A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites and follows! I am so excited you are liking the fluffy sweetness I've got for you right now. You can follow me over on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions!
Please let me know what you thought of chapter three and be on the lookout for chapter four tomorrow!
1996
Hermione had been patiently watching the days tick down until the winter holidays, eager to give Ron his present and let him know how she really felt about him. She'd carefully rewrapped the gloves, tossing out the box provided by Quality Quidditch Supplies, and replacing it with bright Chudley Cannon colors, knowing that it was Ron's favorite team. She'd even agonized over a tiny heartfelt note to include, hoping to put into words how she was feeling, finding it much more difficult than she would have expected.
Her mind had conjured up about eighty seven thousand different ways that it could go, but she liked to imagine how pink Ron's ears would turn, before he'd shyly tell her that he felt the same and would give her a hesitant kiss on the lips.
In the meantime, Hermione had tried to remain a supportive friend as the first Quidditch match of the season drew closer. Although Ron was an excellent keeper in practice, he was really letting his nerves get the better of him the closer the game got. It didn't help that Malfoy had been workshopping a rather awful chant to sing about Ron being terrible and always letting the Quaffle in, which all the Slytherins were only too happy to help out with. Familiar with terrace chants from the odd football match with her dad, Hermione could only imagine how awful it would be sung all together in the stadium. She hoped that Ron wouldn't let it get to him.
The morning of the Quidditch match had been clear and bright, and Hermione had gotten up early as usual, wanting to wish the whole team good luck, but Ron included. She'd tried to give him a little pep talk to try and keep him focused for the game, but he'd looked so green and nervous that she didn't balk when he waved off her positive words. "You'll be fine, Ron. Just think of it like you are playing at the Burrow."
Hermione was disappointed to watch Ron's mood vastly improve once Harry had slipped something into Ron's goblet. She couldn't believe that he would jeopardize his team's legitimacy, not to mention the numerous school rules it broke, to give Ron that bit of liquid luck. It seemed a terrible waste of a valuable potion, too. It was only Quidditch after all.
Of course, Ron had played amazingly. It seemed like no one would ever be able to score on him, not even the Gryffindor team. Each save he made only buoyed his confidence more, and Malfoy's rude little song was quickly drowned out by the Gryffindor's reappropriation of the tune. Weasley is our King! Oh, Merlin, Hermione could only imagine how that would go to his head, but she was willing to let him have his moment until he got too obnoxious.
She hurried back to the Common Room with the rest of the ecstatic Gryffindor fans, knowing that it was pointless to try and track down Harry and Ron at the locker rooms. She was unlikely to catch them before they got there, and she wanted to give the team a chance to celebrate with each other. After all, everyone had played spectacularly, not just Ron.
Back in the Common Room, Hermione wondered how Ron would feel in the morning. After all, he couldn't take felix felicis before every Quidditch match, could he? It was far too expensive, and even the thought of attempting to brew it put her off. Not that she'd make it for him, if he asked. She just hoped that he would have more confidence before the next game, now that he'd had one under his belt.
A party was in full swing in Gryffindor tower, and Hermione could easily see butterbeer and even a handle of firewhiskey being passed around. Despite being a prefect, she was in such a good mood that even she could overlook this violation of the rules one time. Taking an offered butterbeer from Seamus, she took a quick swig, hoping that her friends would show up soon.
When the Quidditch team finally did stumble their way into the Common Room, Ron was on the shoulders of Jimmy and RItchie, the beaters, and everyone was boisterous and happy and loud. The common room collectively erupted in a shout as Ron was carried into the center of the room, clearly feeling like royalty. Hermione tried to get to him, but was unable to get past all the other people. She couldn't hold back a smile when she watched him ham it up for the crowd.
Biting her lower lip, Hermione was surprised to feel a hand on her back. Turning, she saw that it was Harry. "He did really well," she said with a grin. "But how will you convince him next time?" she wondered, feeling doubt creep in.
Harry smirked at her, before pulling a little vial of shimmering gold liquid out of his pocket. "That was all him," he said triumphantly.
She couldn't hide her shock. "Seriously? You really didn't put anything in it?" she questioned allowed, immediately feeling badly that she didn't believe her friend could have the innate talent to make so many saves. Ron had just seemed...so lucky out there on the broom. "He just believed that he couldn't fail, so he didn't," she said, a blush beginning to form on her cheeks for doubting.
Harry shrugged his shoulders, before nodding. "I knew he had it in him. He just needed a big dose of confidence," he explained.
Before they could talk about it any more, a huge shout when up through the room. Turning to look, Hermione saw that Ron was standing with Lavender Brown, her arms wrapped around his neck as he kissed her soundly in front of the whole common room, whilst everyone cheered in delight. Hermione felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach, her good mood evaporating in an instant.
Hermione tore her eyes away from the amorous couple - Ron pressing his hands into Lavender's long blonde hair to pull her closer to him - only to head immediately up the stairs to her dorm room, slipping away from Harry. Determined hands tore through her trunk for the carefully guarded box that had been Ron's present. Her body shook a bit with unspent tears as she tried to think about what to do with the incredibly personal gift now.
Obviously it wouldn't be right to give him a gift like this if Ron was going to be involved with Lavender. Wiping the tears that had fallen down her eyes, Hermione pulled out the note before lighting it on fire, watching in agony as it was reduced to ashes, just like her relationship with Ron. Her fingers carefully caressed the soft leather of the gloves, knowing that they were really excellent gloves. She couldn't give them to Harry as they weren't proper seeker's gloves, and she couldn't give them to GInny, as they'd be too big.
Her mind wandered to the way Flint had talked about how wonderful the gloves were. His face had lit up as he'd explained the type of stitching used and the way it improved the grip. Her heart lurched forward when she realized that the best person to give the gloves to was Marcus Flint himself. He would undoubtedly appreciate another pair of gloves, being a professional player and everything. Further, she was sure that he would accept the present without question, knowing what their initial purpose had been.
Pulling out a fresh piece of parchment, she quickly scribbled out a note to him. Flint - it still didn't seem right to call him anything but his surname, despite the friendly banter they'd shared - Ronald didn't end up wanting the gloves afterall. Hopefully, you will find a use for them. Hermione.
She fought back a sniffle, knowing that it wasn't the gloves that Ron didn't want, but rather her. It hurt so much to know that Ron didn't feel the same way about her, despite weeks, months, years! of flirting with her. When a prettier girl first batted an eyelash at him, Ron had started panting like a dog, not caring who he hurt. Surely he knew how Hermione had felt about him? Really, it was inconsiderate and hurtful, but what more could she expect from someone with the emotional range of a teaspoon?
It wasn't too hard to slip past the revelers in the Gryffindor common room with red eyes and a splotchy face. She saw Harry looking around the room for her, and Ron and Lavender were so wrapped up in one another that Hermione would have been surprised if they noticed anyone else. She made it up to the owlery in record time, before trying her surprisingly large package to one of the school owls. After a handful of treats, the bird was flying off into the black sky.
Hermione thought she could have stayed up in the owlery for hours, listening to the quiet, almost mournful hoots of the owls. The thought of returning to the cheerfulness of the Gryffindor common room felt like her heart was in a vice. She knew that she wouldn't be able to go through the motions of pretending that nothing was wrong. Eventually, she decided to wander around the school halls, much later than curfew, only to be dragged back to her bed when she ran into Harry.
The next morning, Hermione had given herself a pep talk that she wasn't going to let Ron and Lavender get to her. She was going to take the high road and act like nothing was wrong, even though now she'd be scrambling to find a date to Slughorn's Christmas Party. It was easier said than done. Lavender - or Lav-Lav, as Ron seemed to be calling her - was incredibly over the top with her PDA. The couple, it seemed, was oblivious to the obvious discomfort of not only Hermione, but all their tablemates as well.
Merlin, it felt like a stab in the heart every time she looked at the pair. It felt as if she'd swallowed a rock, and she was glad she hadn't been asked to answer any questions, because she wasn't confident she'd be able to hold back the tears. It felt as if her world was ending, and she hoped that she'd be able to pull herself together before she embarrassed herself.
Lavender's over the top giggling caught Hermione's attention abruptly, and Harry gave her knee a supportive squeeze under the table when her eyes settled on the new couple giving each other Eskimo kisses. Hermione felt a knot begin to form in the throat and she quickly settled her eyes on her empty plate in front of her. She didn't feel like eating anything at the moment.
Luckily, she was quickly saved by the morning owl post coming in. Pulling out her sickle, Hermione readied herself to take her usual Daily Prophet, but was surprised to have another owl waiting for her, as well. The handsome owl gave her an affectionate nip on the finger, only to offer his leg in offering. A small box was waiting for her to remove it.
Interested, Hermione pulled the scrap of twine that had been used to tie the box shut. Inside were two little pieces of toffee and a small note as well. Hermione - she couldn't stop the smile from spreading on her face when she saw her given name written - Weasley is a tosser. Marcus.
Biting her lower lip to try and stop from smiling, Hermione was amazed at how much better Marcus bloody Flint had made her feel in less than one sentence. It was terse and a bit crude, but also a bit sweet in his own way.
Harry was looking at her with a confused look on his face, his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "Marcus?" he mouthed her way, having snooped on her letter. Not wanting to give up her little secret friendship with someone like Marcus Flint, Hermione just shrugged her shoulders, willing to be an enigma for once in her life.
