The Wrong Match
Disclaimer: I own no piece of the Harry Potter canon world, its characters or its situations. No piece at all.
A/N – This tiny little one-shot (*snorts*) is written for the lovely, super amazing Worthfull1, because she's pre-writing a lovely, super amazing Sirimione Marriage Law story that she was wonderful enough to let me read the first couple of chapters of. She then gave me a prompt about a side-pairing in that lovely, super amazing story, and this is what I came up with as a way to say 'squeeeeee, thank you, thank you, thank you!' Now, read and enjoy good people, and do let me know what you think, won't you? ;)
The pale yellow dress was wrong. So completely wrong. Padma stood in front of the full length mirror in Ginny Weasley's bedroom, in a simple dress that hugged her curves, swirled around her legs and touched the floor. Her hair was out, flowing down her back, and although her feet were currently bare, a pair of strappy white kitten heels sat just to the side of the mirror. The sight of not only the dress, but the whole ensemble, brought an irritated grimace to her lightly glossed lips. She felt like sticking her tongue out at her reflection.
It was all wrong.
Where was the colour? The noise? The tradition? She'd always dreamed of having a traditional Indian wedding; so much so that Parvati used to tease her about it. But Molly Weasley was a force to be reckoned with, and her son did what he was told. The wedding had been planned with little input from both the groom and the bride, and since Padma's parents didn't live and die their heritage, nor did they know the one wish she'd always kept to herself, they hadn't forced the issue either.
Parvati was the only one who'd tried to argue. But they were under such time constraints, and Mrs Weasley was so frantic and stressed with trying to organize so much at once, that Padma's twin had been steamrolled right over. And since Padma had still been just as frantically trying find a way out of the wedding, something she obviously hadn't managed to achieve, she hadn't at all cared about what little had been run by her, let alone paid attention to it.
Ron Weasley. She was going to marry Ron Weasley. Her heart slammed against her ribcage, her trembling hand pressing into her knotted stomach and then balling into a fist. How the bloody hell was it possible that the Matchmakers had divined Ron Weasley her Matched partner? She didn't even like the boy! They were getting married, they didn't have a choice, and he was… he was…
A man already in love, and not with her?
Not at all her type?
A thick-headed, uneducated oaf?
"Ready, sweetheart?"
Padma snatched up her shoes, turned at her father's voice, and tried to smile. She really tried. "Yes, Papa."
"Good girl."
~0~
"But he's a war hero! He's Harry Potter's best mate! How can you not want to marry him?"
Padma picked at the stray thread poking its way out of the standard grey hospital blanket covering Mandy, and shrugged.
"He doesn't want to marry me."
"How do you know?" her ex-dorm-mate demanded, single eye glittering fiercely. The thick white bandage covering half her head made it look like someone had tried to split her skull. Which they had. "Have you spoken to him? It's been years since the Yule Ball, Padma! He can't possibly still be such an insensitive prick!"
"Settle down, Brocklehurst," Mandy's roommate muttered, back turned towards them. Both witches ignored her.
"Yes, I've spoken to him. It didn't go well. And of course he's changed; he's had to. Just like all of us."
"So what's your problem?" Mandy scowled, fingers clutching the blanket. "At least they've included you! You're not stuck in here, are you? You're moving on with your life! You're going to have a life!"
Padma sighed, knowing it was time to head home. She couldn't talk to Mandy when she was like this. No one could.
"I'll see you later, yeah?" she said, getting up and reaching over to quickly hug her friend. "Get some sleep."
"Don't cut off your nose to spite your face, Padma!" Mandy called after her as she left the room and headed down the corridor of the Janus Thickery Ward, towards the nearest floo. "You're getting married, something I'll never do! Fucking enjoy it!"
Yes, but I'm not the one he wants to marry, Padma thought, bone-weary from the constant fury and dread, the much-read letter in her pocket suddenly burning against her thigh. And he's far from my first choice as well.
~0~
The door closed and locked behind them and silence permeated the room. Her husband stood shuffling his feet, looking surprisingly dashing in his semi-formal robes. Padma watched him.
They had 24 hours. 24 hours to consummate the marriage. They stood in a bedroom, its bright orange walls covered with Chudley Cannons posters, and Padma had never felt more uncomfortable or disappointed in her life. She wasn't looking forward to the night ahead.
She despised this law.
"Listen. We, er, we don't have to… not yet. If you don't want. And here's probably not the best place, is it, now that I think about it. I wasn't thinking of… later, and mum said… we can get a room somewhere else. The Leaky? Wherever you think's best. Or we can stay here and just talk, we've got time if you don't want to… I mean, I want to, but if you don't… do you want to? Get a room somewhere, I mean? Not… the other thing."
Surprise has her focusing on the boy with the bright red hair and currently, a face to match. She'd never would've suspected him a babbler, and it actually made her feel a bit better, to know he was feeling just as awkward. Just as nervous. Neither of them had anticipated this, and now they were being forced to comply.
Once a month.
The thought made her cringe, but the thought of putting off this first time was worse, and he was being sort of sweet. Who would've thought, Ron Weasley being sweet? Biting her bottom lip, Padma shook her head.
"No, um, here's good. And… and now."
Ron's eyes widened and she saw him visibly swallow. "A-all right. Er, should I then… shall I kiss you?"
Padma braced herself and nodded, and Ron blew out a long, heavy breath before approaching her cautiously. He hesitated, seemingly asking again as he stared down at her, and when she tipped her head back and pushed up onto her tiptoes, his hands reached to frame her chin and his mouth came down on hers.
Gentle. She was surprised again, at how gentle he was. His lips were warm and dry when they kissed her, and she opened her mouth, suddenly curious. He hesitated again, but as her husband's tongue touched hers, Ron groaned, his hands tightening.
It was pleasant. Truth be told, it was more than pleasant, and Padma wasn't sure if her head was spinning from the kiss or lack of air when Ron pulled back and attached his mouth to her throat. He stayed gentle after that, that just past pleasant feeling actually lingering, but her head soon stopped spinning because it hurt just as she knew it would, even though she figured he was trying his best to make it as comfortable as possible for her. He made quiet, desperate sounds as he thrust, his face in her neck, and it was purely by accident when he hit something that had her abruptly gasping. But then he groaned, low and long, shuddering violently before collapsing on top of her.
She was just trying to think of a way to get him to move when he stirred.
"M'sorry. Mus' be heavy."
"It's all right," Padma murmured. His voice was slurred, and when he pulled back she found herself looking into slumberous blue eyes. Ron blinked slowly and smiled at her, then climbed off and fell heavily onto his back on the mattress.
"That was brilliant," he sighed, closing his eyes. And the silence came back. Padma didn't know how to act now, whether to sleep or to speak, to make light of what had just happened or to ignore it altogether, and she could see the silence pecking steadily at the lazily satisfaction surrounding her husband until he looked tense, muscles tight. His eyes opened and he sent her a snapshot glance before his gaze cut to the ceiling.
"You… you didn't…? Shit. Um, I can… do you want me to…?"
"It's all right," she murmured again. The awkwardness was a third person. Ron frowned.
"It's no chore, I want to-"
"I just want to sleep now," Padma interrupted, then turned on her side and closed her eyes.
"Er. Right. Night then, I guess."
Two hours later saw Padma still awake, with the stiff, not-sleeping body of her husband next to her.
~0~
The relief in the air had a blanketing effect, and Padma sat on the floor, back against the wall, hand held tight in Parvati's. Where there was shouting and cheers not long ago, now the voices were quiet, only murmurs, soft weeping and the whimpers and groans of the injured filled the dusty, broken Great Hall. She could feel blood trickling down her leg, and Parvati had a nasty looking head wound, but they were alive.
They were alive.
So many others weren't.
Her breath trembled in her lungs and Parvati squeezed her hand. Neither spoke; they didn't need to. They'd said it all before the battle, when they were terrified they wouldn't survive. Now, they just sat, and Padma looked up when a long shadow fell over them.
"You two okay?"
The three of them held hands, Hermione in the middle, and at any other time Padma knew her twin would've giggled at the display, mind going where it shouldn't. Harry looked dead on his feet, bags under his eyes big enough to carry the contents of the entire Hogwarts library. Hermione was smiling softly, face pale and drawn. And Ron was being his ever predictable self.
Ron was looking at Hermione.
"We're fine," Parvati answered, even though they weren't. Padma nodded in agreement and Hermione's tired smile grew.
"Good. Try and sleep some, yeah? That's where we're heading," she said. Padma watched with detached interest as Ron reached out and brushed the hair back off Hermione's forehead, his fingers lingering on her skin. The witch flushed and ducked her head, shooting him a look before dragging the two boys away.
"Merlin, have those two finally gotten their acts together?" Parvati muttered, watching the trio leave with a shadow of her usual nosiness. "Bloody well took them long enough."
That's for sure, Padma thought, before Michael Corner appeared out of nowhere and sat down beside her, making forget all about the aptly nicknamed Golden Trio.
~0~
They were strangers, it seemed. Married strangers. Padma was returning to Hogwarts on the first of September to re-sit her seventh year, and Ron was about to start his Auror training. They avoided each other like the plague when together, and when they had to interact, they snapped and argued bitterly. They couldn't have been further apart if they'd tried.
Literally and figuratively.
Harry, Ron and Sirius saw Padma, Ginny and Hermione off the day the new school year began, and Padma scowled and hurriedly stepped back when it looked like Ron was going to kiss her goodbye, then watched him watch Hermione and Sirius after he'd stormed away. His jealousy was obvious to anyone who was looking for it, so she saw the way his face contorted when Sirius touched his new wife, and she saw the way he for some reason fixed his gaze on Hermione's throat, though there was nothing there that Padma could make out. He was a silent, thundering storm cloud, and she didn't speak to the other new brides once the train had taken off.
Instead, she found her sister's compartment and watched the country pass by the window with a sullen heart.
The nightmare snuck up on her that night. There was blood and death everywhere, wretched, painful screams and blank, staring eyes, and Mandy stalked her, accusing her, blaming her. Then Parvati died and the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named laughed, and Padma woke with a shriek dying on her lips and her nightgown soaked with sweat.
Not for the first time, she was thankful that married singles and couples got their own rooms. The rapid, stifling thud of her heart echoed off her curtains, and suddenly feeling hot, closed-in, trapped, she yanked them back and threw herself out of bed, hissing a little when her bare feet met the cold stone floor. But it was better than the bed, and Padma snatched up her dressing gown and hurried out of the room.
She spent the rest of the night in the common room with her eyes wide open, something that became a much-hated habit – along with the nightmares.
"There has to be an alternative to Dreamless Sleep," Parvati fretted, her worried gaze locked on her twin as Padma slumped in her seat in the Great Hall, the day Ron was due for their monthly copulation. "You need to rest!"
"Pomfrey's looking," Padma mumbled, feeling weightless in her exhaustion. The edges of her vision were blurred and her head was filled with a strange buzzing, like pins and needles in her brain. It was an effort to string words together. "M'fine."
"You're not!" her sister protested, but the rest of her rant faded into the oblivion that seemed to consistently suck at all of Padma's thoughts, dragging them down and away, along with the meaning of time and the ability to actually give a damn. All that mattered at the moment was taking every opportunity she could to try to get some sleep, and not disturbing the entire school with her screaming when she was inevitably woken up by a nightmare.
The day passed as it usually did – with lethargic surprise that the hours had somehow disappeared in the blink of an eye – and that evening Padma somehow found herself in her room, facing the guest who had just come through her private floo. Padma blinked at her husband, who looked pale and tired, which made his freckles stand out that much more.
He looks like he's got a disease. Has he got a disease? He's not sick is he?
"I'm fine," Ron said, looking a little surprised, and Padma blinked again, slowly, as she tried to figure out what he was on about. The fog in her mind made the normal thinking process all but impossible, and she still hadn't managed to piece it together when Ron was abruptly right in front of her. She gazed up at him with a bemused frown, and the redhead said something that she was deaf to, frowning as well.
She figured out what it was when he kissed her.
If their second time was any better than their first, Padma wasn't aware of it. She kissed him back because it seemed like the appropriate response, and the room spun, she was horizontal, and there was a warm weight on top of her. After was a blur. She was far too physically drained to feel anything but extreme fatigue; she wasn't even aware they were done until the bed dipped and the warmth over her moved beside her. She sighed, and the extra warmth and the softness of the mattress dragged her eyelids down, the mulish grumble next to her a distant echo. She sunk like stone into sleep, then woke four hours later, screaming herself hoarse.
"Fuck! Padma! What is it? What's wrong? Padma! Padma!"
She shot from the confines of the bed and hurtled out into the empty common room, ending up with her back pressed against the wall. Jittery and panicked, her eyes wheeled, probing the exposed area.
"Hey. Hey, it's okay," Ron murmured, crouching to reduce his height and approaching her cautiously. "You're fine, Padma. You're safe, there's no one here but us. I promise. I won't let anyone hurt you, okay? You're safe. You're safe."
His blue eyes were ridiculously sincere. His hair was mussed and standing up all over the place, his chest was bare, and his long, knobbly feet looked amusingly odd sticking out the bottom of his wrinkled black trousers. He was familiar, and Padma's heart rate gradually slowed.
"Ron," she breathed, the nightmare fading inch by inch from her mind. Her husband's smile was gentle and decidedly relieved.
"Yeah, it's me. Wanna come sit down?"
He reached out, careful and palm up, and Padma swallowed thickly, her hand shaking as it took his. He stayed low and drew her over to the couch, then took the opposite end and settled against the back when she sat down, making sure not to crowd her.
Then he waited.
Padma sat with her palms pressed together between her knees, eyes on the floor. She didn't know what to say. The fear still lingered, but embarrassment was creeping up on it. She drew in a deep, deliberate breath and rubbed the outside of her hands against the corduroy material of her pants, shoulders hunching.
"I'm still dressed," she whispered, eyes flicking to the arm of her t-shirt, then back to the floor. Her feet were bare too.
"Well, yeah. Something wasn't… something didn't feel right. Something isn't right, is it?"
Another quick flick showed him lounging almost, back in the corner now, gaze sharp and on her. Her eyes fell to his naked chest and the embarrassment rushed into her cheeks, quickly climbing to acute humiliation. Her hands flew up to cover her face.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled, trying to hold back the tears. She felt like a failure, and she wasn't sure if it was because she couldn't keep control of her subconscious or because…
His chest was bare.
Merlin, she wished the ground would open up and swallow her.
"Why?"
Wide, wet eyes shot to the redhead lounging in the corner of the couch. "What?"
"Why are you sorry?" Ron asked, an eyebrow raised. "It's not like I've never seen someone have a nightmare before. Shit, I dormed with Harry 'vivid dream' Potter, didn't I?" He leant forward and wiped away a tear that was trickling down her cheek. "Everyone has nightmares, Padma, probably more in this school than anywhere else. You don't need to apologize for them."
"Every night?" Padma whispered, sniffing and dragging the heels of her hands across her cheeks, Ron frowning in question. "Do they have them every single night? I can't… I can't sleep, at all, because they follow me, and I'm tired, so, so tired, and I just want to rest. They won't stop. Does everyone experience that?"
"Some, yeah. I've had my fair share, and I know I'm not the only one. But you don't have to put up with them, you know. Why aren't you taking Dreamless Sleep, or a sleep draught at the least?" her husband asked, frown growing more pronounced. "Just ask Pomfrey, she'll help."
"I did, when they first started, and quickly found out I'm allergic," Padma answered quietly. "They've all got a common ingredient that closes my airways, but taking it out renders the potions null and void. Madam Pomfrey's looking for another solution. I just have to wait."
"And suffer in the meantime," Ron muttered, scowling. "Never thought I'd wish Snape was still alive. There isn't anything that helps?"
Padma shook her head, eyes finding the floor once more. "Not with the nightmares," she murmured, and heard Ron sigh. "You don't have to stay up. I'll be fine."
There wasn't an answer from Ron, and Padma stared into the gently flaming fire as he got up and padded from the room. She wouldn't attempt sleep again that night. The nightmare had dispelled the drugging exhaustion, filling her mind with a false alertness that wouldn't fade until the sun had risen, so it was pointless to even try-
"You wanna help me study?"
Head swinging around, Padma gaped a little as her husband flopped down beside her again, a heavy tome in his hands. He'd put on a shirt, his trainee Auror uniform shirt by the looks of it, and he sat the book in his lap and opened it, flipping through the pages. Once he'd found the page he'd wanted, he turned to her expectantly and smirked at the gobsmacked look on her face.
"Yeah, I know, Ron Weasley cracked a book; shocker," he drawled. "Who would've thought, huh? But I really want to do this, and it turns out that unless you do the work, it's hard to get good results when you don't have a bloody smart witch coasting you through. I've got an exam at the end of the week. I could use the help studying for it."
Padma blinked rapidly, her chin dropping, gaze once again finding the floor as her eyes welled up again. There was a warmth in her chest that she'd never have thought she'd relate back to Ron Weasley.
Never.
"I thought you didn't want a bloody smart witch coasting you through?" she croaked, looking up when Ron laughed, a smile tugging at her lips. Clearing her throat, she took a breath, turned to him and reached for the book. "Fine then, show me what we're working with."
Ron grinned and shuffled closer, and Padma felt almost shy as she dipped her head over the page. Helping an almost book-phobic Gryffindor study wasn't the way she'd envisioned spending the night, but she certainly wasn't going to complain. And four days later saw her sitting on a bed in the Hospital Wing, about to take the first dose of an experimental potion that Madam Pomfrey had dug up from Merlin knew where. The mediwitch handed her the bottle.
"There you go. I'll be very surprised if this doesn't work, the witch that invented it showed great promise while she was here. Now, perhaps you could get your Mr Weasley to stop hounding me, hmm? I'm thoroughly sick of his constant owls and floo calls."
Padma smiled.
~0~
"I don't want to marry you!" the Indian witch hissed, upset and angry and just plain fucking panicked. Her husband-to-be stood on the other side of her living room, hands in his pockets, shaggy red hair falling in his eyes.
He was the wrong person. She didn't want to get married anyway, not so bloody young, but if she had, she definitely wouldn't have been looking at Ron Weasley! She'd been getting such lovely letters all summer, ones that made her blush and made her heart flutter, and they certainly hadn't been coming from Ronald Bilius Weasley!
How could anyone think that they'd make a good couple?
"You're not even going back to Hogwarts, for Merlin's sake! How could you possibly be a Match for me?"
Ron's face flushed and his jaw tightened. "Don't ask me, you're not what I'd consider lifelong partner material either!" he snapped, then took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He opened them again a moment later, continuing in a tight voice, hands balled at his sides. "But we don't have a choice, do we? Let's just try and make the most of it."
"I don't want to make the most of it," Padma muttered, turning away and dragging her hands through her hair, missing the humiliation that flashed across Ron's face before anger snuffed it out. "There's gotta be a way out of this. You can't tell me that Hermione hasn't searched her little heart out, looking for a way out of this!"
"'Course she has! Everyone has! It isn't possible, so stop your bloody whinging, grow the hell up and deal with it, like everyone else!"
Shocked and so furious she couldn't see straight, Padma spun back around, face pale. "Get out!" she shrieked, taking a step towards him and palming her wand. "Get out, get out, get out!" Ron's eyes grew large, and he turned on the spot and disapparated with a crack, and Padma glared the patch of empty air he'd left behind, jaw working, her wand still in hand.
How dare he! Accusing her of being childish? She'd gone to school with him for six years, had seen him do one childish, moronic thing after another! And he had the audacity of calling her out over having a bad reaction to something she really didn't want to be true?
Storming from the room, the young witch headed for her family library. While not nearly as extensive as the Hogwarts library, it did contain some fairly rare volumes, and Hermione Granger wasn't the only witch who could research with the best of them.
Padma wasn't a Ravenclaw for nothing after all.
~0~
The door to the Three Broomsticks swung open just as Padma reached for it, and she took a step back in surprise, smiling a little awkwardly when Hermione crossed the threshold. The other witch looked a bit grim, but the expression disappeared when she saw Padma. Hesitation flickered across her face before she sighed, shook her head and smiled in a friendly manner.
"Hey. He's waiting for you. I should warn you though, he's in a bit of a black mood. He wouldn't tell me why."
"Oh. Um, thanks," Padma muttered, moving past the Head Girl and into the pub. She'd never really interacted with Hermione in the past, despite having quite a bit in common with the girl. Now, she didn't know how she should be feeling about the female third of that famous trio.
She honestly didn't know how she should be feeling about Ron either.
Shaking her head to dispel the confusion that swamped her whenever she thought about her husband nowadays, she craned her neck, spotting him at a back corner table, a half-empty glass in his hand. He was sitting in the shadows, and even from a distance Padma could tell he was tense. The way he was lounging in the chair looked casual, but the lines of his body told a different story.
Since when did I get to know him well enough to know what he's feeling by his body language? she thought, bemused but already knowing the answer. They'd taken to writing to each other since he'd stayed up all night with her in the guise of studying the month before, and though the letters hadn't held anything deep and meaningful, they'd still somehow felt… intimate. Not friendly per se, nor romantic. Just… different.
Strange.
Making her way over to him, she paused when his head turned and his blue eyes landed on her, her heart jumping at the look in them. They blazed in a way that she'd never seen them do before, sending an inexplicable shiver down her spine, and there was something else… a frown pulled at her brow.
Something was wrong.
"Ron?" she ventured tentatively, taking a step and then stopping again when he threw back the last of whatever he was drinking and got to his feet. He was in his trainee uniform again, and he didn't say a thing as he came towards her, that look still in his eyes; eyes that were solidly squared on her. Blood beginning to hum, Padma swallowed.
Sharp, heated, unexplainably intense. From Ron Weasley. She'd seen a boy for so long, a boy with bad tables manners, a wide streak of jealously and a bordering on insufferable Gryffindor spirit, that it was a bit incredulous to suddenly see a man approaching, with thick red hair and burning blue eyes. He stopped in front of her and took her hand, still silent, leading her back out of the inn.
"Where are we going?" Padma asked a bit breathlessly. Ron paused just outside the entrance and glanced back at her.
"Do you trust me?"
The "of course," came a hell of a lot quicker than either of them were expecting. Ron blinked, something else rushed through his eyes and was gone, and his head dipped in a single nod.
"Good."
Then he was suddenly a lot closer and his arms were wrapped around her, wand in hand. His body was firm, his body-heat overpowering, and he twisted himself and her on the spot, the sharp crack echoing through the quiet village.
They appeared in the doorway of a multi-storied building, a variety of different flowers and climbing vines winding their way around the many large, sparkling clean windows. A perfectly trimmed hedge lined the cobblestone pathway up to the door, and at the other end of the path sat a wrought iron gate. A sign topped a wooden post at the side of the gate, but it was facing outwards so Padma couldn't read what it said. She frowned and had just opened her mouth to ask where they were, when Ron reached out and turned the brass doorknob, walking into the building – house, Padma realized when she saw the inside – his hand still wrapped firmly around hers.
No, not a house. An… inn?
"Welcome to Podmoore Cottage. How may I help you?"
"I called last week. Weasley?" Ron said, speaking to the rotund woman standing behind what Padma recognized as a reservation desk. The woman smiled and leant over to check the large book in front of her.
"Ah yes, Mr Weasley, here we are. The West Room, as requested. This way please."
She stepped out from behind the desk and Padma's eyes were locked on Ron as they made to follow her. Called last week? What was he up to? The place was obviously an inn, but why would he book a night in an inn when she had her own room at the school? It was confusing, and the set of her husband's jaw didn't encourage questions. Something was still quite wrong, so why was he taking her away to a very nice little bed-and-breakfast?
What was going on here?
They followed the landlady down a hallway and up two flights of stairs. Padma took in the homely opulence of the place, light and bright and cheery, with deep wood colours and finicky detail, and felt a bubble of excitement grow in her chest.
Ron had planned this. Her husband had planned this. The bubble swelled, mixing with that warmth that had grown considerably stronger with every letter's arrival, brighter with every line of words about mundane, everyday things, and Padma couldn't get her head around it. The fact that Ron had planned a night away, or the confusing mass of conflicting emotions.
Was she actually starting to fancy Ron Weasley?
"Here we are, dearies. Make yourselves at home. Tea is at six, breakfast starts at eight. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"No we're fine, thanks," Ron answered, voice clipped, and the landlady smiled, wished them a good stay and left the room, closing the door behind her. Padma stood just inside the doorway and looked around the well-lit, bookshelf heavy room called The West Room, feeling anxious and curious all at once. The curiosity won out, and she turned with her mouth already open to ask Ron what the hell was going on.
Said mouth snapped shut in astonishment at the way he was looking at her. Her eyes met his and it was as if he was waiting for some kind of signal or sign, because he was moving the instant she looked into his face. Two strides and he was directly in front of her, his head descended and his mouth crushed hers.
The unexpectedness of the move had Padma instinctively stepping back, but Ron followed, and her back hit the door. He crowded her, his tongue slipping between her gasping lips and into her mouth, and the aggressiveness, the way his lips felt moving over hers, his hands pulling her braid apart and diving into her hair… heat abruptly thumped through her veins.
Padma began to kiss him back.
He groaned when she wrapped her arms around his neck and eagerly opened her mouth wider, pushing up against him. They'd only been together once before, and that had been awkward and not really wanted, but she wanted him now. Merlin, did she want him now. He was unpredictably passionate, and even though a tiny voice in the back of her mind was whispering that that passion was most likely due to seeing the woman he was in love with before he'd met up with his wife, at that moment Padma couldn't bring herself to care.
It was her he was kissing like he was suffocating and she was life-giving oxygen. It was her he'd planned a night away with, obviously going to the trouble of securing permission for her to leave the school for longer than an afternoon.
It was her he was married to; her he'd been Matched with. Not Hermione.
She kissed him back, fast and frantic, and clothing quickly littered the floor. Padma soon found herself half-lying on the perfectly made bed in only her knickers, the just-past-pleasantness from last time now a burning, overflowing melting pot, rocketing her blood pressure. She moaned when Ron took her nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, and she jumped when his fingers slowly burrowed under the waistband of her knickers and brushed over her sex.
He raised his head then. The whole interlude had been rushed, desperate even, her husband in control, as if he was trying to make a point. His face was flushed and his pupils dilated, and he watched her intently as his fingers explored through wet folds, searching out every pleasure point, every nuance of her expression. Padma panted and wiggled her hips, hands fisting the bedspread.
"This is what I should've given you on our wedding night," Ron muttered, and Padma wasn't sure if he meant the amazing things he was doing with his fingers or the entire scene, bed-and-breakfast included. But then the thought vanished, because he'd just dipped two fingers inside of her, palm of his hand pressing and rotating on her clit. Padma's eyes rolled back, hips bucking.
"Fuck, please… Ron!"
His eyes snapped up from watching his hand move under the material, lips parted. "Yeah," he breathed, and then he was pulling out of her underwear and jerking them down, almost ripping them in his haste. He stood up and his hands shook as he fumbled with the dome of his trousers, muttering to himself, a groan of relief escaping when he managed to get them and his pants down to his thighs. His cock all but folded out, standing keenly erect, pointing directly at her. Padma licked her lips, palms suddenly itching to know what that private part of his body felt like, but he was scrambling back onto the bed before she could gather the courage to reach out.
He pushed her knees up and aligned himself, his tip brushing against her, then hesitated.
"No, I need you to… it'll be easier."
His brow was furrowed, and instead of pushing into her like she was increasingly needing him to, he grabbed her hips and flipped them over, drawing a gasp from Padma. She sprawled over him and stared down in astonishment, the hot length of him pressing into her stomach. His trousers felt strange against her bum.
"What…? I-I don't k-know what I'm doing!"
"Fuck, neither do I," Ron groaned, lifting his hips and sliding against her, seeking desperately needed friction. "Just do whatever, do what feels good, do something, do what you want. What do you want, Padma?"
Nibbling her bottom lip, the witch glanced down. She knew what she wanted. "I want you in me," she whispered, flushing a little at the crude language, but going by the way her husband jerked, a needy little sound escaping, he obviously liked it.
"Then do it. Please, just, now okay? I need… I need you."
He pushed up again, and Padma's breath hitched, the root of him hitting just the right place. With a rapid nod, she shifted her hips and tentatively wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, marvelling at how silky he felt. It was curiosity that had her hand inching upwards.
"Don't!" Ron yelped as his back arched, making Padma freeze and snatch her hand away, blushing furiously. "No, not that, I meant- sweet Merlin, I want you to touch me like that, but I w-won't last. I need you to… let's leave that for next time, yeah?"
"Oh. Um, all right," Padma whispered. Her hand trembled, and it took a moment or two before she'd gathered enough courage to touch him again. Her husband let out a hiss on contact, the sound flattening into a low groan when she lifted herself up, awkwardly aimed him and then very slowly sunk down. Her eyelids fluttered at the feeling of being filled so completely. Why didn't she remember how wonderful it felt from last time?
"Fuck," Ron moaned, hands tightening on her hips, eyes locked on where she was taking him in. "Fuck, Padma, you're gorgeous. You're perfect. Feels so good. So good."
"I want to…" she sighed, then raised her herself up and slid down again, instinctively rolling her hips on the down-stroke. "Oh!" She repeated the action when fireworks zipped along her nerve endings, and soon she'd set a steady pace, angling her hips to hit that place inside her Ron had barely grazed their first time on nearly every drive down, his pelvis bumping her clit on each straddle. Ron was all but whining, his legs twitching and his fingers clamped on her hips as he helped raise her, bringing her down with more force every time. The pace picked up. Padma whimpered.
"I'm going to… I need to… Ron, please!"
"So come," Ron muttered, squinting as he surged up into her. "Come, Padma. Come, I need you to come!" His hand dived between her legs, rubbing furiously at her clit, and the extra friction was just what she needed, the coil in her belly pulling, straining, then finally snapping, bringing a wave of sensation that flooded her and drew forth a long, broken moan. Ron swore loudly and thrust three more times before his muscles locked in a way that looked painful and he pulsed hotly inside of her.
It felt like she'd melted when her body folded down onto her husband's. Padma's head was foggy, and she couldn't protest even if she'd wanted to when Ron kicked his trousers the rest of the way off, wrapped his arms around her and hugged her to his chest, his heart racing against her ear. His sigh ruffled her hair and Padma wasn't sure how long they lay there. And despite what they'd just done, the intimacy and the trust the act needed, the even deeper intimacy of being and staying naked with someone afterwards, the funny thing was it wasn't awkward at all. Not like last time.
"Have you ever done something you'll eternally regret?"
His voice was muffled, and Padma exhaled gently, moving off him to lie by his side. Raising her head, she peered down into his face. "You're going to tell me what's wrong now?" she asked softly, eyes on his still features. Ron grimaced and turned his head to look at her.
"I'm sorry," he sighed, "this isn't the way tonight was supposed to go. Yeah, all right, we're scheduled, but I wanted… I wanted to wine and dine you, I guess. Give you, if only for one night, what this fucking law took away from you. From us. But then something happened during training today, and I just… and now you think it was all about the shag, don't you?"
"No," Padma murmured, actually meaning it. She lay back down and pressed as close up to his side as she dared, wanting to absorb his body-heat. The room was just a little chilly, lying there in nothing but her skin, but she didn't want to move to grab the thick fur blanket lying along the end of the bed.
She was just thinking about giving in and reaching for it when Ron spoke again. And maybe it was the silence, the new and unexpected easiness between them, but the story spilt out, a gushing of words, about the year that he, Harry and Hermione were on the run and how he'd done something he'd go to his grave wishing he'd never done. He spoke almost in one breath and he didn't look at her even once, but by the time the words ran out, Padma was left with the impression of a large dose very well hidden guilt and a deep sense of shame.
It explained his… eagerness so to speak, during the throes. He'd wanted her, and he'd want her in the future, but the desperation, the somewhat of a demand that she enjoy herself as much as he did this time as well… Ron didn't like to fail. That crazy warmth sunk its claws in deeper, and Padma breached the final inch between them, lifting his stiff arm and laying her head on his shoulder.
"But you went back," she murmured, fingers spread wide across his chest. "Isn't that the important thing?"
"I should have never fucking left in the first place," Ron retorted through clenched teeth, once again staring at the ceiling. "I let them down majorly. I don't understand why they don't hate me."
"They're your friends. Your family. You can't hate family."
Ron snorted. "You'd be surprised," he muttered, then let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes. "I shouldn't be burdening you with this."
Leaning up on her elbow, Padma did something she'd never done before. She kissed him first. Brushing her lips across his, she briefly deepened the kiss when his eyes sprang open in surprise. "I'm glad you are," she said once she'd pulled back. Ron's smile was tired.
"So am I," he said quietly. Padma's took a shaky breath, then found home back on his shoulder, and they lay there in silence until the sun began to descend outside the windows.
~0~
"Ron? Ron Weasley? Do I have to?"
"Yes, you have to," Parvati answered in an exasperated tone, rolling her eyes. "This is Harry Potter, Padma! You can't turn that down!"
"Yeah, but it's not him I'll be going with, is it?" her sister countered with a scowl. "You'll be going with Harry. I'll be stuck with his best mate." Her nose scrunched up. "Ronald 'no manners' Weasley."
Parvati groaned. "Sweet Morgana, do you want to go the Ball or not?"
"'Course I do!"
"Then stop finding every bloody excuse under the sun to turn down the blokes who ask you! It's only days away for Merlin's sake; if he hasn't asked you by now, he's not going to!"
Padma's eyes widened and she flushed. "What? I-I don't know what you're talking about!"
"My arse you don't," Parvati shot back, frowning, before she sighed. "Look, I heard something the other day that you're not going to like. Sorry, sis, but I think he might already have a date. A Beauxbatons girl. So why not show up with Harry Potter's best mate, looking right fit, and show the bloody git what he's missing?"
"He has a date already?" Padma whispered, disappointment a stone in her gut when her twin nodded.
"You could've just asked him yourself, you know. Then you wouldn't be standing around waiting all this time."
"He probably would've said no anyway. So, Ron Weasley, yeah?" she hurriedly continued when her sister frowned and opened her mouth to protest. "He's not going with Hermione?"
"Not by the looks of it," Parvati answered. "I hear she's already got a date, though Merlin knows who'd take her. You'll go then?" she asked, crowing "brilliant!" when Padma grimaced and sent her a resigned nod. "We're going to have so much fun, I promise!"
"If you say so," her sister sighed, doing her best to ignore the hurt she felt about the boy she fancied quite obviously not fancying her back.
~0~
"Padma!"
Padma stopped at the open door to her room and turned at the call, stomach jolting a little when she saw the brown-haired boy running to catch up with her. She hadn't spoken to Michael outside of class at all during the three months they'd been back at Hogwarts, and now, as Christmas swiftly approached, she thought that that was probably a good thing for two main reasons.
The first had her eyes widening in bewilderment. Michael was a past possibility that hadn't come to fruition because they hadn't reached taking the step before the law, and they hadn't been Matched after the law. She'd avoided him when the school year had started, not wanting to remind herself of could-of-beens and make herself more miserable. Watching him approach her now was a bit of a startling revelation, because Padma found she didn't feel a thing. He smiled at her upon stopping, and there was no skittering pulse, no automatic blush; nothing. Which probably had a lot to do with the second reason.
Never in a million years would Padma have thought she'd ever look forward to seeing her Ministry-appointed husband. They wrote to each other twice a week and had a weekly fire-call 'date', and Padma found herself feeling the same way about Ron as she used to feel about Michael. He… excited her.
In more ways than one.
"Michael," she replied, resisting fanning her face with her hands as her cheeks heated. She couldn't think about her husband in that way now! Not in front of another boy! "Um, hi. What can I do for you?"
Michael frowned a little at the bordering on polite greeting. "Nothing really, I just wanted to see how you were. How you're doing. This law isn't fun for anyone, I know."
"I'm fine. And you? How's Eliza?"
"She's fine," Michael answered slowly, eyeing her. "A bit stressed about NEWTs, as we all are, right?"
Padma nodded. "Right," she agreed, subtly trying to inch towards her room. Ron was due any moment. "Well, if you'll excuse me, Michael, I have-"
"Bloody hell, you've gone and fallen for him."
Stilling at the threshold, Padma glanced back over her shoulder. "What?"
"You've fucking fallen for him!" Michael accused angrily, taking a step forward. "Haven't you? You fancy Weasley! Did what we had mean nothing to you?"
"What we had?" Padma repeated in disbelief, turning back to face him fully. "We didn't have anything but a few summer letters, Michael, and with the way you're acting now, I'm glad of that! You're married as well, aren't you? Why are you acting like you've got any sort of right over me?"
"Because I thought that after this fucking law was tossed out, I might just!" Michael snapped, and shock speared through Padma when he suddenly took her by the upper arms, squeezing just this side of forceful. "But then you go and act like a stupid bint and fall for the freckly bastard-"
"Get your hands off of her. Right now."
Padma hadn't heard the floo activate, but she certainly heard the calm, quiet voice, threat a heavy shadow. Michael's eyes shot over her shoulder and he let her go instantly, taking two large steps back. A sneer pulled at his mouth.
"You're welcome to each other. Goddamn fucking groupie."
He turned and stormed away, and Padma stared after him with her heart pounding in her throat. A hand touched her back.
"Are you all right?"
"Yes," she whispered, the word wobbling a little, and long arms hesitated very briefly before wrapping around her. She sighed and leant back into him.
"You wanna tell me what that was about?" Ron asked, his voice a rumble against her back.
"Not particularly," she answered, then felt guilty when Ron didn't say anything else. "Fine, all right, but can we do it out of the doorway? I don't want the rest of my house to hear."
"'Course." He reached out and closed the door, then turned and took a seat cross-legged on the floor, watching as she sat and fidgeted on the bed. Padma flicked a glance at him, then quickly looked away.
She had no clue why she didn't want to tell him about Michael.
"Um, it sort of goes back to before the law. Way back. We were writing to each other over the summer, f-flirting and such, and I thought that when we got back to school… but then the law happened. So it didn't. I didn't realize Michael was still thinking it would."
Ron didn't say anything for a moment, and Padma stared at her hands. When he did speak, it wasn't the question she was expecting.
"What do you mean by way back?"
She looked up, surprised, to find his face blank. Padma winced. "For me, yeah, way back. Fourth year. Him, I don't really know, but we started talking after the final battle and well… but nothing happened."
Ron licked his lips. "Because it didn't have chance to?" he asked quietly, and misery tugged at Padma's gut as she nodded. Looking much the same way as she felt, her husband opened his mouth, paused for a moment before closing it again, then blew out a frustrated breath, rubbing his face. The question he didn't ask hung vividly in the air between them.
If the law gets overturned, will you want something to happen?
Suddenly, Padma felt angry. As if she'd ever want to be with someone who'd manhandled her like Michael just had, and shouldn't Ron know that? Besides, he couldn't talk, could he? Look at who he'd been thinking about their whole marriage!
"What about Hermione?"
Ron frowned. "Huh? What about her?"
"Oh don't give me that, you know bloody well what I'm talking about! You tried, it didn't work and you broke up, you need to get over it! Don't make me feel guilty over a few letters when you had an entire relationship!"
"Hold on, where did that come from? There's nothing going on between me and Hermione!"
"But you still wish there was!" Padma shot back, jumping to her feet. Her stomach was churning and tears prickled at her eyes. She knew she was being ridiculous but she couldn't seem to help it. "Admit it! It's always been her and it'll always be her! I'm stuck in a marriage with a man who I never wanted, a man who doesn't take people's heritages into account, a man in love with another woman!"
She stomped towards the door and Ron quickly climbed to his feet and went after her, looking puzzled and angry, and if she wasn't mistaken, a little hurt. "Padma, stop! What's with you? Are you on your rags or something?"
He cringed the moment he said it. Padma gasped in outrage.
"On my rags? On my rags? You know what? Fuck you, Ron Weasley!"
"No, wait! Bloody hell!"
Padma shrieked when he stopped her from leaving the room by wrapping his arms around her again and physically picking her up, carrying her over to the bed. He sat back against the headboard with her in his lap, holding her loosely until her struggles slowed. When she sagged in his arms, he sighed.
"I'm sorry, I'm a tosspot, I shouldn't have said that," he murmured into her shoulder. His thumb brushed along her arm. "I wasn't thinking. But you've gotten me a bit confused here. How exactly did Hermione come up in the conversation? And what did you mean by 'doesn't take people's heritages into account'? I thought we were doing good! Was I wrong?"
Padma sniffed, her anger gone as rapidly as it had arrived. "No," she whispered, feeling like a right idiot. "No, you weren't."
"So why go all wrathful female on me? You're right. Hermione and I are very over, and that's not going to change, even if we both weren't married to other people. We're friends, best friends, but…" he trailed off there and sighed, then turned her chin so that he was looking into her eyes. "All right, so I'm not going to say she didn't mean more to me. She used to mean the world to me. But I'm getting over it, and guess what? You're helping a lot with that." Leaning forward, he gently touched his lips to hers, then pulled back with a nervous, adorably awkward expression on his face. "Shit. Um. Okay, here goes. I l-like you, Padma. I like you very much. I didn't think I would, hell I didn't at first to be honest, but now I like to think we've got something a bit brilliant. A beginning, yeah? Can't I have a beginning with you?"
Padma stared. "You want that?" she whispered. Ron smiled and leant in to kiss her again.
"Yeah, funnily enough, I do."
"Oh." The warmth solidified into something hot, bright and hopeful. "Um, I want that too."
Relief lit Ron's eyes and his head fell forward onto her shoulder. "Oh good. That's good. I'm bloody glad to hear that." He laughed and scrubbed at his hair, pulling back to grin widely at her before shaking his head. "All right, enough mushy shite. Care to explain the people's heritages part of the comment?"
Wincing, Padma pulled away from him. "Can we just forget I said that? Said the whole thing?"
"Don't think so. You brought it up, it obviously means something to you. I wanna know."
Padma scowled and picked at the blanket. She really hadn't meant to say that. It had always been a secret, something only shared between her and her sister. Besides, it wasn't Ron's fault. If it was anyone's, it was the Ministry's.
"Padma?"
"I just… I always wanted a tradition Indian wedding, all right?" she blurted, still concentrating on the bed. "The colour, the ceremony, the endless extended family, the whole shebang. But we didn't have that, and that's okay, I didn't expect us to have that. You didn't know. I didn't tell you or your mother, so it's fine, don't worry about it."
Ron frowned. "Don't worry about it, she says," he muttered, shaking his head, then surprising the breath out of Padma when he grabbed her and pulled her into his lap again, hugging her tight. "I'm sorry, love. Merlin, I always seem to be saying that don't I? I promise I'll make it up to you."
"You don't have to," she murmured, wrapping her arms around him in return. "I'm happy now."
"So am I," Ron replied softly, and Padma sat in his lap and pressed her face into his throat, enjoying the warmth rushing in her chest.
A Ron Weasley-induced warmth. She smiled. And the next morning, when she woke to cool sheets beside her and the murmur of Ron's voice speaking through the floo, asking Hermione if she knew anything about traditional Indian weddings, she flopped back against the pillow and grinned.
Maybe she and Ron weren't such a wrong Match after all.