Disclaimer: I don't own neither Harry Potter nor The Sound of Music. Songs are borrowed with respect and love.
Written for the Golden Snitch, inspired by the musical 'The Sound of Music'.
Their first night out happened some months after the war and left them both with a warm feeling in their stomachs.
The last thing Ron expected was for everything to click together while seeing the play 'The Sound of Music' with Hermione, hand in hand, her head resting on his shoulder, so that he just needed to inhale to take in her scent of raspberries. And the very last thing he expected was for him to really enjoy it, given that he remembered very well hating that thing the first time that a thirteen-year-old Hermione had introduced it to him and Harry. It had sounded too mushy and sentimental. Yet here he was, moved and able to relate to the play more than he had ever thought possible.
The last thing Hermione expected was for her to be comfortable being in a theater with Ron while her favorite musical was being played, and for him to actually seem to like it and understand it, letting himself be moved by it. Yet here she was, here they were, and Ron kept gently squeezing her hand or dropping a kiss on her hair, and the timing was always right. It was not until the gazebo scene that she realized, blaming Ron's bad influence for her being so clueless for once.
They had somehow lived it all, and she now had the proof that Ron remembered.
In fact, he'd always had.
Since the first time she'd forced him and Harry to watch it.
Various moments from 'The Sound of Music' had intertwined together like a fine tapestry designed to bring the two of them together. It was just a matter of picking the right thread.
Timid and shy and scared am I
Of things beyond my kin
I need someone [...]
Telling me what to do
The morning after the Troll incident, she found him in the Common Room, smiling. A friend's smile. A true friend's smile that told her that he would be there, his shoulder would be her to lean on.
For the first time, she felt like Hogwarts could indeed be home.
.
.
Face my mistakes without defiance
Show them I'm worthy
And while I show them
I'll show me
He was back. He had used Dumbledore's Deluminator and now he was nervously facing Hermione whose expression was unreadable.
He wanted to shrug it off as if it didn't matter, shake the awkwardness away and put it at his back, but he knew Hermione wouldn't.
Fearing his body language would give away his thoughts, he forced himself to stay still under his friend's gaze.
She kept watching him then sighed, frustration and longing blending together in that sound which gave Ron some hope that maybe, just maybe, he'd done the right thing and he'd be able to do it again and again.
For her.
"So you're back. Just like that," she said, her tone softer than he'd expected given the hurt and anger that lingered in her eyes.
"I-I…" While he struggled for something to say, a flash crossed his mind. "I think I needed to turn back in order to move forward." He stopped before adding, "Just like Maria."
Hermione seemed taken aback, and it was only when the anger left her eyes that he let himself breath again.
"Do you remember it?" she asked surprised by that reference.
"Of course," he said before reminding himself that it was not so obvious, so he quickly corrected himself. "I mean, it sort of happened, that's it." He could feel his ears becoming hot despite the cold wind whipping them.
"So you… you remember why she came back too?"
"I do, and... I think it's the same reason why I'm here now." Merlin, it's getting so hot. Why did I have to say that?
Hermione's smile was the answer he was looking for but did nothing to cool his burning face.
.
.
For here you are
Standing there loving me
Whether or not you should
She remembered that day.
Clearly.
Their first kiss.
She'd waited for ages for him to come to his senses and notice her. Even yelling hadn't worked; he would just stand there, his blue eyes glassy, and she would only end up to distress herself even more.
Then it had finally happened.
In that moment she would have known magic was real even if she had not been a witch. Because finally, finally, she knew beyond any doubt that he saw her, loved her, and that made her feel alive.
All the questions that usually haunted her and urged her to go to the library had stopped then. For once, she didn't wonder whether or not they were meant to be. She already knew the answer.
It was yes. A huge, confident, definite yes.
As they left the theater, Ron was absent-mindedly humming some melody, his arm lovingly wrapping his fiancée's shoulders, gently shielding her a bit from the cold.
"What's that?" Hermione said smiling, her hand raising to reach and caress his own.
"Uh, nothing," came his quick, uncomfortable reply.
She laughed.
"If you know, why don't you tell me?" he said.
"It'll be my pleasure."
Her eyes locked with his own, and they both smiled the smile that only belonged to each other.
My heart will be blessed with the sound of music
And I'll sing once more