Ron
The Ministry of Magic New Year's Eve party has always been a classy affair. Only the highest-ranking officials, their teams and their families are invited, providing a perfect opportunity for junior staff to schmooze and network.
The Atrium, the formidable entrance to the Ministry building in Westminster, usually provides a quiet brooding spot. The green tiles arch high above workers as they go about their business, and the only noise comes from the Welcome Witch as she sends visitors on their way, and the barista, who serves coffee to exhausted employees.
Ron usually avoids this area, worried he may make too much noise with his clumsy footsteps and a voice that is a well-practised shout after years of living in The Burrow. But once a year, Ministry workers transform the space into a grand ballroom. The magical fountain disappears for the night, and the decorators drape sparkling curtains of gold and silver from the high ceilings. Round tables appear, scattered around the place to provide plenty of opportunities for attendees to stop and chat.
In one corner, a string quartet plays classical versions of Weird Sister and Celestina Warbeck songs without accompanying musicians. Large trays of Hors-d'oeuvres float around, offering themselves to party-goers to snack on. If that wasn't enough food, a massive buffet rivaling Hogwarts' finest offering fills the furthest wall where the coffee shop usually sits.
The giant Christmas tree remains in the last corner, its usually bright and colourful decorations replaced with those that match the rest of the space. The scent of the fir still lingers in the air, bringing with it a sense of nostalgia for Christmases spent in the Gryffindor common room and the excitement of the new year to come.
The final touch is a balcony that hangs around the edge of the room without any supports or pillars. This is where Ron and Hermione linger, leaning against the golden balustrade with fine crystal champagne flutes in their hands. As two-thirds of the Golden Trio, they've been allowed entry into the VIP area and are enjoying the secluded spot.
Hermione throws her head back and erupts with laughter as Ron finishes a joke, exposing the long column of her neck. It's a gleeful noise that fills every inch of him with warmth.
Why have we never done this before? It's a bloody genius idea.
As soon as she's composed herself, Ron extends his hand, pointing at a wizard standing all by himself. "I reckon that guy is here all alone. His mum has made him come in the hope he'll find a 'lovely secretary' to make his wife."
It's a game they've played for years, guessing the secret lives of the strangers around them to fill the time. From their vantage point on the balcony, they have a view of all of the guests, and the champagne is fuelling the most obscure stories.
Hermione's giggles continue, even when she reprimands Ron with a light slap on the arm. Electricity courses through his veins at the contact, despite the layers of fancy formal wear he has on.
"Why a secretary?" she asks. "Why not a lawmaker, or someone from Magical Transportation?"
"A lawmaker, huh? Is there something you need to tell me? Do you fancy Eric down there?"
"Eric? That's surely not his name?"
"Go ask him."
Ron shoves her shoulder, but Hermione makes no effort to leave his side. Instead, she turns away from the masses below them and lounges against the railing, allowing him a moment to drink in how his best friend looks tonight.
When he picked her up, what feels like hours ago now, her appearance had taken his breath away. She's wearing a figure-hugging dark purple dress, with her hair teased into loose waves instead of her usual curls. Sure, it's not the first time he's seen her in formal wear. Being so close to the family, everyone always invites her to weddings and other celebrations, but Ron has a newfound appreciation for Hermione tonight.
He has to push the thoughts out of his head, though. They're friends and nothing more. It's been years since he last felt the desire for something more with her, probably as far back as when they were teenagers.
But these new feelings could have something to do with the fact that Hermione has chosen to be here with Ron tonight. Even if it's a platonic date, it still shows she wants to spend time with him. Pride swells in his chest, and he takes a steadying breath before he acts in haste and does something he might regret in the sober light of day tomorrow.
Still, there's a deep yearning for him to compliment her figure and tell her how great her tits look in her dress, but it's a massive step across the boundaries Ron and Hermione have spent far too long building since after the war, and he doesn't want to scare her off.
But her tits do look fantastic in her gown.
Shaking himself out of his daydream, Ron reaches across to push a stray tendril of hair back behind her ear, letting his fingers graze against her soft cheek for a second before saying, "Your hair is pretty tonight. You should wear it this way more often."
"Oh it's far too much effort, and it keeps getting in the way." Hermione huffs and waves her empty hand to dismiss the comment. "Plus, people take me far less seriously when it's down. A bun looks more professional."
Ron chuckles. The woman cannot take a compliment…ever! But he notices, with the smallest skip of his heart, her cheeks now have the slightest tinge of pink to them. Maybe she enjoyed it?
Not wanting to make her feel awkward, he changes the subject as he leans next to her against the balcony. "Charlie was onto something with this whole Holidate thing. If I was with a real date, I'd be spending the whole night worried I might say the wrong thing. I always put my foot in my mouth. At least you already know I'm an ass—"
"You're not an ass," Hermione interrupts.
Beaming at her, he replies, "I know."
"I feel the same, though. For once, I don't have to worry about being constantly by your side, hanging on your arm and laughing at all your lame jokes. I can talk to as many people as I want, and I know you won't disappear in a strop because I'm not giving you enough attention."
Ron tips his glass towards hers. "You can bugger off as much as you want as long as you make sure you're back by my side at midnight. That was the promise."
"And no snogging."
"Plus, no snogging."
A surprising pang of disappointment, barely the size of a Bowtruckle, attacks his stomach, and Ron drowns it with the last of his champagne. He's almost certain this sudden urge to kiss Hermione is coming straight from the alcohol, combined with how amazing she looks and the whole magical atmosphere the Ministry has created in the Atrium.
And not because I fancy her.
Ron glances at his empty glass and notices Hermione's is dry, too. Prising it from her long fingers, he shakes them in front of her face. "Top up? Meet you back at the table?"
"Thanks Ron!"
Hermione places a gentle hand on his arm before wandering away. Ron struggles to keep his eyes trained on the back of her head instead of her backside, and when she disappears, he congratulates himself on a job well done. Maybe he'll treat himself to a shot at the bar as a reward.
⁂
Weaving through the crowds in the VIP area, Ron makes his way to the bar. The Ministry is providing free booze tonight to thank their employees for all the hard work they've put in throughout the year. Ron plans to take full advantage of it. He spots Harry already waiting and wriggles in next to him.
"Hiya mate, I wondered where you'd got to."
"Ron! There you are!" Harry wobbles as he throws his arms around his best friend and hugs him tight. "We've been dancing," he drawls. "I think Ginny is heading back to the table."
Eyebrows raised, Ron takes in Harry's dishevelled state. It's clear the couple have been doing a lot more than dancing. "Is that so? Looks like you've been having fun."
"Gotta get it where we can. Fun, that is. Children ruin your fun."
A heavy bludger of nausea rolls around Ron's stomach as the intricacies of his sister and best friend's sex life invade his thoughts. To stop the urge to puke, he chooses to change the subject. "Spotted anyone of interest on the dance floor?"
"The usuals. Draco is here with Astoria."
"Ahhh the newlyweds." Ron wrinkles his nose before pushing a shot glass towards Harry. He takes his own, letting the alcohol burn his throat and fill his body with warmth.
I fucking love Firewhiskey.
Brain now foggy with the after-effects of the shot, Ron continues, "Heard she's pregnant already. Probably desperate to fill the Manor with tons of mini ferrets."
"Yeah, I think the kid will be in the same year as Albus, poor little guy. I'll have to teach him some moves to prepare him."
"Well, as long as it's not Sectumsempra."
"Never again," Harry says with a shudder. "Right, champagne for the girls sorted. Let's go."
Ron collects the two fresh glasses and allows Harry to lead the way, suppressing a chuckle as the guy wobbles back to the table. He's going to have to keep an eye on Harry and Ginny.
⁂
When Harry and Ron get back to the table, Hermione and Ginny are deep in conversation and barely notice the men as they slide into the booth. Ron settles next to Hermione and pushes her glass towards her.
"What are you talking about?" he asks.
Ginny responds with a flip of her long hair. "Muggle romcoms."
Ron loves Muggle movies. Ever since he was living with Harry and Hermione in Grimmauld Place and they introduced them to him, it's like he can't get enough. Ron watches all kinds of them—girly romantic comedies, action movies, artsy foreign films. He likes to think of himself as a connoisseur.
After taking a sip of his champagne, Ron says, "You know, I watched a film the other day where two co-workers pretend to be together to help her get ahead in her career. A classic fake-dating trope. But of course, by the end of the movie they were head over heels in love with each other."
"Oh, what a load of cockamamie!" Hermione scoffs. "Love does not work that way. A girl and a guy can be friends without falling in love with each other. You and I are a perfect example of it."
"Oh, Hermione," Ginny laments. "Which dickhead spoilt love for you?"
Hermione's eyes narrow, and her hair crackles with electricity. Ginny is venturing into dangerous territory, but Ron doesn't want them to fight. He's having a great night and doesn't want an argument to ruin it.
In an effort to calm her, he places a hand on Hermione's knee, and she's either too pissed off to notice it or doesn't mind, as she does not attempt to push him away.
As he opens his mouth to change the subject, Hermione snaps back, "I'd like to remind you I haven't dated since school. Not because I don't want to, but because I'm far too busy."
She pauses only to take a sip of her drink. As soon as she's swallowed, she turns on Ron, her eyes aflame with anger. "And what about you, huh? You'd think after breaking up with Lavender you'd be trying your hardest to avoid romance."
Ron chokes on his champagne at the mention of his ex-girlfriend. How dare Hermione mention her. Fury burns through his blood, and the tips of his ears heat up. Hermione knows how upset he was when his relationship of six years ended abruptly late last year. Although he's never told Hermione why, she should understand it's still a sensitive subject.
Mouth opening and closing, he struggles to find the words to respond. Ron yearns to fight back with her, to shout at her that at least he's brave enough to let people in.
"Charlie!" Harry declares, jumping to his feet and dispelling the awkward tension shrouding the group. As he moves, he knocks his glass of wine over. "Oops!"
Ron lifts his eyes from the mess of bubbles spreading across the wooden table and spots his brother as he approaches them. Charlie's gone for the traditional black formal robes, minus a bowtie, and there's a new blonde on his arm. At least this one has decided to wear a more substantial dress. Her gown covers all of her, from her neck down to her toes.
She couldn't be further from Charlie's Christmas date.
"How the fuck did you get into the VIP area?" Ron shouts over the clamour of Ginny and Hermione tidying up Harry's mess. "I thought you had a normal ticket."
"Felicity here works for the Minister and she pulled a few strings. Met her at a Dragon convention, and as soon as she knew I was back in the country for the holidays, she sorted everything out for us. Couldn't let you have all the fun, could I?" Charlie grins back at his brother.
"It's Freya!"
"Oh, I thought so!" Hermione squeezes past Ron, and he doesn't need to look at her face to know her eyes have lit up. "You're one of the secretaries in Kingsley's office, right?!"
"Uhm, yes…"
Rolling his eyes, Ron sinks back in his seat with his champagne, watching as Hermione drags Freya away, chatting animatedly to her. The barmy witch has been trying to speak to the Minister all night, and, despite him being a close friend of the group, he seems to be successfully avoiding her. Charlie's date might be Hermione's last shot at talking to Shacklebolt.
Charlie pushes Ron over and slides into the booth next to him. "So, here with Hermione Granger, are you? Nice of Harry and Ginny to take pity on the pair of you and allow you to tag along."
"They're not here with us," Harry starts but is hushed by a glare from Ginny.
Ron bristles. Of course, Charlie has assumed they're playing third and fourth wheel tonight. "Hermione is my date."
"Seriously?"
"Why does that surprise you so much?"
"It doesn't!" The smirk on Charlie's face is enough to show he's not telling the whole truth. "I'm glad for you. It's about time the two of you sorted your shit out and got it on. Well, I better go and save Felicity from Hermione. See you later!"
Charlie is gone as quickly as he showed up, leaving a confused Ron in his wake. What the fuck did Charlie mean by them sorting their shit out? Since when has Charlie been so invested in Ron's relationship with Hermione?
With a sigh, Ron tunes out his thoughts and focuses on Harry and Ginny's conversation, although it's hard to concentrate on their slurring words. His gaze drifts over the party, a smile appearing on his face as he spots Hermione dragging Freya-Felicity-whoever further away from Charlie and towards Kingsley, who is currently talking to a group of posh-looking wizards next to the bar.
At least she might get her wish tonight. The thought fills Ron with warmth again, pushing his grin so wide, it stretches to his eyes. All he wants is Hermione to enjoy herself, in whatever form the mental witch needs. If she's happy, then he's happy.
Hermione
Hermione huffs as her target disappears. Despite hers and Freya's best efforts, she has been unable to pin Kingsley down long enough to chat to him. All Hermione wants is to run through her proposals for Centaur rights, and after the success of her new house-elf laws, she's confident the Minister would be interested in hearing them. At least with a new friend made, she might have more luck with an official appointment in the new year.
Deciding to abandon her attempts and focus on enjoying the party instead, Hermione makes her way back to Ron. She's barely left his side all night, and the more alcohol she drinks, the greater the yearning to stick with him gets.
He looked so handsome when he turned up at her flat dressed in his finest formal robes in a red so deep they seemed almost black. Long gone are the days when his mother forced him to attend parties in the musty old floral number. Even his hair had been combed and slicked back, revealing the hundreds of freckles across his forehead that his long floppy fringe usually hides.
And his beard. Every damn time she looks at it, her knees go weak. Hermione loves Ron with a beard. Her heart skips a beat thinking about it.
"You have had too much to drink," she tells herself, "he's your best friend. Merlin, don't you dare let yourself get carried away tonight."
Slaloming between partygoers, she makes her way back to the table, passing by the bar to get more champagne for them. When she finally returns, a larger group lingers around their booth, most of them with bright red hair. It's nice that the rest of the family get to party, too.
Hermione wriggles through the group and appears at Ron's side next to the table. "What's going on?"
He immediately shoves his long body over to make space for her. She slides in next to him and kicks her heels off her aching feet. Once she's settled, she turns to the rest of the group.
"Hermione! Charlie told us you were here!" George is the first to greet her before leaning over the table to give her an awkward half-hug. "Ronnie, why didn't you tell us you were seeing each other?"
"Oh, we're n—"
"I told you," Ron interrupts. "It's a platonic arrangement. A holidate, like Charlie and Felicity."
The witch intervenes, "Freya."
George's grin grows wider. "Whatever you need to believe. Now, Fred and I think the party needs to liven up a little. There's only an hour before midnight, and all this instrumental music is a bit….well, shit."
Fred gives an eager nod, and for the first time, Hermione notices the box perched on his hip. Dread fills her heart at the sight of it. What are they up to?
"Yes!" Fred says. "And I think a Ministry bash is the perfect opportunity for us to test our latest product: Weasley Party Pleasers!"
Eyes narrowing, Hermione scowls at the twins. "What exactly is that?"
"Yeah," Percy adds. "Don't forget most of the family work here and would prefer to keep our careers."
"Good thing we don't work here," Fred quips.
"Trust the stuffy ones to raise a protest 'eh Fred? Well, dear Hermione, future sister-in-law of ours, it's a pretty simple concept. One pull on the tab." George shoves the box in her face to show her. "And a ready-made party is released into whichever room you happen to be in. We invented a charm that works like a Muggle DJ, blasting the best songs, added in a whole load of Weasley Wildfire Whizbangs and a shit ton of extra decorations. Every half hour or so, the box will throw out something different. Lasts about six hours, the perfect length for a decent party."
Hermione's jaw drops. Although she's still sceptical of the product, a tiny part of her wants to see them pull the tab and find out if the whole idea will work. If it does, it'll be nothing short of pure genius. And if it doesn't? Well, the failed attempt will at least give them a laugh. The Ministry party is far too stuffy, even by Hermione's standards. If it wasn't for Ron, she might even be at home already, watching the fireworks over the Thames from the comfort of her Juliette balcony.
"Go on then," she dares the twins. "But I bet you a galleon it doesn't work."
"Why do you always underestimate us, Hermione Granger?"
Fred offers the box to Bill, whose eyes light up with glee. "William, as our oldest sibling and the person responsible for us all, would you like to do the honours?"
"You're thirty-bloody-one!" Bill scoffs, but his fingers toy with the tab anyway. The curse-breaker takes a deep breath before counting down from five.
When he first pulls the tag, nothing happens. Smug righteousness floods Hermione's body. She knew it wouldn't work. Then, as if from nowhere, a shriek reverberates around the grand space, followed by a massive explosion that shakes the wine glasses and jostles the fancy chandelier hanging from the middle of the ceiling.
Fireworks shoot from the box, hitting the curtains hanging from the ceiling before bursting into rainbow colours. A revenant gasp sounds from everywhere as the guests turn their heads towards the roof, watching the pyrotechnics light up in reds, golds and greens.
Whilst this is going on, sparklers unpack themselves and drift down to the party-goers. A voice shouts "1, 2, 3, 4…" before the first notes of Outkast's Hey Ya! play out at an almost deafening level. Although the noise is still coming from the box, the music sounds like it's playing from speakers positioned in every corner of the room, forcing the string quartet to stop their delightful instrumentals.
The box is brilliant; even Hermione can admit it. The atmosphere changes from civil to eclectic, and now everyone looks like they're having fun, even Percy as he shakes it like a polaroid picture.
Well, almost everyone.
"Oh, shit!"
Katie's declaration breaks through the rest of the group, barely audible above the racquet. They follow her pointed finger towards the opposite side of the balcony, where a team of Aurors has appeared. The furious looks on their faces make it clear they're seeking out the source of the disturbance.
"RUN!" Fred shouts before tapping the box once. It turns invisible, but the music and the chaos don't cease. Satisfied, he kicks it under the table before scarpering, pulling Katie behind him.
As Harry and Ginny fall out of the booth, Hermione slips her hand into Ron's, yanking him into a standing position. The twin's party trick has ignited a fire deep inside her belly, and for once, she's not worried about doing the right thing. She abandons her shoes and stumbles away, keeping a tight hold of Ron as they attempt to outrun the Aurors.
But the group of magical defenders gain on them. As they're about to meet in the middle of the balcony, Hermione changes direction and pulls Ron against the nearest wall.
"Pretend," she whispers with urgency before pressing herself against his body and pulling his head down so that their foreheads touch. Heat radiates from him, setting the hairs on her arm on end. She tries to ignore it and focus on pretending to be an over-amorous couple.
But his eyes pull her in, a deep brilliant blue that has her stomach squirming like a herd of Hippogriffs are partying in there. How has she never noticed them before? She wants to fall into them, to give herself up to their magic and become his forever.
Desperate to distract herself, she lets her gaze drop to his lips but finds them even more distracting. When did they get so red and pouty? She's never noticed them before, even before the Horcrux hunt. It would be so easy to stretch up on her tiptoes, press her mouth against his and enjoy the sensation of the kiss. To give her body to him and allow Ron to take her up against the wall in front of all their coworkers. Even the thought of how nice he must taste—a delectable combination of firewhisky, chocolate cake and champagne—ignites a spark of desire.
But they promised no snogging, not even at midnight, and their date is only platonic. Hermione has to stop before it's too late, despite the fact her body is telling her to go, go, go.
"Too much champagne." She giggles, pushing away from Ron. Hermione hopes the darkness of their secluded corner hides the heat spreading up over her cheeks and down past the neckline of her dress.
He grabs hold of her elbow to steady her. "Are you okay? Do you need water?"
Around them, Hey Ya! changes to Dancing on the Ceiling. When did the twins learn so many Muggle songs? And why is it such a random mix? She feels like she's stuck back in the early noughties again.
Hermione shakes her head and glances at where Ron is still holding on to her. "No. I need to dance."
A frown creases his forehead, and he looks like he's struggling with an internal debate before his brilliant lop-sided grin spreads over his face again. When he speaks, Ron is breathless.
"I'd love to dance with you, Hermione."
⁂
Dancing on the Ceiling morphs into I want to Dance with Somebody. The couple move close with only eyes for each other. After their encounter on the balcony, something has changed between them, and Hermione is determined to ride the wave for as long as she can.
As George and Angelina foxtrot past them, Hermione grabs him and leans away from Ron to talk to the twin. As excitement burns deep in her belly, she notices Ron placing his hand on her waist to keep her close to him.
"Your party box? It was brilliant, George! You and Fred are geniuses!"
She nods towards the balcony, where the Aurors still stand, scratching their heads. It's clear they don't have a clue how to stop it, and nobody from the family is rushing to help them. They're all having too much fun.
George beams back at her. "Why thank you, Hermione! We look forward to you joining the family. Your brilliance will fit right in with us!"
"We're not dating, George!" Ron shouts, but when Hermione checks on him, the massive grin is still on his face. His hand slips to her hip, his thumb rubbing a wide circle on her skin over her dress. If he's not careful, they may not see the start of the new year.
The dancing duo disappears, and it's only Ron and Hermione again. The music fades out, and a voice coming from the direction of the box announces, "We're getting close to midnight. It's time to start the countdown."
Enormous digits appear on the curtains decorating the ceiling, showing sixty seconds.
Hermione turns around, wriggling her backside tight against Ron. He squirms away from her, and his breath burns against her ear as he whispers, "I need to take a piss."
He abandons her before she has a chance to stop him or pull him back. Hermione stares at his retreating figure, her mouth wide with surprise. "But it's almost midnight!"
It's only a minute. Surely it could have waited?
The seconds creep closer to zero but Ron doesn't return and her impatience grows. What is he playing at? He promised they'd be together for this moment.
At the stroke of midnight, Hermione finds herself all alone on the dance floor for the millionth year in a row. Around her, couples kiss and embrace as another load of Weasley Wildfire Whizbangs fill the air above their heads, but all she feels is disappointment.
Ignoring the tears springing into her eyes, she tries to work out what went wrong. They were having such a lovely time, and there was a part of her hoping she might get to share a kiss with Ron tonight, even if it was only on the cheek.
Did he genuinely need the toilet, or did he disappear so that he didn't have to let her down gently?
Will you stop being so dramatic? But the negative thoughts keep on coming, despite her best attempts to keep them at bay. The whole point of their arrangement was to make sure neither of them ended up all alone during the pivotal moment. They didn't want to be in this predicament.
Ron's timing is too suspicious.
The fireworks continue to erupt overhead as Mariah Carey's version of Auld Lang Syne fades away to a medley of Jennifer Lopez's best hits. It's not until the explosions have fizzled out and unburstable bubbles take their place that Ron returns.
He gives Hermione a sheepish smile. "Sorry."
"That's okay."
Shrugging, Hermione gets back to dancing, but she's determined to keep her distance from him this time.
But it's not alright. A cold chill has crept over Hermione's body, and she is no longer having fun. Even his reappearance hasn't appeased her disappointment, and even though she's trying her best to get back into the festive spirit, she finds she can't summon even an ounce of excitement.
⁂
Despite her mood, the friends remain on the dancefloor with the rest of the Weasleys and their significant others until gone four in the morning. As Ron leads her away from the atrium and towards the Floo network, Hermione's head swims with the effects of all the champagne she's drunk tonight. Her feet are killing her. She yearns to be alone and in the comfort of her own bed.
As they join the back of the queue, Hermione suppresses a yawn.
"That bad a night, huh?"
Turning towards Ron, Hermione flashes him a genuine smile. Despite the awkwardness that has lingered between them after his midnight disappearance, he's still her best friend, and she doesn't want him to think she's had an awful time.
"Not at all. It was a brilliant party, and the company was okay."
Ron's weary face brightens. "Only okay, huh? Right back atcha! The twin's trick was brilliant, wasn't it?"
"It really was."
The conversation fizzles out again. But it's late, and if Ron is as tired as Hermione is, he probably doesn't even feel like talking. But he must notice the stilted silence as he continues, "Well, at least the next holiday isn't until Valentine's day. You have almost a month and a half to find someone, so you're not stuck with me again."
Oh.
Hermione isn't sure why the comment surprises her so much. This whole evening has been a platonic arrangement after all, and there is no obligation for Ron to put off looking for an actual date to keep her company.
Pasting a brave smile on her face, she digs into the last of her energy to quip back, "That's not all that long, Ron. I'll be okay, but are you sure you'll manage it?"
"I'll try not to take offence at that. But honestly, Hermione. Tonight was fun, but you deserve a real date. I don't see any point in us pursuing this any further. And if I don't manage to find someone, I have a long-standing arrangement at Honeydukes, anyway."
Deciding not to reply, Hermione nods and turns back around, watching as witches and wizards disappear in bright flashes of green, longing to join them so she can be away from this awkward situation. The end of the evening is so anti-climatic, and for once in her life, she doesn't want to spend a moment longer with her best friend. At least not tonight.
She only hopes tonight hasn't ruined their friendship entirely.