Hermione & Ron's first dance
by 3ethweasley
'I like this song,' said Luna, swaying in time to the waltz-like tune, and a few seconds later she stood up and glided on to the dance floor, where she revolved on the spot, quite alone, eyes closed and waving her arms.
'She's great, isn't she?' said Ron admiringly. 'Always good value.'
But the smile vanished from his face at home: Viktor Krum had dropped into Luna's vacant seat. Hermione looked pleasurably flustered, but this time Krum had not come to compliment her. With a scowl on his face he said, 'Who is that man in the yellow?'
'That's Xenophilius Lovegood, he's the father of a friend of ours,' said Ron. His pugnacious tone indiacated that they were not about to laugh at Xenophilius, despite the clear provocation. 'Come and dance,' he added abruptly to Hermione.
She looked taken aback, but pleased too, as Ron lead her onto the dance floor.
'Are they together now?' asked Krum, momentarily distracted.
'Er- sort of,' replied Harry.
Ron hesitated as he took Hermione's hand in his own and lead her further into the dancing throng, away from the knowing smirks of his friends and family. He knew that he needed to get away from them before it became apparent to Hermione that the pink blotches on his cheekbones were not from the crowded tent, but they were, in fact, the infamous Weasley blush. It wouldn't do for Hermione to think that Ron was nervous around her, because he wasn't- was he?
"Are you planning on dancing at all?" Hermione asked dubiously. "Or did you change your mind and decide that we're going on a hike instead?"
Ron stopped abruptly, causing Hermione to stumble in her uncharacteristicly high heels. Ron's hand shot out to steady her, with his Keeper reflexes, his deep blue orbs finding Hermione's as she regained balance.
Their eyes met and for several slow seconds the music drained out, everybody else becoming a blur around them. Ron found himself crumbling in the magnitude of her big brown eyes, and he wondered if how he had never previously noticed the glittery sparkles within them. Her eyes flickered towards his full pink lips, before fluttering back to his eyes, seeming slightly more flustered than before, yet still not making any motion to move away. Not thinking about what he was doing, Ron bent his neck forward a couple of centimetres, Hermione mirroring his actions.
He could smell her perfume, unable to decipher whether it was vanilla or something more floral scented, but he was distracted from his ponderings by the warmth of her breath on his chin… she tilted her head up just a fraction more… they were so close- Ron's bottom lip grazed lightly upon her upper-
Crash
Ron felt a weight bang into the side of his body; his only plausible thought being 'what the bloody hell was that?', and he wasn't on about the weight that had pushed him aside. He looked up to get Hermione's reaction, when he realised that she could be in danger.
He instantly flew one arm out, effectively covering Hermione, as the other scrambled in his back pocket for his wand. It was a natural instinct for him nowadays, having spent over a year living constantly on the edge knowing that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was back. His eyes shot up, taking note of a couple, but Ron didn't have time to register what the identity was of the person who had crashed into them, before another wizard spun round and tripped him up, sending him sprawling backwards. He would have most definitely knocked over the ice sculpture of Bill and Fleur had Hermione not had enough wits about her to cast 'Protego!' just in time.
'So much for being macho,' thought Ron as he sprung back to his feet, in a defensive crouching position. He looked around to see several of the guest's eyes on him, one particular little girl giggling, the others gawping in an amused way as though watching a theatrical show.
"Woah, sorry mate," called a rogue sandy haired man, whom Ron vaguely remembered being introduced to. The man continued to whirl around his partner, before she batted his arm away and dragged him over to formerly apologise to Ron. She had light ginger hair and a stern face, and Ron definitely recognised her, and yet he couldn't place the name.
"You can put that wand away right now, young man, we're at a wedding and there shall be no duelling." She chastised him in a way that reminded him somewhat of Professor McGonagall. "Ronald, isn't it? Yes- I simply cannot keep up with you lot, the way Molly and Arthur keep popping them out… Anyway, you're not hurt are you?"
"Erm, no," Ron said. 'Well, physically anyway, I can't say the same for my pride though,' he thought, glancing at Hermione in embarrassment.
"Good, good. Now, don't you mind Tommy here, he's all rough and tumble but he has a heart of gold really. He proposed just last week; what with the war and everything, you don't want to be living with any regrets, one day you could be there and the next, poof!- you're nothing but a bunch of memories and a pile of ashes. Do you remember me? No, I don't suppose you do, it has been a while… but I'm your father's second cousin, Tallulah, which makes Tommy your… I don't know. I'm not good at this sort of stuff but you're related anyway. I think you two should maybe get to know each other, come on, let's grab that table and sit down for some bonding, no time like the present-"
Ron sent Hermione a begging glance, as he racked his own brain to form some sort of valid excuse.
"Actually Tallulah," Hermione divulged sweetly. "I do hope you don't mind but I simply love this song and Ron here promised me a dance. We were just about to- do you mind?"
"Ah- I see," Tallulah nodded, sending what she must have thought was a knowing smirk between the two. "Let's leave these two love birds alone, Tommy."
Ron tried not to let her parting sentence get to him as he let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. What was it with all of these guests thinking that he and Hermione were a thing? "It's exhausting, all this family stuff is! I guess we have to thank your quick thinking for that one."
Hermione grinned, watching the retreating back of the couple and Tommy twirled Tallulah away. "She's not that bad, seemed quite nice really-"
"Yeah but she make me shattered just looking at her, so I owe you one!"
Hermione blushed prettily and shook her head, a nervous (coy?) grin, of which Ron had never seen before, settling on her features. "So how are you going to repay me?"
Ron was surprised at the bold question coming from Hermione, and although he was usually clueless, she was a girl and he knew what she was hinting at.
"Dance with me?" He asked questioningly.
"Oh, a real charmer you are," she laughed, but stepped closer to him all the same.
If charm was what she wanted then who was Ron to argue? He smiled a crooked grin which made her heart flutter, as he bent onto one knee and tentatively took her hand, as though afraid of rejection.
"Will you, Hermione Jean Granger, please give me the honour of a dance?" Ron let a jesting smile take over his face but Hermione could tell that it was just a façade onto which he could fall back onto if necessary, which it wasn't.
"I'd love to," she smiled appeasedly, squeezing his hands in reassurance.
Summoning up his Gryffindor courage, Ron led her to the edge of the spacious dance floor, thankfully out of view of familiar redheads. As Ron looked around, all he could see were hoards of intimate couples around him, and he had to admit, they were making him nervous. Did Hermione expect Ron to behave like those men?
Ron placed one hand unsurely on her shoulder, and then looked at her nervously.
"Honestly Ron, I don't bite!" she said condescendingly, but her eyes were kind, making him feel more relaxed.
"Sorry, but you're quite a bit different to McGonagall!" Ron argued, thinking back to fourth year during their ballroom dancing lessons during which he was forced to dance with McGonagall. Ron shuddered as Hermione laughed at the memory, both of them feeling slightly more at ease.
Hermione took the opportunity to place one hand delicately onto his shoulder, opening up her waist, where Ron now had no excuse but to move his hand there.
It wasn't that he didn't want to, because admittedly, Hermione had a decidedly lovely body, it was just that she's… well, Hermione.
Ron had been aware of his growing feelings of her for some time now, but this whole thing was still so new, he couldn't believe that this here was the girl that came storming into their carriage on the train all those years ago, demanding the whereabouts of a toad names Trevor. And still, Ron couldn't deny the shivers that were swimming around body, forming an unfamiliar routine in the pit of his stomach. It was a very foreign feeling to him, but he knew precisely what it was. Bloody Butterflies.
They couldn't really talk anymore as the music had rendered too loud, and Ron was getting worried that Hermione was growing impatient with him, and so he took the lead and they began rocking around on the floor in time to what Ron considered to be a rather fast paced song for dancing.
The song came to an end all too soon, and the live band began to play a quieter, slower number. Ron looked around, and decided that his best bets were to take the lead from the more experienced males around him. Ron shifted his hand to the small of her back, smiling lopsidedly albeit apprehensively, at her as she looked up to face him.
The duo was suddenly much closer than before, with very little room between their two bodies. Ron became very aware of the fact that those damned butterflies were beginning to travel downwards slightly. He began to feel rather awkward and uncomfortable, not knowing what to do.
Hermione didn't seem to sense this change of atmosphere, and if she did, then she didn't pick up on it; simply laying her head upon his chest instead, which, Ron hastened to notice, fit very snuggly into the contours of his fairly muscular chest. He began to relax when he heard her little sigh of contentment, a sigh which made his heart swell. It seemed to him that Hermione was more in the lead of that particular song, as they began revolving slowly around on the spot.
The song soon changed again, and this time they danced clumsily for a couple of fast, waltzy songs, becoming comfortable with themselves, both laughing- with and at the other- too much to care about the fact that they would undoubtedly look like fools to any spectator.
Neither noticed the crowded dance floor thin out as the slower, quieter music came on. Hermione fell against Ron's warm chest, exhausted, and he understood exactly what she wanted. He pulled back and tugged at her petite hand. They both stumbled over to the edge of the room, in a cool and secluded corner, passing the bar on the way, so they now both donned a Firewhisky.
Ron sat down on one of the delicate golden chairs, indicating Hermione to the one next to him. She kicked off her heels and lounged sideways on her seat; head resting on Ron's shoulder, knees tucked up, and her aching feet on a different chair completely. Ron wrapped his arm around her once again, and, using the new found bravery the alcohol had given him, he pulled her closer.
Raising his head and looking around, Ron noted that there were only several couples remaining on the dance floor: a couple of middle aged sorcerers that he didn't recognise, the newlyweds, his parents, and- he realised scowling – Ron's little sister with his best friend, much too close than Ron was comfortable with.
Hermione noticed the frown on his face and followed his gaze. "Don't," she whispered, snuggling deeper into him. "Leave them to it. Give them tonight. He deserves at least that."
"What?" Ron replied, rather more grumpily than before.
"They are in love, Ron, don't you see?" Hermione concluded in an exasperated tone. "Harry never planned on leaving her, but in his opinion, he simply had no other choice! He couldn't risk her, she means too much to him. He thinks that by being with her, he's making her vulnerable to Voldemort as he might have used her to get to him, like he did with Sirius,"
'I- I know that.' Ron sighed sullenly. 'But it's not fair, on her- on either of them. She was so torn up after he ended it, and he knows they can't get back together. Why is he leading her on?'
"None of this is fair," Hermione gestered widely with her hands, insinuating about the war. "But I think we both know that those aren't his intentions. Both he and Ginny are well aware that tonight is more than likely to be the last time they'll get to really spend with each other- could you really deny them of it?'
Ron didn't answer her question, for he knew she was right. She was always right. It came naturally with being the smartest Witch of her age and all… but her words made him think of something else. He had known full well when he offered himself forward for this stupid Horcrux hunt that it would probably be, quite literally, the death of him- but even so, he had never really allowed himself to think about how this would entail such limited time.
'Hermione-' Ron faltered.
'Yes?' She questioned, looking up at him through her thick black eyelashes, silently encouraging to continue.
'Hermione, what if-' Ron drained his Firewhisky in one long gulp, buying himself some thinking time- but also figuring that a little bit of Dutch courage never goes amiss. 'What if this is the last time that we, us, just you and I, will ever get to spend properly with each other? You know, on our own.'
Hermione looked up at him, giving him her full attention. Could this possibly be what she had been waiting for, for Merlin knows how long?
'If you knew we'd never get another moment like this, what would you do?' Ron continued, noting Hermione's rapid attention.
Hermione sucked up her courage; she knew what Ron was getting at anyway, and whispered in return: 'I'd ask you what you made of Viktor's comment, and Harry's response.'
'What do you mean?' Ron asked carefully, although he knew full well what she meant.
"You know," Hermione felt the blush rising to her cheeks. "When harry said how we were sort of a couple to Viktor Krum."
Ron remembered part of their conversation from earlier on that evening.
'Are they together now?' asked Krum, momentarily distracted.
'Er- sort of,' replied Harry.
Ron smiled and felt the corners of his mouth tugging upwards as he caught a random waiter who conjured him a drink. "Honestly?" Ron queried as he took another gulp of Firewhisky.
Hermione nodded bashfully.
"Well, I was wondering what made Krum ask the question in the first place, you know, why he even presumed that you and I were together. I mean all the time that he knew you; we reassured him that the two of us were just best friends, nothing more, nothing less.
"I was also thinking why Harry, who knows the two of us better than anyone, would reply that we sort of are. He knows better than anybody that we're not dating."
Ron looked down carefully at Hermione to gage her reaction. He noticed the crestfallen look on her face, and the blatant disappointment, before she tried in vain to conceal her emotions. Ron suddenly noticed how harsh his words must have sounded to her, and dangerously not thinking about what he was saying, he ploughed on to correct himself. "And yet, I found myself to be thankful to Harry at the same time, for ensuring that Krum didn't interrupt us. I was a bit… confused too; a part of me thought that Harry's reply of that we were 'sort of' together just wasn't the equivalent of what we are… it didn't seem enough."
Hermione felt a familiar feeling begin to rise within her. Hope. Hermione knew she needed to be sure of anything before she let that feeling become prominent. 'What didn't seem enough?'
'Well, it just didn't seem like a good enough title for the two of us. It was a bit too… casual."
Hermione's face lit up once again, as she watched a jumble of emotions pass through Ron's features.
Horror, as he realised his confession.
Then lust, as he looked down at her.
Next came hope; a feeling in which he mirrored Hermione.
And finally, anitcipation, as he awaited her answer.
Hermione leant in closer to his face, knowing at long last that it was what he wanted. She tilted her head up, stopped and smiled.
'I agree,' she breathed.
Ron sucked in a quick breath of air, a joyous grin forming, reaching his eyes, making them glisten- just as a flash of light suddenly appeared, interrupting the two as they spun around, in search of the source, which had begun to emit a booming voice, which was to be recognised as Kingsley Shacklebolt's.
'Bloody typical,' thought Ron, as Hermione stood up from their perch, leaving him hanging for the second time that night. Ron sighed and switched his attention to the glowing Patronus.