New Fic: Late summer, and at midnight. (HP: R/G, R/Hr)
Title: Late summer, and at midnight.
Author: ryma36rpm
Pairings: R/Hr, H/G
Rating: Gen
Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me. He belongs to JK Rowling and numerous corporate bodies. I am fine with that - I just want to play with the characters for my own (non-profiteering) amusement.
Summary: One last golden day of peace.
Feedback: Is 'delightful and delicious, as am I' or not, depending on you opinion. Please feedback
It's almost odd to see everyone in best robes swirling to music in the garden of the Burrow. Most were happy, the rest were trying to make the best of things.
Fleur drifted up the aisle, radiant with joy and emanating her Veela charms if the look-struck looks on the male guests was anything to go by. Harry cast a quick look in Hermione's direction and was amused to see her staring intently at Ron. Ron, to his credit, managed to shake it off fairly swiftly.
Harry kept catching Ginny's eye and felt more awkward than before. He attempted to discreetly shuffle away from the wedding party, but Mrs. Weasley kept dragging back into the throng of Weasleys.
"As good as…" she said firmly, brushing down his lapels a bit tearfully.
After the ceremony, Harry sat watching the dancers from the corner, where no well-meaning stranger would come up to him and attempt conversation.
"Budge up."
Ginny plonked herself down, the momentum creating a stir in all the layers of her gold gown, handing him a Butterbeer and plucking a sheaf of her sleeve of Harry's shoulder. He instantly felt bad for relishing the slight touch.
"Yon know, asking me to dance might have been a nice idea. I know we've broken up, but a dance or two won't do much harm." Ginny kept her eyes focused on the swaying crowds, with the odd heads of the twins bouncing up in down out of time. "Are they moshing to the waltz?"
"Yep. See how Fleur's mother and yours keep giving them dagger looks?
"Will they ever learn to behave?" Ginny asked impishly
"Will the Daily Prophet ever print a word of truth?" Harry replied, flapping the paper at her.
"Oh, I don't know," Ginny answered blithely, prying the rumpled paper from his hands, "will Hogwarts ever return to its glory; will Ron and Hermione ever manage to get it together?
Harry choked on his Butterbeer laughing
"These are questions for the ages, Harry," Ginny remarked, eyes far too wide to be innocent. "No mere mortals such as us can answer these questions."
"Ginny," he whispered half-warningly as he looked around to see where their friends were.
"One needs to take into account the phase of the moon, how tall a certain blade of grass is in any given field, the occurrence of Bulgarian seekers and Lavender ruddy Brown." Ginny continued on relentlessly.
"You do know everyone can hear you?" Harry warned her, as her voice began to rise.
"Everyone knows Ron and Hermione's unspoken love, Harry. It's a well-established joke in the common room." She paused, suspiciously.
'Please tell me you knew."
I kind of knew they might fancy each other, yeah." Harry said tentatively. "Hermione wouldn't tell me if she did. Ron never mentioned though."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Well, did you tell him you fancied me?" She finally spoke, as if dealing with a very young, very stupid child. She turned away from him to grab some dancing sugared almonds, muttering, "Honestly, he thought they might fancy each other. Dunce."
"So…" said Harry, "everyone knows."
"Everyone knows. And what's more, it's getting a little boring. Can't we speed them up?"
"Oh, I dunno, get'em drunk on Old Ogden's and see if anything happens?"
She laughed, and Harry felt better than he had in weeks.
"What's stopping them?" Ginny went quiet and watched Ron dance with Angelina "Don't they know a war's coming?"
Harry went quiet and pushed down that thought that kept him company constantly, that it might be better for them not to get involved that way, that there was a war on and the losses would be more likely. That there would be hurt enough, without adding love.
"He feels… I dunno… I think that maybe if he cared a little less about her, he might be more forward with her"
He felt Ginny eyes on him, staring at him intently for what seemed an age, then she sighed and settled her hand on his, grasping tightly for a moment before letting go.
"You can't be frightened of things like that, all you get is a half lived life."
But Harry had looked down, staring determinedly into his butterbeer. He was impossible, Ginny thought, and he was going to break her heart. She felt a hand tugging hers as Harry pulled her up to dance, a silent apology and offering.
- 0 -
Hermione knew Harry and Ginny were talking about her from the glances threw her way and Ron's. It was deeply irritating that they of all people should presume to gossip about relationships. There was nothing to gossip about with her and Ron anyway.
The music changed from those slightly odd Wizarding Waltzes to something a little easier on the ears, and Hermione heard a slight cough behind her.
"George, I absolutely refuse to let you stamp on my feet one more ti…" She began, turning to lecture him on proper dance decorum when before her stood Ron.
"We haven't danced yet, you know. Do you want…" he trailed off, simply gesturing at the dancefloor.
"Ask me. At least do it right." Hermione said through gritted teeth, not adding, 'when you left it till the end of the night to bother about me.'
He stared down at her rather sheepishly, "Would you like to dance?"
It's on the tip of her tongue to refuse, but she bit it down. Everyone was feeling a little unsettled after Professor Dumbledore's death and Snape - maybe that's why Ron had been so off tonight, talking to her so little that Mrs. Weasley kept giving her sympathetic glances.
She didn't answer him - serve him right, and simply gave him her arm to lead her out onto the dancefloor. For the first time that night, she noticed he looked nervous.
"I can't remember ever dancing with you before." He began, before she can ask him about it.
"You've only had a few chances." Hermione replied dryly, still wincing inside at the Yule Ball fiasco.
"Yeah, it just seems a bit odd after knowing you since eleven…" He trailed off, either remembering the Yule Ball or something else.
"Well… well done, you've got around to it after six years." She said, trying to dampen down the bite in her comment to late as Ron looked down at her, troubled. She's waited six years for a dance from him when Lavender got a snog after two weeks of simpering at him, he deserved a little sarcasm.
He didn't reply, but merely tightened his hold on her waist.
"Your dress is nice; you look very pretty tonight." He offered.
Hermione couldn't resist. "Veela pretty?"
"Better than that - real girl pretty." He grinned.
She shouldn't let something like that win her over. She should make him pay serious reparations for how badly he treated her tonight, especially after Dumbledore's funeral where she clung to him like she was drowning, when he hugged her and held her and made her think later that…
But he's grinning at her with that sunny grin she loved, and he still seemed slightly nervous underneath it all, and her heart melted, just slightly.
She smiled back, and he held her closer. They drift along to the music, silently resolved.
The song ended to clapping and cheering and Ron took hold of her hand and asked her if she want to go outside for a bit of fresh air. She realised with a blinding clarity what he must have been nervous about and smiled and squeezed his hand, and he led her out of the tent.
The sat down on the grass and Ron kept his hand on hers, affecting a nonchalant air. Hermione decided enough was enough and scooted closer to him
Ron abandoned all pretence and kissed her.
It was simple and honest and heartfelt, and perfect for a first kiss. Then later it got messier and fun and exciting, which bode well for the future, Hermione thought.
It had taken them years to dance and hold hands and kiss, the rest would be easy.
Much, much later, when Ron had his arm draped around her and they were watching the starlit sky, Hermione had (for once) just one question.
"What was all tonight about, anyway? You barely talked to me. And then this. Talk about and about turn."
"If I'd asked you early on, Mum would have noticed and we wouldn't have got anytime alone outside." He paused thoughtfully. "I think she thinks we're quarrelling now though."
"Oh." Hermione let out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding. He had been plotting it all this evening. "You're actually quite good at this tactics lark, aren't you? When you put your mind to it."
"Yes well, I wasn't going to do anything when there were fifty prying eyes staring at us."
"No big kiss in the common room after a Quidditch Cup, then?" Hermione teased.
Ron's pained expression was answer enough.
- 0 -
The wedding finally wrapped up around four in the morning, and Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione bumped met at the entrance to the tent, studiously avoiding any talk of how each couple amused themselves. Mr. Weasley and Charlie were drunkenly singing ditties about an ancient vampire-slaying dragon called Morlog, who had sixteen verses to his legend in one corner and the Delacour's Tante Julie who was wailing a lament of some kind in another. Mrs. Weasley stumbled upon them and quite tipsily hugged each one of them as 'my Weasleys' and 'my almost-Weasleys' before sending them off to bed. Fred crowing "Boys to one room, girls to another!' to everyone's blushes.
Ginny, who had been staring intently at Hermione's flustered behaviour face, dragged her off ahead of the boys.
The boys began to walk back to the house slowly, an awkward silence between them.
"Ginny seems in better form now." Ron said mildly.
"We patched things up a bit." Harry admitted. "You and Hermione seemed on the outs during the wedding ceremony."
"That's sorted now." Ron said firmly.
Harry glanced at him curiously, and noticed the faint flush on his cheeks as Ron looked proud and self-conscious at the same time.
Harry elbowed him good-naturedly.
"About time, mate." Harry said through his yawn as they walked into the house.
- end -
(Title from Seamus Heaney's 'The Guttural Muse')
Author: ryma36rpm
Pairings: R/Hr, H/G
Rating: Gen
Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me. He belongs to JK Rowling and numerous corporate bodies. I am fine with that - I just want to play with the characters for my own (non-profiteering) amusement.
Summary: One last golden day of peace.
Feedback: Is 'delightful and delicious, as am I' or not, depending on you opinion. Please feedback
It's almost odd to see everyone in best robes swirling to music in the garden of the Burrow. Most were happy, the rest were trying to make the best of things.
Fleur drifted up the aisle, radiant with joy and emanating her Veela charms if the look-struck looks on the male guests was anything to go by. Harry cast a quick look in Hermione's direction and was amused to see her staring intently at Ron. Ron, to his credit, managed to shake it off fairly swiftly.
Harry kept catching Ginny's eye and felt more awkward than before. He attempted to discreetly shuffle away from the wedding party, but Mrs. Weasley kept dragging back into the throng of Weasleys.
"As good as…" she said firmly, brushing down his lapels a bit tearfully.
After the ceremony, Harry sat watching the dancers from the corner, where no well-meaning stranger would come up to him and attempt conversation.
"Budge up."
Ginny plonked herself down, the momentum creating a stir in all the layers of her gold gown, handing him a Butterbeer and plucking a sheaf of her sleeve of Harry's shoulder. He instantly felt bad for relishing the slight touch.
"Yon know, asking me to dance might have been a nice idea. I know we've broken up, but a dance or two won't do much harm." Ginny kept her eyes focused on the swaying crowds, with the odd heads of the twins bouncing up in down out of time. "Are they moshing to the waltz?"
"Yep. See how Fleur's mother and yours keep giving them dagger looks?
"Will they ever learn to behave?" Ginny asked impishly
"Will the Daily Prophet ever print a word of truth?" Harry replied, flapping the paper at her.
"Oh, I don't know," Ginny answered blithely, prying the rumpled paper from his hands, "will Hogwarts ever return to its glory; will Ron and Hermione ever manage to get it together?
Harry choked on his Butterbeer laughing
"These are questions for the ages, Harry," Ginny remarked, eyes far too wide to be innocent. "No mere mortals such as us can answer these questions."
"Ginny," he whispered half-warningly as he looked around to see where their friends were.
"One needs to take into account the phase of the moon, how tall a certain blade of grass is in any given field, the occurrence of Bulgarian seekers and Lavender ruddy Brown." Ginny continued on relentlessly.
"You do know everyone can hear you?" Harry warned her, as her voice began to rise.
"Everyone knows Ron and Hermione's unspoken love, Harry. It's a well-established joke in the common room." She paused, suspiciously.
'Please tell me you knew."
I kind of knew they might fancy each other, yeah." Harry said tentatively. "Hermione wouldn't tell me if she did. Ron never mentioned though."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Well, did you tell him you fancied me?" She finally spoke, as if dealing with a very young, very stupid child. She turned away from him to grab some dancing sugared almonds, muttering, "Honestly, he thought they might fancy each other. Dunce."
"So…" said Harry, "everyone knows."
"Everyone knows. And what's more, it's getting a little boring. Can't we speed them up?"
"Oh, I dunno, get'em drunk on Old Ogden's and see if anything happens?"
She laughed, and Harry felt better than he had in weeks.
"What's stopping them?" Ginny went quiet and watched Ron dance with Angelina "Don't they know a war's coming?"
Harry went quiet and pushed down that thought that kept him company constantly, that it might be better for them not to get involved that way, that there was a war on and the losses would be more likely. That there would be hurt enough, without adding love.
"He feels… I dunno… I think that maybe if he cared a little less about her, he might be more forward with her"
He felt Ginny eyes on him, staring at him intently for what seemed an age, then she sighed and settled her hand on his, grasping tightly for a moment before letting go.
"You can't be frightened of things like that, all you get is a half lived life."
But Harry had looked down, staring determinedly into his butterbeer. He was impossible, Ginny thought, and he was going to break her heart. She felt a hand tugging hers as Harry pulled her up to dance, a silent apology and offering.
- 0 -
Hermione knew Harry and Ginny were talking about her from the glances threw her way and Ron's. It was deeply irritating that they of all people should presume to gossip about relationships. There was nothing to gossip about with her and Ron anyway.
The music changed from those slightly odd Wizarding Waltzes to something a little easier on the ears, and Hermione heard a slight cough behind her.
"George, I absolutely refuse to let you stamp on my feet one more ti…" She began, turning to lecture him on proper dance decorum when before her stood Ron.
"We haven't danced yet, you know. Do you want…" he trailed off, simply gesturing at the dancefloor.
"Ask me. At least do it right." Hermione said through gritted teeth, not adding, 'when you left it till the end of the night to bother about me.'
He stared down at her rather sheepishly, "Would you like to dance?"
It's on the tip of her tongue to refuse, but she bit it down. Everyone was feeling a little unsettled after Professor Dumbledore's death and Snape - maybe that's why Ron had been so off tonight, talking to her so little that Mrs. Weasley kept giving her sympathetic glances.
She didn't answer him - serve him right, and simply gave him her arm to lead her out onto the dancefloor. For the first time that night, she noticed he looked nervous.
"I can't remember ever dancing with you before." He began, before she can ask him about it.
"You've only had a few chances." Hermione replied dryly, still wincing inside at the Yule Ball fiasco.
"Yeah, it just seems a bit odd after knowing you since eleven…" He trailed off, either remembering the Yule Ball or something else.
"Well… well done, you've got around to it after six years." She said, trying to dampen down the bite in her comment to late as Ron looked down at her, troubled. She's waited six years for a dance from him when Lavender got a snog after two weeks of simpering at him, he deserved a little sarcasm.
He didn't reply, but merely tightened his hold on her waist.
"Your dress is nice; you look very pretty tonight." He offered.
Hermione couldn't resist. "Veela pretty?"
"Better than that - real girl pretty." He grinned.
She shouldn't let something like that win her over. She should make him pay serious reparations for how badly he treated her tonight, especially after Dumbledore's funeral where she clung to him like she was drowning, when he hugged her and held her and made her think later that…
But he's grinning at her with that sunny grin she loved, and he still seemed slightly nervous underneath it all, and her heart melted, just slightly.
She smiled back, and he held her closer. They drift along to the music, silently resolved.
The song ended to clapping and cheering and Ron took hold of her hand and asked her if she want to go outside for a bit of fresh air. She realised with a blinding clarity what he must have been nervous about and smiled and squeezed his hand, and he led her out of the tent.
The sat down on the grass and Ron kept his hand on hers, affecting a nonchalant air. Hermione decided enough was enough and scooted closer to him
Ron abandoned all pretence and kissed her.
It was simple and honest and heartfelt, and perfect for a first kiss. Then later it got messier and fun and exciting, which bode well for the future, Hermione thought.
It had taken them years to dance and hold hands and kiss, the rest would be easy.
Much, much later, when Ron had his arm draped around her and they were watching the starlit sky, Hermione had (for once) just one question.
"What was all tonight about, anyway? You barely talked to me. And then this. Talk about and about turn."
"If I'd asked you early on, Mum would have noticed and we wouldn't have got anytime alone outside." He paused thoughtfully. "I think she thinks we're quarrelling now though."
"Oh." Hermione let out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding. He had been plotting it all this evening. "You're actually quite good at this tactics lark, aren't you? When you put your mind to it."
"Yes well, I wasn't going to do anything when there were fifty prying eyes staring at us."
"No big kiss in the common room after a Quidditch Cup, then?" Hermione teased.
Ron's pained expression was answer enough.
- 0 -
The wedding finally wrapped up around four in the morning, and Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione bumped met at the entrance to the tent, studiously avoiding any talk of how each couple amused themselves. Mr. Weasley and Charlie were drunkenly singing ditties about an ancient vampire-slaying dragon called Morlog, who had sixteen verses to his legend in one corner and the Delacour's Tante Julie who was wailing a lament of some kind in another. Mrs. Weasley stumbled upon them and quite tipsily hugged each one of them as 'my Weasleys' and 'my almost-Weasleys' before sending them off to bed. Fred crowing "Boys to one room, girls to another!' to everyone's blushes.
Ginny, who had been staring intently at Hermione's flustered behaviour face, dragged her off ahead of the boys.
The boys began to walk back to the house slowly, an awkward silence between them.
"Ginny seems in better form now." Ron said mildly.
"We patched things up a bit." Harry admitted. "You and Hermione seemed on the outs during the wedding ceremony."
"That's sorted now." Ron said firmly.
Harry glanced at him curiously, and noticed the faint flush on his cheeks as Ron looked proud and self-conscious at the same time.
Harry elbowed him good-naturedly.
"About time, mate." Harry said through his yawn as they walked into the house.
- end -
(Title from Seamus Heaney's 'The Guttural Muse')