Shopping
By like a falling star
"Bloody hell." Ron swore. "About the fifteenth Muggle clothes store we're in, this is."
Hermione shot him a Look. "Seventeenth, actually. And counting."
"What are we doing here again? Heels, wasn't it? And we've seen dozens of them already." Ron complained. His feet were aching. Not that he was about to admit that, of course. "How hard can it be to pick one?"
Hermione seemed annoyed. "Not just any heels, Ron. I need a pair of clementine stilettos with laces that criss-cross up my ankles." She said importantly. "My aunt only gets married once, you know, and I want her wedding to be perfect."
"Oh, and I suppose a pair of orange shoes is going to make it perfect, is it?" Ron challenged.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's clementine stilettos with criss-cross laces. Honestly, don't you two know anything?"
Harry sighed. "Hermione, you know we aren't exactly the shopping type." He said in a voice he supposed sounded fairly patient. "Lavender and Parvati, on the other hand, are good at shopping. They like it." He added brightly.
"Yeah, next time torture them instead, won't you?" said Ron gloomily.
Hermione glared at them, a look that plainly said 'boys!'. But it was true; Lavender and Parvati would have been much better at picking out heels, and they certainly wouldn't be complaining.
The actual reason she'd asked Ron and Harry to come shopping with her was that she wanted Ron's opinion. He wasn't particularly fashionable, but that wasn't the point, was it? If he said [genuinely, of course, not just to shut her up] that a pair of neon green clogs looked good on her, she would get it, no question about it. She'd asked Harry to come along as well, to make it seem like a "best friends" thing. Harry knew, of course, that she fancied Ron. Every single bloody person in the world knew of it except Ron himself.
It was ridiculous, really.
Harry ran a hand through his unruly jet-black hair. This was really boring and did girls do this all day long? Out of their own free will? He shook his head. He'd have to be under the Imperius Curse to go shopping willingly. How did girls do this? He wondered in amazement.
Ron shuddered as a couple of teenaged Muggle girls scurried past, shrieking at the top of their lungs about 'sample sales' and such.
Hermione suddenly turned on them sweetly. "Speaking of weddings, I-uh. my aunt told me that everyone's expected to have an escort."
Harry blinked.
Ron stared at Hermione. "Oh, now a bloody escort is supposed to make the wedding perfect, then?"
Hermione glared at him. "Don't swear, Ron." She said, looking irritated. "Anyway, I was thinking."
Harry looked very uncomfortable. It wasn't his place to be there. "Oh! I see Ginny over there. I'm gonna go over and say hello. You guys go ahead without me." And he left without another word.
"Quick one, that Harry." Ron muttered. Harry was his best friend, but sometimes he could be so darn, well. annoying.
Hermione looked at him anxiously. "Anyway, about the escort thing." she began carefully.
Ron raised his eyebrows. "What?"
"Do I have to spell it out for you?" Hermione looked exasperated. "Oh, alright." She said, noting Ron's blank look. "Here's the deal-will you escort me to my aunt's wedding?"
Ron's eyes widened incredulously. "You want me to." There was a note of utter disbelief in his voice.
Hermione interrupted him. "I know, it's really short notice, and you'd have to get a tuxedo - it's sort of a Muggle suit - and everything, but it's just this once and my aunt's wedding really has to be perfect and. please?" She pleaded him with puppy-dog eyes.
Ron tore his eyes away from her large, hazel-coloured ones. Blimey, she was addictive to look at. "Why don't you get someone else? Say, Harry or Neville or. Vicky?" He sounded bitter.
Hermione sighed. "Gosh, Ron, you're not still upset about the Yule Ball, are you? That was years ago!"
"Two years," Ron said, "Isn't a long time ago. I still remember it."
"Of course you'd still remember it, Ron. How could you not, when you never fail to remind me about it at least twice a day!" spat Hermione angrily. "How many times do I have to repeat myself-Victor and I are just friends! I have no romantic interest in him whatsoever!"
"Well, if he's your friend then why don't you ask him?" Ron suggested, in a tone that suggested that he didn't really think she should take what he said seriously.
Hermione's voice softened. "You're my friend too, Ron. My best friend. I want nothing more than for you to be my escort." She said, her cheeks turning pink.
Ron turned away. Her words, though gentle, hurt him more than they should. 'Best friend' was all he was to her. Granted, it was more than he could hope for, but he wanted to be. something more. "What about Harry?"
"Harry?" Hermione's face twisted into confusion. "What about him?"
Ron thought. "Why don't you ask him instead?"
"I'm asking you, aren't I? Why would I ask Harry, of all people?" Hermione said. "Not. that. there's anything wrong with him, of course." She added hastily. "Don't tell him I said that." She looked around to see if Harry was anywhere within hearing distance.
Ron stared at her. "You mean you don't like Harry?"
"Huh?" It was Hermione's turn to stare at him.
"Everyone likes Harry!" Ron said loudly. "He's the bloody Boy-Who-Lived!"
"What in the world are you talking about? Harry likes Ginny, for Merlin's sake. oops." Too late.
"Harry likes who!?!" Ron thundered. "Ginny as in my sister!?! That. that git is not going anywhere near my--"
"Ron." Hermione smiled nervously. "Anyway. That isn't the point." She frowned at him. "And of course I don't like Harry. I thought you knew... who I like." Her face was rapidly changing colour.
Ron gulped. He was too late. She had fallen for someone, be it Harry or not. He was confused, and looked it.
"Ronald Weasley, you are one great big prat!" Hermione burst out. "Gosh, you are so thick sometimes, and you don't even know it!"
The whole mall was staring at them, but she didn't care. Harry and Ginny were nowhere to be seen.
"Don't go near those people, Winston-Winnikins, they look mad." One mother, suspiciously remnant of Aunt Petunia, cooed loudly, snatching her three- year-old hippo of a son, disgustingly similar to Duddy-diddikins, away from the scene.
Hermione glared at her. "I am not mad!"
The entire mall went back to busying themselves and minding their own business.
Hermione turned back to their unfinished conversation. "So, where were we?"
"I'm not thick." Ron began. "What did I do?"
"I'm not done." She told him. "And yes, you are thick. Thicker than. Hogwarts, a History. Here I am, dropping hints the size of Godzilla - that's like the Muggle version of a hippogriff or a dragon - and you are just too thick to get it!"
"Hermione. what am I supposed to get?"
Hermione's eyes were now burning coals of hot amber. "Only that I've liked you since third year, you dolt!"
Ron's eyes flashed angrily, not really taking in what she had said. "It's not my fault that I'm born like this! I mean, look at Percy, he-you what!?!" he exclaimed, suddenly letting her words sink in.
Hermione put her face into her hands. "Oh, no." she groaned muffledly.
Ron looked at her in wonder. "You said you."
Hermione pressed her fingernails deeper into her skin. "I meant."
"Mione." he spoke softly.
Hermione had the urge to swear; when was the last time she felt this helpless? "Shit."
"But." Ron began. "The thing is, I."
"I know." Hermione said, looking crestfallen.
"Huh?"
Hermione looked up. "Sorry, this is so, completely uncalled for. I mean, I'm supposed to be insulting you!"
Ron snorted.
Hermione glared. "Third year, Ron. How bloody thick can you get?"
Ron winced. "Ouch."
Hermione softened. "I know, this was unexpected." She sighed, very softly and wistfully. "Just forget I said anything, alright?" She turned to leave. "Don't owl or anything. I need time to. recover."
"What are you talking about?" Ron grabbed her by the wrist. "Mione, wait!"
Hermione turned around slowly, her eyes cast down. Don't cry, she ordered herself. Scream, shout, laugh. anything! But don't cry.
"D'you mean what you said?" Ron asked anxiously.
She was silent.
"About. liking me since third year, I mean." Ron added quickly. "D'you mean it?"
Hermione wrenched her hand away. "I said to forget it, Ron." She couldn't believe it. Tears were cascading down her face. What happened to not crying? Honestly, she had no self-control when it came to Ron Weasley.
Hermione ran.
"Hermione!" Ron ran after her, chasing her down to the corridor that led to the exit. She looked so darn vulnerable, leaning against the wall, petite body wracked with sobs. Ron felt the need to devote the rest of his life to protecting her. "Hermione." He said again, cornering her. "Please look at me."
Hermione blinked, swallowing the lump in her throat. He'd sounded so sincere, so tender then. It was no wonder she'd fallen for him.
Ron leaned down, his lips hovering over hers. "Forgive me." He murmured, and dipped his head.
It lasted for a few seconds, but it was wonderful all the same. All of Ron Weasley was wonderful. Hermione tilted her head. "Why'd you do that?"
"Cos I love you." Ron said. The words were surprisingly natural. They felt so. right.
"Why do you love me?"
"Honestly, I have no idea."
"Ron!" Hermione playfully slapped his hand.
Ron laughed, his arms going around her waist. "I love you. cos you're my Mione."
Hermione peeked up at him from underneath her lashes. "I love you too. you idiot, thick-headed prat."
Ron smiled. "insufferable know-it-all."
*
By like a falling star
"Bloody hell." Ron swore. "About the fifteenth Muggle clothes store we're in, this is."
Hermione shot him a Look. "Seventeenth, actually. And counting."
"What are we doing here again? Heels, wasn't it? And we've seen dozens of them already." Ron complained. His feet were aching. Not that he was about to admit that, of course. "How hard can it be to pick one?"
Hermione seemed annoyed. "Not just any heels, Ron. I need a pair of clementine stilettos with laces that criss-cross up my ankles." She said importantly. "My aunt only gets married once, you know, and I want her wedding to be perfect."
"Oh, and I suppose a pair of orange shoes is going to make it perfect, is it?" Ron challenged.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's clementine stilettos with criss-cross laces. Honestly, don't you two know anything?"
Harry sighed. "Hermione, you know we aren't exactly the shopping type." He said in a voice he supposed sounded fairly patient. "Lavender and Parvati, on the other hand, are good at shopping. They like it." He added brightly.
"Yeah, next time torture them instead, won't you?" said Ron gloomily.
Hermione glared at them, a look that plainly said 'boys!'. But it was true; Lavender and Parvati would have been much better at picking out heels, and they certainly wouldn't be complaining.
The actual reason she'd asked Ron and Harry to come shopping with her was that she wanted Ron's opinion. He wasn't particularly fashionable, but that wasn't the point, was it? If he said [genuinely, of course, not just to shut her up] that a pair of neon green clogs looked good on her, she would get it, no question about it. She'd asked Harry to come along as well, to make it seem like a "best friends" thing. Harry knew, of course, that she fancied Ron. Every single bloody person in the world knew of it except Ron himself.
It was ridiculous, really.
Harry ran a hand through his unruly jet-black hair. This was really boring and did girls do this all day long? Out of their own free will? He shook his head. He'd have to be under the Imperius Curse to go shopping willingly. How did girls do this? He wondered in amazement.
Ron shuddered as a couple of teenaged Muggle girls scurried past, shrieking at the top of their lungs about 'sample sales' and such.
Hermione suddenly turned on them sweetly. "Speaking of weddings, I-uh. my aunt told me that everyone's expected to have an escort."
Harry blinked.
Ron stared at Hermione. "Oh, now a bloody escort is supposed to make the wedding perfect, then?"
Hermione glared at him. "Don't swear, Ron." She said, looking irritated. "Anyway, I was thinking."
Harry looked very uncomfortable. It wasn't his place to be there. "Oh! I see Ginny over there. I'm gonna go over and say hello. You guys go ahead without me." And he left without another word.
"Quick one, that Harry." Ron muttered. Harry was his best friend, but sometimes he could be so darn, well. annoying.
Hermione looked at him anxiously. "Anyway, about the escort thing." she began carefully.
Ron raised his eyebrows. "What?"
"Do I have to spell it out for you?" Hermione looked exasperated. "Oh, alright." She said, noting Ron's blank look. "Here's the deal-will you escort me to my aunt's wedding?"
Ron's eyes widened incredulously. "You want me to." There was a note of utter disbelief in his voice.
Hermione interrupted him. "I know, it's really short notice, and you'd have to get a tuxedo - it's sort of a Muggle suit - and everything, but it's just this once and my aunt's wedding really has to be perfect and. please?" She pleaded him with puppy-dog eyes.
Ron tore his eyes away from her large, hazel-coloured ones. Blimey, she was addictive to look at. "Why don't you get someone else? Say, Harry or Neville or. Vicky?" He sounded bitter.
Hermione sighed. "Gosh, Ron, you're not still upset about the Yule Ball, are you? That was years ago!"
"Two years," Ron said, "Isn't a long time ago. I still remember it."
"Of course you'd still remember it, Ron. How could you not, when you never fail to remind me about it at least twice a day!" spat Hermione angrily. "How many times do I have to repeat myself-Victor and I are just friends! I have no romantic interest in him whatsoever!"
"Well, if he's your friend then why don't you ask him?" Ron suggested, in a tone that suggested that he didn't really think she should take what he said seriously.
Hermione's voice softened. "You're my friend too, Ron. My best friend. I want nothing more than for you to be my escort." She said, her cheeks turning pink.
Ron turned away. Her words, though gentle, hurt him more than they should. 'Best friend' was all he was to her. Granted, it was more than he could hope for, but he wanted to be. something more. "What about Harry?"
"Harry?" Hermione's face twisted into confusion. "What about him?"
Ron thought. "Why don't you ask him instead?"
"I'm asking you, aren't I? Why would I ask Harry, of all people?" Hermione said. "Not. that. there's anything wrong with him, of course." She added hastily. "Don't tell him I said that." She looked around to see if Harry was anywhere within hearing distance.
Ron stared at her. "You mean you don't like Harry?"
"Huh?" It was Hermione's turn to stare at him.
"Everyone likes Harry!" Ron said loudly. "He's the bloody Boy-Who-Lived!"
"What in the world are you talking about? Harry likes Ginny, for Merlin's sake. oops." Too late.
"Harry likes who!?!" Ron thundered. "Ginny as in my sister!?! That. that git is not going anywhere near my--"
"Ron." Hermione smiled nervously. "Anyway. That isn't the point." She frowned at him. "And of course I don't like Harry. I thought you knew... who I like." Her face was rapidly changing colour.
Ron gulped. He was too late. She had fallen for someone, be it Harry or not. He was confused, and looked it.
"Ronald Weasley, you are one great big prat!" Hermione burst out. "Gosh, you are so thick sometimes, and you don't even know it!"
The whole mall was staring at them, but she didn't care. Harry and Ginny were nowhere to be seen.
"Don't go near those people, Winston-Winnikins, they look mad." One mother, suspiciously remnant of Aunt Petunia, cooed loudly, snatching her three- year-old hippo of a son, disgustingly similar to Duddy-diddikins, away from the scene.
Hermione glared at her. "I am not mad!"
The entire mall went back to busying themselves and minding their own business.
Hermione turned back to their unfinished conversation. "So, where were we?"
"I'm not thick." Ron began. "What did I do?"
"I'm not done." She told him. "And yes, you are thick. Thicker than. Hogwarts, a History. Here I am, dropping hints the size of Godzilla - that's like the Muggle version of a hippogriff or a dragon - and you are just too thick to get it!"
"Hermione. what am I supposed to get?"
Hermione's eyes were now burning coals of hot amber. "Only that I've liked you since third year, you dolt!"
Ron's eyes flashed angrily, not really taking in what she had said. "It's not my fault that I'm born like this! I mean, look at Percy, he-you what!?!" he exclaimed, suddenly letting her words sink in.
Hermione put her face into her hands. "Oh, no." she groaned muffledly.
Ron looked at her in wonder. "You said you."
Hermione pressed her fingernails deeper into her skin. "I meant."
"Mione." he spoke softly.
Hermione had the urge to swear; when was the last time she felt this helpless? "Shit."
"But." Ron began. "The thing is, I."
"I know." Hermione said, looking crestfallen.
"Huh?"
Hermione looked up. "Sorry, this is so, completely uncalled for. I mean, I'm supposed to be insulting you!"
Ron snorted.
Hermione glared. "Third year, Ron. How bloody thick can you get?"
Ron winced. "Ouch."
Hermione softened. "I know, this was unexpected." She sighed, very softly and wistfully. "Just forget I said anything, alright?" She turned to leave. "Don't owl or anything. I need time to. recover."
"What are you talking about?" Ron grabbed her by the wrist. "Mione, wait!"
Hermione turned around slowly, her eyes cast down. Don't cry, she ordered herself. Scream, shout, laugh. anything! But don't cry.
"D'you mean what you said?" Ron asked anxiously.
She was silent.
"About. liking me since third year, I mean." Ron added quickly. "D'you mean it?"
Hermione wrenched her hand away. "I said to forget it, Ron." She couldn't believe it. Tears were cascading down her face. What happened to not crying? Honestly, she had no self-control when it came to Ron Weasley.
Hermione ran.
"Hermione!" Ron ran after her, chasing her down to the corridor that led to the exit. She looked so darn vulnerable, leaning against the wall, petite body wracked with sobs. Ron felt the need to devote the rest of his life to protecting her. "Hermione." He said again, cornering her. "Please look at me."
Hermione blinked, swallowing the lump in her throat. He'd sounded so sincere, so tender then. It was no wonder she'd fallen for him.
Ron leaned down, his lips hovering over hers. "Forgive me." He murmured, and dipped his head.
It lasted for a few seconds, but it was wonderful all the same. All of Ron Weasley was wonderful. Hermione tilted her head. "Why'd you do that?"
"Cos I love you." Ron said. The words were surprisingly natural. They felt so. right.
"Why do you love me?"
"Honestly, I have no idea."
"Ron!" Hermione playfully slapped his hand.
Ron laughed, his arms going around her waist. "I love you. cos you're my Mione."
Hermione peeked up at him from underneath her lashes. "I love you too. you idiot, thick-headed prat."
Ron smiled. "insufferable know-it-all."
*