Ron could hardly miss the meaningful look that George shot him as Hermione scrambled off his lap the moment the car had stopped in the driveway of the Burrow. Nor could he avoid the dig in the ribs from George as he climbed down, more slowly, after her.
"Did I…miss something?" George asked, with a wink. Ron's blush was obviously all George needed for an answer. "Ron…"
"What?" Ron snapped angrily.
"Tell me."
"Tell you what?"
George inclined his head towards Hermione, who had ran forward and linked arms with Ginny. The two girls were chatting excitedly as they headed for the front door- Hermione turned and gave Ron one backward glance, and he felt his heart turn over. What exactly had compelled him to do that to her? It wasn't just the thought that a three-hour journey would have been incredibly uncomfortable for her if she were perched on his knees- it was that there she had been. He knew he wouldn't have been able to stand the journey without hugging her, at least once. But wouldn't that go the same for all his female friends? Like…
Ron blinked. He didn't have any other female friends aside from Hermione. Bizarre that he'd never realised it, really.
"Well?" George said, and his face was perfectly serious. "Do you fancy her, or something?" The sincere expression was ruined by a smirk that crept onto his face. Ron knew that there was no answer he could give that wouldn't invite George to hound him for the rest of the evening.
"No." The answer came out involuntarily, and no sooner had the words left Ron's mouth than he wondered if they were true. Then he wondered why he was even wondering if he fancied Hermione. She was his best friend for God's sake! When did she suddenly go from being Just Hermione to Hermione, The Potential Girlfriend?
So preoccupied was he with this problem that he let George drag him into the house, and did not even look up until Hermione let out a cry of surprise, as Bill's mysterious fiancée was led into the front hall.
"Oh my god." Ron looked up. (A/N: Mainstream alert!)
It was Fleur Delacour.
"Shit," he said, before he could stop himself.
Fleur Delacour, ex-students of Beaxbatons Academy and the toast of the Triwizard Trounament, was standing in his living room, holing hands with his big brother.
"Bonjour!" beamed Fleur.
"Hi! Everyone, meet Fleur Delacour!" Bill said, beaming around at thew stunned faces. "If you haven't already," he added, and then his grin widened. "Well? Say hello."
There was a sudden kafuffle of movement as the Weaslies and honorary Weaslies moved to Fleur and Bill, shaking their hands, kissing their cheeks, while Mrs. Weasley looked on approvingly. Fleur gave Ron a grin of recognition and kissed him twice, on both cheeks. "It is so wonderful to see you again! Trés bon!" she cried in her sing-song accent. She let out a gasp of pure delight as she spotted Harry loitering behind Ron. "'Arry! Ma cherie! It 'as been too, too long!" Ron leapt out of the way in time to avoid being crushed into Fleur and Harry's hug. Harry himself looked heartily embarrassed. Ron stumbled into Bill, who promptly gave him a hug.
"Ron?" he said, smiling, "So? What do you think?"
"What do you mean, what do I think?" Ron blinked.
"About Fleur! You know," he lowered his voice, "Fred and George told me you had a crush on her last year."
A crush? Just thinking about it brought blood rushing to Ron's ears. "Oh- I, um- er-"
Bill laughed. "I'm flattered, believe me. No one has better taste than my little brother."
Ron thought of Parvati Patil, and his ears went redder. "Congratulations Bill, she's really cool."
"Cool," Bill laughed, "She is, at that."
Actually, Ron thought, looking at Fleur squeeze all the breath out of Lee Jordan, she isn't, really. Last year he could have described Fleur as "cool"- with her haughty expression and disdain for Hogwarts. Even the way she walked had been arrogant, her long silvery blonde hair swishing behind her as she strolled through the great corridors of the school, head held high as a group of fervent admirers strayed after her. Ron knew that after the second task of the triwizard tournament she had become a lot more friendly- especially towards Harry and his friends because he took the trouble of rescuing her little sister. But as he watched Fleur deliver kisses and hugs to all his family and their friends, he realised that this was a side of Fleur he had never seen before. Why, she was practically in tears from happiness, and Ron had to wonder if it was something to do with being in love. For she certainly was in love- that much was obvious from the way she would turn to look at Bill with the most obvious adoration in her eyes, and squeeze his hand as she met each family member/ friend as if he gave her some sort of incredible strength. Ron also had to wonder if he'd ever felt that way about Parvati. As much as he disliked her presently, there must have been some factor that compelled him to stay with her for so long…?
Or maybe, he thought, feeling a deep pit of shame open up in his stomach, I'm just an idiot.
"Ron, dear!" His mother was beckoning him furiously, "Now, your Uncle Machivellia and Aunt Mildred are arriving tomorrow along with Michael, Mabel, Macbeth and Malachy-" Ron couldn't fight a groan. He hated his cousins. "- And so are Aunt Victoria and Aunt Verity, as well as Aunt Valberga; Cousin Leroy and his girlfriend will be staying in your room, and so will Grandpa Polonius and Grandma Peony-" Ron groaned again. Grandpa Polonius had an unfortunate habit of spitting and turning things into badgers whenever it took his fancy.
"Where are Harry, Hermione and I staying?" he interrupted, not wanting to know what other members of the Wealsey family she'd managed to dig up.
"Outside, dear."
Ron blinked. "Sorry?"
It turned out that his father had dug up the tents they'd used at the Quidditch World cup: One for the girls and one for the boys. There were also a few other tents set up outside the Wealsey's house- Ron assumed those were for the large amount of relatives coming to stay.
The Burrow was not the most relaxing place to stay on Christmas Eve. Ron decided he probably would have been more at ease in the middle of a freeway. Mrs. Weasley was the helm of organising the wedding, although her mental state had the stability of a small nuclear device. The ceremony was to be held on Christmas Day in the chapel in the village of Ottery St Catchpole. There were a lot of Weaslies staying in the inn in the village as well- the innkeeper, usually so short of business, suddenly found himself wondering if there was a convention nearby for redheads who all seemed to know each other. It was a relief to Ron when his mother declared that he was far too much of a nuisance to be any help, and he was allowed to escape along with his guests leave his mother to it.
Fleur seemed to find Mrs. Weasley's ample contribution to the wedding plans especially moving; sporadically, the French beauty would burst into tears and throw her arms around Mrs. Wealsey's neck and babble her gratitude. "Yes, yes, dear," Mrs. Weasley would say fondly, "Here, have a cup of tea." And then they would go into a lengthy discussion about different floral arrangements, and the merits of said floral arrangements.
"Has someone confunded me?" Harry said, the moment they were outside the house. "Is that Fleur Delacour I just saw in there bawling into your mum's shoulder?"
"I'm finding it hard to believe myself," Hermione admitted. "Something's changed about her-"
"Yeah, like her personality!" Harry exclaimed. "Ron, did you know anything about this at all?"
"Nope," Ron said.
"You so did!" Harry cried, rounding on him, "This is a joke isn't it? Are Fred and George in on it as well?"
"Nope."
"My god! Maybe she's confunded."
Exactly what had happened to Fleur Delcaour, however, Ron didn't find out until later that night. Managing to escape for a bit from the chaos of the Burrow, Ron had ventured to the orchard for a bit of a think. After all, he had a lot to think about. At least that's what it seemed like. Because everytime he closed his eyes, everytime his mind wandered, there she was. Hermione.
But surely…surely this was a normal thing for friends to do? Think about each other? He'd thought about Harry as much, hadn't he?
In his heart of hearts, he knew this was different. In that case, surely the fact that Hermione was no longer Just A Friend would bother him more? It certainly did last year, he thought.
"Shit," Ron said aloud. He realised then, that something very important had happened to him.
"Where?" said a mild voice behind him. Ron practically jumped out of his skin. Needless to say, even for a wizard-in-training, being surprised in a creepy orchard in the middle of the night was not a very pleasant feeling. But it was only Bill, grinning lopsidedly and rubbing his nose. "Sorry. Didn't mean to frighten you."
"Well you did a bloody good job of it anyway," mumbled Ron, waiting for his heartbeat to resume its normal pace. He grinned weakly. "You always were the talented one."
"Speaking of talented," Bill said, and drew a piece of parchment out of his pocket. "I found this with Pig. He was stuck in the drainpipe. I heard him wittering away to himself when I was in the laundry. He didn't seem to mind at all." He handed the soggy parchment to Ron. It was his interim school report. Even Ron, knowing firsthand how much he had improved, was pleasantly surprised.
Charms: A
History of Magic: B
Transfiguration: B-
Potions: C
Herbology: B
Astronomy: B-
Defense Against the Dark Arts: A
Care of Magical Creatures: A+
Divination: B+
Ron gaped. "I got a B minus in Transfigs!" He turned the parchment over, and instead of the usual teachers comments ("Mr. Weasley needs to work harder…", "Mr. Weasley needs to focus…", "Mr. Weasley has the attention span of a goldfish…") there followed about six lines of praise from each of his teachers.
Mr. Weasley is not only a delightful student but a diligent one…I must commend him on his effort and newfound talent in healing charms…Well done, Ron- Professor F. Flitwick.
Mr. Weber has done exceedingly well this term…he has a good head for numbers, remembering dates, and so forth….Professor B. Binns
Ronald is a delightful and diligent student who works well with plants and his peers…he should continue working on his Herbology and his marks will improve greatly…Professor P. Sprout
Mr. Weasley has an enormous aptitude for this subject and will no doubt continue to improve if he works as hard as he has been lately…I am most impressed by his progress in the space of a couple of weeks…his talent has, I feel, until recently, been overshadowed by his lack of focus….Professor D. Sinistra
Ronald's talent in this field is undeniable…I am delighted to say that his scatter-brain tendencies seem to have disappeared and his focus has improved so much I feel that I must commend him personally. Well done, Ronald, you do your house proud…Professor F. Turtledove
Ron is one of my favorite students and I look forward to lessons with him…he should definitely consider a career in Magical Creatures. It must be a Weasley trait. Fair play to you, Ron…R. Hagrid
I feel that Mr. Weasley's Inner Eye has been clouded until recently…Of course I had predicted that this remarkable transformation would take place. He has, rather like a butterfly, emerged form his cocoon and spread his beautiful wings…Professor S. Trelawney
Professor Snape's was by far the worst (Mr. Weasley has improves somewhat since his first year.) but, coupled with his B minus in Transfiguration, which had always been Ron most difficult subject, was the most flattering comment he had received from professor McGonagall since she had congratulated him for making the Quidditch team by smiling and saying, 'Well done Ron for making the Quidditch team."
Ronald has always been a credit to Gryffindor house, albeit one with wayward intentions, but I must extend my personal congratulations to him for his recent achievements which are nothing short of remarkable. In the space of a few weeks Ron has improved his marks so definitively that he must be commended on his remarkable effort. His inherent natural ability coupled with diligence and dedication make him not only a wonderful keeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but a wonderful student to teach. Congratulations Ronald. You have made me proud- Professor M. McGonagall.
Ron felt himself practically glowing. Bill was positively beaming at him- a far cry from his usual commiserating smirk. "Ronnie, Ron, Ron," he sang softly, just like he had done when Ron was five. "Do you realise how proud I am of you right now?"
Ron was touched, and felt glad that it was too dark for Bill to see he cheeks going red. "Aw, get out of it."
"I'm serious," and there was a sort of tone to Bill's voice now that Ron didn't recognise…. Was it…admiring? "I can't believe you. A month or two ago mum got this owl form the school and she practically blew up the entire house, and went around for the next week screaming about how you were failing, how you were going to have to repeat, how we didn't' have the money to out you through another year of school…" he chuckled softly. "Come to think of it, it was funny…But anyway, you pulled through. And now you're going better than you ever were."
Ron's blushed deepened, and he hoped the moon shining through the trees wouldn't betray this fact to Bill. "Only because of Hermione," he said awkwardly, "only because she helped me…"
"Hermione's brilliant, but she's not that brilliant." Bill's voice had a grin in it- Ron could tell he was smiling, even though it was too dark to see his expression properly. "It's you Ron. You read the report, didn't you? No one said, "Ron did it because Hermione Granger helped him." Nah. No way. You did it. And only you can keep it up." He sighed, suddenly. "I don't think you'll remember this, you were quite young. But when I went into fifth year, I was going to have to repeat as well."
Ron stared. Just like Dumbledore had said…
They were sitting down now. They had reached the old oak tree stump that had been there since they were both much younger. The oak must have been a huge creature when it was living- the trunk was at least two metres in radius, and always surrounded by fairy rings. There were a few fairies flitting about under the moonlight now, as they sat down. The oak was in the middle of a clearing, and the moon was full. It shone down on them so strongly that Ron could now make out his brother's face as he continued, half-smiling as he recounted those school days of his.
"'S'true. Mum had a fit…so did dad, actually. I can't blame them. Their first son going through Hogwarts, and he was going to repeat fifth year. And of course there was Charlie a year below me, struggling away with Transfigs and Charms and doing really well in Herbology and Car of Magical Creatures, and completely obsessed with Quidditch. And of course I was obsessed with…" he laughed suddenly, and Ron thought he sounded embarrassed. "I had this…girlfriend…I thought she was completely more important than anything school had to offer. She was pretty…" Bill paused. "And that's about it. She had nothing inside of her. No brains, no soul, no heart. She didn't have a passion for anything. After a while, I realised I was being stupid and broke up with her."
Another pause. Ron could tell he was thinking. When Bill thought he exuded a kind of aura, sort of a…You-can-tell-I'm-used-to-thinking kind of feeling. "You shouldn't let anyone get in the way of what's important, Ron. And I'm not saying schoolwork is the most important thing in the world either. It's not. It's…friendship. Justice. Bravery. That sort of thing." The words were serious, but Bill said them with a kind of careless aura, speaking as a man who had immersed himself in "Friendship, justice, bravery, and that sort of thing" long ago. "You shouldn't let anything get in the way," he repeated firmly, "Especially not just a pretty face."
Not just a pretty face…"Bill?" Ron said suddenly, "Why are you marrying Fleur Delacour?"
Bill threw back his head and laughed. "Fair play to you, Ron. She is something, isn't she?"
"Yes."
"Well, I can assure you, her face wasn't the first thing I saw. In fact, when I first met her properly, I couldn't see her at all." He paused. "The day before I'd opened a sarcophagus without reading the hieroglyphics properly. If I had I certainly would have left it shut, because they mummy that was left in there happened to jump out and curse me with a Blinding Jinx. I managed to counteract the curse in time so I wouldn't end up blind for the rest of my life, but only just. Some of the damage had already been done, and no doctor in Cairo could fix it. I was going to be blind for a month." A luxurious sigh escaped him. "I didn't mind too much, especially since I got paid sick leave from work and got to stay in the best Muggle hotel in Cairo for a while. And especially since I knew I was going to get better. Made me think though…" His brother's tone was serious again. "Wizards don't have stuff like blindness happening to them a lot because most of the time we can fix ourselves with a spell. But there a lots of Muggles who go their whole life without seeing anything. Just darkness. A week of darkness and I was already freaking out. I didn't think I'd be able to handle it for another three weeks."
The serious tone disappeared as he went on. "But then I met Fleur. He family was on vacation and they were looking around the hotel. Being blind, I accidentally bumped into Fleur- knocked her down to the ground, in fact- and, well, she let me have it." he adopted a strong French accent. "Excuse moi! 'Ow dare you, impudent young man! 'Ow dare you touch me! That sort of thing. Of course when I aplogised and explained to her I couldn't exactly see she wasn't really understanding. Zat is no excuse, how dare you knock me off my feet! Impudence!" He laughed again. "I hated her, of course. I'd just spent a week being blind and I had no pity for anyone who didn't understand what I was going through. I let her have it right back. I can't exactly remember what I said, but she wasn't pleased. So there we were, standing in the hotel foyer, screaming at each other." This time, Ron joined in the laughter. Bill was a very laid-back person in general, but when he blew a fuse, he went off. His foul temper had been far more prominent when he was younger- earning him the nickname "Bill the Banshee" around Howgarts, but by the time he'd reach his sixth year, he had began curbing it. "Then all of a sudden, she stops and she goes Wait- are you not…Bill Wealsey? I said, yes, I am. She goes. Oh but zis is a coincidence, no? I believe zat I met you last year, while I was in ze Triwizard Tournament- I am Fleur Delacour. And I said, so what? And she said, So, I am ze champion of Beauxbatons Academy, and you would do well to treat me with more respect! So I said, Miss Delacour, I would treat a dragon turd with more respect than I would you, and I walked off before she could say anything else."
Ron gaped. "You didn't."
Bill nodded. 'I did. I spent the rest of the night feeling sorry for it as well. I mean, you shouldn't yell at a lady. But there was nothing to be done about it, so I decided to forget about Miss Delacour, whoever she was, and get on with my life."
"So you didn't remember her then?"
"Nope. The name rung a bell but I couldn't place a face to it. Anyway, the next day I got a knock on my door and Fleur's there. She tries to apologise but ends up doing it very badly and then had the hide to try and get me to go out on a date with her. I slammed the door in her face."
"You didn't."
"I did. I felt bad about that as well. But I couldn't help it. I hated her. She came back the next day and the process was repeated. She ended up storming off and I sat in my room feeling bad for continually verbally abusing this French lady. Anyway, by the end of the week she came to me and asked me why I didn't want to go out with her, just once. I told her exactly what I thought of her."
"Which was?"
"I told she was a self-centred, privileged little brat who'd do well to realise that the world revolves around the sun rather than her. And no, the sun doesn't shine out of her arse either. That's the nice version anyway."
"Woah."
"Indeed. Eventually I stopped and asked her why she kept on asking me out on a date. I think her answer was what made me start liking her."
"What was it?"
"She said, William Weasley, you are one of ze most beautiful men I have ver met."
"Oh, well, of course that made you like her!" Ron laughed. 'Anyone would like someone if they told them they thought they were beautiful."
"That wasn't it though," Bill said, "It was the fact that, right up until then, that was probably the humblest thing she'd ever done. So I went out on one date with her, that very night. "
"And?"
"And it was one of the most terrible evenings I'd ever encountered. It must have been over forty degrees that night and she makes me take her out to the most expensive restaurant in town and orders chicken flambé. Then she went on about Fleur for an hour and a half. By the time dessert rolled around, I had enough of both Fleur and the restaurant. So I paid for the bill and told her to come back when she'd grown a personality that wasn't detestable."
"Shit."
"Yeah. I felt terrible after that. I mean, the girl had obviously made an effort. And I mean of course I was fascinated by her. No one had managed to get me so ill-tempered for years. Not since Fred and George managed to levitate my bed onto the roof of the village chapel that time, anyway."
"I remember that."
'I don't see how you could forget," Bill said dryly. "Anyway, it was a week later and I was sitting in my hotel room, thinking about Fleur- still blind, mind you- and then she comes in, without knocking, and she sat down and just talked, and all the time she was saying Bill, je suis desolee, vous etes ma belle reve."
"What does that mean?"
"Bill, I am sorry. You are my beautiful dream." He paused. He was grinning. "She told me she'd changed. And I could tell she had. There was something…really earnest about the way she was talking. So I said, Fleur, I just want you to be yourself. And from then on, she was." Another pause. Another grin. "She was conceited back then. Extremely conceited. And immodest. And rude to anyone she thought was beneath her. Which was everyone beacsue she thought she was better than everyone. But I stuck with her, because she'd changed for me. That's a huge deal, because- well, you know, people don't change unless they want to. And it's a really hard thing to do, change yourself. And she'd done it for me. It was like shed had a complete personality turn around. It was like- beneath the pretentious, conceited Fleur, there was this really nice, really scared Fleur who just wanted everyone to like her, who just wanted to have fun. I told her I liked that Fleur better than the other one, and she said she liked me better than anyone she'd ever met. What I liked about that was that I could tells he was being completely honest. I mean, I was this horrible ginger-haired English brute who'd bossed her into changing her personality and she still liked me." Another luxurious sigh, and Ron thought, shit, he really loves her. Bill never talked about anyone that way before. He just wasn't that kind of person. To talk about Fleur Delacour with that sort of tone in his voice…it really meant something.
"A friend is someone who knows all about you and still likes you, Ron," Bill said. "Fleur's more than just my best friend though. She's seen the worst of me and the best of me and she still want to be with me. that's really something, you know? I wouldn't care if she looked like the rear end of a camel, I'd still be in love with her. It's sort of just a bonus that she looks like a goddess." He was grinning now. "Am I grossing you out?"
"Only slightly."
"Good, because I don't want you to throw up before I finish." He was serious again. "You ever find someone like that Ron, you've got to hang onto them. They'll love you for the rest of your life, you know? Someone who changes for you, and someone who makes you want to change for them. That sort of friendship can't be erased. It sort of sticks to you forever, and no matter how hard you try, or how much you want to, you can't rub it off. It sort of stains you- but in a good way. It's like how you stain your best Quidditch robes by skidding on the grass in the best match of your life, and you don't want to ever rub it off because it's a reminder of your match, not like a trophy, but a keepsake. You know what I mean?"
Ron knew what he meant. "Yeah," he managed to say. He felt dizzy. Really dizzy.
Bill got up, shaking himself off, as if shaking of the gravity of their conversation. "Anyway, we'd better get back. Hang onto that report, you'll want to show it mum."
It's a keepsake, Ron thought, as he tucked the precious report into his robes.
A keepsake of how he'd changed for her.
