Romione Week: Day 1 - Moments in Time

Triwizard Tournament Yule Ball, 25th December 1994

Ron pulls at the stray piece of cotton he's found at the end of his sleeve, grimacing as it causes the material to unravel even further and look more frayed. He didn't plan on being a mess tonight, despite the shitty robes his mum had sent him, and in an attempt to make himself look smarter, he'd taken a severing charm to the lace, hacking it all away.

"I'm not sure that looks any better." Harry had grimaced when he saw Ron's improvements. "Why don't you ask Hermione to help?"

The tips of his ears turning pink, Ron had tried again with the charm as he grumbled, "I'm not asking her to help. She's not talking to me anyway."

The robes look ridiculous, with or without the disgusting lace, and Ron wasn't in the kind of mood needed to apologise to her.

Not that he's done anything wrong.

Students whizz past where he's sitting with his best friend. They all look like they're having fun out there, bopping along to Ron's favourite Weird Sisters song. His feet yearn to tap away in time to the deep kick drum rhythm, but he resists. He has no desire to join his dancing peers, especially not when she's too busy dancing with Krum, and if Ron looked like he was enjoying sulking with Harry, well, that would be weird.

Fucking traitor. Bet she's telling Vicky all of Harry's secrets, and how he's preparing for the second task that'll take place in a couple of months. So much for supporting Hogwarts and Gryffindor. She might as well be wearing a Potter Stinks badge.

Not that the trio have done much to research what might be hiding amidst the egg's screeches; they've been enjoying the break, as teenagers should during the Christmas holidays.

Ron ignores the churn of something deep in his lower belly. Ginny named the way he was acting jealousy, but that can't be it. It's not like Ron fancies Hermione, even as her appearance on the stairs to the Entrance Hall a couple of hours ago took his breath away. He's putting it down to the shock of her looking all made up and posh. Ron had never seen her in make-up before, let alone wearing a fancy dress.

He releases the strand of maroon cotton, watching it float to the floor before lifting his head to gaze across the dancefloor. Hermione's periwinkle robes are easy to spot in the sea of students. She stands out, shining brightly even as their friends twist and jump around her.

As if she can tell he's watching, her eyes flit to Ron's and a small smile creeps over her face.

"Rub it bloody in, why don't you."

"What?" Harry responds, snapped out of his daydreams by Ron's mutterings.

"Nothing."

Of course Hermione is having more fun with Krum. He's a fit, famous Quidditch player with a fuck ton of money and a small crowd of fans that follows him wherever he goes. He could have his pick of girls in the castle, so why did he choose Hermione?! What hope in hell does Ron have? He's freckly and gangly, a redheaded loser without a pot to piss in. There's no way Hermione would have said yes to him, even if he'd thought to ask her when McGonagall announced the ball.

"Just because it's taken you three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean that no one else has spotted I'm a girl."

"Of course, I know she's a bloody girl."

"Sorry, mate, are you talking to yourself again?"

Heat floods Ron's cheeks as he sits up more, never removing his eyes from Hermione's dancing form. Her attention is back on her date, much to Ron's chagrin.

"I said, this is all a pile of wank, isn't it?"

"Oh," Harry replies. "Yeah, it is."

Their dates, Padma and Parvati, disappeared ages ago, whisked away by a couple of boys who looked like they wanted to spend time with the pretty girls, leaving Ron and Harry sulking together.

Ron Weasley bloody hates dancing, anyway.

Bill & Fleur's Wedding, 1st August 1997

The day has been a success so far, which is unsurprising, given the amount of work Molly and the others have put into organising it, even as the threat of war looms over them.

The weather is beautiful, Bill and Fleur performed their vows without interruption, and now the food and alcohol are in full flow.

However, Ron hasn't touched a drop apart from the customary couple of sips as the wedding party made their speeches. It's not that he's worried about the immediate peril, or the thought of not returning to Hogwarts at the start of next month or the impromptu visit from Rufus Scrimgeour.

No, the event that has put Ron on edge is the sudden appearance of Viktor Krum before the ceremony started. Ron didn't even know that his brother and new sister-in-law had invited the git, although he guesses it makes sense considering Fleur and Vicky were contestants in the Triwizard tournament together.

The redhead has watched the Quidditch star all evening, a desperate need to know precisely where he is during the entire do burning deep within him. It's bordering on obsessive—Ron is well aware of that. But he has made significant steps in his relationship with Hermione over the summer, despite his mother's best attempts at keeping the trio apart. There's no way Ron is going to let a smarmy Bulgarian wriggle his way over and sweep the pretty witch off her feet.

Not this bloody time.

The conversation is flowing as well as the wine, and the chatter of laughter draws Ron's attention back to the large circular table.

"That's such a funny joke, Daddy," Luna chirps before getting to her feet. "Shall we dance now, though?"

Panic sets in as Luna leaves the table with Xenophilius, leaving the seat next to Hermione empty. To Ron's dismay, Viktor has spotted the opportunity and is making a beeline towards it, his eyes alight with excitement.

"Not tonight, Vicky," Ron mumbles to himself as he pushes himself to his feet.

Harry notices his movement first, a frown knitting across his forehead as he asks, "Where are you going?"

But Ron ignores him, wincing as his knees knock against the table in his haste, and the cutlery clatters against the chinaware. He's grown another few inches over the summer, and now he feels like a baby giraffe, trying to work out what he should do with his suddenly overstretched limbs.

There's no time to think about that right now. For once, Ron is grateful for his long legs that circle the table in three giant steps, beating Viktor and his stumpy form. The Quidditch star clears his throat as he places his hand on the empty chair next to Hermione, but as the pretty witch turns to check out the disturbance, Ron taps her on the shoulder.

"Doyouwanttodance?"

The words jumble with nerves, his voice shaky and squeaking, even though it broke and settled into its dulcet baritone last year. The courage he felt as he fought to outdo Krum disappears, replaced by nausea as Hermione gawks at him, her mouth open wide.

Asking was a mistake.

Still, he perseveres, shooting his hand out from under his elegant, deep green dress robes, almost smacking her in the face.

"Doyou-wantto-dance?" he repeats.

Hermione's shock dissolves into a massive grin as she deciphers what he's trying to ask her. Relief washes over his body as she places her palm in his, and Oh Merlin, it's tiny and warm. There's no denying the tingle of magic that spreads up his arm, warming his entire body and pushing a grin on his face.

"Yes, please. I mean, I'd love to, Ron."

Buoyed by her response, Ron helps Hermione to her feet and leads her out onto the floor. Although he's well aware that everyone's attention is now on them, he's only interested in her deep brown eyes, amazed by the sparkle in them that he's never noticed before.

His spare hand shakes as he places it on her hip, the movement feeling more intimate than anything else they've ever done. Sure, they've hugged and experienced other forms of close contact before, but never like this. They carve out their own space amongst all the other dancing couples, the music fading as his ears fill with the pounding of his heart.

"I've waited for this since the Yule Ball," Hermione admits as they begin to sway together.

"Really?"

"Yes, Ron."

The blush on her cheeks matches the burning in his ear, but it all clicks into place. This is what they've been building up to for almost seven years now. All the pining, the fighting, the yearning for her, the mistakes he's made, they were all crescendoing to this moment.

And now he knows that whatever might happen next, whatever mess they have to follow Harry into, Hermione is Ron's, and he is hers.

"M'sorry you've had a long wait."

"It'll be worth it."