Well here we are…and to think there was a time I was sure this day would never come!
I must apologize, I have had this written and ready to post for some time now, but gave me an error message every time I tried tp post it! I *might* have gotten a tad frustrated(angry). But what is done is done, and here we are.
The last book…whew, so much pressure to pick the right scene, there are so many R/Hr moments! DH is my favorite installment (I took the day off work and read it in 24 wonderful, magical hours), and with it HP is pretty much the only series I've ever read where I can say the conclusion summed everything up just about perfectly. Of course, I would have loved at least one more kiss…but if they jumped into their relationship at anything more than the pace of a sedated snail, well they just wouldn't be Ron and Hermione now, would they?
And oh, how I love them for it...
But here it is, the last time Ron doesn't see Hermione.
Drumroll, please!
HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS
He watched as his six doppelgangers rummaged in the sacks, pulling out sets of clothes, putting on glasses, stuffing their own things away. He felt like asking them to show a little more respect for his privacy as they all began stripping off with impunity, clearly much more at ease with displaying his body than they would have been their own.
"I knew Ginny was lying about that tattoo," said Ron, looking down at his bare chest.
Hermione's gaze fluttered of its own accord to the chest in question, as one of the other Harrys before her stood squinting down at the flesh he now wore. The flesh they all wore, actually, since their consumption of the polyjuice potion. She rolled her eyes as she pulled her jumper over her head, smirking at the notion of her friend concealing a tattoo under his robes. Still, she felt the slightest twinge of curiosity, and to satisfy it she let her eyes scan over him. Just as she suspected, her search came up negative. Besides, wouldn't his teammates have already seen a tattoo in the locker room?
Unless, of course, the ink was hidden under the ill-fitting jeans he now wore, the likes of which were faded and much too long to fit Harry's frame (she would have known them anywhere). The material puddled comically at his feet, having nowhere to go now that their previous owner had reduced in size. She would have grinned at the sight, of Ron's clothes, meant for a much more lanky build, hanging so awkwardly on Harry's body. She would have teased him, made some sort of 'Alice In Wonderland' reference that he would not have gotten, giggling quietly to herself (her Harry-self) while throwing out a sigh of "Oh Ron" and exchanging a knowing glance with Harry (the real one). She would have, that is, if what was happening hadn't been happening. Because what was happening kind of threw any sort of rational thought out the window, and that just so happened to be Harry's hands reaching down to undo Ron's belt buckle.
Of course, it wasn't like that. But still…
She couldn't tear her gaze away, as much as the sensible girl somewhere at the back of her mind berated her with the absolute necessity to do so. She knew she was acting like a complete harlot, desperate for a glance at something she had no right in seeing, but try as she might, she couldn't steady her breathing, or stop her eyes from bulging and her knees from going weak. Any such effort was of no use. The spectacle she was witnessing from a few feet away was positively mesmerizing, drawing her in like a moth to the flame. She was blissfully thankful for Harry's poor eyesight, which blurred the details of the body she was focused on, making it almost seem as though the compact muscles were speckled with freckles and dusted in ginger hair. If she squinted, it really wasn't all that hard to imagine…oh, it was wrong but she couldn't help herself! It all played out like a slow motion repeat of a terribly warped dream sequence. The leather belt slipped from of the rectangular metal barrier which had previously contained it. The button was snapped. The fly began its downward descent. Oh goodness. Oh no (yesyesyes).
She was going to faint.
Ron was taking off his pants, right in front of her. And yes, they might have been Ron's pants, on Harry's body, after Ron's body had been turned into Harry's body, but…but…
They would be Ron's underwear, wouldn't they? Ronald Weasley's underwear, in the flesh! Not that she was exactly a stranger to his underclothing by now, she had helped Mrs. Weasley with the laundry enough times over the years to have seen them before, but this was something quite different. She found herself wondering with a sick fascination which pair he had chosen to wear to today. Odds were that they bore the emblem of the Chudley Cannons though, being as the majority of his possessions did, boxers included. But maybe he would throw her for a loop, maybe he had bought a new pair since last summer…though she doubted it. And then the jeans slipped a little more and there they were, her tongue threatening to poke out from between her lips as she caught sight of a bright orange waistband, vibrant even through the haze of her newly feeble vision.
Oh no, there was no way she was this lucky. Hermione knew that orange, could it be, had he truly chosen to wear his boxer briefs today? Her heart jumped to her throat as her breath began to speed up, tantalizingly, the jeans slid lower and-
"Hermione, CATCH!"
A trainer hit her square in the stomach, disrupting her show and catching her completely off guard. It knocked the breath right out of her, with its mate following shortly after before she had time to react or recover. All thoughts of Ron vanished from her mind as the shoes fell carelessly to the floor and she doubled over in pain, clutching at her middle.
"Owww!" She wheezed out in an inarticulate groan.
"Sorry!" Said a smiling Harry, deftly shoving his own feet into an identical pair without untying the laces. He smiled at her in apology, though his eyebrows waggled suggestively. Certainly a twin. "I didn't mean to hit you like that, it was an accident!"
Somehow, she doubted that. Regardless-
"It's alright," She replied a little sharply, her stomach still smarting. "I just didn't see you there. "
"Hmmm, yes, you certainly did seem a bit distracted there, didn't you? Wonder what could have kept you from noticing a pair of shoes hurtling towards you?" Those eyebrows got to waggling again. "I wouldn't have thrown them if I had known you wouldn't be able to catch."
Sometimes, people were just too observant for their own good. "I wasn't-"
"You thought Hermione could catch?" Harry's voice said, cutting her off and making her heart perform that troublesome little flip-flop in a way that the real Harry never did. "Obviously, you've never seen her play Quidditch. Or, should I say, try to play Quidditch."
Disregard that somersaulting heart, this was the voice that exasperated her within an inch of her life.
Her mouth set into a scowl and she straightened up from her hunched position, lifting her head to face her tormentor. "Ron, I am perfectly capable of-"
Her speech cut off abruptly, her mouth going dry as she returned her gaze to the boy she had been staring at moments before. However, it was with extreme disappointment that she found him sliding a new belt into better fitting jeans that he had already fastened around his waist, underthings quite hidden by now. He was grinning at her, but she could not return the smile as a surge of sadness filled her and she lost her train of thought.
"Capable of what? Obviously not getting dressed by yourself. Did you need a hand with that? "
She was really starting to hate those twins, whichever one this was.
Hermione felt Harry's cheek flush red on her face. Of course, while she had been drooling over Ron stripping, she had completely forgotten to change her own clothes. Now everyone else was practically finished dressing and here she had barely begun! Glancing around the room, her eyes were met with a sea of raven-hair, bespectacled boys, laughing with one another and shoving their own things back into the packs. In a room full of similarity, Hermione's Harry (still dressed in a form-fitting T-shirt and uncomfortably snug jeans) stuck out painfully. And the starry-eyed look she had been sporting earlier probably hadn't helped matters any, either.
Ducking her head to hide her blush, she stooped to pick up the shoes at her feet. "Don't be ridiculous." She mumbled, "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And catching things too!"
She turned her back on them, but not before catching one Harry give another a wink and a playful shove. She missed Ron's reaction, but she was certain it couldn't have been anything to settle her nerves. Oh goodness, now she was really flustered! Squeezing the shoes to her chest, she felt her heart thumping painfully against her ribcage as she made her way over to a less occupied corner of the room. The walk proved far too short, however, as she knew what lay ahead of her once she arrived. The threat of such an undertaking followed quick at her heels, hovering over her like an ominous thundercloud.
Because all the while she was staring at Harry for a glimpse of Ron's underwear, it had never really occurred to her that the same principle was applicable in her own situation. She knew she needed to get back to the task at hand, but unfortunately said task was taking off her own clothing…in front of Ron (and Harry and Fleur and the twins and Mundungus, but mainly, mostly, Ron). And yes, she didn't have to worry about what he would think of her body, because after all, he wouldn't be seeing the real her, but he certainly would get an eyeful of her bra and knickers! Ron did not have the same familiarity with her laundry, and she was pained to think that the first time he would see her unmentionables would be on Harrys body (that is, if they even lived long enough for there to be a second time… though oh sweet Merlin how she did hope for a second time). She hadn't even considered this when she was getting ready this morning, and her mind scrambled to remember what she had put on. Not that she had much to choose from, really. Her drawer was lined with sensible nude colors and conservative cuts, most of them purchased by her mum. It had never been an issue before, it wasn't as if Hermione Granger had ever had a reason to splurge on lace or satin or thongs when cotton briefs would do the trick.
But then….oh no, she thought with a wave of nausea. Something else she hadn't considered until now sprung to mind, images popping up most unwelcome. Her knickers might cover all that needed to be covered on her own body, but Harrys wasn't…that is, he had…oh no!
She would close her eyes, is all. Close them tight and get it over with quickly, like ripping off a bandage.
She wanted to be able to look Harry in the eye after tonight, after all. And Ginny too, for that matter.
With trembling hands she began to loosen her own belt, staring blankly at the wall in front of her while keeping her ears trained as to the commotion going on in the rest of the room. Partially to keep herself distracted from what she might find under the too-tight pants, and also to keep track of him. It was with a mixed feeling of relief and disappointment that she recognized Ron's voice, laughing lightheartedly with Tonks some ways away. She reassured herself that this was what she wanted, that she didn't want him to see her like this, even if he wasn't really seeing her at all. But still, a small part of her was hurt…wasn't he the least bit curious about her knickers?
They were almost orange too, as a matter of fact. Well, more of a coral, really, but she couldn't help but to smile wistfully at the coincidence.
As if she needed anymore proof that they were meant for one another.
Her pants hit the ground with a soft thud, and an instant later she was stepping into another pair, awkwardly conscious of the wiry hair brushing up against the denim as she brought them up her legs. There was a patch of matching hair leading down from her navel, but she worked hard to keep her focus away from that area of Harry's body. Again, she was grateful for his bad eyesight, as she hadn't had a chance to don the glasses that were being passed around the room. Thankfully, no one had chucked those at her…yet. She slipped the leather through her belt-loops and tied her laces neatly, steeling herself as she gripped the edge of her T-shirt and counted silently to herself.
1…
2…
3…and go!
She halfway expected Harry's head not to fit through the neck of her shirt, or the shoulders to be too tight to lift her arms, or some similar predicament that would make a fool of her. But it slipped right off, no hang-ups or struggles to be had, and she dropped the shirt with an exhale of relief. Out of habit, she reached a hand behind her back to undo the clasp of her bra, but stopped herself just as her fingers made contact with the band. No, she decided, Harry might not have anything to hide under those gaping cups, but to remove her bra in front of a room full of people was still much too intimate a gesture. So instead she finished dressing in the provided shirt, choosing to slip the scrap of black cloth discretely out through her sleeve with practiced ease. She was just extricating it as she finally turned around, her heart at last having resumed a normal pace, only to find-
Ron.
Weasley.
Staring at her, his mouth slightly agape, as though she wasn't hidden in the body of a teenaged boy. Staring like a boy stares at a girl, a real live girl, and not just his handy-dandy humanoid encyclopedia. His eyes darted quickly to what she held in her hand, and she could have sworn she saw him snap his jaw closed and swallow thickly. Of course, that was hard to tell, exactly, since she still hadn't put on those blasted glasses. Regardless, one thing she could make out was the deep shade of red that his ears were quickly acquiring, a look so distinctly Ron she almost forgot he was in Harry's body for a moment.
And she wished he wasn't. She wished she wasn't. But most of all, she wished they weren't sharing the room with so many other people right now!
When he tore his stare away from her bra (which she quickly stashed in Harry's back pocket) his eyes flickered nervously to hers, their gazes level for the first time in her memory. With a shy smile, he traversed the distance separating them, holding something small in his right hand.
"Here," he said in almost a whisper, passing the glasses he held into her hand, "figured you might be needing these."
She opened her palm to accept the pair and let her fingers trace his for a moment longer than could be deemed accidental. She felt her cheeks burn yet again, taking on a hue to match his ears. "Thanks." She replied, reluctantly withdrawing her hand and sliding the spectacles up her nose, wrinkling it disdainfully as the room came into focus.
"Harry, your eyesight really is awful."
Ron chuckled lightly at her, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully, and she returned the smile while images of orange underwear swam in her head. It felt good to stand next to him, to smile as though they hadn't a care in the world...especially since it couldn't be further from the truth. The truth was that it was all too likely that in a few moments they wouldn't feel like doing anything of the sort, and might not for a while. Who knew what was going to come to pass tonight, or this week, and least of all this year, so they had better make the most of any cheerfulness while they could. These people were risking their lives for Harry, and they didn't even fully understand why. But she did, and she was willing to do the same without any hesitation. She knew what she was in for, and that there was a very good possibility that either she or Ron, or maybe even both of them wouldn't make it through this war, but there was no way she was going down meekly. She had had enough of hiding and crying and blushing and denying. And so her mind was made up, and if she had had any lingering doubts left, tonight had settled them.
Hermione was going to see Ron, in his underwear and hopefully without, if it was the last thing she did.
She couldn't wait for this bloody potion to wear off.
The End!
I contemplated so many scenes for this...Hermione getting ready for the wedding, packing her beaded bag, being separated from Ron, getting tortured…and yet I ended up with this one. I thought it rounded out things nicely, throwing something a different interpretation of the title into the mix. Not to mention the fact that I thought that Harry standing there in Fleur's lacy bra was one of the funniest scenes in the movie, and made me wonder how Ron and Hermione felt about undressing in front of each other. So of course I had to end things on a happy note! So thank you to all of those who stuck by this thing during my hiatus, and I hope you have enjoyed reviewing these times Ron hasn't seen Hermione!
