Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters.

A/N: Written for the Romione Trope Fest 2022. This fic will be told through 3 chapters. I had a blast co-modding this fest alongside a few other brilliant writers: be11atrixthestrange, adenei, accio-broom, and sm_jl. So many amazing works sent in and published, thank you all for your participation!

Hope you enjoy some Fake Dating!


I Solemnly Swear


Today is a good day.

The radiant sun provides a dance of light in the clouds, and its warm, brilliant rays soak through Hermione's skin. It's her first day at the Burrow, and she's spent the morning relaxing in the freshly mown grass next to Ginny with her head tilted to the clouds, breathing in the hot aromatic air and relishing the sensation of the warming breeze hitting her skin.

As summer neared its end, she received an invitation from Ron to join him at the Burrow for the week prior to the start of term. Harry came, too, and Hermione recalls the enormous excitement she felt over being reunited with her two best friends.

For once, she's not fretting over what's to come for her sixth year at Hogwarts, and there's not a single spot of darkness in the sky that could sour her mood.

"Oi! Mum says lunch is ready!"

Ron's booming voice comes from the door nearest to the garden. Hermione squints and turns her head in the direction of one of her best friends, meeting his humor-filled gaze. She lets out a laugh; he's completely caked in dirt as if he's been rolling around with chickens in the mud.

I thought he was going for a fly with Harry? What in Merlin's name have those boys been up to?

"Not for you. Your mum won't let you anywhere near the dining table looking like that." The snarky reply rolls off her tongue before she can stop it.

Ron wipes the beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand while simultaneously rolling his eyes. "Fuck off."

Ginny snorts from her position next to Hermione in the grass without opening her eyes. "Why do you like him?"

Although Hermione knows Ginny must have meant as a friend, she can't quell the stomach-tumbling sensation that occurs from the words that could have more than one intended meaning.

Not that she thinks of Ron in that way.

Sure, he has some physical markers that make him attractive; like when his copper strands glisten against the sun, or the freckles splattered upon the curve of his nose grow more prominent in the summertime, and the recent formation of muscles beneath his robes from Quidditch practices—

What are you doing Hermione?

Ron disappears inside the house without another word. Hermione sits up before Ginny discovers the blush on her cheeks. She stretches her arms high towards the sky then offers a hand to help her friend to a standing position. The redhead groans and reluctantly accepts the assistance.

"It's stifling out here anyway," Hermione acknowledges as she wipes at the grass stains on her jeans. Ginny hooks their arms together at the elbows and they trudge their way to the house.

Molly had originally requested the meal be held outside in the garden, but after much groaning about the deliriously humid temperatures, she decided to reconsider. The social center of the house in all its cluttered array of furniture had recently undergone a massive cleaning, which fortunately provided enough space to enlarge the wooden table fit for eight so that they could squash in ten with the addition of Harry and Hermione.

It's a house full of all the usual inhabitants, with a special appearance by Charlie who is home from Romania for a few weeks. Hermione finds an empty seat at the table while everyone crowds around her. Ron and Harry enter the room, their bodies squished together in the doorway as they fight not to be the last to the table. Harry wins the battle, settling into the spot next to Ginny and Ron tousles his best friend's hair as he walks by.

Boys.

Ron takes the last remaining chair next to Hermione. He bumps her shoulder with his own, smirking as he pats his fresh short-sleeved shirt, which is free of any dirt or stains. "Better now?"

She catches a whiff of spearmint as his breath travels in her direction. Did he brush his teeth before lunch?

An airy reply leaves her lips. "Decent."

His low chuckle breaks her focus from the task in front of her, and the cutlery in her hands unceremoniously clatters against her plate.

When did his voice get so deep and husky?

She ignores the sideways glance that Ron gives her as she smooths down her hair and straightens her back against her chair. He doesn't say anything, thankfully letting her clumsiness slide, and busies himself by piling his plate high with chicken and ham sandwiches.

Hermione tosses the salad in front of her using the two wooden serving spoons. As she lifts up the utensils to scoop a helping onto her plate, she notices Charlie eyeing her movements from across the table. A tentative smile creeps up on her face as she focuses her efforts on making sure the greens land on her plate instead of on the floor.

She doesn't know this particular Weasley sibling very well, and she figures the curiosity on his face is likely due to that very fact, but she can't help but wonder why his gaze keeps flitting between herself and Ron.

The conversation around the table commences once the food is passed around, and all of Hermione's dwelling thoughts leave her mind as she dives into a deep discussion with Arthur over the latest Muggle inventions.

At one point she becomes distracted by the twins sniggering back and forth with each other. Hermione narrows her eyes at the pair. They've been up to their hijinks more than ever this summer—as Ron described to her in his recent letters—testing products for the launch of their joke shop, often at the expense of others.

"Ronnie, what's new with you? Sixth year already, eh?"

Charlie's question diverts Hermione's attention away from the two pranksters, and her head pivots in Ron's direction as he shrugs.

"Not much. I'm looking forward to Diagon Alley this week." He points his thumb at Hermione. "This one has probably memorized all of the texts for our classes this year."

She scoffs and crosses her arms across her chest, taking offense to his teasing comment. She's only read through half, actually—which reminds her, she best get on the rest, she's already dreadfully behind…

A wide grin spreads onto Charlie's face and there's a slight twinkle in his blue eyes that's barely noticeable through the long, ginger strands covering his face.

"So." The older brother waggles a finger between Ron and Hermione's bodies. "When did this happen?"

The entire table falls quiet and Hermione's palms start to sweat. What in the world made Charlie think that? She swallows a large gulp of air as she attempts to avoid the stares and prying gazes.

"No, we're, uh—" Ron dissolves into a coughing fit, nearly choking on the large portion of food he had just stuffed into his mouth. She wants to give him a large swat on the back, but it won't help matters much to touch him in any way right now.

Once Ron composes himself, he adds, "We're just friends, Charlie."

Although Ron's words are true, Hermione's heart sinks to the growing pit in her stomach. Why is she so disappointed by his response?

"Nonsense." Charlie leans back into his seat, a smug look on his face. "You don't bring a girl home with you for the summer unless you are in a relationship."

Ron snorts into his cup of water.

"Are you okay, dear?" Molly asks through scrunched-up eyebrows, leaning over the table to hand her son a clean flannel.

He takes the towel and quickly wipes his mouth while mumbling through the cloth. "Sorry, Mum."

"Actually, it's true."

Fred joins in with his own remark, and Ron clenches the flannel in his hands. Hermione sucks in a breath when she sees the twins exchange smiles with nothing but mischief written all over their faces.

"I saw Ron and Hermione hugging earlier," Fred continues on. "Looked quite cozy to me, reckon they might have started snogging if I wasn't there."

Hermione gasps out loud at the audacity of his statement.

What is happening right now?

Ron bangs his fists on the table, his entire face growing as red as his hair. "Fucking liar!"

"Ronald! Language!"

"Sorry, Mum." Ron slumps in his chair, his eyes drifting to the floor.

The look of defeat on his face is too much for Hermione to bear, and she's filled with a surge of rage towards the twins. They've likely been concocting this scheme all summer and saving it for the most opportunistic moment. Fred and George always did have a disposition to tease, but this? They've gone too far in their quest to deliberately cause grief, and she has half a mind to lock them inside a vanishing cabinet.

"Fred is right. We've been hiding something from you all."

The words leave Hermione's lips before she can stop herself. All heads snap in her direction and she can feel her heart hammering against her chest. She leans the slightest bit closer to Ron, all the while avoiding his burning gaze.

"We are...together."

Why did I say that? Why did I say that? WHY did I say that?!

Fred's jaw drops open and she can see him attempting to process the new information. Clearly, he wasn't expecting her response. The twins are known for playing pranks when their target least expects it. Hermione, however, is not, which makes her the perfect candidate to overthrow their trickery.

But this was one brilliant, conniving plan she concocted in her head that she actually didn't want to share with Ron, let alone his entire family. And Harry, who is now looking at her as if she's morphed into Fluffy the three-headed dog.

But she must forge ahead, knowing that if she shows even the slightest bit of resolve, Fred and George will see through her lies immediately.

"But-"

Hermione fixes Fred with a challenging look as if daring him to retaliate.

"Is this true, son?" Arthur breaks through the silence.

She finally works up the courage to look at Ron, and his face is void of any significant expression as he stares back at her. "I-uh, well-I-"

"Hermione's cat got your tongue, Ronniekins?" George chortles.

"Shut it."

"George," Molly chastises.

The conversation falls short as Ginny and Arthur lead the charge to gather up the empty plates. Much to Hermione's relief, many others follow suit, including the twins, and she can release the breath she has been holding. Ron still seems to be frozen to his spot, and she can tell by the rapid twitch of his eyes that there must be many brooms flying around in his head right now.

She nibbles on her bottom lip as she meets Charlie's gaze again, and this time he's tilting his head at her, appearing completely unphased by the information that was news to everyone else—even herself.

The plan is somewhat childish, but it gives Hermione a certain kind of satisfaction that she can't quite explain through her rational thoughts. She only hopes that Ron will laugh along with her and see the mirth in the situation once she explains.

A little innocent mischief can't hurt, right?

The second Molly becomes distracted by the dishes and Arthur retreats to the garden shed, Ron tugs on the sleeve of Hermione's shirt and nods his head upstairs. She gulps and follows his footsteps up to the attic, looking behind her to make sure no one is following them.

The trek to his bedroom seems entirely too long, and she spends the time inwardly berating herself. It's really quite arrogant and brash of her to assume that Ron will go along with her plan. Before she can formulate an excuse in her head, Ron shuts the door to his room and faces her square on. His eyes take on the darkest shade of blue she has ever seen.

"What are you playing at? Unless I've somehow been obliviated within the last twenty-four hours, I'm pretty sure you and I are not-"

"I'm really sorry!" Hermione spits out, the words spilling out of her before she can process them. "I don't know what came over me. It's just that I saw the smirk on the twins' faces, and I just can't stand the constant teasing, and well…"

She lets out a loud exhale, plopping herself down on the edge of the bed while looking up at Ron. "They take the mickey out of us all the time. Why not beat them at their own game for once?"

Ron remains quiet for a moment as he presses his fingertips together, giving off the connotation of deep contemplation. It's quite possibly the longest few seconds of her life. Her brain works overtime trying to figure out what he might be thinking.

"That's…"

Hermione closes her eyes, bracing herself for the inevitable rejection and his disgust over what she did. But it doesn't come. Instead, a different set of words tumble out of his mouth.

"...actually brilliant."

Her eyes snap open. What? She thought for certain he would never forgive her for what she did.

"Really?"

Ron nods as he leans his back against the orange wall that horridly clashes with the color of his ginger hair. The action elicits a giggle from Hermione's mouth and he glares at her.

"What?"

"Nothing. So, you're okay with this?"

"Yeah." The corner of his mouth curves up. "We'll let the prats sweat it out for a day or two and then break the news. It should be easy enough, and I'm gonna fucking love getting a glimpse of their faces when we tell 'em."

"Yeah…"

Ron sighs, crossing one foot over the other. "Okay, what is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're doing that thing where you think too much in your head and then forget to let me in on your musings. What's wrong?"

Hermione stands to pace the length of the room. She fiddles with her fingers, unsure of how to bring up her latest idea. "We should probably wait until we're back at Hogwarts to sort it all out—you know, to avoid any awkward tension at the Burrow. You can owl your parents and let them know we've decided to be just friends."

Ron's eyebrows raise high above the fringe on his forehead. "You've got this all planned, have you?"

No. She actually had zero intention of this daydream of hers ever slipping out of her mind and into reality at all, but here they are.

"I didn't realize the idea of you and I together was so convulsing…"

"No, stop. Please." Ron pushes off the wall to step closer. "S'not what I meant. It's just that you…I mean, I didn't think you would…"

"It wouldn't be…" She wrinkles her nose up in a playful manner. "Horrible."

Ron's eyes roll upward at her for the second time that day. "Well, that makes me feel loads better."

Harry barrels into the room before she has a chance to clarify the intended meaning behind her banter. The door slams shut behind him. Their friend opens and closes his mouth several times like he wants to say something but can't find the words.

"Spit it out, Harry."

He puts his hands on his hips, his eyes flickering between the pair. "So...when did this happen?"

"Nothing's happening, Harry," Hermione assures him. "I'm just trying to give the twins a taste of their own potion."

"Would've been nice if you let me in on the plan," Ron grumbles.

"I didn't exactly know Charlie was going to ask that question, Ron," she huffs back.

"What's in it for you?" Harry levels Ron with his best intimidating stare, one that Hermione can only decipher as his attempt at taking on the protective brother role. The thought warms her heart, even if he's a bit misguided at the moment.

Ron holds his palms out flat. "Same as Hermione. It was her idea, you know!"

"Harry, you can't tell anyone. Not even Ginny."

Their best friend appears disgruntled by that request, but before he says anything his gaze falls on the door that swings wide open again.

Molly enters without warning, her typically well-kept hair now a frenzied mess of curls. "Ronald, I—oh, Harry. You're here, too."

Hermione catches the edge of relief in Mrs. Weasley's voice once she realizes that she wasn't alone with Ron in his bedroom.

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley," Harry waves, walking over to the corner of the room in a feeble attempt to make himself invisible.

"Ron." Molly places her hands on her hips and arches a stern eyebrow at her son. "Your door is to remain open whenever Hermione is in here, do you understand?"

The tips of his ears burn red. "Yes, Mum."

She gives him a curt nod and affords Hermione a half-hearted smile before bustling out of the room. She leaves the door open this time.

"You sure you don't want your mum in on the truth too?" Harry asks with a twisted grin on his face.

"Bloody hell." Ron groans, kicking the toe of his trainers into the floor. "Mum is always going to be interrupting us. I reckon she'll give us more chores now too."

Hermione blows out a heavy breath as her inner doubts remain at the forefront of her mind. She only hopes this plan won't have her screaming, "What have I done?" when it's all over.