The Dance Left Unspoken: A post-war Ron & Hermione Story
As the sun is setting on their wooden bungalow in the English highlands, Ron and Hermione are in their living room which is decorated by various articles of the Burrow, some Muggle pictures from Mr. and Mrs. Granger, all of which is centered around a fireplace with growing embers in this cold, December afternoon.
While Ron reads the sports section of the new Daily Prophet, Hermione is cleaning up some of her term paper drafts that lie on the coffee table and on the floor around it so that she can take a break from all of the homework set aside for her before term picks up again after holiday.
Looking up from the paper, Ron asks, "Hey, Hermione? Why are you cleaning up so much? We don't have guests coming over, right?" Ron starts to look around to see the messes he's made in sort of a panic. "Sorry, 'Mione, I'll help—"
"Oh, no, no!" Hermione says, now realizing how frantic she looks as she's cleaning. "I'm just taking a break, really. From studying and writing, that is."
"Hermione," Ron smirks, "this is not taking a break. You're cleaning as if you've lost something." He puts down the paper beside him on the couch and pats down on the seat next to him. "Come here, you're stressing yourself out, honestly."
"Ronald, I can't. There's simply too much to do!" Hermione starts stacking her papers in a pile and heads over to the kitchen table where her parchment and quill have been set. She takes a seat in their high-top wooden table and puts those papers in a folder labeled Drafts.
"Okay," she sighs and closes her eyes. "Back to writing."
"Hermione," Ron gets up from the couch and heads over to the table. "You're really over-thinking this. Don't you think by now all of the professors know you well enough to just pass you with everything? I mean, you fought in that bloody war already. I don't know why you put yourself back at Hogwarts—"
"Just because he's gone now doesn't mean I shouldn't finish school and have special treatment." She says, glaring at Ron because of his insinuation towards her dropping out of it.
"What are you saying? That I am only an Auror because I fought with Harry in the war? That I couldn't pass and be one because my exam levels would be too low?" Ron, defensive, is raising his voice and clutching on to the chair opposite Hermione's.
"No," Hermione retreats. "I'm not saying that at all. You, you know how important school is for me—"
"Yeah, because you're actually smart enough to get a job while I'll be stuck here at home unless I fought, yeah?" Ron, knowing full well that he is taking this out of proportion, goes back to the couch and opens up the paper again, not reading anything but looking at the moving Quidditch pictures.
After a few minutes of him ruffling the paper and her looking at the back of his head, Hermione heads towards the fireplace, looking at the picture of her, Ron and Harry at Bill and Fleur's wedding. Trying to appease him, Hermione tries to change the subject and says, "I haven't danced in ages."
Ron, looking quizzically at her, closes the paper again and asks, "What?"
Hesitating, Hermione replies, "I, I haven't danced in a while. The last time, I think, was at the wedding. At least, before everything happened."
"You look beautiful there," he says, seeing that she's still looking at their picture with Harry, as he starts feeling apologetic.
"I didn't mean to take your words and twist them; I know how important school is for you," he says, standing up and deciding whether or not to approach her.
"I'm sorry, Ron," she says. "I never meant for what I said to mean something else. I'm sorry…."
"Hermione, please," Ron goes around the coffee table and hugs her, her arms now interlocked with his body. He touches her hair and neck, smelling the vanilla scent that she always has.
He starts to wiggle with her in his arms, smiling as she laughs. "Ron, what are you doing?"
"I'm dancing, or at least, trying to." Ron continues to move with her, now both of them swaying by the fireplace.
She smiles and laughs a bit more. "You're not that bad, not as bad as Harry, anyway."
His smile slowly fades as their swaying stops. "How do you mean?"
"Oh," Hermione says, remembering that Ron had left the tent long before this happened while they were trying to find the Horcruxes.
"Well when you left, I was really sad so Harry tried everything he could to get me to smile. One day I was sitting next to your radio, listening just in case for your name, but then he turned the dial and a nice song was playing, so he tried to cheer me up by dancing with me." Ron lets go of her slowly and walks back towards the couch.
"Ron, what's wrong? What have I said?" she asks, somewhat confused but knows that any mentioning of Harry and her doing something without him triggers a negative response from Ron. This time, to what full extent she did not know.
"So I leave, and you guys have a party." Ron looks down at the floor, trying very hard not to be mad but jealousy takes over him as it usually does with Hermione and someone else, much less Harry.
"Ron, please," Hermione begs. "That was certainly not the case. It never is."
"What else did you do, 'Mione? You and Harry must have cooked together and heaven forbid sleep in the same bunk to, I don't know, keep warm."
With her mouth agape, Hermione could not form the words to retaliate against the ridiculousness that Ron is dishing out.
"I knew it. I knew something was brewing between the pair of you." Ron, sitting back on the couch, cannot look at her; he is thinking of all the things that she and Harry probably did. He wouldn't be surprised if they held hands, kissed, or worse.
She is now becoming teary-eyed at the thought that he could ever feel this way, jealous of his best friend, thinking that she and Harry had done something in that way together..
As a tear begins down her cheek, she looks at him and finally finds the words to say, "There was nothing, Ron. You know that there was nothing."
"Do I, Hermione? You guys kept forgetting that I was there, making plans to go here and there to find those bloody things." He stands up again, not being able to do anything but walk around the living room, but being careful of getting too close to her since he feels like his growing jealousy and anger may take over him and hurt her unintentionally.
Now wiping up her tears, Hermione tries to get through her voice choking up by raising it. "And you, Ronald, are forgetting who was taking care of you when you got splinched, who kept making sure that you were okay, trying to keep the both of you from fighting one another when things got tougher than they already were!" She moves towards him now as he tries to walk away but she grabs a hold of both of his arms. He can't look her in the eyes because he knows that he is being out of line, plus he can't stand to see her cry.
"You're the only one I want, Ronald. It has always been that way. Harry and I were never going to happen. I was devastated when you left; don't you understand that at all?" Realizing how irrational he is, Ron looks into her eyes and feels badly for the pain he has caused the both of them. He wipes away her tears as she continues to look back into his eyes. He holds her close and kisses her on the forehead and with his lips still touching her, he whispers, "I'm sorry,"
He holds her close as she clutches him back, tears still running down, her eyes red. "Please don't cry anymore, I'm so sorry for being such a git."
She starts to smile again and tells him, "A bloody one, at that."
Ron looks down at her as she wipes away the rest of her tears.
"You don't know how badly I missed you when I was gone," he says, still holding onto her.
"You have no idea," she says, smiling. He leans in and kisses her slowly, cupping her cheek in one, caressing the small of her back in the other. She puts her arms around his neck, slightly on her toes from the pull he's taking from her.
Before they become more passionate, Hermione hesitates then stops, her arms still around him.
"What's wrong, Hermione? Did I do something?"
"Erm," she starts, but he doesn't wait for more.
"I'm sorry, I mean, I—" he mutters, now worried and recounting everything leading up to that point.
"No, no, it's not you. I'm just a bit nervous is all." Hermione looks away, Ron still not understanding.
"What do you mean?"
"I've just always wanted to, to go further than we have in the past…." she says, slightly embarrassed, her cheeks becoming warm and red.
"R-really? I've never thought about it—"
"You've never thought about it, at all?" Confused, she unwraps her arms around him, now lowering her hands onto his arms.
"I mean, of course I've thought about it, loads of times. But I never, well honestly I never thought you have, so I just let it go."
"But why?" She asks, now curious.
"I'm more careful with you," he says. "I don't want to hurt you, physically or mentally. I want to make sure you're ready to do whatever it is that you want to do together."
"What about with Lavender? Did you…with her?"
"Oh, of course not." He says. "I didn't love her. Quite frankly, she was very annoying. All looks, I guess, but definitely no brains. With you, I have both and so much more." He brushed away a strand of her hair, her lips growing into a small smile.
"I love you, Hermione."
"Even when I ruin really lovely moments, like just now?" she jokes.
"I love you, always," Ron says smiling with her as the fire dies down, the embers prickling the wood, the room darkening into the night.