Author's Note: This is for the Ron/Hermione Competition on HPFC, which is… exactly what it sounds like! To anyone reading any of my other stories (particularly Fred, George and the Secrets of Hogwarts), I'm really sorry about the long wait… I am working on the next update, but I've had a ton of work for school and just haven't had as much time to write as I'd like. Sorry! :(
On another note, Happy Halloween, to anyone who celebrates it! R.I.P. Lily and James Potter.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters (except perhaps Hermione's aunt), and I don't make any money off fanfiction.
Ron Weasley stared apprehensively at the green door in front of him. While it may have looked perfectly innocent and unobtrusive to the untrained eye, it struck fear into Ron's heart. He dug his hands deep into his pockets and fidgeted uncomfortably for a few seconds, before turning to Hermione.
"Couldn't we just go home and make up some excuse?" he said hopefully. "Say you were ill, or something?"
"Ron, if we're going to be getting married in a few months time, then my family will have to meet you at some point in the near future, like it or not. And Auntie Susan's lovely, honestly; you have nothing to worry about."
"It's not that, it's just-" Ron trailed off, trying to think up a plausible excuse.
Hermione sighed impatiently. "You really should have taken Muggle Studies. Just be sensible, and you'll be fine!"
Ignoring Ron's grumbling, she reached up and jabbed a white button next to the doorframe. There was an abrupt ringing sound from inside the house, and Ron jumped about a foot in the air, his eyes flicking around frantically as he searched for the cause of the alarm. His fingers twitched towards his jacket pocket, where his wand was concealed.
Hermione laughed. "It's just the doorbell. Surely you've seen one before?"
Ron's ear tinged pink, and he lowered his hand quickly. "I knew that," he muttered.
Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Of course."
At that point, the door swung open, to reveal a short, bespectacled woman with greying hair. Her hair had been cut short, but Ron was sure that if it had been allowed to grow longer, it would have been at least as bushy as Hermione's. As soon as the woman saw her niece, her face broke into a wide smile and she swept forwards to give Hermione a hug.
"It's lovely to see you again, Auntie Susan," said Hermione.
"You should really come and visit me more often, dear," said Susan, patting Hermione's arm. "You know you're always welcome."
"Thank you." Hermione smiled. "I'd like you to meet my fiancé, Ron."
Hermione reached back, grabbing Ron by the sleeve rather more viciously than was necessary, and tugged him forwards into the doorway.
"So this is the young man I've heard so much about from your father!" said Susan, sounding excited.
"It's nice to meet you, ma'am," Ron said in his most polite voice.
Susan peered at him over the top of her spectacles. Ron shuffled nervously under her gaze, smoothing out his shirt self-consciously with one hand. He hoped beyond hope that he hadn't, say, left his wand sticking out of his pocket.
"Well come on in, come on in. Make yourselves at home; I'll go and make some tea."
Susan bustled off into the kitchen, leaving Hermione to lead Ron down the corridor and into a cozy living room. Ron allowed himself to be pushed down onto a squashy sofa, and he gazed around the room with a combination of wonder and bemusement.
"What's that?"
He pointed at a black, box-like thing in the corner of the room, scrunching up his face in confusion. He couldn't for the life of him work out why anyone would want such an odd ornament in their house.
"It's called a television."
"Oh." There was a pause, and then- "What's one of those?"
"Well, actors film television programmes, which are then played on your television set for you to watch at home," Hermione explained. "And you can-" Seeing that Ron still looked extremely confused, she gave up. "I'll explain later."
"I always knew Muggles were mental." Ron shook his head, feeling rather impressed. "With their tele-whatsits, and all that."
Back in the kitchen, Susan picked up the tray of tea and biscuits she'd just prepared. She carried it into the living room and set the tray down on the coffee table, turning to face Hermione and her fiancé once more. She was enjoying seeing her niece again. Before Hermione had gone away to boarding school in Scotland, they'd been very close, and Susan was glad to see that Hermione, who had always been very bookish, had found someone to settle down with. It was a shame that Ron seemed so ill-at-ease at the moment, but Susan was sure he was just a little shy. She gave the couple a reassuring smile and picked up the sugar tongs.
"Milk? Sugar?" she offered.
"Yes, please," said Hermione.
Susan reached across the coffee table to pick up a lump of sugar, when, with a great crash, Ron leapt up from the sofa. She turned, startled, to see the red-haired man on his feet, staring at the sugar tongs with a look of panic. He had knocked over a stack of books from the mantelpiece beside him, and seemed poised to lunge at the coffee table. Hermione, next to him, let out a small groan and covered her eyes with one hand.
"Is something the matter?" asked Susan tentatively.
"I'm terribly sorry, but I need to examine your sugar tongs," said Ron.
Susan was sure she'd misheard him. "You… Sorry, what was that?"
"Your sugar tongs. There may be a slight problem with them," Ron repeated. "A pair ended up clamped on someone's noise a while back – Dad told me. Just to be safe, you probably shouldn't touch them."
"Sit down, Ron!" Hermione snapped.
She pulled him back onto the sofa and muttered something in his ear. Susan just caught the phrases 'perfectly safe' and 'not all enchanted', and a word that sounded a bit like 'Muggle'. But she had no idea what Hermione meant.
"I'm so sorry about that, Auntie Susan," said Hermione eventually, straightening up. "Ron's been a bit overworked recently, and… well… it's a long story. It was… his brothers. Played a practical joke on him, with – erm – some sugar tongs."
Ron nodded his head frantically, his face turning rapidly turning a lurid shade of crimson. He bent down and began to pick up the books he'd knocked over, jamming them back onto the mantelpiece in a haphazard manner – far from the neat, alphabetised order that Susan usually kept them in.
"It's quite all right, dear," said Susan faintly. She decided to put the matter behind her, and moved on with the conversation. "So, what do you both do for a living? I don't think you've mentioned."
"I work in law," said Hermione, her face lighting up. "I'm very involved in a campaign for elf- sorry, human rights at the moment; it's all very interesting."
"Taken Spew to a whole new level, haven't you, Hermione?" smirked Ron through a mouthful of biscuit.
"It's not Spew, it's S.P.E.W.!" hissed Hermione. She shot a quick glance at Susan and lowered her voice. "And let's not discuss it here, all right?"
Susan blinked a couple of times. Elf rights? Spew?
Perhaps she was just a bit tired, that was all. She hadn't been sleeping particularly well recently – she must just have been hearing things. And she definitely hadn't kept up with all the trends and fashions of Hermione's generation. Spew had to be a band or TV show that Hermione and her friends were into. She wasn't entirely sure how that would fit into the context of their conversation, but… Well, she was certain that everything was totally normal. Susan shook any lingering doubts from her mind and fixed a polite smile to her face.
"What's your job, Ron?"
"Me? Oh, I- Erm- I- You see…" Ron was looking increasingly flustered. He glanced at Hermione, and whispered out of the corner of his mouth, "Hermione, help me!"
"He's a policeman," said Hermione quickly.
"Yes! Yes, I am. That's right."
"That must be interesting."
"Oh, yes. Yes. Very. Yes."
There was a slightly awkward pause, as all three of them looked around at each other, unsure of what to say. Susan took a sip of her tea, just for something to do.
It was at that moment when, just to round off the visit nicely, the lights blinked out. Susan sighed; this evening was turning into one fiasco after another. She was just about to get up to go and find some torches, when Ron sprung from his seat, knocking over the pile of books again. In the dim light, Susan saw him reach into his pocket and pull out something long and sharp-looking.
"What are you doing?" she cried, slightly panicked.
"Calm down, Ron!" yelled Hermione at the same time.
Ron ignored them both. Holding the object out threateningly, he stared around the room. He muttered something under his breath, and a beam of light shone out around the living room.
"Who's there?" Ron said harshly, shining the light into each corner of the room in turn. "You can't fool me with Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder."
"Ron, it's only a power cut!"
"What in the name of Merlin's beard is a power cut? Sounds a bit violent…"
"It's just-"
Hermione's explanation was cut off abruptly. There was a movement out in the corridor, and Ron reacted at once.
"Petrificus Totalus!" he shouted, swinging round towards the source of the movement.
Another beam of light shot from the stick thing – whatever the hell it was – that he was holding, and there was a muffled thud from the corridor.
"Any more of you out there?" Ron called, waving his stick in the air. "Stupefy! Expelliarmus!"
More brightly coloured jets of light shot out through the room. One of them hit the dresser by the wall, and it fell over with a crash, spilling bits of paper and assorted odds and ends over the floor. A window shattered behind them, and above their heads, a light bulb exploded, raining down shards of glass onto the carpet. Susan leapt up from where she'd been sitting, frozen, in her armchair.
"What are you doing? Stop! Stop!"
"Please keep calm, ma'am, I'm a highly trained professional."
He was insane. He was utterly insane.
He was also very dangerous.
"Ron, stop!" Hermione ran to Ron's side, placing her hands firmly on his shoulders.
It was then that the power returned, and the lights that hadn't been blown apart turned on again. The full scope of the chaos was revealed. Shattered glass littered the floor, and Susan's ornaments were lying broken and mangled where the dresser had fallen. She stumbled towards the hallway and saw, to her utmost dismay, the stiff form of her tabby cat, Leo, lying in the doorway. She scooped the cat up to her chest, her breath catching in her throat. Susan turned to Ron and Hermione, her pulse racing with a combination of nerves and outrage.
"I think you ought to leave," she said resolutely.
But Ron and Hermione weren't paying attention – they seemed to be having a hushed conversation of their own. Hermione was gesturing angrily at the wreckage of Susan's home, while Ron looked about, pale-faced and sheepish, rather like a puppy caught in the act of tearing up a newspaper, or ripping some curtains. Susan moved in closer, listening to them talk in low voices.
"-really sorry, Hermione, I didn't know…"
"I told you it was a power cut, you idiot!"
"I repeat, what the hell is a power cut? You know there are still Death Eaters around. I thought-"
"Well you were wrong!"
"I was only trying to protect you, Hermione. I never want anyone to hurt you again…"
Hermione's face softened momentarily, but she quickly rearranged her expression to look disapproving. "I appreciate the sentiment, Ron, but you've just destroyed my aunt's home!"
"Yes. Umm… Sorry about that… But it's the thought that counts, right? Right?"
Hermione's lips twitched upwards into a small smile, and she reached up to brush Ron's fringe out of his eyes. "You know I can't stay angry at you for too long." She let out a slightly forced laugh. "Honestly though, I'm going to have to get you a book on Muggle Studies for Christmas."
"Hermione!"
"You have to learn, Ron," Hermione said. "Right, we've got a lot of tidying up to do before we leave. But first…"
She turned towards Susan, who puffed herself up again, trying to look formidable.
"Auntie Susan, I..." Hermione trailed off.
"I don't even know what's going on any more, dear, but I think... I think you'd better go now."
Hermione looked Susan in the eye, a pleading expression appearing on her face. After a few seconds of tense silence, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a stick-like object, much like the one Ron had been brandishing around only minutes earlier. Hermione sniffed, and Ron stepped forwards. He kissed the top of her head and took her free hand in his, squeezing it comfortingly.
"I'm so, so sorry that I have to do this," Hermione said quietly.
"What are you doing? What's going on?"
"Obliviate."
Author's Note: I'm not totally happy with this one, to be honest… I think my writing's deteriorated a bit over the last few months. Ah well, I hope you enjoyed the story anyway! Any reviews would be much appreciated, if you have a moment to spare. Thank you for reading!