So this is my very first story and I'm TREMENDOUSLY excited. There will be three chapters, but if you happen to stumble accross this one first and enjoy it, I appreciate feedback. Very much. Even the flaming kind.
DISCLAIMER: No copyright infrigment intended. All recognizable characters belong to JKR.
Chapter 1
Christmas Day, 1996
It was yet another delightful, event-filled Christmas morning at the Burrow. The rickety old house was dusted with a thin sheet of white, sparkling snow, and the inhabitants huddled inside it were sitting comfortably around a roaring fire in the sitting room, enjoying a nice, warm cup of tea. It was, in fact, such a beautiful morning, that two particular individuals had momentarily stopped their exasperating bickering, which, as Harry Potter recounted, had been going on for four months straight. It was such a beautiful morning that it seemed impossible for anyone to be upset. The fire was flooding everyone with warmth, and laughter was filling the room with its irrepressible glow of happiness. The people in the room were exchanging gifts and friendly Christmas greetings as if nothing could dampen their spirits.
"That's bloody well more like it," Harry thought to himself as he saw Ron smile widely at Hermione, who returned the favor. He had never in his life seen two teenagers who quarreled more than they did, and it was always over the silliest things. For example, Ron hadn't tried hard enough on his potions paper, or Hermione hadn't been paying attention while watching Ron's last Quidditch match. At present, however temporary it may be, (Harry got the feeling that this armistice would last only as long as the holiday), they were at least on speaking terms.
These two had been his best mates since his first year at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and despite Ron and Hermione's relentless arguing, they had always been the "trio". However, this year in particular had been extremely difficult for all three of them. Harry found himself too busy to spend much time with either of them, Ron was going out with Lavender Brown, which for some reason infuriated Hermione, and Hermione was doing what she had always done best: smothering herself in her school books.
"Hey, Harry! This one's for you!" Ron's brother Fred tossed a gigantic, red, box over Hermione's head and into Harry's arms.
"Blimey, what's in this thing?" Harry exclaimed as he nearly fell over with the sudden impact of 60 pounds on his chest.
"Just open it, git!" Fred's twin George pitched in. Harry fumbled with the box, finally hauling it open and pulling another, smaller box out of it with the title "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes" stamped on it.
"Brilliant!" Harry chuckled, not daring to open the box in front of everyone as he was quite sure he was about to be pranked. "You know were not allowed to bring this stuff to school, right?"
"Since when have you followed the rules, Potter?" George questioned, smirking.
"Besides," Fred pitched in, "We wouldn't have a business if it hadn't been for your generous contributions. Well, what are you waiting for, an apocalypse? Open it!"
Before Harry was forced to reveal the box's contents, however, he was caught off guard as Mrs. Weasley bumped into him, dropping a present in his lap and patting him on the head.
"Ron, Hermione!" She strode over to the two, a couple of lumpy packages in her arms.
"I knew it," Ron mumbled.
"Here you are!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed as she deposited the bundles into Ron and Hermione's arms. "Well, how do you like them?" she asked as Ron unwrapped yet another itchy, maroon, home-knitted sweater, and Hermione a new red and gold scarf with a matching hat.
"Oh Mrs. Weasley, they're lovely!" Hermione said as she embraced Ron's mother. Ron simply stared at his own gift and mumbled, "Yeah, thanks mum." It appeared as though she hadn't even heard him.
"Yes, Hermione, I knew they would look beautiful on you! And school spirit as well!" She wrapped the scarf around Hermione's neck and placed the hat on her bushy, brown curls.
"What do you think, Ron?" She asked her son, turning again to his present.
"She, er… she looks great." He looked Hermione in the eye and tried to ignore the fact that his ears were turning beet red. Hermione muffled a giggle.
"She meant about your sweater, Ron."
"Oh, right. It's brilliant, mum." Never mind his ears. Now his entire face matched the uncomfortable woolen sweater he had just unpacked. He wasn't denying what he said, however. Hermione did look great. She looked… gorgeous. Ron felt like hitting himself. He was the one that got himself into this mess, and he should be able to climb up out of it. He should be able to face up to Hermione and tell her that he had never liked Lavender, and that he had just been using the blonde to make her jealous. He should be able to talk things out with Hermione, to explain how desperately annoying Lavender was being and to whine about how he could never get away from her cute little pet names or syrupy love poetry she wrote to him during classes. Whenever he saw her face in the hallway, he wanted to run away. Only he couldn't; she would always chase him and eventually attempt to snog his head off.
He was hopeless. There was no way that he could ever tell Hermione about his feelings for her. It was as if there was a huge roadblock between them, constructed of his pride and selfishness and shallow lies, and it was preventing the two of them from ever having a decent conversation. Nevertheless, he had tried to remedy his situation. He had hoped that buying her an elaborate Christmas present might make her forget about the animosity between them long enough to realize that she might actually have feelings for him as well. He had pooled his money with what Fred and George had reluctantly surrendered to him only if he begged, and had purchased an extravagant, boxed collection of titles from her favorite authors. It contained four books she had checked out at least 20 times in the last 6 years and had always wished to own for herself.
"So… Hermione, I er… I got you a Christmas present," he spoke into her ear once as soon as he was sure his mother was gone.
"Oh? Well I got you something too I suppose. It's not much, it's just – "
"Oi! Ronnykins!" A shout echoed across the room, interrupting her and making Ron wish that he had paid more attention when they were learning how to apparate. "We got a little something here from your girlfriend!" Fred was standing on a chair, making sure everyone in the room could see him properly, and was clutching a parcel that had just been delivered by owl. Ron's face turned scarlet for the second time in five minutes.
"She wouldn't…" He groaned, but Fred was already tearing the paper apart.
"Hey, NO! That's mine! Fred!" Before he could cross the room, his brothers had burst into fits of hysterical laughter, holding something large and red in their hands.
"Your sweetheart, eh?" George hooted, clutching his stomach. Ron snatched the object from them before they could do any more damage. It was a large, red, heart-shaped necklace, and just as George had announced, on the front it read "My sweetheart." This was the last straw. He felt his neck burning. He glanced desperately at Hermione, who was already granting him a scowl assuring him that he had ruined Christmas. Leave it to Lavender to spoil everything, even when she wasn't there.
"Um, Hermione," he started, walking slowly back over to her and trying to hide the large heart behind his back. "It's sort of a joke, you see, she was just-"
"It's not really helping anyone if you lie your way out of this, Ron. You've already shoved your foot in your mouth."
"What? I didn't even do anything! It's Lavender, she's the one who –"he stuttered for a second, unsure of how to proceed, but then picked it up right where he had always wanted to. "You're just jealous! You don't know what you're talking about!" Hermione's face transformed from a look of mild amusement to one of absolute horror.
"JEALOUS? Is that what I am! Or have I always been jealous of your girlfriend all along?"
"She's not my girlfr-"
"And don't you dare tell me I don't understand what's going on! I understand completely! You're going out with her because you knew it would make me angry, and she was the only stupid blonde you could find who is both easy to manipulate and interest-grabbing. Because that's really all you want, isn't it? Attention! You want to be in the spotlight of everything, and when you're not, you want to cry in your room and feel sorry for yourself. And you know what?" She rummaged through her handbag and withdrew a little metal box. "You can just have your Christmas present."
Ron fingered it for a moment, feeling a bit let down.
"Er, what is it?"
"Muggle breath mints. They make your breath smell better. You know, for when you're snogging Lavender and all that…"
If she weren't a girl, he would have hit her.
"That's not the present you got for me."
"Well they're useful, and it's not like I go around snogging people's heads off in my spare time."
This was getting ridiculous. He couldn't so much as inhale without setting this girl over the edge.
"Why do you always have to be such a-"
"Such a what, Ron? Because I don't think you're in any position to be calling names at the moment."
"I wasn't going to call you anything!"
"Oh, really? Because it sure sounded like you – "
"RON!" Mrs. Weasley was back, and Ron wasn't sure how much of their argument she had caught.
"What do you think you're doing, picking an argument with Hermione on Christmas Day?"
"But I wasn't – "
"Just because you're in a bad mood doesn't mean you have to devote your full attention to making everyone else miserable!"
"Mum, I'm not even… I only –"
"DON'T argue with me, young man!" she screeched. "UPSTAIRS! NOW!"
Ron jumped when he heard his mother yell. She usually reserved most of her wrath for the twins, and he wasn't used to her blowing up, full steam, in his face. This was indeed an interesting morning.
"Fine," He muttered, throwing Hermione a pathetic look of defeat. She returned it with a heartless, stuck up sneer that was almost Malfoy-worthy. Ron rolled his eyes, not believing his luck today. He strode out of the sitting room, about to walk up the rickety stairs to his attic bedroom when Fred and George blocked his passage, both of them wearing new, matching woolen sweaters and wide, smirking grins.
"Not so fast Ronnykins," George taunted, enjoying this little state of affairs thoroughly.
"Honestly! Why the long face?" Fred piped in.
"Did your girlfriend ditch you?"
"Hold it - which one? Hermione or Lavender?"
"Oh forget about it. We happen to have a product that will fix all of your heartache problems, and for a small price at that…"
"Leave me ALONE!" Ron bellowed, absolutely fed up with his brothers' antics. This was the last thing he needed; the embellishing to top off an absolutely dreadful morning. He pushed past the twins and tramped up the stairs, bolting the door shut to his old, musty room. Now everyone thought he was in love with Lavender, even Hermione. And that was the last thing he was hoping to achieve in the midst of all this nonsense.
A sharp knock rapped on the door and Ron abruptly shot up, looking at the clock and quickly deciphering that he had been asleep for nearly two hours. He got up, going at his own pace, assuming that Hermione had finally come up to apologize. It was about time, too. He ran his hand through his shaggy, ginger hair, trying to at least make himself presentable to her, and unbolted his door.
"Oh. It's you," He groaned, opening the door to find Harry standing there in a green, home-knitted Weasley sweater.
"Merry Christmas to you too," Harry grinned, stepping into Ron's room and making himself comfortable. "Well, I just came up to check if you were alright. Hermione's upset and isn't speaking to anyone, and I'm assuming it might have something to do with the argument you two had earlier this morning…"
"Were fine. It was just my mum, she was overreacting."
"Then why have you been cooped up here all day?"
"Because I'm grounded! My mum said I had to-"
"Look, I'm not stupid." Harry seemed irritated, like he should have been making some more progress by now. "She said something that really made you mad. And I talked to her, but she was just blaming you and saying that she never wants to speak to you again. I'm tired of being the middleman for you two, okay? Can you just work this out with her?"
"Honestly, Harry, it's none of your business."
"Actually, it is, considering my two best mates are ignoring each other and were never going to have a decent holiday until I work this out. You're obviously not going to…"
"What do you mean your two best mates? I was your best mate before she ever was!"
"Ron, stop being silly. I hate seeing you two like this, and I would never have bothered trying to resolve every argument you have if I didn't care about both of you."
"Oh, cut the crap out, Harry. Just go downstairs and snog my sister, alright?" Ron shuffled him out of the furnace-coloured room and into the doorway. "Oh, and don't forget to tell Hermione I hope she dies." With that, he closed the door firmly and leaned against it. He just needed to be alone for a while to sort some things out. He paused a moment, realizing that there was no movement on the other side of the wall.
"I'm not leaving." Harry Potter's determined voice sounded as firm and stubborn as always.
"Shove off, Harry."
"Do you want me to bring her up here?"
"Leave me alone."
Harry remained there for at least five minutes, trying to talk reason with Ron, but finally he was convinced that none of his persuasion seemed to be helping and he descended the unstable staircase. He was probably off to go comfort Hermione or spend his time doing something productive. He could do whatever he wanted, really, because nobody hated him. Except for Voldemort, but he didn't even count as human, did he?
Ron settled himself back on his bed, feeling depressed and incomplete. As the afternoon wasted away, he heard his family gathering around in the living room for a meal, singing Christmas songs and enjoying themselves without him. Around 5:00, he heard an eruption that sounded like a nuclear holocaust downstairs; Harry had obviously decided to open his Christmas present. Ron doubted that any of them acknowledged his absence, or even cared that he wasn't there to join in the festivities. He was the object of everyone's detestation. Hermione couldn't even look at him without wanting to grind holes into his eye sockets.
Honestly, the only thing Ron had ever tried to do was make her happy; to see that beautiful grin that lit up her face when he made a joke or said something she found entertaining. He was only trying to make her love him half as much as he loved her. He wasn't asking for much, really.
The desperation inside of him soared, clawing at his throat and trying so hard to escape. He wanted to prove himself to her. He wanted to show her that he could treat her right, and he could be whatever she wanted. He stared out his dusty, cobwebby window and tried to think optimistically.
"Things will be different next year," he reassured himself.
Thank you so much for reading! I will get right on typing up the next chapter. This is just too fun, and I'm intending to stay up all night. :)
Denacitarii666