Ron was feeling very conflicted. It was one of his happiest dreams that Harry and Ginny would get married, and now it was coming true. But he could not completely suppress his brotherly instincts that told him to protect Ginny at all costs, and he personally wished they would wait a little bit before jumping the gun. With the wedding only three weeks away, it was becoming increasingly difficult to deal with his excitement and anxiety. He was a best man and brother of the bride, and it was quite an interesting position to be in. Taking a deep breath of cold winter air, Ron stepped into The Leaky Cauldron. He was met by a blast of warm air and the smell of rich food, as well as a few friendly greetings. Yet Ron took no notice of them, and intently searched the room for a single face. Hermione.
He found her sitting in the corner, nose in a book. A smile played his lips, despite the fact that he hadn't slept in several days being overrun with work from the ministry. Desperately pushing down the longing that rose in his chest at the sight of her, he began to walk to the tiny table. The stresses and survivor's guilt had flourished after the battle of Hogwarts, and they never really had the chance to discuss their kiss. Ron was almost convinced it had never happened; the whole day seemed like a blur to him. A terrible dream from long ago. They were still friends, and regularly met up for drinks to discuss their busy lives. And that's all I need, Ron lied to himself.
"Earth to Hermione," he joked, resting his hands on the table. She jumped, and her cheeks flushed to Ron's delight.
"Sorry, sorry!" she replied, closing her book quickly.
"What are you reading anyway?" Ron asked, sliding into the plush booth, and allowing himself to lean over her shoulder in the pretense of reading her book's title.
"Since when have you cared what I read?" Hermione laughed, and it was Ron's turn to blush at the honesty of her words. The truth was, he hadn't cared. Until now.
"I suppose I'm maturing," Ron answered airily, and she laughed again. It felt good to laugh after so much stress, and dread, and pining… Ron had never noticed how much he needed Hermione until he didn't get to talk to her everyday, see her everyday. Their kiss had fully ignited a long-stewing love for her, and it was beyond painful to pretend it never happened. That had been about a year and a half ago, but Ron felt like the Battle of Hogwarts was yesterday. He could still hear the screaming, if he listened hard enough. He could still see Harry's body, if he looked hard enough. He could still feel Hermione's lips on his, if he remembered well enough…
"Ron?" Hermione asked, concern etched on her face, "Are you alright? Your eyes went blank… Is my book really that boring?" Hermione laughed nervously.
"No, no," Ron replied, sitting up in his seat, "I'm just, tired. Work at the Ministry is taxing, as you know. I'm tired."
"Right…" Hermione said, narrowing her eyes. She never missed a beat, that one.
"Really, I'm fine. So tell me about that book again. I swear I'm listening," Ron continued, propping his chin on the palm of his hand, setting his elbow on the table and widening his eyes. Hermione laughed again, and Ron couldn't help but noticed how pretty she was when she laughed.
Hermione went on about her book for a good fifteen minutes before bringing the conversation back to a place Ron dreaded: himself.
"So how have you been?" Hermione's words were a thinly veiled attempt at getting him to open up. It was no secret that Ron wasn't doing well at work. Compared to Harry, who seemed to have a knack for the Auror career, Ron was failing. He couldn't stay on task, couldn't handle the workload. He was drowning, and anyone with eyes could see it. It was especially hard do discuss this with Hermione, who was beyond successful at her job. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before she became the Minister of Magic, for she was already in control of two departments. Yet looking into her chocolate-caramel colored eyes, reflecting the warm light of the pub, Ron couldn't stop the words from coming out. He told her everything. He told her how he was failing, how he couldn't keep up. He told her how tired he was, how he still had nightmares. He told her how alone and isolated he felt, how some days he wouldn't talk to anyone at all. He even told her his doubts about Harry and Ginny's wedding. He talked until his mouth was dry and his voice was faltering, and then,
"Hermione, I miss you. I miss you a lot. I miss your quips, I miss your laugh…" Ron's voice cracked and he realized what he was saying, but the raw desperation was fighting a strong battle inside of him. Hermione's face didn't change, although she had been listening and talking to him the whole time. It was that moment when Ron realized the little pub was nearly empty, and it had to be nearing 1:00 in the morning. They had been talking for hours. Hermione said nothing, merely stood up and began to walk to the door.
"Hermione wait!" Ron yelled, running after her. She had opened the door to the little pub, and was stepping out into the pitch black night. It was pouring an icy rain outside, the leathery sheets slashing into the pavement. A few street lamps were lit, their halos turned hazy by the rain. Ron dashed forward desperately, out of the cozy bar and onto the unforgiving night. Hermione was a splotch of black steadily walking away from him, threatening to disappear into the darkness
"I'm sorry!" Ron yelled over the rain, "Please just talk to me!" Ron had nearly caught up to her when she stopped and spun around. They were only a foot apart, and neither could feel the rain slowly spreading through their clothes and soaking their hair. Hermione's eyes were glittery in the glow of the street lights, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.
"Ron, I miss you too you idiot!" Hermione yelled, her voice full of misery. "I miss Hogwarts, I miss being the best. I have only been working at the ministry for five months, but they keep piling on more responsibilities! I love the work, but I'm starting to slip! I can't slip Ron!" Hermione was shrieking hysterically now, her shrill voice rising over the rain as words poured out of her. She broke into desperate sobs, and Ron wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest. They stood like this, collapsing into each other, for what seemed like an eternity. Two drowning souls in the rain. Soon enough, the eerie third plane of existence was broken as Ron began to speak.
"We are going to freeze out here," Ron said loudly over the pouring rain, giving Hermione a comforting squeeze. "My apartment's just over there, we can dry off."
Ron took off his jacket and held it out over Hermione's head as they sprinted down the street, nearly slipping on the wet cobblestones. He threw open the door to his run-down apartment complex, ushering Hermione inside. They stood, their teeth chattering, in the tiny landing lit only by a flickering light. One look at each other, and they started laughing. Not the laughter of two sane people, but the kind of laughter that comes from broken people. People who are struggling to keep it together. They laughed through their tears. They laughed at nothing, and everything. They laughed until their chests ached and they struggled to breathe.
"Nice place you have here," Hermione giggled as their laughter subsided.
"Why thank you," Ron replied, before hiccuping. This made Hermione laugh harder.
"Are we drunk or something?" Hermione chuckled nervously, as though afraid it might actually be true, although they only had coffee.
"No, I think we are just falling apart…" Ron answered, his voice faltering as he tried and failed to smile. "My apartment is right over here, number 7," Ron motioned to a green door, with a shiny bronze number quite out of place in the shabby building.
He fumbled around for his key, then clicked it into the lock and pushed open the door. The apartment consisted of a main room with a ratty maroon couch and scuffed coffee table covered in papers, and a shelf full of books. A few newspaper clippings had been framed on the wall, including "Hermione Granger Flourishes at Ministry; Where Will She Go Next?". Ron blushed, he had forgotten about that. The cover picture was a polished Hermione in a navy suit, waving into a crowd of reporters and beaming. That Hermione looked nothing like the Hermione standing before him, soaking wet, hair a mess, and eyes puffy with tears and hysterical laughter. He thought they were both beautiful.
In one corner of the main room was a sink full of dishes, a stained linoleum counter with a few cabinets, and a fridge decorated with nearly twenty magnets. There was a magnet of the Hogwarts crest, a magnet of the Chudley Cannons logo, and many magnets that were photographs of his family and friends. A round table stood nearby, covered by a patchy tablecloth and also full of papers. A few folding chairs were scattered around it, most of them covered by MORE Ministry papers. The walls were painted a bland gray, and the dinghy wooden floor had scuffs and gashes in it. There were two doors on the opposite wall, one to the bathroom and one to the bedroom. Hermione looked around the room, her face showing her concern.
"Ron… don't they pay you at the Ministry?" she asked.
"Um yeah… It's just I don't really have the time to clean or decorate or look for a new apartment. And uh… I haven't been doing very well lately…" Ron trailed off, his voice full of pain.
"Scourgify," Hermione said clearly, whipping out her wand. When she said the spell, Ron could see the old Hermione shining through. It's leviOsa, not leviosA. The memory had faded through so many years, but Ron smiled. It was a simpler time.
"Don't you remember the spell?" Hermione asked, her voice strengthening as papers whipped around the room and formed neat piles on the coffee table, and the dishes began to scrub themselves.
"I don't know… It just kept getting worse and worse.." Ron responded abashedly.
"I can't imagine the state your bedroom is in then," Hermione said primly, peering at the door.
"And why do you care what state my bedroom is in," Ron answered cheekily, and Hermione blushed.
"I-I don't care, I mean… I… Oh Ronald!" Hermione fumed, and Ron laughed. It felt like old times. Hermione snorted, and took off her jacket.
"Oh yeah, towels… Sorry," Ron said, and made his way to the bathroom, where he got two clean towels. Back in the main room, Hermione had taken off her sweater and was squeezing her voluminous hair out in the sink. Her tight white undershirt showed off her curves, and Ron stopped.
"What are you looking at?" Hermione quipped, catching Ron's appreciative gaze.
"You," Ron replied simply, and now it was Hermione's turn to blush. In three long strides, Ron crossed the room until he was only six inches from her.
"Here," he said, but his voice was no longer light and teasing. Notes of longing were woven into his words, and Hermione took the towel, not breaking eye contact. Slowly, Ron took off his shirt, completely sodden after using his jacket to protect Hermione from the rain. Hermione's eyes widened, and lingered on his toned physique.
"Well at least you've had time to exercise," Hermione said softly, and she lightly skated her fingertips across his chest. The tips of Ron's ears blushed scarlet at her sudden show of affection, but he didn't flinch. The air between them was charged now, thick and heavy.
"Just lucky I guess," Ron responded, his voice husky. As though someone had cued them, they rushed towards each other, closing the miniscule gap between them. Their lips met, and they kissed each other as though it was their last day on earth. They kissed with the familiarity of lovers, and the safety of friends. Hermione ran her hands through Ron's hair, and Ron pulled her body flush to his. Her fingertips glided over his still wet back, and he shivered with delight. His lips left her mouth, and began to kiss her along her jaw. Sighing with pleasure, her fists knotted in his damp hair. All of their pent up passion and longing was exploding out of them, lighting the room on fire. He picked her up and she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, making him groan softly. He carried her across the room like she weighed nothing.
"I love you Ron," Hermione gasped breathlessly in his ear. "More than you know."
"Love you too 'mione," Ron responded, his voice rough with desire, his chest exploding with joy. They stopped for a moment, and looked each other in the eyes. Ron's blue ones searching Hermione's brown ones, asking an unspoken question. Hermione nodded once, and Ron smiled as his lips met hers once more. He kicked open the door to his bedroom, and they collapsed onto the bed, intertwined. A tangle of broken souls creating a whole one.