Written for Romione Week 2021. Prompt: Moments in Time

Rating: T
Era: Post-War

Drunk Confessions

[October]

"Hermioneeeeee!"

The way Ron extended the last syllable of her name when Hermione entered Grimmauld Place suggested that the glass of firewhiskey in his hand wasn't his first. She couldn't help but smile as he teetered on the edge of his chair, his cheeks flushed and hair ruffled.

"Have I interrupted something?" she asked. "I can come back later."

"NO!"

Harry laughed and safeguarded his drink as Ron sprang to his feet. He rushed toward Hermione and threw his arms around her body with so much force that they might have merged into one.

'How many has he had?' mouthed Hermione over Ron's shoulder.

Harry grimaced. 'Five? Six? Lost count.'

Hermione sent him a stern look, which elicited a shrug and a mouthed apology.

"Howdidyougethere?" Ron slurred, pulling away from Hermione to hold her at arm's length.

"Well, as you can see, I used the floo network." She nodded toward the fireplace.

"But it's only October," said Harry from his seat at the table.

Hermione hadn't planned on returning to Grimmauld Place until the Christmas holidays for fear that seeing Ron and Harry — mostly Ron — would make the first term drag on even more slowly. But as it turned out, for the first time in her memory, school dragged on regardless, and Hogwarts just wasn't the same without the boys.

"I wanted to surprise—"

She didn't get a chance to finish her thought before Ron pulled her closer and crashed his lips against hers. Thanks to his inebriated state, his kiss was sloppy, rushed, and frantic, a stark contrast to the timid explorations of their early relationship.

"Mmmmm," hummed Hermione as she laced her fingers into his hair. She usually hated the bitter taste of firewhiskey, but she found a whole new appreciation for the drink through this method of delivery.

"Well, that's my cue to leave," said Harry before downing the remaining contents of his drink and tiptoeing past them toward the staircase. "It's erm… good to see you, Hermione!"

Harry's footsteps faded to the background and Hermione found herself completely lost in Ron — his warm breath, his overgrown hair, the scratch of stubble that prickled against her face. She would have stayed there forever if Ron hadn't stumbled and lost his balance, nearly toppling over before Hermione stabilized him. She laughed, letting herself imagine she made him weak in the knees, although knowing full well it was a side effect of his fourth, maybe fifth drink.

"Let's get you to the sofa," she said as she looped his arm around her shoulders.

"Mmmkay," he mumbled, dragging his feet alongside hers until tumbling onto the cushions.

He gripped her wrist and tugged her toward him, and Hermione let her body melt against his. She fit so perfectly on top of him, and by the way he slipped his arms around her waist and guided her head into the crook of his neck, he must have agreed.

They laid there for a few moments, listening to each other's heartbeats, Hermione's head rising and falling with each breath. Being with him like this seemed to melt away all of her stress from school, so much so that she found herself wishing for the tenth time that day — hundredth since they'd started their relationship — that they'd sorted themselves out much sooner.

She was about to drift off to sleep when Ron broke the silence. "Iloveyoumione," he said, the words landing somewhere between a whisper and a mumble.

Heat rushed to her cheeks and she perked up to look at him. His eyes were closed and breathing steady, and he appeared to be asleep, or close. He'd never said those words before, and she wasn't expecting to hear them anytime soon. She'd imagined it, hoped for it, but it still caught her off guard.

Did he mean it? Would he remember saying it in the morning? Was it wrong to say it back if he said it by accident?

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but at that very moment, Ron let out an elongated snore.

It was too late to tell him, but the words still hovered at the tip of the tongue. "I love you too."

They felt so natural as they left her lips, and she only hoped she'd have the opportunity to say them again soon. When he was sober, of course. She wanted him to remember it.

She nuzzled her head back against his chest and closed her eyes. It wasn't long before she joined Ron in sleep, her smile so wide and goofy it could almost compete with his.

[December]

Hermione's head felt like a bludger against Ron's shoulder. Her bushy hair seemed to expand and contract with every breath she took, all but suffocating Ron in the process and he inhaled the crisp, flowery scent of her shampoo.

His arm was beginning to prickle, but he didn't dare move. She was so calm, so serene compared to the Hermione he'd greeted at Platform 9 ¾ just a few hours ago. Clearly, the past term had taken a toll on her. It always took some time for the anxiety to dissipate before she could truly relax. He noticed that every school break, but it seemed worse this year. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he wasn't there to distract her, remind her to eat, and make her laugh. The thought brought a smile to his face.

They were on the couch in the Burrow's living room having just spent the evening eating dinner and dessert with his family and catching up with his brothers and Ginny over a few glasses of wine. Ron had watched in amusement as Hermione finished her first glass of wine, then reached for a second. Then a third.

School so far must have been intense.

Ron loved the rare, drunk Hermione — well, he loved every version of her, but he hadn't told her that. Not yet, at least. He couldn't stand the thought of saying it and not hearing it back, so he vowed not to until he was completely sure she felt the same way. It was so difficult to know her thoughts on the matter when they never saw each other. There was only so much emotion that could be conveyed in a letter.

His cheeks still hurt from laughing as each sip of wine had unraveled her stress, slowly revealing the carefree, playful, fun-loving person that he knew. Watching her joke and banter with his family assured him that she felt just as comfortable around them as she did around him alone. It confirmed at least one thing — that she was already a part of his family.

Eventually, the wine and butterbeer strengthened their effects, and one by one, everyone padded off to bed. Ron stayed put, as Hermione had already fallen asleep against him and he didn't dare wake her up. He was perfectly comfortable, anyway. So content that he ignored his brothers' smirks, and when he witnessed Ginny tugging an enthused Harry toward the staircase, he didn't bother to wonder if they were headed toward separate bedrooms.

At last, they were alone, and in the newfound silence, Ron could hear a slight snore sounding from Hermione's lips. It was soft and quiet, and so unbelievably cute that he couldn't wait to make fun of it tomorrow. As much as he loved jovial, drunk Hermione, hungover Hermione reminded him of a fire-breathing dragon, and he'd never give up his pastime of pushing her buttons. He loved a good adrenaline rush.

Ron was also inebriated, and there was no way he could carry her to bed in this state. With caution, he extricated himself from Hermione and gently laid her down on the sofa. He pulled a blanket from a nearby armchair and draped it around her before leaning down to place a kiss on her forehead.

"Stay." Her whisper was so soft that he barely heard her.

Did she mean that?

"Here? On the couch with you?"

Without opening her eyes, she wiggled against the back of the sofa, uncovering not quite enough room for Ron to fit comfortably, but more than enough to be worth a try.

"Yeah, okay." All thoughts of his family discovering them in the morning were fleeting. He could deal with the consequences later. It was always worth it.

Ron settled into the space beside her and wrapped an arm around her middle. He was immediately intoxicated by her — the smell of her hair, her warmth, the way she fit against him like a perfectly matched puzzle piece. His lips landed on her cheek.

"Iloveyou."

Ron froze at the sound that escaped Hermione's lips. It came out in one breath, and if he hadn't been so close to her, it could have easily been mistaken for a sigh, or nonsense muttering in her sleep.

But, he knew what he heard. All of the fear that she wouldn't say those words back melted away, and a wide smile crossed his face.

"What did you say?" he whispered. Just to be sure, of course.

Hermione didn't respond — her breathing had returned to its calm, sedated pace, her eyes were shut, and her lips parted, eliciting those soft, adorable snores once again. She was asleep.

Had she meant it?

There was one way to find out. "I love you too, Hermione."

The words nearly tumbled out of him. They felt so natural — as if he'd said them already. He knew the admission would open the floodgates, and he'd never be able to hold it in again.

Of course, Hermione didn't hear him this time, but he'd make sure she did tomorrow.