitivity while she rolls her eyes in disgust. Ron hasn't had a moment's peace, and the worst part is, he doesn't remember doing anything to set her off. Despite her being a girl, Ron can usually pinpoint a reason for Ginny's irrational behavior, but at the moment she appears to be off her rocker for no good reason.
And taking it out on him!
Holding his broom at the ready, Ron sets his feet and studies Ginny as she takes another step toward him, his eyes searching for the best point to strike. Attacking Ginny is usually a dodgey business, despite her diminutive size she has a Seeker's reflexes and always gives and good as she gets. But Ron has height and strength on his side, and he's not afraid to use them to full advantage against his sister.
Recognizing his intent, Ginny stops well within Ron's reach and narrows her eyes, the expression on her face plainly daring him to make a move against her. It's a look Ron has seen many time before, since Ginny spent the majority of her childhood proving to her brothers that she was born with a mind of her own and she was not going to be shy about using it. In the last few years, however, it's become a look used only for special occasions. Occasions when Ginny is in an especially foul mood and looking for someone to take it out on.
More often then not, that someone is him. And, despite wanting to stand up for himself, Ron knows he would be a fool not to recognize the sudden precariousness of his position. There are few people able to deal with a Ginny who is working herself up to a full temper and he'd need two or three more reinforcements - at least - to make a move now.
"Well?" Ginny challenges, stepping boldly forward, and Ron knows she can smell his fear.
"That hurt!" he snarls in an attempt to preserve some dignity. Scowling, he slings his broom over his shoulder. "Do something like that again and I'll -"
Harry, who has been looking between the two siblings with increasing discomfort, springs forward and grabs Ron by the elbow.
"So," he says, clearing his throat and dragging Ron away from Ginny, "I thought after we clean up we can visit Hermione. She said she'd have some time for visitors later this morning."
Ron looks over his shoulder and makes a face at Ginny. "Yeah, that sounds good," he agrees as the trio reach his parents' gardening shed. He flings open the door and steps inside, squinting to find the Quidditch chest through the dim and dusty light. "I s'pose this is our last chance to see her until Christmas, eh?"
An extended, oddly strained silence follows Ron's words and he pokes his head out the doorway in time to see Harry looking at Ginny with his eyebrows raised in question.
"Er. Actually, she told me she might not make it back here until the spring." Harry shrugs and looks at Ginny again, this time expectantly. She glares back at him for a moment, her cheeks a warm red, before pointedly turning her gaze to the Burrow.
"What?" Ron interrupts their silent communication. "Not until spring? That's disgusting, that is!" He shakes his head and ducks back into the shed, struggling to strap the reluctant Snitch back in its holster. "I say we leave as soon as we wash up. You'll come with us, won't you, Gin?"
"No," Ginny replies without hesitation.
"What?" Ron stands up and braces himself against the shed wall with one hand so he can hang out the doorway and peer at his sister. Ginny is leaning up against the shed, her arms crossed over her chest, her face turned away from both Ron and Harry. "You're joking, right? You missed her going away party last weekend and -"
"I can't make it," Ginny stresses, a slight tremor in her voice.
Ron hears the tremor and knows that Ginny isn't happy with the line of conversation, is likely on the verge of another explosion of temper, but he refuses to let it go. This is one of his best friends they're talking about, his one-time girlfriend no less, and Ron won't see Hermione ignored because Ginny's feeling moody.
"You do remember the bit about her leaving tomorrow, don't you? Being gone for months? I thought you two were supposed to be friends. What could you have to do that's more important? I thought you two were supposed to be friends."
Ginny whips her head around to look at Ron and the glare she gives him is so ferocious Ron is certain she'd have cursed him back into the last century if she'd had a wand handy. Not speaking, she holds his gaze for what feels like a full minute before turning up her nose and staring out toward the field they'd just come from.
"I have to brush my hair."
Ginny's voice is thick with sarcasm and for a moment Ron is sure he misheard.
"What did you just say?"
"Ginny." Harry's voice is softly chiding and he reaches a hand toward her shoulder.
"You heard me." Ginny steps around Harry's outstretched hand and tosses her broom into the shed, nearly catching Ron on the temple with the handle. Without apologizing, or even pretending to be concerned that she'd nearly brained her brother, Ginny starts toward the Burrow.
"Watch it!" Ron lunges after the Nimbus and picks it up to cradle against his chest like a newborn baby.
"It's my broom," Ginny calls over her shoulder.
"Well, you almost hit me with it."
"Lucky you, I missed."
"Will you stop moving? I'm trying to have a conversation with you!"
"Then stop lecturing me," Ginny snaps. "Just because I haven't been to Hermione's with you doesn't mean I haven't been to see her. Or that I haven't said everything I need to say."
"What's gotten in to you?" Ron slams the shed door and chases after Ginny, marveling at her behavior. She hasn't been this impossible since their days at Hogwarts. "Is this about some bloke?"
"Excuse me?" Ginny turns on Ron with alarming speed, her dark eyes snapping in anger.
A few feet away, Harry looks aghast and Ron can hardly believe the words came out of his mouth, himself. Most days he doesn't like to think about the idea of Ginny having a boyfriend, much less bring it up in conversation. As her older brother, and closest in age, he's always felt the responsibility of looking out for her keenly, and even though what he's about to say goes against his every instinct, something has got to be done.
"Look, it's been a while since you've had a steady boyfriend, right? Or any boyfriend at all, really." Ron approaches Ginny slowly, his hands outstretched, willing her to listen to him calmly. "Maybe that's why you've been so irritable lately."
Ginny's entire body seems to stiffen at Ron's words. Slowly she tilts her head to one side, her eyes never leaving Ron's, her lips pressing together so hard they seem to disappear entirely. At her sides, her hands begin clenching convulsively, like she is fighting against the urge to attack him with her fists, and beside her Harry is fidgeting, bouncing from foot to foot and casting longing glances toward the Burrow.
Ron blinks, confused how his words could have caused such a reaction.
"What are you getting at, Ron? Are you saying I need a good poke? Is that it?"
"What? No!" Ron recoils, waving his hands in front of his face. "No, no, no! All I mean is you're lonely and it might be getting to you, that's all."
Ron shudders dramatically while Harry shakes his head slowly.
"I...I can't even look at you right now," Ginny growls. She turns on her heel and glances briefly at Harry. "I'm going to wash up. Keep him away from me, will you?"
Harry nods. "Sure thing."
"Wha- I'm just trying to help you!" Ron yells at Ginny's rigid back.
"Ron," Harry says sharply.
"What?"
"No more helping."
"Why the bloody hell not?"
Harry opens his mouth to say something, but closes it almost immediately. After regarding Ron for a long moment he just sighs. "Nothing. Let's just get back to the house." A pause. "We'd better use the side door, though.
~*~*~*~
Ron, Harry, and Hermione are sitting on the cool tiles of Hermione's kitchen floor, side by side by side, their backs resting against the wall and their legs stretched out in front of them. The room is completely bare, like the rest of Hermione's flat, the last of her furniture having been placed in storage that very morning. Ron feels guilty that he wasn't here to help, as if he's shirked an unspoken but sworn duty as one of Hermione's few male friends. Though, to his credit, he had offered his and Harry's assistance on multiple occasions. It's hardly his fault that Hermione refused, assuring him her ability to magically transport her belongings was quite as capable as his own.
"Are you sure you won't spend the night at the Burrow?" asks Ron for the third time since he and Harry arrived almost two hours ago. "We've got loads of room."
Hermione, who is resting her cheek companionably against Ron's arm, shakes her head slowly. "I appreciate the offer, Ron, really I do." She squeezes his forearm and smiles. "But I want to spend the night with my parents."
"I s'pose you're better off, anyway," Ron concedes for the third time, covering Hermione's hand with his own and patting it affectionately. "It's Ginny's birthday tomorrow, you know, and Mum will be running the lot of us ragged tonight with preparations for the party."
At the mention of Ginny's party, Hermione seems to deflate against Ron, and then she is pushing away from him completely, until she is sitting upright again. "As if you won't find a place to hide," she mumbles.
"I'll try," Ron admits darkly before taking a drink from his glass of firewhiskey. He lets the liquid burn its way down his throat before sending Hermione a questioning look. She's been acting strangely since he and Harry showed up, bubbling with oddly forced excitement one moment, morose and withdrawn the next. Ron can't tell if her mood swings are the result of a personal problem, her being a female, or all the alcohol she's guzzled in the last two hours. And probably before then, if the look of her when they arrived was anything to go by.
"Anyway," he says, deciding to ignore Hermione's strange humor for now, "I'm hardly in the mood to slave away like some house-elf...er..." Ron casts a horrified glance at Hermione but for some reason she isn't bristling with indignation - now that is definitely not normal - and he hurries on, "for Ginny at the moment. She's been acting like a right harpy."
"Has she really?" Hermione meets Ron's gaze fleetingly before dropping her eyes to her lap, where her fingers have begun to twist together. "I wonder what's gotten into her."
Sensing someone he can complain to, who won't accuse him of acting like a git and deserving whatever Ginny dishes out, Ron nods enthusiastically. He sets his glass on the floor and turns his body toward Hermione so he can fully appreciate her sympathy.
"You wouldn't believe it. Do you want to know what she said about coming to vis-"
"Ron." Harry's firm, chiding tone cuts him off. "Now is not the time."
"But -" Ron looks at Harry and bites off his protest reluctantly. Harry's right, Hermione will be in the States for months and the last thing he should be doing during their farewell visit is complaining about his sister. Even if it is getting harder and harder for him to hold everything in.
Sighing, he turns back to Hermione. She hasn't looked up from her fingers and Ron has the strangest feeling that she is avoiding his gaze. But since she has no reason to do that, Ron shrugs it off and pours himself another glass of firewhiskey.
"So, this... whatever it is will really last two years?" he asks after a moment.
"It's a fellowship." Hermione gives an exaggerated nod. "And yes, it will."
"But you'll have breaks where you can come home, won't you?"
"Of course, Ron."
"And tell me again why you're flying in one of those Muggle tin cans?" He knows full well Hermione - and Harry - are both sick to death of the question, but he still can't quite wrap his mind around a witch preferring Muggle transportation. It is wrong and unnatural on multiple levels, and he's told Hermione so on several occasions. Last week her reaction was to explain how the massive things stayed in the air, assuring him the practice was very safe and the how of it all quite fascinating. Thirty seconds in, after hearing more than he wanted to about foreign and daft concepts like 'physics', 'lift', and 'pressure differential', he remembered he was his mother's son and begged Hermione to stop torturing him with Muggle science.
"Because." Hermione closes her eyes and lets out a long breath, and for a moment Ron thinks that might be all the answer she's going to give him. Then one corner of her mouth quirks up in a half smile and she looks at him like he's hopeless. "Traveling long distance the magical ways always makes me nauseated," she continues, putting a hand across her stomach and making a face. "I hate feeling nauseated, Ron."
"But you're terrified of heights."
Hermione shrugs. "I know."
"So," Ron continues on like Hermione is making an argument, "how can you trust Muggle technology over magic? That's plain crazy, that is. Barking mad when you come down to it, and barking mad isn't like you."
Hermione inhales a quick, offended breath and Ron flinches. Now he's done it.
"Are you honestly making the argument that magical transportation is statistically safer?" Hermione sits up until her back is ramrod straight and she can sniff and look down her nose at him. "I suppose you'd have me believe a ride on the Knight Bus has never sent anyone to St. Mungos? Or that no one's ever been splinched? Or fallen off a broom or a flying carpet, for that matter?" Hermione snorts. "Magical modes of transportation have never been risk free, Ronald. In fact, I'd go so far as to call some of them suicidal. And it's hardly fair to call me insane for preferring solid walls and thick windows to stand between me and a very long fall."
"Ron, Ron, Ron." Harry slaps at Ron's shoulder and then gives it a shake. "You'd have to be one of us to understand. So, please, just leave it alone. I'm begging you."
"Can't I be concerned about a friend?" Ron mutters, feeling bruised by Hermione's unnecessary tirade and Harry's condescension. "Something wrong with that, is there?"
Ron lets his head drop back to rest against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest.
Immediately, Hermione is contrite. She leans into Ron and sneaks one arm around his back, pressing a cheek into his shoulder. "No, Ron, of course not," she assures him. "I'm sorry for snapping at you, I don't know what got into me. Honestly, it's good to know you care."
"I do care." Ron gives Harry a dirty look and returns Hermione's embrace. "I'm worried about you, Hermione, and I don't mind saying it. I don't like you living in a foreign country all by yourself, without a friend to talk to, no one to look after you."
His words seem to be the wrong ones to say, because suddenly Hermione is pushing away from him again, a grimace on her face. Ron looks at her in surprise, no longer sure he should be ignoring her strange mood. When Hermione notices his questioning stare her grimace turns into a reassuring smile that doesn't fool Ron for a moment.
"Hermione -"
She waves off his words with a dismissive flick of her wrist.
"Don't worry about me. I'll hardly be alone." Hermione's voice is cheerful and confident, but Ron doesn't miss the underlying edge of sorrow and his eyes narrow in suspicion. "I'll be learning and working with healers from all around the world. I'll be so busy, so stressed," she adds with a tight laugh, "I'll barely have time to breathe, much less be lonely."
Ron frowns and shakes his head. He's said it from the beginning, and no one's agreed with him, but Hermione obviously doesn't know what she's getting herself into. This move to the States is a very bad idea, horrible even, and he can't understand why he's the only person who sees that and has tried to talk her out of it. Hermione, stressed and alone and left to her own devices in an foreign country is not a good idea. Never has been, never will be. She's obviously starting to lose it already and she hasn't even left yet.
Harry, who has been content to listen to Ron and Hermione talk for most of the afternoon, leans in front of Ron to grab at Hermione's knee. "Busy isn't the same as not lonely, Hermione."
Ron gapes at Harry, eyes wide with delighted surprise. This opening sounds promising.
"Exactly." Ron points at Harry, sending his new and welcome ally his silent gratitude, and nods with enthusiastic agreement.
"I don't see -"
"Two years is a long time," Harry interrupts.
"That's right, a long time." Ron rubs a hand along Hermione's back in what he hopes is a comforting manner.
"You'll never get that time back and the last thing you want at the end of it is to have regrets. Life's too short, Hermione. With all we've been through, I thought you'd realize that better than anyone."
"Harry." Hermione drags out his name in a whine and covers her face with her hands.
"Hermione." Harry's tone is firm, like a parent demanding a wayward child's attention. He reaches out and grabs one of Hermione's wrists, gently pulling her hand away from her face. Ron is shocked to see tears pooling in her eyes.
"It's okay to be scared, Merlin knows I understand fear." Harry smiles encouragingly. "But since when have you ever let fear stop you from doing something you wanted? Especially something as important as this?"
Ron looks back and forth between Harry's earnestness and Hermione's misery and gradually realizes he is not having the same conversation they are. It's not all that surprising, this isn't hardly the first time he's found himself on the outside looking in on one of their conversations - the two developed the annoying habit while still at Hogwarts - and Ron usually tells them off when he figures what they're doing. But something about this conversation makes him bite his tongue - for now - so he doesn't ruin the moment.
Still, determined to play along, Ron gives Hermione's shoulder a bracing sort of shake and hopes neither of his friends have noticed that he doesn't have the first clue what anyone's talking about.
"The Hermione Granger I know is no coward," he says with easy confidence. "And since when does something not go your way if you want it badly enough?" Ron jerks his thumb at Harry. "You've managed to keep this git alive for years, haven't you? I reckon if you can do that, you can do anything. So, get to it."
Whatever the bloody hell "it" was.
Hermione eyes flit between Harry and Ron, a sad, watery smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I appreciate what you're trying to say, er...both of you, but it's really not that simple."
"Hermione, don't be daft." Harry grabs her chin and forces her to look at him when she tries to turn away. "That's an excuse and you know it."
"Yeah. And the Hermione Granger I know doesn't use excuses, either."
Hermione sniffs once, twice, and runs the back of her hand across her face, wiping at the tears that have begun to creep down her cheeks. Her eyes flutter shut and a deep furrow forms between her brows.
"I've made such a mess of things," she whispers miserably, the tears slipping from beneath her closed eyelids. "I don't know if there's a way I can fix this."
Harry chuckles and points at Ron. "The Hermione Granger he knows can fix anything."
Ron, tipsy and moved by the sight of Hermione's pain, presses a smacking kiss to her forehead. "Yeah, she can," he agrees with conviction.
Hermione is silent for almost a minute, her eyes clenched shut so tightly that Ron is sure it must hurt. Then, she takes a long, deep breath and when she opens her eyes again, Ron can see they are lit with the single-minded determination he is used to. He smiles in relief and shares his grin with Harry.
"You're right." Hermione nods, her expression suddenly taking on a far away look. "I have to try. I don't have a choice, really."
"That's the spirit!" Ron ruffles Hermione's hair affectionately.
Hermione swats at his hand and then crawls on all fours to retrieve her wand, only bumping her head against the wall a once. She twists her body and lands heavily on her bottom, then points her wand at herself with a look of intense concentration.
"You two will have to excuse me." Hermione casts a sobering spell over herself and gives them both a small, hopeful smile. "I have things I need to do. Lock up before you leave, won't you Harry?"
She doesn't wait for an answer.
After the echo of Hermione Disapparating fades, Ron turns increasingly blurry eyes toward Harry. "She's a bit strange, isn't she?"
Harry laughs and shrugs.
"And what the bloody hell were you two talking about just now?" Ron jabs an accusing finger at Harry's chest. "I thought you were trying to convince her to stay here."
"Stay here? Why would I do that?" Harry looks at Ron like he's crazy and Ron bristles in annoyance.
"You're avoiding the question." Ron will not let Harry distract him so easily.
"I am not." Harry groans and pushes himself to his feet, then offers his hand to Ron. "Grab my wand so I can sober us up. I don't want to face whatever it is your mum has in store for us while still drunk."
"Don't remind me." Ron shudders and looks at his watch. "Can't we just stay here a few more hours? Until supper time at least."
"No."
"Fine." Ron retrieves Harry's wand and shoves it into the shorter man's hand. "Let's do this," he says with a resigned sigh.
~*~*~*~
"Time for dessert, dears." Mrs. Weasley, dressed in a knit sweater and a floor-length corduroy skirt, enters the Weasley family dining room bearing an apple cake fresh from the oven. Fred and George, who have surprisingly come to help with the preparations for Ginny's party, cheer with enthusiasm.
Ron groans in pleasure when the largest bit of cake levitates in front of him and then settles on his plate. He sends his mum a grateful look and reaches greedily for his fork. By the time his father, George, Fred, Ginny, and Harry have been served their own pieces, most of his first piece is already gone.
"This is delicious," he says around a particularly large mouthful, accidentally spewing a chunk onto Ginny's plate.
"Ugh." Ginny's lip curls in disgust as she flicks the chewed bit of cake back in Ron's direction. Ron braces himself, ready for an onslaught of insults from Ginny about how he was raised by wolves or some such thing. But to his immense surprise, she doesn't say a word. Instead she picks at her cake, unenthusiastically placing nibble size bits in her mouth, and sits strangely mute.
Come to think of it, Ron realizes, Ginny's barely said two words together since he and Harry returned from Hermione's. Ron hadn't noticed at first because he was too busy cleaning the house, cutting the grass, and de-gnoming the garden to pay much attention to Ginny's near silence. But now that he has noticed, well, it's almost alarming considering it had impossible to shut her up during the previous forty-eight hours.
"...Ron, dear?" Mrs. Weasley's voice interrupts Ron's thoughts and he blinks at her in confusion, not having heard a word she said.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"I asked you how Hermione was." Mrs. Weasley's voice seems unnaturally bright and hopeful, her eyes darting back and forth between Ron and Ginny.
"Oh." Ron shrugs. "She was fine, I s'pose. Well, she was acting a little odd. A bit weepy, really. But Harry gave her a pep talk and she was her usual self again." Ron lifts his last piece of cake to his mouth and tucks it into his cheek. "I still think she's mad to go, but," Ron shrugs again, "you know how Hermione is when she's set on something."
"I have a headache," Ginny announces abruptly, pressing her fingers to her temples and closing her eyes. Her face is drawn and pale and Ron almost feels sorry for her. "I'm going to lie down in my room."
"Oh. Of course, dear." Mrs. Weasley makes a sympathetic clucking noise at her only daughter. "Leave your dishes, we'll get everything cleaned up."
"Thanks, Mum."
Ginny leaves the table and walks toward the staircase without another word, her shoulders slumped. Ron watches her mount the stairs, curious about her startling change of mood, when a loud pop nearly sends him tumbling from his chair.
Turning toward the sound, Ron is shocked to see Hermione walking cautiously into The Burrow's dining room. She's dressed exactly as she was when he saw her this afternoon, but her clothes are even more rumpled, if possible, and her hair seems to have exploded. The determination she'd obviously been feeling earlier has been diluted by uncertainty, if her eyes are anything to go by, and Ron isn't sure, but he thinks she's trying to regulate her breathing.
"Hermione?" Ron's mouth drops open and a bit of apple cake falls into his lap. "What are you doing here?"
"Ron." Hermione spares him a brief, harassed glance, the smile of greeting on her face looking more like a sick grimace than anything else. "How are you? Um, anyway, I've actually come to...to see Ginny."
Ron opens his mouth to tell Hermione that Ginny's just gone to bed when he's interrupted by the sound of his aforementioned sister pounding her way violently down the stairs.
"Have you?" Ginny, who moments before had seemed dejected and depressed, is suddenly, startlingly reanimated. Her chest is heaving, her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes fairly snap with an emotion and intensity that leaves Ron actually fearing for Hermione's well-being.
Which is odd because Ginny and Hermione rarely fight, and, if they truly are in the midst of a disagreement, surely he of all people would have gotten wind of it before now. And he hasn't heard a peep. Though, if Ginny's body language is anything to go by, they are definitely in the middle of a fight. A big one.
Worried, Ron leans forward to warn Hermione to back away slowly when Harry flicks his ear.
"Ow!"
"Shhh!"
"Ginny." Hermione's voice sounds a bit breathless and her eyes dart toward the table full of people. "Can I speak with you for a moment? In private?"
"No," Ginny answers immediately in a clipped, matter-of-fact tone. She keeps her eyes locked with Hermione's and descends a few steps to lean against the railing and cross her arms over her chest. The nameless emotion Ron had seen etched across her features is gone, replaced by what looks like sheer boredom. Ron feels an immediate pang of sympathy for Hermione, because that is another of Ginny's looks that mean no good for anyone. "If you want to say something to me you'll just have to say it here. And when you're done, you can leave."
For a moment the uncertainty disappears from Hermione's face and she looks stubborn, like she is going to argue. The air in the room suddenly feels thick with tension and Ron wonders at his uncharacteristically silent and still family. Even the twins are barely breathing. Ginny's face remains impassive despite the obvious discomfort in the room, and then an odd thing happens; Hermione takes a deep breath and backs down.
"Fair enough," she agrees.
Instantly the room is filled with the sound of multiple chairs being scraped hastily across a wooden floor. Ron turns in surprise and watches as his parents and the twins jump to their feet.
"I'll start the dishes," says Mrs. Weasley loudly, exiting the dining room with impressive speed, but without carrying a single dish.
"Let me help you, dear." Mr. Weasley follows half a step behind his wife, his hands also empty.
"I'd help, too, but I've got to use the loo." George smiles winningly at the remaining occupants of the room and pats his stomach with both hands before disappearing in the same direction as his parents. There's no toilet that way, Ron thinks, bewildered.
"I'll join you," Fred says cheerfully, and then he is gone too.
Ron turns to Harry, his face pinched in confusion.
"What -"
Ron doesn't get to finish his question, though, because Harry wraps a hand around his arm and yanks Ron to his feet. It takes a moment for Ron to realize he is being forcibly removed from the room and he casts a look over his shoulder in the direction of Ginny and Hermione, but the women are too busy staring at each other to notice.
Resigned, Ron lets Harry guide him without resistance and they end up in the kitchen, where his parents and the twins have pushed the swinging door ajar and are clearly spying on the going's on in the dining room. A wave of disgust hits Ron; he's seen men staring after Veela with less rapt expressions. Briefly, it crosses his mind to make some sort of protest on behalf of Ginny and Hermione. Clearly Hermione wanted this conversation, whatever the subject, to be private and his family should have the decency to leave the women in peace. This blatant disrespect for Hermione's wishes is childish and Hermione, though perhaps not Ginny, would be deeply embarrassed to know she was being observed like this.
But at the sound of raised voices filtering in from the other room, the fledgling notion of thoughtfulness vanishes with a surge of curiosity. Ron may not have the first clue what the two seem poised to come to blows over, but he's not about to be the only one in the room who doesn't find out.
"What the -" Ron tries again to get someone to explain things to him.
Fred and Mrs. Weasley turn as one to shush him, their fingers pressed firmly against their lips.
"If you're not going to be quiet then you'll have to leave, Ron." George smacks Ron on the side of the head without turning around.
Insulted, but still dying of curiosity, Ron scrambles onto the kitchen counter so he can see out the door above his father's head.
The first thing he notices is that Ginny has descended the last of the steps and is standing an arm's length away from Hermione, her hands resting on her hips. Ron can only see her profile but he is almost certain she is frowning, more than likely glaring as well.
For her part, Hermione looks absolutely wretched. Her hands are clasping and unclasping nervously at her waist, and the furrow between her brows is deeper than Ron's ever seen it. She appears to be searching Ginny's expression and if she finds anything non-threatening in it, Ron would be deeply surprised.
"Well?" Ginny asks. Her voice is flat and unemotional but Ron notices her fingers are like claws digging into her hips. "You have something you want to say?"
"Yes, I do." Hermione nods firmly but she looks lost, like she doesn't know exactly how to begin. Ron tries to remember the last time he saw Hermione at a loss for words and comes up empty. Like his mum and Ginny, she is one of those people who never seems to run out of things to say on any occasion. She's never been very good at apologies, though, and if that's what she's here to do, they could all be waiting a very long time.
As if hearing Ron's thoughts and taking them as a challenge, Hermione's voice suddenly spills out in a stumbling rush. "Ginny, I'm so sorry. So, so sorry. I know I've acted like an idiot, that I've hurt you and been unfair. You didn't deserve the things I said and I didn't mean them, anyway. I've wanted to take them back since the moment I said them, but -"
"I gave you the chance to take them back," Ginny says the moment Hermione pauses for breath. "Plenty of chances, actually. But you always gave me the same lines. And now I'm supposed to believe you didn't mean any of it?"
"I - I know what it must have seemed like." Hermione takes a hesitant step toward Ginny, her eyes beseeching the younger girl hear her out. "And I'm so sorry I made you believe I meant those things. I wasn't thinking straight, half the time I barely knew what I was saying."
"Really?" Ginny's voice is high with disbelief, a stark contrast to her previously even, bored tones. She crosses her arms over her chest in a defensive posture Ron knows well and cocks her head to one side. "Because you seemed perfectly rational to me. Completely in control, listing all your logical reasons one by one until even I got the point. Which was, in case you've forgotten, that you can't be bothered with someone like me."
"I never said that!"
"That may not be exactly what you said, but it's what you meant."
Ron pulls back from the door and glances down at the faces of everyone below him, trying to see if anyone looks as lost as he feels. His father appears a bit confused, but everyone else is staring at the two women with near unblinking intensity. Reluctantly, Ron turns back to the dining room, hoping he catches on eventually.
"That's not true. You were never a bother, Ginny, never." Ron hasn't seen Hermione look this earnest since she tried to get him to join SPEW. "I said those things to you because I was scared, it's that simple, really. I know I've acted like a coward since then but I couldn't go without...without trying. So..." Hermione swallows audibly, "I pushed my flight back...and bought a second ticket." The last is spoken so quietly Ron has to crane his neck to hear it.
"That was presumptuous." Ginny is trying to sound bored again but Ron detects a faint glimmer of emotion beneath her words. But whether it's rage, derision, or hope, he has no idea.
"Yes." Hermione keeps her eyes on Ginny and nods, the movement so small it's almost imperceptible. "It was."
There is a protracted silence in which Ginny stares at Hermione, Hermione stares at Ginny, and Ron looks wildly between the two of them. A thought, some conclusion, is running around in the back of his mind, all but begging to be noticed but he can't quite catch it.
More determined than ever to find out what's what, Ron pushes his face further out the door.
"So, what?" Ginny gestures with both hands. "You come in here just before you're scheduled to leave and expect me to...to forget our obvious problems and go with you?"
"I don't expect anything, Ginny. I'm not asking you to forget, or even forgive me. Not right away," Hermione adds. "At the moment all I'm looking for is the possibility of another chance. A chance to make it up to you, to prove that I really am as smart as people give me credit for and that, despite everything I said, there's nothing I want more than for you to come with me."
Ginny pinches the bridge of her nose and shakes her head. "You told me we were moving too fast, that you couldn't have a serious relationship with everything you had going on." Ginny chuckles but the sound is devoid of humor. "Silly me, I thought we were serious already. But you wanted a break, Hermione, a two year break," Ginny emphasizes, her voice rising again in her momentary ire. Ron watches with a mouth hanging loose on its hinges as Ginny takes a deep breath to calm herself.
"And then what?" she continues, her voice softer. "Afterward, if we we both still liked each other then maybe we'd have given it another shot?" Ginny shakes her head. "I thought everything was going so well, but then -" She sighs and looks down at her feet for a moment before raising her eyes back to Hermione. "I guess I don't understand where this change of heart is coming from. Or why I should believe you mean it."
Serious relationship.
A break.
The four words have been echoing inside Ron's head since they left Ginny's lips, growing louder with each repetition. Hermione was moving to the States, Ginny had wanted to go with her, Hermione said they needed a break, Ginny had thought they were serious.
Ron jerks backward, smacking the back of his head on a cupboard. "Hang on," he bursts out, turning wide eyes to the people gathered below him, "are they -"
Someone pinches Ron's calf, hard, and he has to bite his fist to keep from crying out. Growling against his knuckles, Ron kicks the nearest twin, not caring if it's the one who pinched him or not. He's rewarded with a second pinch, completely unfair, and decides to cut his losses for the time being and looks back to the dining room, his eyes in grave danger of rolling out of their sockets.
"I'm not afraid of commitment," Hermione is insisting.
"Hermione, the moment I even suggested going with you, you went into a full-blown panic. You can't tell me you didn't."
"All right, I did panic. But not for the reasons your thinking. The truth is," Hermione rushes on when it looks like Ginny will try to interrupt, "I was ecstatic when you brought up coming with me. I'd been trying to think of ways to casually slip an invitation into conversation for weeks but I didn't want it to feel like I was pushing you into anything."
"Merlin's teeth," Ron whispers to no one in particular.
"I was happy, Ginny. Very happy. But then I got to thinking about what this move would mean and the doubts started pouring in. Let's face it, I'm not your usual type. Apart from the fact that I can barely tolerate Quidditch, I prefer quiet nights at home to raucous parties, I've never been a joker, and -"
Ginny tries to cut Hermione off by shaking her head, "Hermione -"
"The point is," Hermione continues firmly, suddenly looking embarrassed, "in Boston it'd just be you and me. And I realized there'd be nothing to distract you from how utterly boring I really am. I couldn't bear for that happen, and it didn't seem possible that it wouldn't happen, so I made up reasons and excuses to push you away."
Someone below, Ron thinks it's Fred, snorts in surprise.
"Hermione Granger has insecurities. Who'd have thought?"
"Be a little more sensitive, would you?" Harry hisses from where he is lying on the floor.
"What? I'm completely serious."
Ron tries to ignore the spat going on below him and refocuses his attention on the two women in the dining room. If he doubted his conclusion of a moment before - and he had - Ron is absolutely certain now. Ginny and Hermione were - are? - a couple. They'd been girlfriends, or something, for an extended period of time. And they'd likely been kissing each other, and more, on a regular basis, also for an extended period of time.
His sister and his ex-girlfriend.
"Sweet Merlin's beard." Ron presses his forehead against the door and lets his mouth drop open. It doesn't seem possible. How did he never notice? How many other people don't know? Questions fly in and out of Ron's mind and he doesn't know whether to start demanding answers or pass out. At the moment he decides he can't do either because he is almost certain he's gone into shock.
Back in the dining room, Ginny has taken a half step toward Hermione and most of the tension that had stiffened her frame seems to have gone. Even Hermione looks more relaxed than she did a minute ago and it's as if both know the most dangerous part of their disagreement has passed.
"What am I going to do with you?" Ginny asks. It's a rhetorical question, one that - surprisingly - Hermione makes no attempt to answer. "First of all," she continues, in a clipped tone that is eerily like Hermione's, "you are anything but boring. Get that through your skull right now. Secondly, how long have we known each other? Almost fifteen years? I didn't fall in love with you expecting that you'd tell me a joke a minute. Don't you think I know we're never going to discuss the current Quidditch standings over breakfast?"
"Now you're making fun of me."
"Hermione." Ginny sighs and it sounds long-suffering, but affectionate, too. "I had my fears, too, you know. I used to worry that you'd meet some amazing healer with a brain almost as big as your own, someone you could talk to about things I couldn't pretend to understand."
"I -"
"The point is," Ginny interrupts gently, echoing Hermione's earlier words, "I realized you could have easily found a brainiac if you'd wanted one, but you were with me instead. And despite what you seem to think, I went into this relationship with my eyes wide open and you're exactly who I want, exactly the way you are."
Ginny takes another step toward Hermione, so close now that they are almost touching. Around him, Ron sees Harry and his family retreat, as if now they are concerned with giving the two women privacy. Despite being able to feel his mum's hard stare burning into the back of his neck, Ron refuses to be cowed into looking away by a hypocrite.
"I love you. I'm sorry for putting us through this," Hermione whispers.
"I forgive you." Ginny pauses to cup Hermione's cheeks. "As long as you promise me that you'll never do anything like this again." She pauses thoughtfully. "And that you'll stop thinking I'd be happier with some female version of Ron than with you."
Hermione groans as Ron recoils.
"I promise." Hermione grips Ginny's shirt, twisting her fingers in the fabric and pulling the other woman closer. "I know it's my own fault, but I've been miserable without you. I don't know how I even managed to pretend I could go to Boston without you. If I ever do something this foolish again, you have my permission to put me in a full body bind until I come to my senses."
"I'm going to remember you said that." Ron catches a flash of teeth in Ginny's profile and knows she is grinning. "Who knew the brightest witch in an age could be so hopeless at relationships?"
"That's unfair." Hermione's face makes a pout Ron's never seen before and he shifts uncomfortably, thinking perhaps it might better for him to stop watching them after all. But he can't quite find the will to move, the whole situation is just too bizarre. Like the time Malfoy turned into a ferret, he can't decide if what he's seeing real or a figment of his imagination.
"As a field of study," Hermione continues primly, "relationships are a completely unreliable subject. I've come across more quantifiable results in Divination."
Ginny chuckles warmly and pulls Hermione into a tight hug. Immediately Hermione's eyes close and she buries her face in Ginny's shoulder, breathing a giant sigh of relief against the taller girl's skin.
"So, is it safe to assume you still want to live with me in Boston?" Hermione's voice is muffled. "That you'll come with me, even though I hardly deserve you?"
"Of course I'm coming. When's your flight?"
Hermione's head snaps up, her face split by a wide smile. "Tomorrow evening, but don't worry about that. I bought the second ticket mostly to prove to you that I was serious. Obviously you'll need time to make arrangements with work and such."
"I've actually made most of them already."
"What? How -"
"I hoped," Ginny says simply. "Aren't you the one who always says a little optimism never hurt anyone? It wasn't until this weekend that I actually started to worry you weren't going to change your mind." Ginny trails a finger down Hermione's cheek and Ron jerks his gaze to the ceiling. "Up until then I was more irritated than anything. You cut it a little closer than I was prepared for."
"I know. I'm sorry."
Without saying anything more, Ginny leans forward and places a soft kiss on Hermione's lips. "Thankfully, the only thing left for me to do is get on the plane with you. Though, we will have to stop by my flat to pick up my suitcase."
Something about the way Ginny murmurs that last sentence makes Ron vaguely uncomfortable, in the way that makes a person hope their subconscious doesn't try to pinpoint exactly why said something is disturbing.
"Slightly inconvenient," Hermione replies, "but I think we'll manage."
Ron barely has time to look away before Ginny cups the back of Hermione's head and presses her mouth against the shorter woman's for what Ron is sure will be a proper kiss, something he has no wish to see. Belatedly, he claps his hands over his ears - because he has no wish to hear his sister and his ex-girlfriend going at it either.
Then before Ron can decide whether to find cover in his old bedroom or storm in on the lip-locked couple and demand a thorough explanation, there is a loud, familiar pop.
Instantly Ron leaps from the counter, nearly tripping over his own feet, and rushes into the now empty dining room. He looks around wildly, as if the two women have only pretended to leave and he'll catch them hiding in the corner, before pointing to the spot on the floor where they'd just Disapparated from.
"Right. Where the bloody hell did that come from?"
"Ron, your language." Mrs. Weasley, who is leading the rest of the family into the kitchen, wags a finger in his face. "I certainly didn't raise you to speak like that."
"No." Ron goes to shake his head and realizes he already is, and thinks he might have been for the last five minutes. He shrugs the thought off and continues on. "That doesn't answer to my question."
"Well, thank Merlin that got settled." Fred slips by Ron and begins to pick up the dishes abandoned during the mass flight to the kitchen. "Ginny was starting to drive me mental."
"You knew?" Ron nearly injures his neck rounding on Fred. "Did they tell you?"
"Ron," George looks toward the ceiling and sighs, "they've been all but living together for months. You can't tell me you didn't notice."
"They're friends! I thought they were having sleepovers. Girls do that."
"Did McGonagall really make this git a prefect?" Fred asks, addressing the room in general. "Wherever she is, I hope she's ashamed. Deeply and truly ashamed."
"He might be a git, but remember, he's our git."
"True."
"Oh, leave him be, the both of you." Mrs. Weasley levels a threatening figure at each twin in turn, her eyes narrowed dangerously. "The poor dear's just suffered a bit of a shock, he'll be over it in an hour or two."
"I'm not in shock," Ron protests, obviously lying, "I just wish someone'd told me what the bloody hell was -"
"It's not like they were hiding it, Ron." George shoves a stack of plates into Ron's stomach and tries to direct him into the kitchen, but Ron won't move.
"That worked out very well. I've always thought our Ginny was good for Hermione. And vice versa, of course." Mr. Weasely sidles up to Ron and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Just think. Our Ginny riding about in one of those Muggle air veins."
"That's airplane, Mr. Weasley. It's also called a jumbo jet," Harry corrects, eyeing Ron like he might explode at any minute.
Ron isn't sure he won't.
"Oh, I like that. Jumbo jet," says Mr. Weasley, over enunciating and overemphasizing each syllable in his attempt to commit the information to memory. He repeats it twice more and then bobs up and down on the balls of his feet, rubbing his hands together almost giddily. Ron can only stare at him, wondering how his father of all people caught on before he did. It wasn't right.
"Imagine. Flying without magic. Truly remarkable isn't it? Those Muggles, some of them are dashed clever I tell you." Mr. Weasley continues smiling fondly, proud, as always, of Muggle achievement. "I suppose Ginny will want to tell me all about it afterward. Molly, love, we absolutely must be home when they...what's the expression, Harry? Hit the ground?"
"Goodness!" Mrs. Weasley, deeply suspicious of all things Muggle, clutches her throat and gapes at Harry in horror.
"Land," Harry says quickly, giving Mrs. Weasley a reassuring smile. "When they land."
"Ah, yes. When they land."
"Well, that's it for me. Let me know what we decide about Ginny's party tomorrow, eh?" Ron sets the stack of plates on the floor and marches up the stairs, giving the assembled members of his family and Harry a half-hearted wave over his shoulder. He's not sure if they notice his exit, he doesn't care really. Right now, the only thing he wants to do is go upstairs, lie down, and assimilate a few things before morning.
"Goodnight," he mutters to his empty bedroom, just before collapsing into bed.
The End.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Hermione/Ginny
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Word Count: 8,700
Summary: Ron is having a rough week: Ginny seems determined to make his life miserable and Hermione is moving to the States for two years. Are the two events related? Will Ron ever figure it out? Ron's POV.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the creation of J.K. Rowling. This is a derivative, non-commercial work of fanfiction.
Author's Note: First, Ron is good-hearted but clueless in this, anyone sensitive to how he is portrayed should proceed with caution. Second, I am from the United States, please excuse the Americanisms. Third, I apologize upfront for any and all mistakes.
~*~*~*~
"Well, that was fun, eh?" Ron smiles widely and claps Harry firmly on the back. The smaller man grunts in surprise and stumbles a bit beneath Ron's enthusiasm, but Ron doesn't notice and continues cheerily, "Nothing like Quidditch, really."
He, Harry, and Ginny had just finished their third round of "Catch the Snitch", one of the variations of Quidditch played when there aren't enough players to field two teams. It isn't Ron's preferred game, he's never had much of an eye for finding the Snitch, nor the patience, but he'll play it in a pinch. After all, some form of Quidditch is better than none he's always thought.
"Please. You're only saying that because you managed to win." Ginny, a few steps behind the two men, gives Ron's backside a less than friendly swat with the flat of her broom. Ron, unable to see the blow or defend himself, starts in surprise, an indignant squawk escaping his lips. "If you'd lost people would have been able to hear your caterwauling all the way to the old Lovegood place."
"Hey!" Ron cradles his offended cheek and rounds on his younger sister, ready to jab at her with his own broom. Normally he doesn't resort to such childish tactics, at twenty-six he's mostly out-grown such things, but Ginny started hounding him the moment he walked through the Burrow's front door yesterday afternoon, and she's been merciless ever since. Snorting whenever he speaks, loudly arguing that the Chudley Cannons are the laughing stock of the British and Irish Quidditch League, and making baseless accusations about his insensitivity while she rolls her eyes in disgust. Ron hasn't had a moment's peace, and the worst part is, he doesn't remember doing anything to set her off. Despite her being a girl, Ron can usually pinpoint a reason for Ginny's irrational behavior, but at the moment she appears to be off her rocker for no good reason.
And taking it out on him!
Holding his broom at the ready, Ron sets his feet and studies Ginny as she takes another step toward him, his eyes searching for the best point to strike. Attacking Ginny is usually a dodgey business, despite her diminutive size she has a Seeker's reflexes and always gives and good as she gets. But Ron has height and strength on his side, and he's not afraid to use them to full advantage against his sister.
Recognizing his intent, Ginny stops well within Ron's reach and narrows her eyes, the expression on her face plainly daring him to make a move against her. It's a look Ron has seen many time before, since Ginny spent the majority of her childhood proving to her brothers that she was born with a mind of her own and she was not going to be shy about using it. In the last few years, however, it's become a look used only for special occasions. Occasions when Ginny is in an especially foul mood and looking for someone to take it out on.
More often then not, that someone is him. And, despite wanting to stand up for himself, Ron knows he would be a fool not to recognize the sudden precariousness of his position. There are few people able to deal with a Ginny who is working herself up to a full temper and he'd need two or three more reinforcements - at least - to make a move now.
"Well?" Ginny challenges, stepping boldly forward, and Ron knows she can smell his fear.
"That hurt!" he snarls in an attempt to preserve some dignity. Scowling, he slings his broom over his shoulder. "Do something like that again and I'll -"
Harry, who has been looking between the two siblings with increasing discomfort, springs forward and grabs Ron by the elbow.
"So," he says, clearing his throat and dragging Ron away from Ginny, "I thought after we clean up we can visit Hermione. She said she'd have some time for visitors later this morning."
Ron looks over his shoulder and makes a face at Ginny. "Yeah, that sounds good," he agrees as the trio reach his parents' gardening shed. He flings open the door and steps inside, squinting to find the Quidditch chest through the dim and dusty light. "I s'pose this is our last chance to see her until Christmas, eh?"
An extended, oddly strained silence follows Ron's words and he pokes his head out the doorway in time to see Harry looking at Ginny with his eyebrows raised in question.
"Er. Actually, she told me she might not make it back here until the spring." Harry shrugs and looks at Ginny again, this time expectantly. She glares back at him for a moment, her cheeks a warm red, before pointedly turning her gaze to the Burrow.
"What?" Ron interrupts their silent communication. "Not until spring? That's disgusting, that is!" He shakes his head and ducks back into the shed, struggling to strap the reluctant Snitch back in its holster. "I say we leave as soon as we wash up. You'll come with us, won't you, Gin?"
"No," Ginny replies without hesitation.
"What?" Ron stands up and braces himself against the shed wall with one hand so he can hang out the doorway and peer at his sister. Ginny is leaning up against the shed, her arms crossed over her chest, her face turned away from both Ron and Harry. "You're joking, right? You missed her going away party last weekend and -"
"I can't make it," Ginny stresses, a slight tremor in her voice.
Ron hears the tremor and knows that Ginny isn't happy with the line of conversation, is likely on the verge of another explosion of temper, but he refuses to let it go. This is one of his best friends they're talking about, his one-time girlfriend no less, and Ron won't see Hermione ignored because Ginny's feeling moody.
"You do remember the bit about her leaving tomorrow, don't you? Being gone for months? I thought you two were supposed to be friends. What could you have to do that's more important? I thought you two were supposed to be friends."
Ginny whips her head around to look at Ron and the glare she gives him is so ferocious Ron is certain she'd have cursed him back into the last century if she'd had a wand handy. Not speaking, she holds his gaze for what feels like a full minute before turning up her nose and staring out toward the field they'd just come from.
"I have to brush my hair."
Ginny's voice is thick with sarcasm and for a moment Ron is sure he misheard.
"What did you just say?"
"Ginny." Harry's voice is softly chiding and he reaches a hand toward her shoulder.
"You heard me." Ginny steps around Harry's outstretched hand and tosses her broom into the shed, nearly catching Ron on the temple with the handle. Without apologizing, or even pretending to be concerned that she'd nearly brained her brother, Ginny starts toward the Burrow.
"Watch it!" Ron lunges after the Nimbus and picks it up to cradle against his chest like a newborn baby.
"It's my broom," Ginny calls over her shoulder.
"Well, you almost hit me with it."
"Lucky you, I missed."
"Will you stop moving? I'm trying to have a conversation with you!"
"Then stop lecturing me," Ginny snaps. "Just because I haven't been to Hermione's with you doesn't mean I haven't been to see her. Or that I haven't said everything I need to say."
"What's gotten in to you?" Ron slams the shed door and chases after Ginny, marveling at her behavior. She hasn't been this impossible since their days at Hogwarts. "Is this about some bloke?"
"Excuse me?" Ginny turns on Ron with alarming speed, her dark eyes snapping in anger.
A few feet away, Harry looks aghast and Ron can hardly believe the words came out of his mouth, himself. Most days he doesn't like to think about the idea of Ginny having a boyfriend, much less bring it up in conversation. As her older brother, and closest in age, he's always felt the responsibility of looking out for her keenly, and even though what he's about to say goes against his every instinct, something has got to be done.
"Look, it's been a while since you've had a steady boyfriend, right? Or any boyfriend at all, really." Ron approaches Ginny slowly, his hands outstretched, willing her to listen to him calmly. "Maybe that's why you've been so irritable lately."
Ginny's entire body seems to stiffen at Ron's words. Slowly she tilts her head to one side, her eyes never leaving Ron's, her lips pressing together so hard they seem to disappear entirely. At her sides, her hands begin clenching convulsively, like she is fighting against the urge to attack him with her fists, and beside her Harry is fidgeting, bouncing from foot to foot and casting longing glances toward the Burrow.
Ron blinks, confused how his words could have caused such a reaction.
"What are you getting at, Ron? Are you saying I need a good poke? Is that it?"
"What? No!" Ron recoils, waving his hands in front of his face. "No, no, no! All I mean is you're lonely and it might be getting to you, that's all."
Ron shudders dramatically while Harry shakes his head slowly.
"I...I can't even look at you right now," Ginny growls. She turns on her heel and glances briefly at Harry. "I'm going to wash up. Keep him away from me, will you?"
Harry nods. "Sure thing."
"Wha- I'm just trying to help you!" Ron yells at Ginny's rigid back.
"Ron," Harry says sharply.
"What?"
"No more helping."
"Why the bloody hell not?"
Harry opens his mouth to say something, but closes it almost immediately. After regarding Ron for a long moment he just sighs. "Nothing. Let's just get back to the house." A pause. "We'd better use the side door, though.
~*~*~*~
Ron, Harry, and Hermione are sitting on the cool tiles of Hermione's kitchen floor, side by side by side, their backs resting against the wall and their legs stretched out in front of them. The room is completely bare, like the rest of Hermione's flat, the last of her furniture having been placed in storage that very morning. Ron feels guilty that he wasn't here to help, as if he's shirked an unspoken but sworn duty as one of Hermione's few male friends. Though, to his credit, he had offered his and Harry's assistance on multiple occasions. It's hardly his fault that Hermione refused, assuring him her ability to magically transport her belongings was quite as capable as his own.
"Are you sure you won't spend the night at the Burrow?" asks Ron for the third time since he and Harry arrived almost two hours ago. "We've got loads of room."
Hermione, who is resting her cheek companionably against Ron's arm, shakes her head slowly. "I appreciate the offer, Ron, really I do." She squeezes his forearm and smiles. "But I want to spend the night with my parents."
"I s'pose you're better off, anyway," Ron concedes for the third time, covering Hermione's hand with his own and patting it affectionately. "It's Ginny's birthday tomorrow, you know, and Mum will be running the lot of us ragged tonight with preparations for the party."
At the mention of Ginny's party, Hermione seems to deflate against Ron, and then she is pushing away from him completely, until she is sitting upright again. "As if you won't find a place to hide," she mumbles.
"I'll try," Ron admits darkly before taking a drink from his glass of firewhiskey. He lets the liquid burn its way down his throat before sending Hermione a questioning look. She's been acting strangely since he and Harry showed up, bubbling with oddly forced excitement one moment, morose and withdrawn the next. Ron can't tell if her mood swings are the result of a personal problem, her being a female, or all the alcohol she's guzzled in the last two hours. And probably before then, if the look of her when they arrived was anything to go by.
"Anyway," he says, deciding to ignore Hermione's strange humor for now, "I'm hardly in the mood to slave away like some house-elf...er..." Ron casts a horrified glance at Hermione but for some reason she isn't bristling with indignation - now that is definitely not normal - and he hurries on, "for Ginny at the moment. She's been acting like a right harpy."
"Has she really?" Hermione meets Ron's gaze fleetingly before dropping her eyes to her lap, where her fingers have begun to twist together. "I wonder what's gotten into her."
Sensing someone he can complain to, who won't accuse him of acting like a git and deserving whatever Ginny dishes out, Ron nods enthusiastically. He sets his glass on the floor and turns his body toward Hermione so he can fully appreciate her sympathy.
"You wouldn't believe it. Do you want to know what she said about coming to vis-"
"Ron." Harry's firm, chiding tone cuts him off. "Now is not the time."
"But -" Ron looks at Harry and bites off his protest reluctantly. Harry's right, Hermione will be in the States for months and the last thing he should be doing during their farewell visit is complaining about his sister. Even if it is getting harder and harder for him to hold everything in.
Sighing, he turns back to Hermione. She hasn't looked up from her fingers and Ron has the strangest feeling that she is avoiding his gaze. But since she has no reason to do that, Ron shrugs it off and pours himself another glass of firewhiskey.
"So, this... whatever it is will really last two years?" he asks after a moment.
"It's a fellowship." Hermione gives an exaggerated nod. "And yes, it will."
"But you'll have breaks where you can come home, won't you?"
"Of course, Ron."
"And tell me again why you're flying in one of those Muggle tin cans?" He knows full well Hermione - and Harry - are both sick to death of the question, but he still can't quite wrap his mind around a witch preferring Muggle transportation. It is wrong and unnatural on multiple levels, and he's told Hermione so on several occasions. Last week her reaction was to explain how the massive things stayed in the air, assuring him the practice was very safe and the how of it all quite fascinating. Thirty seconds in, after hearing more than he wanted to about foreign and daft concepts like 'physics', 'lift', and 'pressure differential', he remembered he was his mother's son and begged Hermione to stop torturing him with Muggle science.
"Because." Hermione closes her eyes and lets out a long breath, and for a moment Ron thinks that might be all the answer she's going to give him. Then one corner of her mouth quirks up in a half smile and she looks at him like he's hopeless. "Traveling long distance the magical ways always makes me nauseated," she continues, putting a hand across her stomach and making a face. "I hate feeling nauseated, Ron."
"But you're terrified of heights."
Hermione shrugs. "I know."
"So," Ron continues on like Hermione is making an argument, "how can you trust Muggle technology over magic? That's plain crazy, that is. Barking mad when you come down to it, and barking mad isn't like you."
Hermione inhales a quick, offended breath and Ron flinches. Now he's done it.
"Are you honestly making the argument that magical transportation is statistically safer?" Hermione sits up until her back is ramrod straight and she can sniff and look down her nose at him. "I suppose you'd have me believe a ride on the Knight Bus has never sent anyone to St. Mungos? Or that no one's ever been splinched? Or fallen off a broom or a flying carpet, for that matter?" Hermione snorts. "Magical modes of transportation have never been risk free, Ronald. In fact, I'd go so far as to call some of them suicidal. And it's hardly fair to call me insane for preferring solid walls and thick windows to stand between me and a very long fall."
"Ron, Ron, Ron." Harry slaps at Ron's shoulder and then gives it a shake. "You'd have to be one of us to understand. So, please, just leave it alone. I'm begging you."
"Can't I be concerned about a friend?" Ron mutters, feeling bruised by Hermione's unnecessary tirade and Harry's condescension. "Something wrong with that, is there?"
Ron lets his head drop back to rest against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest.
Immediately, Hermione is contrite. She leans into Ron and sneaks one arm around his back, pressing a cheek into his shoulder. "No, Ron, of course not," she assures him. "I'm sorry for snapping at you, I don't know what got into me. Honestly, it's good to know you care."
"I do care." Ron gives Harry a dirty look and returns Hermione's embrace. "I'm worried about you, Hermione, and I don't mind saying it. I don't like you living in a foreign country all by yourself, without a friend to talk to, no one to look after you."
His words seem to be the wrong ones to say, because suddenly Hermione is pushing away from him again, a grimace on her face. Ron looks at her in surprise, no longer sure he should be ignoring her strange mood. When Hermione notices his questioning stare her grimace turns into a reassuring smile that doesn't fool Ron for a moment.
"Hermione -"
She waves off his words with a dismissive flick of her wrist.
"Don't worry about me. I'll hardly be alone." Hermione's voice is cheerful and confident, but Ron doesn't miss the underlying edge of sorrow and his eyes narrow in suspicion. "I'll be learning and working with healers from all around the world. I'll be so busy, so stressed," she adds with a tight laugh, "I'll barely have time to breathe, much less be lonely."
Ron frowns and shakes his head. He's said it from the beginning, and no one's agreed with him, but Hermione obviously doesn't know what she's getting herself into. This move to the States is a very bad idea, horrible even, and he can't understand why he's the only person who sees that and has tried to talk her out of it. Hermione, stressed and alone and left to her own devices in an foreign country is not a good idea. Never has been, never will be. She's obviously starting to lose it already and she hasn't even left yet.
Harry, who has been content to listen to Ron and Hermione talk for most of the afternoon, leans in front of Ron to grab at Hermione's knee. "Busy isn't the same as not lonely, Hermione."
Ron gapes at Harry, eyes wide with delighted surprise. This opening sounds promising.
"Exactly." Ron points at Harry, sending his new and welcome ally his silent gratitude, and nods with enthusiastic agreement.
"I don't see -"
"Two years is a long time," Harry interrupts.
"That's right, a long time." Ron rubs a hand along Hermione's back in what he hopes is a comforting manner.
"You'll never get that time back and the last thing you want at the end of it is to have regrets. Life's too short, Hermione. With all we've been through, I thought you'd realize that better than anyone."
"Harry." Hermione drags out his name in a whine and covers her face with her hands.
"Hermione." Harry's tone is firm, like a parent demanding a wayward child's attention. He reaches out and grabs one of Hermione's wrists, gently pulling her hand away from her face. Ron is shocked to see tears pooling in her eyes.
"It's okay to be scared, Merlin knows I understand fear." Harry smiles encouragingly. "But since when have you ever let fear stop you from doing something you wanted? Especially something as important as this?"
Ron looks back and forth between Harry's earnestness and Hermione's misery and gradually realizes he is not having the same conversation they are. It's not all that surprising, this isn't hardly the first time he's found himself on the outside looking in on one of their conversations - the two developed the annoying habit while still at Hogwarts - and Ron usually tells them off when he figures what they're doing. But something about this conversation makes him bite his tongue - for now - so he doesn't ruin the moment.
Still, determined to play along, Ron gives Hermione's shoulder a bracing sort of shake and hopes neither of his friends have noticed that he doesn't have the first clue what anyone's talking about.
"The Hermione Granger I know is no coward," he says with easy confidence. "And since when does something not go your way if you want it badly enough?" Ron jerks his thumb at Harry. "You've managed to keep this git alive for years, haven't you? I reckon if you can do that, you can do anything. So, get to it."
Whatever the bloody hell "it" was.
Hermione eyes flit between Harry and Ron, a sad, watery smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I appreciate what you're trying to say, er...both of you, but it's really not that simple."
"Hermione, don't be daft." Harry grabs her chin and forces her to look at him when she tries to turn away. "That's an excuse and you know it."
"Yeah. And the Hermione Granger I know doesn't use excuses, either."
Hermione sniffs once, twice, and runs the back of her hand across her face, wiping at the tears that have begun to creep down her cheeks. Her eyes flutter shut and a deep furrow forms between her brows.
"I've made such a mess of things," she whispers miserably, the tears slipping from beneath her closed eyelids. "I don't know if there's a way I can fix this."
Harry chuckles and points at Ron. "The Hermione Granger he knows can fix anything."
Ron, tipsy and moved by the sight of Hermione's pain, presses a smacking kiss to her forehead. "Yeah, she can," he agrees with conviction.
Hermione is silent for almost a minute, her eyes clenched shut so tightly that Ron is sure it must hurt. Then, she takes a long, deep breath and when she opens her eyes again, Ron can see they are lit with the single-minded determination he is used to. He smiles in relief and shares his grin with Harry.
"You're right." Hermione nods, her expression suddenly taking on a far away look. "I have to try. I don't have a choice, really."
"That's the spirit!" Ron ruffles Hermione's hair affectionately.
Hermione swats at his hand and then crawls on all fours to retrieve her wand, only bumping her head against the wall a once. She twists her body and lands heavily on her bottom, then points her wand at herself with a look of intense concentration.
"You two will have to excuse me." Hermione casts a sobering spell over herself and gives them both a small, hopeful smile. "I have things I need to do. Lock up before you leave, won't you Harry?"
She doesn't wait for an answer.
After the echo of Hermione Disapparating fades, Ron turns increasingly blurry eyes toward Harry. "She's a bit strange, isn't she?"
Harry laughs and shrugs.
"And what the bloody hell were you two talking about just now?" Ron jabs an accusing finger at Harry's chest. "I thought you were trying to convince her to stay here."
"Stay here? Why would I do that?" Harry looks at Ron like he's crazy and Ron bristles in annoyance.
"You're avoiding the question." Ron will not let Harry distract him so easily.
"I am not." Harry groans and pushes himself to his feet, then offers his hand to Ron. "Grab my wand so I can sober us up. I don't want to face whatever it is your mum has in store for us while still drunk."
"Don't remind me." Ron shudders and looks at his watch. "Can't we just stay here a few more hours? Until supper time at least."
"No."
"Fine." Ron retrieves Harry's wand and shoves it into the shorter man's hand. "Let's do this," he says with a resigned sigh.
~*~*~*~
"Time for dessert, dears." Mrs. Weasley, dressed in a knit sweater and a floor-length corduroy skirt, enters the Weasley family dining room bearing an apple cake fresh from the oven. Fred and George, who have surprisingly come to help with the preparations for Ginny's party, cheer with enthusiasm.
Ron groans in pleasure when the largest bit of cake levitates in front of him and then settles on his plate. He sends his mum a grateful look and reaches greedily for his fork. By the time his father, George, Fred, Ginny, and Harry have been served their own pieces, most of his first piece is already gone.
"This is delicious," he says around a particularly large mouthful, accidentally spewing a chunk onto Ginny's plate.
"Ugh." Ginny's lip curls in disgust as she flicks the chewed bit of cake back in Ron's direction. Ron braces himself, ready for an onslaught of insults from Ginny about how he was raised by wolves or some such thing. But to his immense surprise, she doesn't say a word. Instead she picks at her cake, unenthusiastically placing nibble size bits in her mouth, and sits strangely mute.
Come to think of it, Ron realizes, Ginny's barely said two words together since he and Harry returned from Hermione's. Ron hadn't noticed at first because he was too busy cleaning the house, cutting the grass, and de-gnoming the garden to pay much attention to Ginny's near silence. But now that he has noticed, well, it's almost alarming considering it had impossible to shut her up during the previous forty-eight hours.
"...Ron, dear?" Mrs. Weasley's voice interrupts Ron's thoughts and he blinks at her in confusion, not having heard a word she said.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"I asked you how Hermione was." Mrs. Weasley's voice seems unnaturally bright and hopeful, her eyes darting back and forth between Ron and Ginny.
"Oh." Ron shrugs. "She was fine, I s'pose. Well, she was acting a little odd. A bit weepy, really. But Harry gave her a pep talk and she was her usual self again." Ron lifts his last piece of cake to his mouth and tucks it into his cheek. "I still think she's mad to go, but," Ron shrugs again, "you know how Hermione is when she's set on something."
"I have a headache," Ginny announces abruptly, pressing her fingers to her temples and closing her eyes. Her face is drawn and pale and Ron almost feels sorry for her. "I'm going to lie down in my room."
"Oh. Of course, dear." Mrs. Weasley makes a sympathetic clucking noise at her only daughter. "Leave your dishes, we'll get everything cleaned up."
"Thanks, Mum."
Ginny leaves the table and walks toward the staircase without another word, her shoulders slumped. Ron watches her mount the stairs, curious about her startling change of mood, when a loud pop nearly sends him tumbling from his chair.
Turning toward the sound, Ron is shocked to see Hermione walking cautiously into The Burrow's dining room. She's dressed exactly as she was when he saw her this afternoon, but her clothes are even more rumpled, if possible, and her hair seems to have exploded. The determination she'd obviously been feeling earlier has been diluted by uncertainty, if her eyes are anything to go by, and Ron isn't sure, but he thinks she's trying to regulate her breathing.
"Hermione?" Ron's mouth drops open and a bit of apple cake falls into his lap. "What are you doing here?"
"Ron." Hermione spares him a brief, harassed glance, the smile of greeting on her face looking more like a sick grimace than anything else. "How are you? Um, anyway, I've actually come to...to see Ginny."
Ron opens his mouth to tell Hermione that Ginny's just gone to bed when he's interrupted by the sound of his aforementioned sister pounding her way violently down the stairs.
"Have you?" Ginny, who moments before had seemed dejected and depressed, is suddenly, startlingly reanimated. Her chest is heaving, her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes fairly snap with an emotion and intensity that leaves Ron actually fearing for Hermione's well-being.
Which is odd because Ginny and Hermione rarely fight, and, if they truly are in the midst of a disagreement, surely he of all people would have gotten wind of it before now. And he hasn't heard a peep. Though, if Ginny's body language is anything to go by, they are definitely in the middle of a fight. A big one.
Worried, Ron leans forward to warn Hermione to back away slowly when Harry flicks his ear.
"Ow!"
"Shhh!"
"Ginny." Hermione's voice sounds a bit breathless and her eyes dart toward the table full of people. "Can I speak with you for a moment? In private?"
"No," Ginny answers immediately in a clipped, matter-of-fact tone. She keeps her eyes locked with Hermione's and descends a few steps to lean against the railing and cross her arms over her chest. The nameless emotion Ron had seen etched across her features is gone, replaced by what looks like sheer boredom. Ron feels an immediate pang of sympathy for Hermione, because that is another of Ginny's looks that mean no good for anyone. "If you want to say something to me you'll just have to say it here. And when you're done, you can leave."
For a moment the uncertainty disappears from Hermione's face and she looks stubborn, like she is going to argue. The air in the room suddenly feels thick with tension and Ron wonders at his uncharacteristically silent and still family. Even the twins are barely breathing. Ginny's face remains impassive despite the obvious discomfort in the room, and then an odd thing happens; Hermione takes a deep breath and backs down.
"Fair enough," she agrees.
Instantly the room is filled with the sound of multiple chairs being scraped hastily across a wooden floor. Ron turns in surprise and watches as his parents and the twins jump to their feet.
"I'll start the dishes," says Mrs. Weasley loudly, exiting the dining room with impressive speed, but without carrying a single dish.
"Let me help you, dear." Mr. Weasley follows half a step behind his wife, his hands also empty.
"I'd help, too, but I've got to use the loo." George smiles winningly at the remaining occupants of the room and pats his stomach with both hands before disappearing in the same direction as his parents. There's no toilet that way, Ron thinks, bewildered.
"I'll join you," Fred says cheerfully, and then he is gone too.
Ron turns to Harry, his face pinched in confusion.
"What -"
Ron doesn't get to finish his question, though, because Harry wraps a hand around his arm and yanks Ron to his feet. It takes a moment for Ron to realize he is being forcibly removed from the room and he casts a look over his shoulder in the direction of Ginny and Hermione, but the women are too busy staring at each other to notice.
Resigned, Ron lets Harry guide him without resistance and they end up in the kitchen, where his parents and the twins have pushed the swinging door ajar and are clearly spying on the going's on in the dining room. A wave of disgust hits Ron; he's seen men staring after Veela with less rapt expressions. Briefly, it crosses his mind to make some sort of protest on behalf of Ginny and Hermione. Clearly Hermione wanted this conversation, whatever the subject, to be private and his family should have the decency to leave the women in peace. This blatant disrespect for Hermione's wishes is childish and Hermione, though perhaps not Ginny, would be deeply embarrassed to know she was being observed like this.
But at the sound of raised voices filtering in from the other room, the fledgling notion of thoughtfulness vanishes with a surge of curiosity. Ron may not have the first clue what the two seem poised to come to blows over, but he's not about to be the only one in the room who doesn't find out.
"What the -" Ron tries again to get someone to explain things to him.
Fred and Mrs. Weasley turn as one to shush him, their fingers pressed firmly against their lips.
"If you're not going to be quiet then you'll have to leave, Ron." George smacks Ron on the side of the head without turning around.
Insulted, but still dying of curiosity, Ron scrambles onto the kitchen counter so he can see out the door above his father's head.
The first thing he notices is that Ginny has descended the last of the steps and is standing an arm's length away from Hermione, her hands resting on her hips. Ron can only see her profile but he is almost certain she is frowning, more than likely glaring as well.
For her part, Hermione looks absolutely wretched. Her hands are clasping and unclasping nervously at her waist, and the furrow between her brows is deeper than Ron's ever seen it. She appears to be searching Ginny's expression and if she finds anything non-threatening in it, Ron would be deeply surprised.
"Well?" Ginny asks. Her voice is flat and unemotional but Ron notices her fingers are like claws digging into her hips. "You have something you want to say?"
"Yes, I do." Hermione nods firmly but she looks lost, like she doesn't know exactly how to begin. Ron tries to remember the last time he saw Hermione at a loss for words and comes up empty. Like his mum and Ginny, she is one of those people who never seems to run out of things to say on any occasion. She's never been very good at apologies, though, and if that's what she's here to do, they could all be waiting a very long time.
As if hearing Ron's thoughts and taking them as a challenge, Hermione's voice suddenly spills out in a stumbling rush. "Ginny, I'm so sorry. So, so sorry. I know I've acted like an idiot, that I've hurt you and been unfair. You didn't deserve the things I said and I didn't mean them, anyway. I've wanted to take them back since the moment I said them, but -"
"I gave you the chance to take them back," Ginny says the moment Hermione pauses for breath. "Plenty of chances, actually. But you always gave me the same lines. And now I'm supposed to believe you didn't mean any of it?"
"I - I know what it must have seemed like." Hermione takes a hesitant step toward Ginny, her eyes beseeching the younger girl hear her out. "And I'm so sorry I made you believe I meant those things. I wasn't thinking straight, half the time I barely knew what I was saying."
"Really?" Ginny's voice is high with disbelief, a stark contrast to her previously even, bored tones. She crosses her arms over her chest in a defensive posture Ron knows well and cocks her head to one side. "Because you seemed perfectly rational to me. Completely in control, listing all your logical reasons one by one until even I got the point. Which was, in case you've forgotten, that you can't be bothered with someone like me."
"I never said that!"
"That may not be exactly what you said, but it's what you meant."
Ron pulls back from the door and glances down at the faces of everyone below him, trying to see if anyone looks as lost as he feels. His father appears a bit confused, but everyone else is staring at the two women with near unblinking intensity. Reluctantly, Ron turns back to the dining room, hoping he catches on eventually.
"That's not true. You were never a bother, Ginny, never." Ron hasn't seen Hermione look this earnest since she tried to get him to join SPEW. "I said those things to you because I was scared, it's that simple, really. I know I've acted like a coward since then but I couldn't go without...without trying. So..." Hermione swallows audibly, "I pushed my flight back...and bought a second ticket." The last is spoken so quietly Ron has to crane his neck to hear it.
"That was presumptuous." Ginny is trying to sound bored again but Ron detects a faint glimmer of emotion beneath her words. But whether it's rage, derision, or hope, he has no idea.
"Yes." Hermione keeps her eyes on Ginny and nods, the movement so small it's almost imperceptible. "It was."
There is a protracted silence in which Ginny stares at Hermione, Hermione stares at Ginny, and Ron looks wildly between the two of them. A thought, some conclusion, is running around in the back of his mind, all but begging to be noticed but he can't quite catch it.
More determined than ever to find out what's what, Ron pushes his face further out the door.
"So, what?" Ginny gestures with both hands. "You come in here just before you're scheduled to leave and expect me to...to forget our obvious problems and go with you?"
"I don't expect anything, Ginny. I'm not asking you to forget, or even forgive me. Not right away," Hermione adds. "At the moment all I'm looking for is the possibility of another chance. A chance to make it up to you, to prove that I really am as smart as people give me credit for and that, despite everything I said, there's nothing I want more than for you to come with me."
Ginny pinches the bridge of her nose and shakes her head. "You told me we were moving too fast, that you couldn't have a serious relationship with everything you had going on." Ginny chuckles but the sound is devoid of humor. "Silly me, I thought we were serious already. But you wanted a break, Hermione, a two year break," Ginny emphasizes, her voice rising again in her momentary ire. Ron watches with a mouth hanging loose on its hinges as Ginny takes a deep breath to calm herself.
"And then what?" she continues, her voice softer. "Afterward, if we we both still liked each other then maybe we'd have given it another shot?" Ginny shakes her head. "I thought everything was going so well, but then -" She sighs and looks down at her feet for a moment before raising her eyes back to Hermione. "I guess I don't understand where this change of heart is coming from. Or why I should believe you mean it."
Serious relationship.
A break.
The four words have been echoing inside Ron's head since they left Ginny's lips, growing louder with each repetition. Hermione was moving to the States, Ginny had wanted to go with her, Hermione said they needed a break, Ginny had thought they were serious.
Ron jerks backward, smacking the back of his head on a cupboard. "Hang on," he bursts out, turning wide eyes to the people gathered below him, "are they -"
Someone pinches Ron's calf, hard, and he has to bite his fist to keep from crying out. Growling against his knuckles, Ron kicks the nearest twin, not caring if it's the one who pinched him or not. He's rewarded with a second pinch, completely unfair, and decides to cut his losses for the time being and looks back to the dining room, his eyes in grave danger of rolling out of their sockets.
"I'm not afraid of commitment," Hermione is insisting.
"Hermione, the moment I even suggested going with you, you went into a full-blown panic. You can't tell me you didn't."
"All right, I did panic. But not for the reasons your thinking. The truth is," Hermione rushes on when it looks like Ginny will try to interrupt, "I was ecstatic when you brought up coming with me. I'd been trying to think of ways to casually slip an invitation into conversation for weeks but I didn't want it to feel like I was pushing you into anything."
"Merlin's teeth," Ron whispers to no one in particular.
"I was happy, Ginny. Very happy. But then I got to thinking about what this move would mean and the doubts started pouring in. Let's face it, I'm not your usual type. Apart from the fact that I can barely tolerate Quidditch, I prefer quiet nights at home to raucous parties, I've never been a joker, and -"
Ginny tries to cut Hermione off by shaking her head, "Hermione -"
"The point is," Hermione continues firmly, suddenly looking embarrassed, "in Boston it'd just be you and me. And I realized there'd be nothing to distract you from how utterly boring I really am. I couldn't bear for that happen, and it didn't seem possible that it wouldn't happen, so I made up reasons and excuses to push you away."
Someone below, Ron thinks it's Fred, snorts in surprise.
"Hermione Granger has insecurities. Who'd have thought?"
"Be a little more sensitive, would you?" Harry hisses from where he is lying on the floor.
"What? I'm completely serious."
Ron tries to ignore the spat going on below him and refocuses his attention on the two women in the dining room. If he doubted his conclusion of a moment before - and he had - Ron is absolutely certain now. Ginny and Hermione were - are? - a couple. They'd been girlfriends, or something, for an extended period of time. And they'd likely been kissing each other, and more, on a regular basis, also for an extended period of time.
His sister and his ex-girlfriend.
"Sweet Merlin's beard." Ron presses his forehead against the door and lets his mouth drop open. It doesn't seem possible. How did he never notice? How many other people don't know? Questions fly in and out of Ron's mind and he doesn't know whether to start demanding answers or pass out. At the moment he decides he can't do either because he is almost certain he's gone into shock.
Back in the dining room, Ginny has taken a half step toward Hermione and most of the tension that had stiffened her frame seems to have gone. Even Hermione looks more relaxed than she did a minute ago and it's as if both know the most dangerous part of their disagreement has passed.
"What am I going to do with you?" Ginny asks. It's a rhetorical question, one that - surprisingly - Hermione makes no attempt to answer. "First of all," she continues, in a clipped tone that is eerily like Hermione's, "you are anything but boring. Get that through your skull right now. Secondly, how long have we known each other? Almost fifteen years? I didn't fall in love with you expecting that you'd tell me a joke a minute. Don't you think I know we're never going to discuss the current Quidditch standings over breakfast?"
"Now you're making fun of me."
"Hermione." Ginny sighs and it sounds long-suffering, but affectionate, too. "I had my fears, too, you know. I used to worry that you'd meet some amazing healer with a brain almost as big as your own, someone you could talk to about things I couldn't pretend to understand."
"I -"
"The point is," Ginny interrupts gently, echoing Hermione's earlier words, "I realized you could have easily found a brainiac if you'd wanted one, but you were with me instead. And despite what you seem to think, I went into this relationship with my eyes wide open and you're exactly who I want, exactly the way you are."
Ginny takes another step toward Hermione, so close now that they are almost touching. Around him, Ron sees Harry and his family retreat, as if now they are concerned with giving the two women privacy. Despite being able to feel his mum's hard stare burning into the back of his neck, Ron refuses to be cowed into looking away by a hypocrite.
"I love you. I'm sorry for putting us through this," Hermione whispers.
"I forgive you." Ginny pauses to cup Hermione's cheeks. "As long as you promise me that you'll never do anything like this again." She pauses thoughtfully. "And that you'll stop thinking I'd be happier with some female version of Ron than with you."
Hermione groans as Ron recoils.
"I promise." Hermione grips Ginny's shirt, twisting her fingers in the fabric and pulling the other woman closer. "I know it's my own fault, but I've been miserable without you. I don't know how I even managed to pretend I could go to Boston without you. If I ever do something this foolish again, you have my permission to put me in a full body bind until I come to my senses."
"I'm going to remember you said that." Ron catches a flash of teeth in Ginny's profile and knows she is grinning. "Who knew the brightest witch in an age could be so hopeless at relationships?"
"That's unfair." Hermione's face makes a pout Ron's never seen before and he shifts uncomfortably, thinking perhaps it might better for him to stop watching them after all. But he can't quite find the will to move, the whole situation is just too bizarre. Like the time Malfoy turned into a ferret, he can't decide if what he's seeing real or a figment of his imagination.
"As a field of study," Hermione continues primly, "relationships are a completely unreliable subject. I've come across more quantifiable results in Divination."
Ginny chuckles warmly and pulls Hermione into a tight hug. Immediately Hermione's eyes close and she buries her face in Ginny's shoulder, breathing a giant sigh of relief against the taller girl's skin.
"So, is it safe to assume you still want to live with me in Boston?" Hermione's voice is muffled. "That you'll come with me, even though I hardly deserve you?"
"Of course I'm coming. When's your flight?"
Hermione's head snaps up, her face split by a wide smile. "Tomorrow evening, but don't worry about that. I bought the second ticket mostly to prove to you that I was serious. Obviously you'll need time to make arrangements with work and such."
"I've actually made most of them already."
"What? How -"
"I hoped," Ginny says simply. "Aren't you the one who always says a little optimism never hurt anyone? It wasn't until this weekend that I actually started to worry you weren't going to change your mind." Ginny trails a finger down Hermione's cheek and Ron jerks his gaze to the ceiling. "Up until then I was more irritated than anything. You cut it a little closer than I was prepared for."
"I know. I'm sorry."
Without saying anything more, Ginny leans forward and places a soft kiss on Hermione's lips. "Thankfully, the only thing left for me to do is get on the plane with you. Though, we will have to stop by my flat to pick up my suitcase."
Something about the way Ginny murmurs that last sentence makes Ron vaguely uncomfortable, in the way that makes a person hope their subconscious doesn't try to pinpoint exactly why said something is disturbing.
"Slightly inconvenient," Hermione replies, "but I think we'll manage."
Ron barely has time to look away before Ginny cups the back of Hermione's head and presses her mouth against the shorter woman's for what Ron is sure will be a proper kiss, something he has no wish to see. Belatedly, he claps his hands over his ears - because he has no wish to hear his sister and his ex-girlfriend going at it either.
Then before Ron can decide whether to find cover in his old bedroom or storm in on the lip-locked couple and demand a thorough explanation, there is a loud, familiar pop.
Instantly Ron leaps from the counter, nearly tripping over his own feet, and rushes into the now empty dining room. He looks around wildly, as if the two women have only pretended to leave and he'll catch them hiding in the corner, before pointing to the spot on the floor where they'd just Disapparated from.
"Right. Where the bloody hell did that come from?"
"Ron, your language." Mrs. Weasley, who is leading the rest of the family into the kitchen, wags a finger in his face. "I certainly didn't raise you to speak like that."
"No." Ron goes to shake his head and realizes he already is, and thinks he might have been for the last five minutes. He shrugs the thought off and continues on. "That doesn't answer to my question."
"Well, thank Merlin that got settled." Fred slips by Ron and begins to pick up the dishes abandoned during the mass flight to the kitchen. "Ginny was starting to drive me mental."
"You knew?" Ron nearly injures his neck rounding on Fred. "Did they tell you?"
"Ron," George looks toward the ceiling and sighs, "they've been all but living together for months. You can't tell me you didn't notice."
"They're friends! I thought they were having sleepovers. Girls do that."
"Did McGonagall really make this git a prefect?" Fred asks, addressing the room in general. "Wherever she is, I hope she's ashamed. Deeply and truly ashamed."
"He might be a git, but remember, he's our git."
"True."
"Oh, leave him be, the both of you." Mrs. Weasley levels a threatening figure at each twin in turn, her eyes narrowed dangerously. "The poor dear's just suffered a bit of a shock, he'll be over it in an hour or two."
"I'm not in shock," Ron protests, obviously lying, "I just wish someone'd told me what the bloody hell was -"
"It's not like they were hiding it, Ron." George shoves a stack of plates into Ron's stomach and tries to direct him into the kitchen, but Ron won't move.
"That worked out very well. I've always thought our Ginny was good for Hermione. And vice versa, of course." Mr. Weasely sidles up to Ron and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Just think. Our Ginny riding about in one of those Muggle air veins."
"That's airplane, Mr. Weasley. It's also called a jumbo jet," Harry corrects, eyeing Ron like he might explode at any minute.
Ron isn't sure he won't.
"Oh, I like that. Jumbo jet," says Mr. Weasley, over enunciating and overemphasizing each syllable in his attempt to commit the information to memory. He repeats it twice more and then bobs up and down on the balls of his feet, rubbing his hands together almost giddily. Ron can only stare at him, wondering how his father of all people caught on before he did. It wasn't right.
"Imagine. Flying without magic. Truly remarkable isn't it? Those Muggles, some of them are dashed clever I tell you." Mr. Weasley continues smiling fondly, proud, as always, of Muggle achievement. "I suppose Ginny will want to tell me all about it afterward. Molly, love, we absolutely must be home when they...what's the expression, Harry? Hit the ground?"
"Goodness!" Mrs. Weasley, deeply suspicious of all things Muggle, clutches her throat and gapes at Harry in horror.
"Land," Harry says quickly, giving Mrs. Weasley a reassuring smile. "When they land."
"Ah, yes. When they land."
"Well, that's it for me. Let me know what we decide about Ginny's party tomorrow, eh?" Ron sets the stack of plates on the floor and marches up the stairs, giving the assembled members of his family and Harry a half-hearted wave over his shoulder. He's not sure if they notice his exit, he doesn't care really. Right now, the only thing he wants to do is go upstairs, lie down, and assimilate a few things before morning.
"Goodnight," he mutters to his empty bedroom, just before collapsing into bed.
The End.