The White Queen
She was a pretty little thing. Blonde tresses that curled just above her shoulder. Big green eyes and a sharpness to them that contradicted the bright polka dots about the dress and the way she curled her hair with her index finger. Not deceptive per say, but more like the woman wanted people to underestimate her. She created opportunities for herself.
Hermione could respect that.
Inger was a woman whose company Hermione enjoyed. The two woman had debated Ministry policies and spell work until well passed the sun rising. Intelligent with a heavy dose of common sense and a drive to be successful. On top of all of that she had a dry humor that reminded her of Ron.
So why did the woman make her blood boil now?
Why did the sight of her with an arm around Harry make a snide remark dance on the tip tongue?
Why did she feel the need to snatch Harry away from this perfectly reasonable, even well-matched date?
Hermione sought to name the feelings snatching at her reason. It was not jealousy. She knew that emotion well, could pin point the times in her life when it had most driven her bad choices and cringed at the results. This was… different. If barely.
There was one intense line of thought running through her though. One greedy, ugly, vengeful thought that wanted nothing more for Inger to burn even as the other woman was making Harry smile and laugh, genuinely.
'Mine.'
Ridiculous, sure. Absurd. Absolutely. And because of these very valid reassurances of her own clearly unreasonable feelings on the matter, Hermione did what she does best. She denied her feelings and denied the situation entirely.
Hermione ignored the irrational thoughts with all the grace and stubbornness in her. Ignored it on Harry's first date and the second and the third. Ignored it as Inger offered a bite of her cheesecake for Harry to taste and he took it. Ignored the disgusting display of affection inside her kitchen last week and in her living room. She ignored the way that woman stayed over sometimes and the stupid grin on Harry's face after one of those nights.
This tactic went brilliantly right up until the moment Ron stepped in.
Because it was against some universal law, it seemed, for Ron to not see the flaw in her otherwise perfect plans. It was as if magic itself compelled him to ruin things for her with the most unconventional of means. And on this occasion he did so over tea.
"Positively infuriating, isn't it?" Ron muttered, gulping the still steaming Lady Earl.
"Hm?"
Hermione sipped at hers, reading the Daily Prophet while carefully ignoring the couple outside her kitchen window in her backyard. Ron grinned at her, the lines along his cheeks, and the blue in his eyes standing out with a boyish knowing glee.
"It isn't going to last, you know. You don't need to be so uppity with her all the time."
"What are you talking about Ronald," Hermione snapped, her tea cup clicking against the saucer a little too hard.
"Inger and Harry."
"I'm perfectly happy for them. Inger is a delightful person." Hermione paused. Hesitating. "And she makes Harry happy."
Ron put down his tea cup, his body sliding, chair and all, over to her side of the table. Gently, as if he were afraid to break her (a habit that had been worrying her more and more lately), he pulled her to him, closing the distance between them. He kissed the top of her head then moved down until his lips were against her ear, pressing his lips there for a long moment, while his eyes lingered outside to the couple. They could hear Harry laughing.
"Your mine, you know?"
"I'm not an object, Ronald Weasley," Hermione reminded him, voice sharp.
"Noticed that, did you?"
Hermione turned her head to see Ron's eyes dancing.
"You are a person," Ron said slowly, dragging his fingers through her hair and then turning her to face him. "You are a strong, powerful woman who could conquer the whole bloody country, but who chooses to save it. One person at a time. You are smart and wonderful and mine."
"I am your girlfriend," Hermione stated. "I am your partner."
"It doesn't matter what you call yourself, 'Mione; girlfriend, partner, lover, soon to be wife, fiancé, life mate, best mate, mate… we've been through too much, seen too much, to just be simple titles." Ron looked out the window again, before his eyes met hers. His large hands cupped her cheeks and he lifted it up, completely serious, so unlike him. "You are mine. I am yours. No matter what. Forever."
Ron leaned forward again, the twinkle back in his eye, before he whispered in her ear.
"And Harry is mine too."
Hermione jerked back, staring at Ron.
Ron stared back, absolutely serious.
"That's not…"
"Traditional?" Ron ventured.
"Harry would never…"
"Maybe."
"Do we tell…"
"It would probably be best to bring him to the idea slowly."
"He won't like us lying."
"He doesn't like people making decisions for him either."
"But… really… this feels a bit like manipulation."
"Not really, it would be his choice, of course, we just have to make him be a bit more open minded about it."
"What if he never…"
"…returns our feelings? I don't think that's the question at this point."
Hermione blinked, taking a sharp breath in, before jerking away from Ron to stand. She looked outside, at the couple, then back at Ron. How could they think that?! How could she think like that? She was appalled at her own reaction.
She was appalled at his reaction.
They didn't own Harry or…
"You fancy Harry?" Hermione blurted. "I don't… I've never thought of him that way. I mean…"
"He's yours," Ron stated. As if it was the simplest thing in the world. As if they were not discussing being in love with their best friend.
"He is mine, but not in that way," Hermione gestured wildly.
"Oh? Then in what way?" Ron prodded, his eyebrows lifting. Ron seemed intent, his voice and manner as if he were in his Auror robes, talking cases with Harry. The voice he used when he already had a good guess as to the end result, but wanted Harry to figure it out for himself. Ron was leading her to the conclusion he'd made.
"Like a brother," Hermione said, firmly.
"That wasn't your natural reaction to it," Ron pointed out, referring to their words not but a minute ago.
"That was inexcusable. I don't know what came over me."
"You have too many emotions inside of you. If you aren't careful, you'll explode," Ron said cheerfully. "Think on it. And when you've realized what a possessive, selfish, greedy person you are… then we'll talk and scheme about how to best take care of Harry. Like always."
"I'm in love with you, idiot, not Harry," Hermione snapped.
Ron smiled.
It was a sweet, dimpled thing.
"I've known longer than either of you," Ron muttered, bringing Hermione closer to him and snuggling there. "That that is only half true."
"I love you," Hermione repeated.
Ron smiled against her ear.
"I know. It took a while to understand, but I know."
"I'm not in love with Harry," Hermione stated, because she needed him to know that. She needed him to know that she would never betray him or leave him. That he was the one she chose and loved.
"Do you remember, three days ago, when you and Harry were down in the basement checking for curses or hexes the Blacks may have left behind?"
Hermione nodded.
"You remember how you found one? How Harry stepped in front of you and deflected it? How it hit the ceiling and sprayed gunk all over you and you instinctively threw your arms around his waist from behind?"
"You saw that?" Hermione asked. "I thought you were upstairs."
"I came down to help out. But then I saw you. The both of you, holding onto each other."
"Ron, that's not…"
"The way you were, was," Ron said firmly.
"I'm not in love with Harry."
"I am. I am in love with Harry James Potter," Ron told her.
Hermione stiffened, pulling away to look Ron in his eyes.
"And I am in love with Hermione Jean Granger."
"Ron…"
"They have my heart. I am theirs, whether they want me or not, whether they accept it or stomp on it or reject it, it is theirs to do whatever they please with it. No one else's."
"You are mine?" Hermione asked.
"Yes."
"I am yours?"
Ron nodded.
"Harry is yours."
Another nod.
"Harry is mine."
"And they say you are the brightest witch of your age."
Hermione hit him on the shoulder, playfully.
"And we just have to convince Harry that he is ours," Hermione murmured.
"No one else's," Ron growled, pecking a kiss to her temples.
"No one else's," Hermione agreed.
"We need a plan…"
"No," Ron said, "We need to let things go on just as they have. Maybe though," and here Ron's eyes sparkled with a mischievous manner. "Maybe make more time for Harry though, at the most convenient of times though."
Hermione looked at the window, at Inger's hand lingering near Harry's, the tips of their fingers touching lightly as they walked along the small path by the tiny garden.
"Of course, only the most convenient of times, no need for this to interfere with anything," Hermione agreed.
"We wouldn't want to be of any trouble to Harry while he's figuring things out," Ron added, taking a large gulp of his tea again. Steam coming from his mouth
"No, never."
They grinned at each other, like school children with a hidden trove of candy.
Her hands entangled Ron's, possessive, needy. Ron took it, clamping on hard. They watched Harry as he talked and flirted with the woman outside their window. They made more tea, enjoyed each other's company and allowed selfish thoughts to filter through, comfortable in the knowledge and feelings of the other.
And Hermione knew, suddenly, with an acute awareness of how ridiculous foresight could be, of exactly what Ron talked about. It made her feel very silly for missing it. But then, Ron was and had always been the one to see things she and Harry blew passed on their way to yet another problem that needed fixing.
They were her boys.
They were her boys.
"How do you do that?" Hermione whispered.
"Do what?"
"How do you see through what I'm thinking and feeling?"
Ron snorted, it was loud and obnoxious sounding and Hermione loved it. Just as she loved Harry's half snigger. Ron's large hand rested around her waist, his own eyes lingering outside the window.
"Well, it took messing up a lot, and realizing that, unlike chess, there is no pattern to your thoughts, Miss. Granger. It took making an arse of myself and failing miserably for years to predict you to realize that you are unpredictable. You are the White Queen, madam. You make the first move and you don't give a damn about who gets in your way."
"Am I?" Hermione asked, amused.
Ron nodded.
"And you and Harry?"
"Well, obviously, Harry is our King. He is the end game. The piece that moves the least, but whose placement and action has the greatest effect on all the other pieces. He is humble and arrogant all in one, tactless and charming, talented and witless."
"Oi!" Harry snapped, stepping through the kitchen's back door to join them with Inger at his side. "I have a feeling, Weasley, that you're talking about me."
"And intuition that would kill us if it wasn't on our side," Ron lamented.
Hermione giggled, falling against Ron in an effort to suppress it.
"Go grab your stuff," Harry told Inger, "I'll escorted you home after I've sorted these two out."
Inger smiled, bidding them farewell before leaving the kitchen.
"Oh Harry, so chivalrous," Ron gushed.
"How do you think he's going to 'sort us out?' Hermione stage whispered.
"Maybe a little silk?"
"Oh no, he's the rough type, our Harry, definitely rope," Hermione deadpanned.
"Quite right, I saw the way he looked at us through the window, practically undressing us."
"Shut up, you twat," Harry swiped at Ron's head. The much taller man ducked, protesting as Harry stole his biscuits as he sat down on the too small bench beside them. Hermione could see Ron's legs knocking against Harry's and Harry's shoulders leaning against Ron.
"So abusive," Ron whispered.
"Don't worry, I'll protect you," Hermione told him.
"So what trouble were you two getting into while I was about," Harry asked, stealing Hermione's cup to tea to wash down Ron's biscuits.
"Our gangly pole of a man here has decided that you are the King in chess and that I am the Queen."
"Yeah?" Harry asked, eyes twinkling. "And what would that make you, Ron?"
"The knight, of course," Ron announced, stealing Hermione's biscuits.
Hermione sucked in a breath. Ron hardly seemed to notice, but Harry seemed as frozen as she herself was. Then, with a hard edge to his voice, Harry spoke.
"As long as the Knight isn't planning on being a sacrificial piece."
"He makes the unexpected moves, the moves no one else can, to protect his King and Queen," Ron said easily, as if suggesting he preferred his cookies with hot chocolate rather than milk. "He's not as vital to the end game as most and there is a replacement for him, should he fail, but most of the time, he doesn't."
"Well then," Hermione said, voice sharp, "I think the first and last move of your Queen, Sir Knight, will be to deflect any idiotic attempts to save her."
"And your King will just have to get a high enough position in the Auror Department to demote your arse to desk work."
Ron raised his empty Tea Cup.
"To selfish thoughts," Ron announced
"And selfish hearts," Hermione added, raising her last biscuit and pinching Ron with her other hand.
Harry raised an eyebrow at them.
"To two people, who I love more than anything else in the world, no matter what they are conspiring against me," Harry touched Hermione'steacup to Ron's and her last biscuit, a touch of amusement in his eyes.
"We're counting on just that, Harry," The White Queen announced.
It was her move, after all.
A/N:
Stay Standing, the last three (separated into five final chapters due to length), will all be posted this Thursday.
So, this ONE-SHOT was all inspired by a writing challenge I entered into.
Check it out here: theprose post /91383 /manifest
You'll have to type it in, of course, as I had to separate it with spaces in order to get it to show up. But like it, follow it, share it.
I thought this might be a nice little gift for you guys as I've been a nuisance in the backside in concerns to posting. I'm still alive! Believe it or not. Just stressing out and working on internships and on my Senior Thesis for Graduation that feels like a million years in coming. BUT it's almost over people! A plethora of Fanfiction awaits!