Harry wasn’t sure what time it was when he gave up on getting to sleep. Getting up, he crept past the still forms of Ron and Hermione, both of whom had practically passed out, exhausted, as soon as they had lain down, and out into the hallway.
The air was filled with a kind of hush; not quite silent, with the distant sound of the sea breaking against the shore outside, but quiet, like the world was holding its breath. Shell Cottage seemed smaller in the darkness somehow, the walls closing in, oppressive, out of the blackness.
The stairs creaked quietly under Harry’s feet as he tip-toed down to the living room with some vague, half-formed idea of going for a walk. He paused at the bottom, listening for any sounds of movement in case he had woken anyone, but nothing came.
But as he entered the living room itself he realised he wasn’t the only one awake. A figure was huddled in one corner, silhouette picked out by the moonlight coming through the window. Harry stopped, startled, then frowned and whispered, “Luna?”
Oh! I did write something like that, but I posted it on Quora and never bothered to put it elsewhere, I’m sorry! Here you go anon, for all your “TOO MANY FEELS” needs 😀
“You actually are joking, Perce… . I don’t think I’ve heard you joke since you were –“
The
air exploded. They had been grouped together, Harry, Ron, Hermione,
Fred, and Percy, the two Death Eaters at their feet, one Stunned, the
other Transfigured; and in that fragment of a moment, when danger seemed
temporarily at bay, the world was rent apart, Harry felt himself flying
through the air, and all he could do was hold as tightly as possible to
that thin stick of wood that was his one and only weapon, and shield
his head in his arms: He heard the screams and yells of his companions
without a hope of knowing what had happened to them –
And
then the world resolved itself into pain and semidarkness: He was half
buried in the wreckage of a corridor that had been subjected to a
terrible attack. Cold air told him that the side of the castle had been
blown away, and hot stickiness on his cheek told him that he was
bleeding copiously. Then he heard a terrible cry that pulled at his
insides, that expressed agony of a kind neither flame nor curse could
cause, and he stood up, swaying, more frightened than he had been that
day, more frightened, perhaps, than he had been in his life…
And
Hermione was struggling to her feet in the wreckage, and three
redheaded men were grouped on the ground where the wall had blasted
apart. Harry grabbed Hermione’s hand as they staggered and stumbled over
stone and wood.
“RON!” came the terrible, deafening cry, and Harry’s heart stilled.
Percy’s
trembling hands were gripping, shaking his brother, Fred stared, eyes
lost and smile gone, at Ron’s prone form, and it couldn’t be, it shouldn’t be…
He
knew, rather than felt, that Hermione had fallen to her knees beside
him, that this piercing wail of despaired agony came from her.
And
as Percy sobbed and called his little brother’s name, as Fred’s breath
hitched with the understanding that Ron had given his life for him, as
Hermione screamed and cried, Harry felt like he’d just died.
[…]
He
walked, dazedly, out of the Great Hall, across the grounds, unable to
see or hear or feel. His heart was heavier than iron inside his chest,
and the only thing that kept him walking was the promise held by Snape’s
memories.
The world around him was nothing
but a blur, and it was pure luck that he didn’t stumble nor falter as he
made his way into the darkness of the Forbidden Forest.
Yet,
Harry stilled, the numbness inside him unable to choke one final, sad
spark, and his hand dropped into his pocket, fishing out the Golden
Snitch he now knew the secret of. I open at the close.
Putting his lips to the inscription, kissing the world goodbye, he murmured “I am about to die.”
The
winged gold nugget seemed to split into two, revealing a dark,
onyx-like shingle with this now familiar symbol engraved onto it, a
straight vertical line and a circle encompassed in a triangle. It had
cracked down the Elder Wand’s line, where Dumbledore had killed the
Horcrux resting inside.
There was one single thought in Harry’s mind, and he just wanted the reassurance, he needed to be certain of it, and he turned the Resurrection Stone three times in his hand.
There
was a soft shimmer ahead of him, like someone lifting a Disillusionment
Charm from themselves, and the one he wanted to see the most left the
cover of the trees.
He wasn’t flesh and
bone, but he wasn’t a ghost, either; his eyes were as blue as ever and
his red hair just as fiery, every freckle clearly distinct despite the
obscurity, and he wore – Harry almost smiled – a maroon Weasley jumper.
“Lo, Harry”, Ron said, a kind grin etched on his face.
“I’m sorry”, he immediately blurted. “I… god, Ron, I…”
Ron walked up to him, wrapped him in a feather-light embrace that felt more like a memory than reality.
“Cut
it, will you? I made my choice and I don’t regret it. Well…” he drew
away, licking his lips, and letting out a small puff of laughter. “I
have regrets, of course, but I’d sound like a right prat if I said I’d
have liked for Hermione to kiss me again.”
Harry smiled.
“You’ll
take care of her, right, Harry? She… She’ll be okay, of course, but
she’ll need someone, she can’t do everything alone, you know?”
And
maybe Ron’s soul would be angry with him, and maybe no one would
forgive him, but Harry walked on still, the Stone firmly in his palm.
“… Wait. Wait, Harry, where are you going?”
He couldn’t help it. He… He wanted to know, there was this lingering fear, he had to know –
“Does it hurt? Dying?”
He
needn’t see it to feel it, how Ron bristled, drew himself up, full of
disbelief and indignation, with all the fight he still had in death and
all the fight that Harry had lost the very instant he’d heard that
terrible scream.
“Oh no you don’t. No, I swear, Harry, if you do that…”
“Ron… does it hurt?”
“It hurts everyone! Hermione, Ginny, Mum, everyone will be hurt, Harry, you can’t do that to them! You can’t do that to me! You’re the bloody Boy-Who-Lived, you’ll find a way, you’ll survive and have loads of babies and a happily ever after – Harry!”
He
let the Stone fall to the ground, Ron’s furious, fearful eyes fading in
the night, and resumed his walk toward death and Voldemort.
As far as Harry was concerned, his happily ever after had died with his best friend.
[…]
Dumbledore
guided Harry back to the train tracks and sunk into a seat. They stayed
silent for a few moments, Harry contemplating all that had been
revealed…
He had a choice, then. He could go back.
Go
back, and live, and keep going, and feel his heart heavy with ache and
loss and pain; go back, and what would he say to Hermione, what would he
say to the Weasleys?
Going back, when Ron
hadn’t been allowed that chance? All because of a damn Prophecy, because
Harry’s life mattered more than his, because Harry was supposed to be
more from the beginning?
Harry turned to Dumbledore, and saw understanding in the man’s eyes. So he sat down.
“How long til the next train comes in, Professor?”
Hermione
never marries anyone. She’s realized it in sixth year, but there truly
wasn’t anyone who could be as imperfect, insecure, grouchy, angry,
self-loathing, funny, witty, kind, gentle, compassionate, selfless and
as perfect as Ron Weasley.
Yes, there could be a happier ending, Ron’s shadow appearing to tell Harry to keep living for his sake.
But I really wanted to convey that Ron is what helps Harry live
– Ron is Harry’s human crutch. Hermione may keep Harry safe, but Ron
keeps Harry sane. Even though Harry is in love with Ginny, how would he
cope with knowing that it was at the cost of her big brother’s life?
I just wanted Harry – and the readers – to realize that, with how much he took Ron for granted time and again, he’d really come to need
him. Ron still underestimates himself, even in death, he’s still
convinced that Harry is going to be perfectly okay – but Harry knows
that he won’t be, not without his Wheezy.
I’ll have to return to that bit of writing and brush up on it – I’ve left a bit too much unsaid and rushed it, especially the ending at King’s Cross. Once I make it better I’ll probably post it as a one-shot on AO3 and FFN. 🙂
Oh and also… *gives handkerchiefs to her fellow Ron-lovers* I know, I know, I’m a horrible person.
Requested by@xxnotkatelynxx : Hi can you please do a romione preference sometime in between GoF and HBP about the boys in the dormitories are talking about how Hermione is attractive and Harry’s uncomfortable but Ron gets jealous and defensive. Sorry if that’s to descriptive but I just thought about it and wanted to read something like it!
Word count: 724
Pairing: Ron x Hermione (Romione)
Warnings: Out of the timeline for plot purposes, unedited. Aslo, I think I misunderstood the term: preference.
A/N: Another fic written at 5 am… Insomnia really does things to me.
Enjoy!
It was past midnight. The rest of the students were most likely sleeping by that time, but not the Gryffindors.
They had won yet another Quidditch match and were now listed for the final. The whole common room lit up with candles and music, and food they managed to sneak all the way up from the kitchen.
They were dancing, celebrating and basically enjoying the moment, like they were regular teenagers.
One by one they had left off to sleep, and only the fifth grader boys remained awake, huddled around the biggest fireplace.
They were chatting and laughing just as if it were five in the afternoon, and so it was expected that someone would go on and shut them up.
It was Hermione.
She wasn’t wearing anything out of the ordinary, only a long sleeved shirt, long and loose pants with stripes, a pair of slippers and her hair was tied up in a messy bun. She scolded at them just the way she would if she wore her uniform and stormed back to her dorm.
The boys, except for Harry and Ron, all howled like wolves as she walked through the door, rolling her eyes at them.
“She’s right, we should take this to our own dorm,” Harry said and got ignored.
“I have to admit, though,” Seamus started, “she might be bossy and a pain in the arse sometimes, but she is fine…”
“Damn right, I’d do anything to get some of that,” Dean said.
“I heard serious people are the wildest behind closed doors, I wonder how beastly she’d get…”
“Sod off!” Harry huffed, rolling his eyes. He felt terribly uncomfortable, it was his best friend they were talking about.
“Oh, Potter, don’t act like you never thought of it,” Cormac chuckled, “even Neville’s thought of it, isn’t that right?”
Neville blushed instantly, “w-w-ell, she is v-v-ery beautiful indeed.”
“Beautiful? Beautiful?” Ron exclaimed, “beautiful is a lazy and lousy way to describe her!”
“Ooooh,” Cormac mocked, “someone learned a fancy word from his girlfriend.”
“At least I can pay attention to her when she talks,” Ron hissed.
“So she really is your girlfriend?” Colin Creevey asked. He had been quite the whole time, being a respectful kid that had nothing cheeky to say about Hermione for she had been always extremely nice to him.
“Of course not!” Ron answered quickly, getting redder than he already was. “She’s simply my best friend and you are disrespecting her.”
“It’s just a joke, Ron,” Dean shook off.
“Is that the kind of joke you said about my sister too?” Ron roared.
“No, I never would!” Dean defended.
“Well, you are now!”
“Ron, let’s go, we’ve got nothing left to do here,” Harry mumbled, as he tried to drag Ron upstairs.
“I want to see you all saying that to her face, see if you’re brave enough,” Ron continued as Harry fought to get him up.
“Colin, you too, go to bed,” Harry commanded and Colin obeyed instantly, waving goodnight.
“Ron, it’s just a joke,” Seamus insisted.
“Oh well, then I’m about to joke about your mother, Seamus,” Ron snapped back in a fake calm.
“Don’t you dare talk about my mother like that!”
“So you can talk about Hermione that way but I can’t about your mother!”
Cormac got up, with his cocky smirk showing off like always. “Poor boy is in love,” he said and pinched his cheek. Ron slapped his hand away instantly. “Don’t worry, Ron, we won’t say anything else about your girlfriend anymore.”
“Not my girlfriend,” Ron whispered, glaring at Cormac.
“Let’s go,” Harry insisted and, this time, Ron followed him up.
“They are bloody idiots, Harry, I’m telling ya…” Ron continued to argue in between whispers as they got up.
“I know, but…” Harry froze, and Ron crashed against his back. The red headed was about to argue again when he saw was made Harry stop.
Hermione was sitting on the stairs, waiting for them.
“Thanks for standing up for me,” She said, “really appreciate it.”
“That’s what friends are for, right?” Ron replied.
“I suppose.” She got up and hugged them, taking a few extra seconds with Ron and the got back to her dorm after wishing them good night.
“Not my girlfriend,” Ron hissed as Harry gave him a look and they both got to bed.
(Thanks you talking-bird-jessie for suggesting this scene from Order of the Phoenix!)
Reblogging because this is beautiful and totally should’ve been in the movie
Why are moments like this not in the movies? 😥
I have this headcanon that after Neville proposed to Hannah Abbott, he went to his parents at St. Mungo’s and sat with them. Even though he was sure she wouldn’t understand or remember, he held his mother’s hands and told her, “I’m getting married, Mum. She’s great. You’ll really like her.” Alice just hummed and stared off into the distance. No reaction. Neville still stayed, telling his parents all about Hannah and their plans, and how she wanted so badly to come meet them and he would bring her next time.
Then, as he put his hand on the door handle to leave, he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Alice. She held out her hand as she had done so many times before. Expecting a candy wrapper, Neville held out his hand but felt something heavier drop into it.
When he looked down, there were two rings. And when he glanced to his mother’s hand, there was an indent where her wedding ring had once rested but was no longer there.
Ten years ago (September 8, 2008), I took a risk and posted my first ever work of fanfiction. It was only a small, fluffy drabble, but it was nerve racking to put myself out there.
I’d read Harry Potter for the first time about ten months prior and had joined the fandom immediately after. I was feeling pretty down at the time and frustrated with my life, even though I had little to complain about. I was in my mid-twenties, had a decent career started, and was living at home with my family, who are wonderful.
But I was, to be honest, rather sad and lonely. I’ve never been one to have many close friends, and a relationship seemed like an impossible dream. When I read these books, I felt excited. I felt hope.
For the first time in awhile, I felt inspired to do something. I moved out soon after and struck out on my own, which turned out to be one of the best things I ever did for myself. It forced me out of my shell and to take more control over my life. It allowed me to do the things I wanted to do.
When I read the books, I craved more out of this world and universe that JKR created. I just loved Ron and Hermione, and how their relationship grew. I identified with both of their traits, and also was envious of their obvious love for each other. I went searching for more about them and ended up finding fanfiction. I was immediately hooked. Checkmated and LiveJournal were both wonderful places to read and meet others.
It was a prompt (“Homework”) in the Checkmated forums ten years ago, where I took my first steps to write – encouraged by my new friends. Little did I know what it would lead to. I’d always loved writing when I was a kid, but it’s not something I ever pursued. Fanfic gave me an outlet to exercise my creativity, while celebrating these characters that I loved so much.
Even though I felt like a bit of an anomaly sometimes, being a male in a predominantly female fandom, I didn’t let that stop me from enjoying it. Fuck traditional gender norms. I’d rather stay up until 4:00AM reading a fluffy missing moments fic or fake dating AU than getting wasted with my buddies from work.
Fanfic and Harry Potter changed my life. They allowed me to make friends, enjoy the art of writing (even if I’m never going to be quick about it!), and best of all, lead me to my wife, @aloemilk, and fatherhood. An impossible dream realized, all because we are both Romione shippers and writers.
I encourage anyone who is contemplating writing and sharing to just do it. I’m proof that it can lead to bigger and better things. Even if it doesn’t, as long as it makes you happy, then it’s worth doing.
I’ve written over a hundred pieces since, mostly Romione, and I have no plans of stopping.
Without further adieu, my first ever drabble. Originally posted on September 8, 2008.
Father And Daughter
Ron sat in his favourite armchair and couldn’t help grinning at the sight in front of him. His daughter, Rose, was curled up on the sofa, her nose buried in one of her new school books. It reminded him of another beautiful, intelligent witch who often sat in that exact same spot.
It was a special time for his daughter. In just a few days, his eldest would be leaving for Hogwarts. Both he and his wife were saddened by the thought, but they were also very proud of her.
Hermione was devastated that she had to spend today at the office, but he assured her that he would make it a memorable occasion. He had dropped off Hugo with Harry and Ginny, and the two of them, father and daughter, spent the day in Diagon Alley shopping for her school things and enjoying some quality time together.
He sat next to Rose and put his arm around her. “Learning anything interesting, sweetheart?”
“Yes! I can’t wait to start school. Mum said I should always read ahead so that I don’t fall behind in my homework.”
“Luckily, you’ve inherited your mother’s brains, so I don’t think that will be a problem.”
“Can you teach me the wand movement for this?” She asked excitedly, pointing down at the page in her Charms book and brandishing her new wand.
He looked down and read the spell she was pointing to.
Wingardium Leviosa
He smiled again, thinking back to that fateful Halloween. That night had brought Hermione into his life and his thoughts.
“Rosie, have I ever told you about the first time I performed that spell correctly?”
Summary:Y/N and Charlie just graduated from Hogwarts, and Molly insisted upon a party to celebrate. Issues with Charlie arise, making her question her relationship with him. For 3 years, the two of them had been close friends, and despite everyone’s speculation and teasing, both expected it to stay that way… or so they thought.
Words: 1,700
Warnings: This is a slow burn with some fluff, teasing, angst and minor language. Grief, depression, anxiety, Jacob’s death.
A/N: I am so sorry it’s been so long since my last post! I was on vacation, and have been trying to get back into the swing of things. Thank you for your patience and your continuous love and support. You guys amaze me! Also, feel free to drop in to say hello! I love talking to all of you!
Charlie x fem!reader (Jacob’s Sibling) with some implications to Hufflepuff, but not many. All paragraphs in Italics are flashbacks. If you have read the first part, please do so here: chapter ichapter iichapter iii
TAG LIST is still open! This one is a little shorter and light-hearted than the rest. Let me know if you want me to end it soon. I don’t want to be too long winded with it. Sorry if this one isn’t as good! 😦
As always, leave feedback or send me some lovely messages!
Enjoy! ❤
Chapter 4
The next morning, she woke to the sound of the other girls banging around in the room as they got ready to go to breakfast. Y/N rubbed her eyes and sat up grimacing at her friends. Penny saw that she was awake and ran to the bed.
“Finally! We thought you were going to sleep all day!” The other girls dropped what they were doing and crowded around her.
“What the hell happened with Charlie last night?” Tonks queried.
Y/N flushed red and looked away. “I don’t know what you mean.” She mumbled.
“Oh, don’t you even try that! We know that something happened between you two. Bill all but told us so after Charlie stormed around, and you snuck into the bedroom before anyone could stop you.” Tonks stared her down as she said it. Her gaze boring holes into Y/N’s skin.
“I don’t know, okay. We had both been drinking, and we… things got— heated.” She mumbled again.
“Heated— how?” Rowan’s voice was quiet as if she already knew the answer to that question.
“We almost kissed… and then we were yelling at each other. He said he felt sorry for me, but Bill said that wasn’t what he meant. I made Charlie leave when he begged me to let him stay so we could work it out, but I was so angry. I told him to go, and Bill… he stayed for a minute before we walked back to the house. I heard Mrs. Weasley yelling at everyone, and I was upset so I went upstairs.” She blurted out, a blush began to creep up her neck.
Her friends sat there unsure of what to say before Tonks broke the silence, “Well I bet you’re hungry. Let’s go downstairs. You and Charlie will work it out. You have too much history to let it all go like that.”
They all got up and finished dressing before heading downstairs. All the while, Penny was shooting her looks of concern. As they filed out the bedroom door, Penny caught Y/N’s arm.
“Penny, I’m fine. Can we go to breakfast?”
“You’re a terrible liar. You’re not fine, and you know it.”
“Okay, so I’m not.” Y/N jerked her arm out of Penny’s grasp. “But I’m not going to talk about it.”
Penny took a step forward and straightened her back.
“Fine, you don’t have to talk about it, but I know you. You are in love with Charlie whether you want to admit it or not. Merlin knows the two of you have been in denial for so long that it’s ridiculous. It’s about time the two of you were actually honest with one another and stop acting like you’re ‘just mates.’ We all know that’s not true, and so do you. Now, make things right with Charlie, and stop this nonsense. Got it?” Penny’s eyes narrowed and she held her ground.
A giggle rose in Y/N’s throat as she watched her friend. “Yes, mum.”
“Don’t you laugh at me Y/N. I’m serious.”
“No, you’re Penny. Now can we please go eat? We both know that those boys will eat everything if we don’t go fight them for it.” They both laughed, and Penny nodded as they linked arms and strolled down the stairs.
When they reached the kitchen, all the Weasley’s and their friends were gathered around the kitchen table. Everyone but Charlie. Mrs. Weasley looked up as the girls entered the room.
“Y/N, good morning my dear.” Mrs. Weasley kissed her cheek and moved to Penny.
“Mum?” Y/N whispered.
“Yes, dear.” She stepped in front of Y/N, blocking her from view.
“Where’s Charlie?” She looked away.
“Oh, he’s—”
“He’s upstairs heartbroken.” George interrupted.
“Yeah. You really did a number on him last night.” Fred chimed.
Mrs. Weasley smacked both of their heads.
“Hush! Both of you!” She chided before returning to the others.
Penny and Y/N took a seat next to the twin boys. Bill and Ron directly across from them.
“If it were me, I would’ve made you swoon so hard that you would’ve forgotten your own name,” George said matter-of-factly.
“Is that so?” Penny laughed.
“Aren’t you a regular Casanova?” Y/N quipped back.
George glanced sideways at Y/N and gave her a bit of a smirk. “Oh. You have no idea.” They all laughed.
“Well, it seems that I’ve chosen the wrong brother.” Y/N whispered to the boy as she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
“Hey! What about me?” Fred moaned feigning a pout.
“Oh, alright.” She sighed and leaned around George to kiss his twin on the cheek.
“You don’t even know which twin I am, do you?” He smirked.
“Of course I do.” They both smiled. “Gred and Forge!” She said, pointing to each of them. Everyone erupted in laughter.
“Hey, I like that. We should use that one, Freddy.” George replied, elbowing his brother. The two boys got lost in their own whispered conversation. Y/N had only picked at her food and decided she would rather find Charlie to work things out. She stood and gathered her plate. As she did, the youngest brother watched her shyly. She disposed of everything, thanked Mrs. Weasley, and approached the smallest redhead.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t forget about you, Roonil.” She giggled and kissed his forehead lightly.
“ROONIL!” Fred belly-laughed and the youngest brother’s face turned a bright crimson.
Bill caught her eye as she was leaving the room. His smile reassuring. She sauntered upstairs, her mind buzzing with words. She wanted to tell him everything and come clean. She wasn’t sure if what she was feeling was love, but she knew that it made her ache. An ache that started in the pit of her stomach and spread like fire through her veins. It felt like her heart would jump from her chest it pounded so fiercely. Whatever she was feeling, she had felt it for so long. The feeling in her chest burning and growing slowly for years. She stopped just outside the bedroom door and took a deep breath before knocking.
“Go away!” He bellowed from inside. She knocked again.
“I said go away!”
“Charlie?” Her voice was softer than she intended. There was a moment of silence before she heard the lock click and the door swung open. He stood with his back to the door, his shoulders squared. Miscellaneous objects flew around the room and packed themselves neatly into his open trunk. Y/N took a step toward him.
“What’s going on?” She questioned as she ducked to avoid a tome about dragons flying toward her head.
“What’s it look like?” He growled. She closed the gap between them and placed her hand on his shoulder.
“Why are you packing?”
“You told me to leave. Remember?” He whirled around causing her to stumble backward over a pair of his boots. She hit the floor with a loud thud.
“I didn’t mean it.” She winced.
“My contacts in Romania asked me to come earlier than we had talked about. As soon as I’m done, I have to go.”
“What about your family?”
“They will have to deal with it.”
Heavy footsteps came bounding up the stairs. Bill, Mrs. Weasley, and all their friends stood in the doorway. Bill stooped next to Y/N and helped her off the floor.
“What’s going on, Charles?” Mrs. Weasley demanded as Charlie slammed his trunk closed with a flick of his wrist.
“I’m leaving for Romania earlier than we had planned. I have to meet them within the hour.”
“What do you mean in an hour? That’s hardly any time at all. What about the rest of the summer? We were going to see you off.”
“I know mum, I’m sorry. They asked me to come early. I have to go.”
“Charlie, you can’t be serious.” Bill tried to reason with him, but it was clear he wouldn’t be swayed.
“I am. I’ll visit in about a month or so after I get settled in. It’s not a big deal, really.” His expression softened as he saw the disappointment plastered across his mother’s face.
“It is though, Charlie. You can’t run away like this just because you’re angry and hurt.” Bill stepped into his path blocking the door. Y/N felt everyone’s eyes on her.
“I’m not hurt.” He whispered.
“Charlie, stay. Write to them and tell them you’ll be there later. I’ll go.” Y/N stood in front of him and held his face gently in her hands.
He sighed before pushing her hands away, “I can’t stay.”
He stepped around her, and their friends wandered back down the stairs. Charlie hugged Bill, and then his mother. He levitated his trunk and went downstairs leaving Y/N and Bill behind.
“Tell him, Y/N. You can’t let him go like this.” Bill whispered.
She ran down the stairs and out into the garden where everyone was waving.
“Charlie! Wait! Please!” She shouted and pushed past everyone.
He paused as she ran toward him, her face wet with tears. She threw her arms around him and breathed him in. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her for a moment as she kissed his cheek. He pulled away slowly and gazed into her eyes before picking up one end of his trunk.
“You don’t have to go. I’ll leave. Stay with your family.”
“But this is what I’ve always wanted, you know that. You know I have to go.”
She nodded and stepped back.
“If that’s what you want.” She murmured.
“I’m sorry about last night.” He glanced at his feet.
“Me too.” Her heart lurched and she finally knew what it was she was feeling. Penny was right.
He waved one last time to his family and friends.
“Charlie?”
He looked back at her again, something like longing twinkled in his eyes.
“Write to me?”
“Of course.” He smiled.
He took a step back and adjusted his jacket.
“I love you.” She said just loud enough to hear and only caught a glimpse of his face before he disappeared.
End of Chapter 4
——Thanks so much for reading. Please leave feedback if you enjoyed it. I will try to post Chapter 5 within the next week or so. ❤
A/N: this spur of the moment story was inspired by This post and This post, by @blitheringmcgonagall and @lytefoot . It’s the first AU on my part… a Snape Lives AU.
Yes, I am writing an AU with Snape living. I know it’s strange, coming from the Dragon.
Rated T for a few choice words and magical violence. Ace safe and it will go up tomorrow on FF.net and Ao3.
“Must you go so early?”
“I have a meeting at 7 with the Directors of MLS and the International Wizarding Confederation. But I will be back in time for tea.” He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek before a peck on the lips. While he departed in a swirl of green flames and purple and gold robes, Andromeda Tonks went back to the modest kitchen of her cottage west of Yeovil, in Somerset. She put a kettle on and sat down to read the news from the morning Daily Prophet, wondering what salacious gossip that dung beetle Rita Skeeter would slander her family with today.
Tap Tap Tap
Andromeda put down the morning paper and went to the window in her kitchen. There stood a magnificent owl, larger than one of the barn owls the school used. The Great Grey Owl hooted softly, looking unlike anything she had seen before. “Who could be owling this early in the morning?”
She opened the window and the owl hopped in. She plucked up some rashers from the pan, cooking up magically, and she handed over one to the owl, who tore it apart immediately. Once down the hatch, the owl hooted again.
“So they need a reply back, do they?”
Hoot Hoot
Andromeda cracked the wax seal on the parchment, recognizing immediately the signet insignia from Hogwarts. Minerva wouldn’t send her an owl if there was anything remiss with her beloved Teddy. No, this must be something else. But the school owls –
Everyone assumes that Ron will be the one to cry when Rose heads to preschool. He has always been that parent. When she was born, he cried. When she said her first word – which, much to Hermione’s indignation, was dada – he cried. When she accidentally transfigured her baby doll into a spider when she was two-years-old, he cried (though everyone knows that those tears were not entirely out of pride).
So when Hermione sheds a few tears as she watches her daughter toddle off to join her little friends, Ron is entirely out of his element. He had no doubt that his Rose would excel in school; she was entirely her mother when it came to academics, and he assumed that Hermione would concur with his feelings.
Her runny nose and overly-red eyes prove him entirely wrong, and uncharacteristically, she lets him bring her into a fierce hug while the other parents talk among themselves.
He does not say much as they Apparate back to their little home outside of Muggle London. He casts a charm which heats the kettle on the stove as he sits his wife at the kitchen table.
“She grows up too fast, Ron,” Hermione says quietly after he places a cup of tea in her hand. “Before we know it, she will be completing her OWLs at Hogwarts.” Ron sips at his own cuppa, quiet as Hermione continues. “Soon Hugo will be walking and talking. Soon they will both be at Hogwarts and…” She trails off; Ron is still silent, allowing his normally-sharp wife to process her thoughts.
“Soon,” she whispers, “they won’t need me anymore.”
Ron shakes his head then, his eyes as fierce as Hermione has ever seen them. “No, Mione,” he replies, “for once you are wrong. They will always need you.”
A tearful smile appears on her face, but when she takes his hand in hers, her eyes are clear.
Summer after fifth year. Ron is having dreams that aren’t his as a result of the brain attack.
“NOOOOO!!” screamed Ron as he bolted straight up in his bed. He looked around frantically, feeling all over his chest. His face was dripping with sweat, and it wasn’t because of the heat of the room.
He was relieved to see that he was in his room, but he couldn’t help that his heart was racing. It had felt so real. So unfamiliar. So vivid.
He panted as he climbed out of his bed. He looked over at Harry, who was still sleeping soundly in the cot across the room. How he hadn’t woken up from the blood curdling scream Ron had let out was beyond him. He walked out of his bedroom, closing the door quietly after him.
He crept down the stairs in the dark, careful not to step on the one that creaked next to Charlie and Bill’s old room. He made it to the bathroom door and was just about to open it, when hit swung open almost by itself, causing Ron to jump.
He let out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding when he saw Hermione on the other side of the door.
“Ron!” she squeaked, not even remotely expecting him to be standing outside of the bathroom. “I didn’t…..are you okay?? You look like you’ve seen a acromantula.”
Ron steadied his breathing. His heart had not stopped pounding since he woke up. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
“Oh Ron, I think you’re in shock!” said Hermione, taking him by the hand. “Come on downstairs with me. We’ll figure this out.”
Ron nodded slowly as he allowed Hermione to guide him down the rest of the staircase and into the sitting room. Hermione sat Ron down on the sofa and went to the kitchen, coming back with a bowl of water and a rag. She sat the bowl down on the coffee table in front of the sofa, dipped the rag into the water, wrung it out, and then proceeded to gently pet Ron’s face with it.
The cool snapped Ron from his trance. His breathing slowed, the beating of his heart lessened and went back to normal. He locked eyes with Hermione and sighed, feeling much more relaxed.
“Are you feeling better?” she asked, continuing her ministrations on Ron’s face.
Hermione shook her head. “I thought I had shocked you some kind of way. What happened?”
“I……had a nightmare” said Ron, suddenly feeling nervous and embarrassed. “Its nothing.”
Hermione put the rag down and sat beside Ron. She took his hand into hers, surprising the both of them, and gave Ron her full attention.
Ron turned to her and sighed once again. He didn’t want to sound like what the twins would call a “Nancy boy”, but he felt that he could open up to Hermione at least, without the ridicule.
“Ever since the Ministry I’ve been having these…..dreams,” he began. “Dreams that I know don’t belong to me. As if I’m living another life.”
Hermione gave Ron a confused look. “Another life? Do you think maybe it’s because of the brain attacking you?”
Ron nodded, holding up his bandaged arms. “Madam Pomfrey did say that these wouldn’t be the only scars left by it.”
“Could that mean that you actually have the person that the brain belonged to’s thoughts?” gasped Hermione, her hands clamping over her mouth.
Ron nodded sadly. “Yes, and from what I have dreamt, his life wasn’t all that good. I’ve been dreaming a lot about how he….well I’m guessing it’s how he died.”
Hermione felt as if she wanted to cry. It was heartbreaking that Ron had to carry around the burden of another person’s thoughts.
“He must have been in some kind of trouble with some muggle men,” said Ron, “because he didn’t die by a spell. He died by those bang pop things.”
“Bang pop…..you mean a gun??” gasped Hermione once again.
“That’s right, a gun. And whatever those things were, bullets? Yeah those. There were a lot of them. He was shot in his chest, and the last one I believe through the head because it was like watching it in slow motion come toward my….well his face.”
“That has to be so awful, Ron.” said Hermione, feeling a tear roll down her cheek. “How long has this been going on?”
“Since a couple days after it happened. I just didn’t tell anybody. I didn’t want anyone to worry.”
“Oh Ron,” said Hermione. She launched her body into his, latching her arms tightly around him. Ron was caught off guard, but recovered quickly, putting his arms around her in return, taking in the smell of the coconut shampoo she used in her hair. The smell of her always comforted him, though he wasn’t sure why. He could lay his face comfortably in Hermione’s hair all day if she allowed him to.
After a few seconds, Hermione pulled bac. Ron felt a sense of loss as she left his arms. Hermione felt it too, and cleared her throat, feeling a bit awkward.
“Sorry about all that,” said Hermione, biting her lip, something Ron loved to see her do.
“Its fine. I think I needed that.”
Hermione smiled, the awkwardness fading. “Just don’t keep that from me, alright? I want to help you. I….I want to be there for you.”
“I’m glad that you was here for me tonight,” said Ron softly. “It felt so real. Every time it feels so real and I’m always surprised when I wake up from it.”
Hermione scooted down the sofa and patted the top of her thigh. “ Lay here. You still seem tense.” she said.
Ron smiled as he stretched out as much as his long legs would allow. He ended up draping them over the arm of the sofa, while laying his head on Hermione’s lap. She began to run her fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes, enjoying the closeness of the two of them, and the feeling of her doing something so simple yet so calming.
“You’re always watching out for me, Ron,” said Hermione softly. “Let me watch out for you for once. Please?”
All Ron could do was nod his head. The sensation of her delicate fingers roaming around in his hair was too blissful to form words. He smiled as he thought about how wonderful she was to him, how beautiful she was inside and out, and how he could very well get used to nights like this.
At around 4 in the morning, Mrs. Weasley came down the steps to start on breakfast, as Mr. Weasley was scheduled to leave in an hour. When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she looked over at the sofa and seen Ron, sleep with his body on Hermione’s lap, and Hermione laying behind him, head resting on his leg. She smiled and laid a throw blanket over their torsos. She didn’t know what had caused them to end up like they were, but she was happy to see that there was someone that from the looks of it, was taking care of her son.
This is one of the cutest things I’ve ever read; so sweet!
Ron, Hermione, and Ginny watched Harry’s retreating back as he walked through to portrait hole to meet Dumbledore.
“I sure love to watch that bloke leave.“sighed Ginny, not noticing she was being overheard.
"Oi!” exclaimed Ron, putting his hands over his ears. “I dont want to hear my baby sister fantasising over my best mate’s ass!!”
Hermione chucked as Ginny gave Ron a hard glare.
“Well it’s certainly better than hearing you fantasize over-”
“Shut up now….” warned Ron through gritted teeth, eyes darting from Ginny to Hermione, and back again. Hermione gazed at Ron, confused by the exchange.
Ginny laughed and ruffled her brother’s hair. “You know, I really dont get why the hat put you in this house.” she joked. “You’re such a bloody coward.”
Ron sneered as Ginny got up from the sofa they were sitting on and walked up the stairs to the girls dorm. Hermi ok ne shook her head and moved to the empty spot Ginny had left.
“You two are impossible,” she said with a smile, as she began to run her fingers through Ron’s now unruly hair. Ron closed his eyes and sighed. Her fingers grazed his scalp, relaxing him instantly.
“Thanks,” he said, after Hermione had fixed his hair back to relatively normal. He reached up and gently moved her hand from his hair, bringing it down to the top of the sofa.
“What was Ginny talking about?” asked Hermione, not moving her hand from under Ron’s. She loved the feeling of his big surprisingly soft hand hiding her small one under it.
“Nothing,” said Ron, who had absentmindedly started moving his thumb against the top of Hermione’s hand. “She’s just being a wanker.”
“Language, Ronald.” scolded Hermione, trying to give Ron a stern look. However, it was quite hard with the delightfully tingling sensation that Ron’s thumb was causing.
“Sorry, it’s just that Ginny may have overheard something, and she…..oh bugger, I can’t tell you,” said Ron, avoiding eye contact.
Hermione smiled as she moved her hand out from under Ron’s. She formed a fist, her thumb extended.
“Thumb wrestle for your secrets?” she asked. Ron chuckled. He liked playing this game with Hermione. It was a game that was only shared amongst the two of them. One where they would sometimes catch themselves laying their inner most thoughts on the line.
Ron balled his hand up like Hermione’s. His fist met with hers, and their thumbs started to move back and forth.
“One, two, three, four, I declare a thumb war,” they said together. As they began twisting their thumbs this way and that to catch one another’s, they began their conversation.
“I lied about not knowing how to ski when I came to Grimmauld Place 5th year,” said Hermione.
Ron smirked. “Fred, George, and I snuck belch powder into fake Moody’s flask once. Constant diligence my ass.”
Hermione rolled her eyes, thumb slipping out of Ron’s hold. “I used to like to blow bubbles into my chocolate milk in primary school.”
“I stayed and talked to you while you were petrified.” said Ron, capturing Hermione’s thumb once again.
Hermione gave Ron a stunned look, not even caring that Ron had a firm hold on her thumb. “You….you did? For how long?”
“I came every night, ” said Ron, rubbing his thumb over Hermione’s. “Sometimes Madam Pomfrey would let me come in, but on nights where she wouldn’t, I would sneak with Harry’s invisibility cloak when she would be asleep. She never caught me.”
Hermione didn’t know if she wanted to scold him for breaking the rules, or kiss him for being so sweet. She did neither. Instead, she opened up her hand as Ron did his and intertwined her fingers with his.
“What did you talk about?” she asked.
Ron could feel the blush appearing on his ears. He was glad that his hair had grown out enough to cover at least the tips of them. He squeezed her fingers with his for a second, then moved his hand to where he was playing with Hermione’s index finger.
“I told you about what you were missing in classes mainly,” said Ron. “Sometimes I would talk about Harry, the twins getting on my nerves, and how I….”
Hermione caught her breath at Ron’s hesitation. She looped her pinky with Ron’s as if she was making a promise.
“How you what?” she asked, leaning towards him a bit.
Ron’s cheeks were on fire. No amount to hair could hide the redness that was appearing there. He took a deep breath in.
“I talked about missing you,” he sighed, bracing himself for whatever was coming.
Hermione was glad of her brown skin that was now hiding her own blush. “You…you had missed me?” she whispered.
Ron grinned, intertwining their fingers again. “Well yeah. I missed the way you would nag me to do my work, I missed the way you were so worried that I would do something to get myself in trouble. You know.”
Hermione sighed. “Of course you would miss me for schoolwork,"she said, loosening her fingers.
Ron tightened his grip. "I missed other things too, Mione. Like the way you would look when you were concentrating. And I missed you always making sure I had toast even when my greedy brothers would take it. I missed your smile. I missed you getting on me about my swearing. I missed hearing you laugh at my terrible jokes.”
Hermione began to smile again. She and Ron had let go of each other’s hands and was now playing with each other’s fingertips. “I wish I could have heard all of that.”
“You were cold. Stiff too,” continued Ron. “I would hold your hand and it was like cold stone. Not like now. Now, you’re soft, and warm.”
Hermione felt butterflies form in her stomach as Ron’s fingers gripped at hers once more. He missed her. He had actually missed her.
“Hermione?” said Ron, tugging her gently towards him, his sapphire eyes locking onto Hermione’s chocolate ones. “I’m really sorry about the whole Lavender thing.”
Hermione scoffed, trying to shrug the twinge of annoyance she had caught when he said her name. “That’s in the past,” she assured him. “What’s done is done.”
“No, it’s not,” said Ron, holding tight to Hermione’s hand. “I missed you the whole time, you know? It was like you were petrified again, only worse because you were moving and talking and laughing, but you weren’t doing any of that with me.”
“Oh Ron,” said Hermione, the butterflies in her stomach having a frenzy. “I wanted to talk to you, I really did. I just let my pride get in the way, you know? I missed you too.”
“Really?” asked Ron, almost in a dreamlike voice as he moved his hand to Hermione’s cheek.
“Really,” answered Hermione, melting at his touch.
The two of them locked eyes as their faces came closer and closer to each other. Their hands joined back together, as their noses touched.
“Hermione,” breathed Ron, “I think I want to-”
Suddenly they heard the Fat Lady’s portrait swing open. They jumped apart as Harry came rushing in, babbling mess about Dumbledore and going someplace. They watched as Harry disappeared up the stairs to the boys dorm and reappeared with a sock and the Marauder’s Map, explaining what to do with the Felix Felicis and any D.A. that would answer. Then, once again, he rushed out the portrait hole.
Ron and Hermione looked at each other and sighed. Guess their moment would just have to wait.
@weasleyismyking540 THIS IS SO SWEET! I almost cried reading it; dang it, these two are adorable! And that ending- argh, so close! Dang it, Harry!
Headcanonsandmore 