Written for the Valentine's Day Challenge at RHrLove[dot]com, I'm finally able to bring this here to you :D My prompt was "We should be lovers, and that's a fact!".

Besides my love for that amazingly bizarre musical that "Moulin Rouge!" is, this story has some Shakespeare included. For the record, I love Hermione and I think she's great. But I like to mess with her just for fun ;)

Many thanks to urbanmama1 for being my beta this time! And to you for reading :)

Defying the stars

The atmosphere in the ball room was suffocating, even though there was plenty of space to move and the weather outside was far from warm. Hermione made her way to one of the tables with food, looking forward to having at least a vol-au-vent and two minutes without anybody wanting to talk to her. Harry and Ginny had left her, she still hadn't run into any of her other friends, and she was avoiding Ron as much as she supposed he was avoiding her—that, if he decided to show up.

As she picked a piece of finger food, fanning herself with her free hand, Hermione looked around again. It was a magnificent house, all marble and fine wood and gold; it made her recall Malfoy Manor with unpleasant sharpness. She wished she could have made up an excuse. As good of a cause as it was, a masquerade to collect money involved a level of socializing she could only bear for a short period, and when in a good mood, and when it was around certain kind of people—not precisely the kind of people she had been forced to talk to since she had arrived.

Maybe she could leave soon. Not coming at all had been quickly disregarded. She could not take some privileges for granted, and in any case, she did support the whole idea and the cause it was for. Now that she had been there, however, and everybody had seen her, perhaps, if no one else came to meet up with her, she could—

'Miss Granger, you are not getting bored already, are you? Come here and meet these people...'

Or maybe her retreat would have to wait.

Upon fervent requests that she must stay, Hermione finally got rid of everybody, claiming she needed a little bit of fresh air in the garden. She tried to pull up the neckline of her dress. It was way too revealing for her taste, but she hadn't been able to do anything about it at the last minute.

After a while, Hermione decided to come back inside, if she was not to run away, at least for the moment. She considered taking off her mask. There was no real point in bearing the inconvenience of a limited vision if the people she wanted to avoid recognised her all the same.

Before she could do as she wished, she noticed somebody looking discreetly at her from the opposite side of the room. While everybody was wearing dress robes, along with all kinds of ornate masks, the stranger stood out amongst them from miles away. His long, thin legs were clad in a brownish fabric, feet ending in short suede boots; he was wearing some sort of red velvet robes that barely passed his knees, gathered by the waist with a golden cord; the sleeves were slightly puffy, covering the rest of his arms with the same fabric as his legs. On top of his head, as to complete the outfit, he sported a matching hat with a feather that looked like phoenix, fine as it was, graciously tilted over a shiny mop of copper red hair...

She turned her back to him. It was not even clear whether he had red hair or not, and Ron for sure would never wear those clothes—in public, at least. There was no point in torturing herself with pictures of him, when tonight she missed him more than she had over the past weeks, and needed him more as well; she was the one to take the blame for that.

'Having fun?' a deep, soft voice asked close to her, and now Hermione could not be mistaken. Her heart skipped a beat, but she could still fool him. She didn't look as she did every other day; maybe he had approached her because she looked like any pretty girl, he wanted to heal about her by coming over and try to get going with any women he ran into...

'Sure,' she answered, trying not to give away her voice and without looking at him in the eye. 'Who are—?'

'I know it's you, Hermione.'

'Oh?' Of course you do. 'And... What are you doing here?'

'Well, I obviously came to the masquerade,' he answered, a cocky grin playing on his face.

'I thought you weren't coming,' she said, going for an indifferent tone.

'I had to. Do I need to remind you that I work for the Ministry too, and that I'm considered a bloody war hero too?'

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

'You've made up excuses for smaller things than this. You could have said you were working for an important case or something.'

'Harry came, and everyone knows we work together.'

'This time could have been different. People don't need to know details when you're making an excuse.'

Ron laughed. He looked quite well-humoured, much more than what she had expected and wanted to see.

'You're really set on me not coming here, aren't you?'

'In case you don't remember, we agreed we'd keep some distance between us. Coming to a ball you were most likely not to come at all and coming to talk to me isn't precisely a good distance.'

'You're the one constantly trying to break up with me, I feel no remorse in casually running into you—'

'Casually!'

'—and if you don't like it, you should be the one leaving—'

'I was going to, but not because of you!'

'—because I'm planning on staying.'

'You're impossible,' she sighed.

'If by that you mean "impossibly handsome," as I think you do, thank you.' He offered her a hand. 'Dance with me?'

'No, I don't think so,' Hermione said, turning round.

'Ron, Hermione, great to see you here! Why aren't you dancing?'

'Oh, I'm sorry, Minister,' Hermione replied, turning again to face Kingsley Shacklebolt. She gave Ron a meaningful look before adding, 'I'd love to, but Ron's leaving—'

'That's not true, Kingsley, I wouldn't leave so early.' He returned Hermione's look with a smirk, and offered his hand again. 'If you'd "love to", I won't be the one to disappoint you. Would you do me the honour?'

Having made sure that he was leaving them engaged in dancing, Kingsley disappeared again.

'You are not getting anything out of this, Ron, you know that.'

'We'll see.'

Hermione let him guide her through the crowd; in fact, she also let him place her own hands around him and take the lead as she gritted her teeth. She wouldn't be the one yielding so soon.

'What got you so moody?'

'You, tosser, got me so moody.'

His eyes glinted through the holes of his mask. It was a shade of faded gold, covering most of his face and nose, and it highlighted his blue irises. She knew she was provoking him by using such a word in a public place, but he had to know she was being serious.

'How did you know it was me, anyway? I made some effort, you know, big mask, different hair, fancy dress, and yet I still get recognised!'

'Animal magnetism, maybe. Opposites attract.'

'You asked somebody where I was and they guided you the right way, then.'

'Honestly, Hermione. I've no clue why other people can see through your costume.' He frowned slightly menacingly to invisible people between the two of them. 'Probably they are the ones asking. I know you, better than anyone. I could recognise you even if your whole head was covered with that mask.'

Hermione bit her lip.

Here we go, awkward topic. I can't play a cold game if he's determined not to play along.

She had been doing her best, avoiding him all the time, and she had thought he was following the same plan, since they hadn't seen each other until then. But there he was, flirting with her as if nothing had happened!

'You're glowing tonight.' His hand rubbed the small of her back soothingly, pulling her closer against his body. The stress of the week seemed to calm down; Ron always had that effect on her. He was trying to tame her, yet she couldn't give up this easily...

Hermione sighed again, putting a hand on his chest and firmly pushing him a secure fifteen-inch distance away.
'Ron, why don't you take this seriously? I thought we had agreed that we couldn't go on like this and we should remain ordinary friends...'

'Actually, no.' He suddenly adopted a more serious expression, and his grip tensed around her. 'Probably, during this month you've sort of... sort of... tried to forget about me and think of me as a friend. I've been thinking, though. And I came here to say... to tell you that what I think is... that you and I are past our dancing days.'

Hermione widened her eyes in confusion; something rang a bell. She then gaped as she surveyed him from head to toe and, finally, said in a close-to-shock voice, 'Been doing a bit of reading lately, haven't you, Romeo?'

'Finally, I thought you weren't going to notice!' he exclaimed, suddenly looking very pleased with himself as he looked down at his attire. Hermione vainly hoped he would forget about what he was saying. 'I won't pretend it's not unusual. Since I was coming, I thought I could maybe try to dress a bit differently than everyone else—'

'Which you managed to do... Everyone's looking at you,' Hermione pointed, forcing herself to feel amused rather than fiercely jealous at the stolen glances from the female party.

'And funnily enough, you came as Juliet.'

'I beg your pardon?'

He gently turned her to face an enormous mirror hiding in a corner. The skirt and sleeves of her dress were white, with blue hems, while the bodice was also dark blue, rimmed in gold. Her hair was neatly tucked up in a long plait threaded with golden ribbon, and her mask was matching blue. Together, they did look like the beautiful illustration in her book, the one she had left at Ron's flat and he had apparently decided to keep... and read.

'I daresay I did better than you in impersonating, though. A fancy dress, big deal, while I—'

'Yes, you did dress up, that's clear. It wasn't a costume ball, though—'

'That's why I don't regret not coming as the priest.'

She couldn't help laughing.

Ron's arms were draped about her from behind; his thumb caressed a soft spot on her waist absent-mindedly. Hermione cleared her throat and drove him away from the mirror.

'Will you explain to me the meaning of your quotation now? It doesn't make sense, to be honest. You're not supposed to be Juliet's father, to begin with, and I don't think you're saying we're too old to dance, are you?'

He snorted and shook his head.

''Course not. You shouldn't take things so literally.' He shuffled a bit, looking uncomfortable, as he made her spin around with him. 'Look, this is the deal. You're right about... our situation. It's not good being on and off, on and off, all the time. We're not a couple, and so all we do is shag—'

'Ron!' she exclaimed scandalized, looking around for possible eavesdroppers.

'—and act foolishly and feel awkward all the time. We're not teenagers.'

He had a point, she thought. After the battle at Hogwarts, nothing had worked out as she had imagined. They were together all that summer, but then they were apart and overwhelmed: she was at Hogwarts, he was training as an Auror, and they neglected each other. When they finally found time for their relationship, the honeymoon period was over, and they realised they had to deal with years of knowing each other... and not knowing as well. They stayed together for a year, living under the same roof. Things fell apart. Since then, everyone they knew had given up on them. People assumed they weren't together. They claimed they weren't together... still, they never gave up at spending good quality time alone. They had spent the last two years being daytime friends and night-time lovers. Things had to change. Hermione needed some solidity, and she knew he must need that too.

Now she saw that Ron seemed to disagree.

'We don't work because... maybe because we never really tried. It was easy to just leave it, right? But I'd hate myself if I never tried.'

He sighed and leaned closer to her, his long nose and his mouth brushing her neck and the spot where it melt with her shoulder. If the room had been hot enough already, now she felt it like a sauna.

'Really? And why would you?' she said in a strangled voice, shivering slightly at the contact.

She couldn't yield... but she would.

Hermione leaned backwards to look at him. He smiled and rolled his eyes.

Taking his hand, Hermione led him outside, back to the garden. She heard him chuckling behind her.

The row of tall bushes provided a secluded, dark spot, or so she must have thought, for that's where Hermione dragged Ron. He attempted to kiss her, but she placed both hands on his shoulders and stopped him, looking into his eyes.

'Ron... I suppose I wasn't expecting you to say that.'

'Oh, come on—!'

'No, listen to me now. You're right. We've been dancing around each other for too long, and all we do about it is content ourselves with casual sex—'

'With frequent sex. There's nothing casual about it,' he corrected her, failing at trying not to grin.

'Right. This—'

'Amazing frequent sex.'

'Ron!'

Oh, he loved the teasing.

'This "friends with benefits" thing has grown old, we need to change and move on...'

God, she hated herself for saying that while looking at him.

He, however, took both her hands and prevented her from talking again.

'I know that. It's what I said. I mean, shagging is what we do best...'

Reluctantly, she nodded, blushing in the dark.

'...but there are other things. Why can't we have that all in the same package?'

'What?'

Ron sighed and looked up at the starry sky before lowering his gaze again.

'I say that we should be together, and that's a fact!'

She laughed at his vehemence, but cupped his face in her hands.

'How is that a fact? Facts have some logic, and you're not making much sense.'

Ron struggled for words for a moment, before taking advantage of their closeness and kissing her. She didn't show any resistance.

'By acting out your prayer,' she said breathlessly, 'your sin has been taken from your lips by mine.'

'What are you talking about?'

'Romeo and Juliet... I thought you—'

'I didn't memorize every line in the book, Hermione.' He rolled his eyes. 'That's what you do.'

Hermione hit him lightly on the shoulder. 'I was paraphrasing, actually. You're supposed to take back your sin... kiss me, Ron.'

Her arms surrounded his neck as she pulled him closer.

Kissing her, Ron lifted her off her feet, her legs wrapping around him; he took no time in caressing the bare skin underneath her skirt, all the way up to her thigh. She pressed herself against him and he groaned. Unexpectedly, he pushed her away. Hermione frowned: that was not the reaction she was used to. Hadn't he just been claiming for a compensation for a month of abstinence?

As if he was reading her mind, Ron shook his head, slightly out of breath but looking serious.

'Hermione, I think you're not getting my point.'

'Your point? You were doing a great bit of talking until you kissed me and grabbed my arse,' she said, raising her eyebrows. 'I think your point was made clear with that.'

'No, it's not.' He put her on her feet again, as she huffed. 'If you don't get what I was trying to say, then maybe this is stupid, and I'm wasting my time.'

'Ron, wait! Explain yourself.' She held him by his arm. 'What do you want? How do you want us to be? I think that I... I never actually asked you that.'

'You didn't.'

He sat on a nearby stone bench.

'I want to be with you, but not just at night. All day long, and not in a possessive way, if that's what you're thinking. I want to know that you'll still be there in the morning. You're the one. If I can't think of a future with you, then there is no future.'

Ron talked as if there was nobody there, and Hermione knew it had taken him a lot of courage to say all of that. She felt it too. She had just been too afraid of saying it out loud.

'But we've been there. And it's confusing. That's why I needed to choose between Ron my friend and Ron my... you know,' Hermione said in a little voice.

'You don't have to! I don't want to choose! Bloody hell, Hermione, I love you both!'

Barely more than an awkward stammering, she asked, 'Both?'

'Both... Hermione my friend, the one who memorises her favourite books, uses her voice to fight for others and nags me all the time, and Hermione my "you know", the one whose skin, and body, and whole being I miss when I'm not around her. Wasn't that what you were talking about?'

With a rustle of skirts, she climbed on top of him and clung from his neck, hiding her face on the crook of his neck. Ron felt the warmth of a stream of tears bathing his skin.

'You said you loved me.'

'Of course I do,' he said softly. 'You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.'

'I don't deserve you.'

Ron pulled her apart and lifted her head, etched with salty rivers.

'We're over that, Hermione. Do you? That's the only thing you need to consider.'

Hermione knew what he was talking about.

'Very much.'

'All right, that settles it,' he said, a smile stretching rapidly on his face. 'See, it wasn't that—'

'Maybe more than you.'

She was looking teasingly at him, wiping her tears. It was done. It was what she wanted, and she finally knew it.

'You'll have to prove that, witch.'

To her surprise, Ron lifted her in his arms and kissed her in the middle of her half yelp. Hermione kissed him back, trying to prove it, and melting with him was the only way to do it, but she broke inches apart to whisper, 'Happy Valentine's Day, Ron.'

She thought he might have misheard her, although the only source of noise in that spot were crickets, because, before kissing her again, before Disapparating and attempting to melt with her as they would, he didn't say 'Same to you' or 'Happy Valentine's, Hermione.' He said one word.

'Forever.'