AN: Happy Valentine's Day. I hope you enjoy your little present from me x
Hermione and Ron remain single, despite the fact it's the most romantic day of the year, apparently. But can a chance meeting a Hogsmeade change things for them?
Hermione
Hermione shivers and pulls her cardigan tighter around her body, regretting not grabbing her coat before leaving the office. Although, she was in a hurry, so who can blame her?
It's far too cold to be outside with such a small amount of clothing on, especially in mid-February, yet here she is, freezing her tits off in the middle of Whitehall. Muggle Civil Servants race past, flitting between departments, unaware of the ginormous amount of magic under their feet.
The light stone of the Tudor building presses through the thin wool of her cardie as she leans against the wall, and she's sure the longer she stays on the phone, the more it'll mark her pale skin.
That's exactly what she needs before facing the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department this afternoon.
"Yes, Mum," Hermione interjects through the non-stop commentary her mother gives on the latest happenings at Hampstead Women's Institute. A few more 'aha's' and 'ahum's' and Hermione worries she might lose all ability to speak.
Jean continues anyway, "So I said to Doris if she doesn't use the entire block of butter I gave her, the bases will be crumbly. Sure enough, the old bat turned up to our Valentine's Day Afternoon Tea to benefit Great Ormond Street with tarts that are falling apart. I should have made them myself."
"What a disaster."
Upstairs, real problems wait on Hermione's desk. She'd only sat down to read through the piles of folders with a cup of tea when her mother had called. There's at least one instance of brutal house-elf abuse that she has to review before her final meeting this evening, and she still hasn't been able to get her new bill on Centaur rights under Kingsley's nose.
Yet, it's the substandard jam tarts on offer at Hampstead Women's Institute that are the true calamity.
"Every year you say this, Mum." Hermione sighs. "But you know you can't do all that baking by yourself, so you have to let someone help or learn to deal with less than perfect baked goods. Doris will learn, I'm sure. Why don't you lend her Grandma's recipe?"
"Absolutely not. I'll never get it back. No, Doris will have to get better, or next year, I'll put her on cucumber sandwich duties."
Poor Doris.
"Look Mother, I have to—"
"Did you manage to make any plans for tonight?"
Tonight? What's so important about tonight? It's an ordinary Thursday evening. Hermione usually works late today so she can have an early finish Friday. Tonight, she was planning on ordering a takeaway for dinner.
She's nothing but a creature of habit.
Her mum must sense her hesitance because she tuts. "It's Valentine's Day. Please don't tell me you haven't got a date?"
"I, uhm, haven't had time."
"Hermione! How do you expect to be taken off the shelf if you're not putting yourself out there?"
Putting herself out there? Left on a shelf? What is she—tinned fruit?!
Hermione scoffs. "It's a normal Thursday, Mum. Valentine's is a day made up by card companies with the sole purpose to make money. Personally, I'd be offended if I was with someone who only chose to show me romance on one day out of the year. Anyway, who wants to sit in a crowded restaurant with a load of other people? How is that in any way romantic?"
She can almost hear her mother rolling her eyes at her. "I don't want you to be alone. I worry about your future. Who's going to look after you when I'm gone?"
"I have plenty of friends. Being in a relationship is not the be all and end all, I told you that. And I can look after myself perfectly fine."
"Well, Florence said her son is single and he's lovely. A doctor, and a successful one at that. I know you prefer to spend your life amongst magical folk nowadays, but I wouldn't turn your nose up at someone like me and Dad. After all, you weren't always magical."
I was born with this ability. But Hermione bites back the retort in the hope of putting an end to this conversation. The longer she drags it out, the less time she'll have to look at her reports before the end of her working day. And she's still hoping to pop over to Hogsmeade to speak to Aberforth regarding the house-elf abuser before she goes home. Apparently, they're a regular at the Hog's Head.
"Mother! I have never refused to date a Muggle. Who do you think I am? I don't have the time to date anyone right now."
"What about Ronald? Didn't you go on a date with him for New Years?"
Ugh. Hermione had been avoiding thinking about her disastrous New Year. After the first two weeks of January (and a bottle of wine a week), her memories of the awkward evening had disappeared.
It had all been going so well in the build-up to the ball dropping at midnight. But in the sober light of day, Hermione was painfully aware she'd flirted too much with Ron and danced far too close to him. Her cheeks heat up at the memory of how she'd acted like they were already together. What in Merlin's name had Hermione been thinking? She doesn't even fancy him. The magic, the champagne and the spirit of the whole event got her in a tizzy.
That's all it was.
Luckily, the awkwardness hadn't lasted long, and by the time she turned up to their bi-weekly working lunch date with Harry, their friendship had been back to normal.
"Ron and I were a one-off thing. And we only attended as friends, anyway. Neither of us wanted to go to the Ministry party alone."
"Well, are you attracted to him?"
"No way. He's been my friend for so long. He's like a brother to me, the same as Harry."
"Was he attracted to you?"
There's no way. Ron fancies girls like Lavender Brown—pretty, with big boobs, immaculate hair and a decent fashion sense. Hermione glances down at her frumpy peplum skirt that reaches well past her knees and her stuffy white blouse. Gross. She's far from what Ron thinks is attractive.
Sighing, Hermione replies, "Look, Mum. I'm happy being single. I have a great life with some brilliant friends. Finding a date isn't high on my priority list at the moment. But you don't have to worry about me, I promise. I'll be fine."
"Okay." Jean Granger doesn't sound okay. Doubt drips from her words as if Hermione is trying to persuade her mum she's the Minister for Magic. "I guess as long as you're making an effort, you'll find somebody eventually. You don't deserve to be alone forever, darling."
"I know Mum, thank you."
The flapping of something in her ear distracts Hermione from her mother's dissection of her dating life. After checking there are no Muggles nearby, Hermione plucks the memo out of the air and reads it, making sure to make the usual noises, so Jean thinks her daughter is still listening.
Hermione, there's been a breakthrough in the House-Elf case. We need to speak to Aberforth sooner than we planned.
Yes! Here's her escape route, and Hermione didn't even have to bribe anyone to send it.
She taps her foot as she works out the best way to terminate the call. Waiting for her mother to pause and take a breath is an option, but that could take ages. So Hermione barges straight in with, "Mum, look I'm so sorry. But Selena has sent me an internal memo. There's been a breakthrough in my case, so I have to go."
"But we don't get to talk often."
Ah, and here's the guilt trip—one of the many tools in Jean Granger's belt for making Hermione feel like an inferior daughter.
"I know, I'll call you on the weekend, I promise. Love you."
Without giving her mum another chance to say anything else, Hermione hangs up. She knows she'll suffer for her reckless actions later, but she doesn't care. There's only so much of her mother's rabbiting on she can handle.
Tucking her phone back into her skirt pocket, Hermione rubs her hands together to get the circulation going as she makes her way back up the steps of the employee entrance to the Ministry. The stone arch welcomes her into the new warm and open reception area. At least they've got rid of those vile toilets. Her ear aches from the conversation, and she's almost turned into an icicle from the bitter February weather, so the last thing she wants is to be washed back into work.
Maybe after she's spoken to Aberforth, Hermione will treat herself to a new quill or even a sugary treat from Honeydukes to spite her dentist mother. It is Valentine's Day after all, and if she has nobody to buy her a present, she might as well spoil herself. Merlin knows she deserves it.
Ron
Honeydukes is the best place in the world.
Even after eighteen years of visiting, the sweet shop never fails to impress Ron. Shelves upon shelves of the most succulent-looking sweets line the walls in neat rows, and around the floor sit barrels and barrels of the more peculiar treats—Every Flavour Beans, Fizzing Whizzbees, and Drooble's Best Blowing Gum.
He helps himself to another sampler from the counter next to the till (this time a Pepper Imp). Once the initial exhale of flames subsides, he chomps away as he returns to surveying the sweets, finally deciding on adding a box of exploding bonbons to the pile already in his basket.
When he was younger, there was no way Ron would be able to splurge on so many sweets. His allowance had been meagre, and he'd had to stretch it out to buy the things he needed, too. Still, there had always been a little leftover for a bag of Ice Mice or Toothflossing Stringmints. They were his weakness, and of course, his love for sugary goodies eventually turned into his single-man Valentine's treats.
He winds his way past the jar of Fudge flies buzzing angrily against their plastic container and gets distracted by a new vat of Acid Pops. They've even got the new flavours, but is it worth the hole in his tongue?
As he reaches in to pull out at least two, his fingers collide with someone else's. Looking up, he's surprised to see Lavender's brown eyes staring back at him.
"Lav!"
Ron jumps back in surprise, his heart beating an erratic rhythm against his ribcage. What the fuck is she doing here? She's the last person he wants to see today. He takes a deep breath, letting his eyes travel over the pouty lips he used to enjoy kissing, the narrow column of her neck shrouded with tight blonde curls. Ron is a decent lad, so he skips over her chest before landing on her…
"A baby?"
Lavender's cheeks heat up, but she places a firm hand on the burgeoning bump protruding from her slim frame. "Yes, but don't worry, it's not yours."
He carries on staring at her stomach, trying to digest the words she's saying, but nothing makes sense. "Uhm, I…"
"Oh, Lavender, babe, there you are!" A familiar Irish lilt fills the room, causing Ron to clench his fists tightly, his fingernails digging half-moons into his palms.
Seamus.
The sight of his ex-girlfriend with his ex-friend is the douse of cold water Ron needed to bring him to his senses. Of course, the pair have done enough to ruin his life, so it makes sense they'd want to destroy his love of Honeydukes, too. His eyes flit to the door, but there's a pretty sizable bump blocking his exit. There's no way he wants to waste time having a conversation with them; Ron needs to get out of there as soon as possible before he's forced into niceties. The two of them can go fuck themselves, which they've so obviously been doing.
Between gritted teeth, he says, "Well, of course it's not mine. You stopped sleeping with me a lot longer than nine months ago."
"I'm only six months go—"
"I don't care!" He shouts, rattling the jars of sweets next to him. The rest of the customers in the shop stop to stare at him.
A jingle of the bell above the door disrupts the awkward conversation, and the hubbub around the sweet shop resumes. It's almost as if things have gone back to normal, but not for Ron. He didn't think this day could get any more awful, but then he is attacked by a head of wild curly hair that tickles his nose and tangles in his beard.
"There you are, Ronnie," Hermione coos as she loops her arms around Ron's waist and plonks her head on his shoulder. The assault of her perfume as he takes in a massive breath stuns him. "I was wondering where you'd gotten to."
"Yeah, I—"
"I've finished in Madam Malkin's Saucy Lingerie shop. We better get going if we want to squish in a quick massage before our dinner plans. Oh, hello Seamus, Lavender. What a lovely surprise seeing you two here."
The whirlwind that is Hermione Granger is enough to throw anyone off kilter, and it's clear the rude intruders on Ron's shopping time are stunned by the show in front of them. Merlin, even Ron is confused right now.
But Hurricane Hermione isn't finished. "Oh, are you pregnant, Lav? Congratulations. There's nothing I'd want more than to get knocked up before I'm thirty, but I guess when you don't have a career, you might as well get on with it, right?"
There's an instant reaction as Seamus turns red and Lavender wraps her arms protectively around her bump. Sensing things are about to go even more south, Ron pries Hermione's arms from around his waist and laces their fingers together. Summoning all his courage, he looks directly at Lavender before saying, "Well, good luck with everything." It's hard to squeeze the words out, but he continues anyway, desperate to get out of this situation. "Have a nice day!"
Before anyone else can speak, Ron pulls at Hermione's arm and squeezes between Lavender and Seamus, being careful not to touch Lav's massive stomach. He yanks his best friend out into the cold street, ignoring the icy blast as it hits him square in the face. Taking long strides, he pulls her along until they reach the end of the row of shops. It's not until they round the corner and are out of sight of the shoppers that a loud laugh escapes his lips.
"What the fuck was that?" He beams at Hermione, who adjusts her hat and crosses her arms over her chest before flopping against the nearest wall.
"I was here for work. My interview with Aberforth finished earlier than expected, and I didn't fancy going all the way back to the office. So I was going to do a bit of shopping and work from home for the rest of the afternoon. I spotted you talking to Lavender in Honeydukes and it looked like the most awkward thing in the world, so I thought I'd rescue you."
"I'm not some damsel in distress who needs saving, Hermione! It's Lav."
"A heavily pregnant Lavender, your ex-girlfriend, with Seamus Finnegan, who you shared a dormitory with for six years. Why didn't you tell me?"
Ugh. The last thing Ron wants to do right now is go into the sordid details of why he and Lavender broke up. He's done a good job so far at keeping it firmly in the back of his mind. It took him a while to get over the heartache, and he knows digging it back up will only make him feel like shit again. No thank you.
"It doesn't matter. So, I figure since you're here all alone you didn't manage to get a date for Valentine's day?"
Her cheeks colour as her gaze drops to her feet. "It's not important."
Ron's smile widens. "No? Well I guess I'll leave you to your evening then? You wouldn't want to come and grab dinner with me."
He turns, taking his time to step away from his best friend as he tries to suppress the smile itching to spread over his face. He reaches the corner of the nearest shop and is about to wave goodbye to her when she calls out.
"I am hungry."
A giddiness takes over, and he cannot contain his grin. "I know just the place…."
⁂
Twenty minutes later and the pair are sitting in a fried chicken shop not far from his London flat. The basket of sweets, which he forgot to pay for, are at his feet.
"So you'll send them some galleons when you get home?"
"Yes, Hermione." Ron lets out a dramatic sigh. "As soon as I get back, I will send Pig out. I didn't mean to steal the treats and the basket from Honeydukes. Anyway, it's your fault. I had to get you out of there before Seamus lamped you."
Hermione licks the grease from her fingers before helping herself to another wing. There's already a pile of discarded bones between them. A drunk sings in the corner, but he doesn't disturb their meal.
Ron loves this place—the smell of the grease, how ridiculously cheap it is to get a decent meal. The owners think of him as a regular now, and often sneak extras into his order.
"He wouldn't have?"
Ron shrugs. "Who knows, he's a bit of a dickhead, isn't he?"
Her expression softens, and she reaches her spare hand across the table to squeeze his lower arm. "What happened, Ron?"
It's the second time she's asked today, and the millionth over the year and a bit since he and Lavender split up. Maybe he doesn't have to keep it all to himself? Perhaps Hermione is the one person who'd understand but wouldn't cause a fuss. The last thing he wants is anyone's pity, but she's not like that.
With a sigh, Ron picks at the chips on his plate. "Remember the shit mission I attended in the Ukraine before Christmas the other year? We lost two men that week. It's probably the worst mission I've ever been on, and I was seriously debating quitting the Aurors. Anyway, I got home and I was desperate to see Lav. I wanted to be looked after, you know?"
He risks a glance at Hermione, whose eyes are wide open, but there's no pity on her face. It encourages him to continue, "Well, I got in but the flat was stupidly quiet, considering she was supposed to be home alone. I went to the bedroom, thinking she might be in the ensuite bath, but I found her in bed.
"With Seamus."
A small gasp sounds from across the table, but he's comforted by another gentle squeeze. With a soft voice, Hermione says, "You came to the pub with Harry and I that night, but you didn't say anything. Just told us about your mission and how awful it had been."
"What should I have said? Anyway, I didn't want to ruin your night."
"It wouldn't have."
Ron nods in acknowledgement. "I guess. It's done now, anyway."
Quietness fills the space between them, and he picks up a chicken thigh, although he finds he's no longer hungry. It takes a moment and he scrunches his eyes up against the ongoing clemency he just knows will in her voice. But when she speaks, he's relieved that she's just normal Hermione.
"You can always come to me,Ron. To talk about anything. I hate the fact you dealt with this alone."
"Well, not completely alone. The Ministry mind-healer is fed up with me sitting in her office and whining about my love life."
Hermione laughs. "Poor woman."
His confession over, Ron is desperate to change the subject. After pulling the skin off the piece of chicken in his hand and shoving it in his mouth he asks, "whyryoualonetonight?"
Her mouth twitches, and he can tell she's desperate to reprimand him for his awful table manners, but his confession must have quelled some of Hermione's nagginess. Still, she speaks fluent Ron, and understands his question despite his full mouth.
"I was too busy at work to find someone. My mother offered to put me in touch with her friend's son, who is a doctor, by the way. But I didn't want to give her the satisfaction. I thought Valentine's Day would be okay, since I don't believe in all the crap commercialism, but the more she chatted about it, the sadder I felt. I was on my way to treat myself to a new quill."
"A new quill?" Ron chokes on his food and it takes him a moment to swallow before he continues, "You sure know how to spoil yourself."
"Says the guy who brought his best friend to a fast food chicken restaurant."
"Touche! I was fine with my sweet date tonight, by the way. I was going to go home, eat a fuck ton of chocolate, download some Muggle porn—"
"Ron! You can't watch porn on Valentine's Day."
He throws his head back laughing. "You absolutely should watch porn on Valentine's Day." The fact Hermione is avoiding eye contact with him is bloody brilliant. Over something as ridiculous as a sexy movie, too. She can be such a prude sometimes and he loves her for it.
Ron decides to put her out of her misery. "You know, after Lavender left, it was the smaller holidays that sucked the most. Birthdays, St. Patrick's Day, weddings. Ugh, I am not looking forward to going to Percy's wedding alone."
Hermione chews her lower lip, a sure sign she's thinking about something. She opens her mouth, before closing it again and sighing. She plays with her metal straw—there's no way she'd allow either of them to use plastic—as she finally spits out, "We could try again with the whole Holidate thing?"
"Really?"
Ron's surprised, given the awkward way New Year's Eve ended. He was desperate to kiss Hermione on the dance floor at midnight, but his head spun with the amount of champagne he'd had to drink, as well as the after-effects of Fred and George's marvellous prank. It had been a brilliant party, once they'd unleashed the Weasley Party Pleaser, but maybe the spirit of the whole thing had made him feel something for Hermione.
There's never been a strong urge to kiss her before, so why had things changed that night?
She must be unaware of his inner turmoil as Hermione shrugs. "It's working for Charlie, isn't it?"
"Yeah, although the people he dates tend to be faceless women he won't see again. That's how he persuades them to get into bed with him after."
"Well, don't expect sex from me. I wouldn't want to ruin our friendship by sleeping together."
"No, me neither."
That's not entirely true. Ron's lost count of the amount of times he's imagined what it might be like to shag Hermione. But that's curiosity, right? You can't be friends with someone like her for as long as they have without some naughty dreams sneaking in.
Hermione gets up to put their rubbish in the bin. "Alright. Let's try this whole Holidate thing again. But no feelings and no sex. We keep all of that out of it, and focus on having fun together, until one of us finds someone to date. Then we call it a day and go back to being friends, deal?"
Returning to their table, she holds her hand out for him. He considers it for a moment. What has he got to lose? It's either that or spend the year alone.
"Deal. So, where are you taking me for my birthday?"