Author's Note: Hello! This is my first ever story to be posted on fan fiction, although I am not new to the world of fan fiction or writing. I am very excited about this story, as I worked for a while on trying to come up with a good concept to finally post. Then it hit me one day while listening to one of my favourite CDs (John Mayer's Room for Squares). I do hope that you enjoy this, and for those of you who know the song that this story is based on, never fear!! It will be longer than just a few chapters. Please, please, please, for the love of the Chudley Cannons, review this story!!! I need and love feedback!!
**BEWARE!!!** Slightly crazed author on the move!! Be on the lookout for acts of randomness and insanity!!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did, I probably would not be sitting at home and writing fanfiction. Aha! on the contrary, I would be off gallivanting in the city while "Get This Party Started" plays in the background to no avail, gorgeous men who happen to look like Ron Weasley, Brad Pitt, Hugh Jackman and Heath Ledger throwing themselves at my feet, and all the royalties of Harry Potter and Co. to spend wherever I like on whatever I like!! But, seeing as I'm a poor student and am certainly not imaginative enough to come up with Harry Potter, I'm here writing for fanfiction and making up lame disclaimers.
PS- Special thanks to my dear, dear, very close, personal friend WeeIrishLass (her stories kick butt!) for beta-reading this story for me, being a sounding board, and helping me to work out some plot kinks!
Summary: What if what you thought you wanted really was right under your nose all along? Such is the case for 27-year-old Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger who are thrown together under a very unexpected circumstance. Soon, they find themselves making a deal with each other and facing yet another unexpected plot twist- they begin to fall in love, just as they've given up on it.
Here comes the coldBreak out the winter clothes
And find a love to call your own.
You- Enter you
Your cheeks a shade of pink
And the rest of you in powder blue
Who knows what will be
But I'll make you this guarantee
No way November will see our goodbye
When it comes to December it's obvious why
No one wants to be alone at Christmastime
In the dark, on the phone
You tell me the names of your brothers
And four favourite colures
I'm learning you
And when it snows again
We'll take a walk outside
And search the sky
Like children do
No way November will see our goodbye
When it comes to December it's obvious why
No one wants to be alone at Christmastime
And come January we're frozen inside
Making new resolutions a hundred times
February, won't you be my Valentine?
And we'll both be safe 'til St. Patrick's Day
We should take a ride tonight around the town
And look around at all the beautiful houses
Something in the way that blue lights
On a black night can make you feel more
Everybody, it seems to me, just wants to be
Just like you and me.
No way November will see our goodbye
When it comes to December it's obvious why
No one wants to be alone at Christmastime
And come January we're frozen inside
Making new resolutions a hundred times
February, won't you be my Valentine?
And we'll both be safe 'til St. Patrick's Day
And if our always is all that we gave
And we someday take that away
I'll be alright if it was just 'til
St. Patrick's Day-John Mayer, "St. Patrick's Day"
St. Patrick's Day Introduction
Ron Weasley, the Auror, apparated into his flat after three long weeks away. Ron Weasley, the Auror, kicked his duffel bag into his closet. Ron Weasley, the Auror, grabbed a butterbeer from the refrigerator. Ron Weasley, the Auror, had dreams of falling asleep and never waking again.
But Ron Weasley, the Friend, picked up a quill and piece of parchment to write a quick note to his best friend, Hermione Granger, who would then relay the message to Harry, who was certainly not as worried as the former. Pig, the namesake of his beloved pet (may he rest in peace) was flying around Ron's head in circles, just dying to fly off somewhere.
"Take this to Hermione," Ron said, stroking his owl's head. Pig hooted, and was off.
Ron sighed and looked around his freakishly neat apartment. Yes, Hermione had been here. Little touches of her were everywhere- from the couch cushions without the Chinese food stain (from the last time that Harry was over), to the lack of sour milk in the fridge, to the neat stack of mail on the counter. Ron always gave her a few instructions about his mail, as she would always come over anyway: pay the bills, via his Gringotts account, and say 'no' to the invitations, unless they were interesting or family related. She would always respond the same way- "What am I, your secretary?"- and their verbal sparring would continue per usual, although Ron had learned over the years how to be the one to end the arguments. He would kiss her on the cheek and grin at her, saying, "Thank you, Hermione." Not being able to resist the Weasley "charm" she would smile a watery smile, and warn him with a shaky voice to please do be careful and send an owl as soon as he arrived home safely. He never once asked her to clean, but figured that when she came over to sort his mail, she couldn't stand the messy sight of his flat and before she could stop herself, scrub the entire place clean.
He sorted through the mail that had been neatly stacked and separated by day (he was surprised that it wasn't alphabetized as well) and found an interesting note from his mother:
Dear Ron,
Hope all is well with you, dear, when you get this note. Harry and Ginny have recently told everyone that they have news that they would like to tell us over dinner, but that they want you to be there. Whenever you get home, send me an owl so we can set everything up.
Your father and I are supposing that they're finally going to make it official. It took them long enough, if you ask me.
We all miss you, and hope that you have been careful- if anything happened to you, dear, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself. Why couldn't you have gotten a nice job at the Ministry so your poor old mother wouldn't worry so much? Of course, you know that your father and I are both very proud of you.
Love and Miss you,
Mum
Harry and Ginny. Ron chuckled and shook his head. Now that had thrown him, and the media, for that matter, for a loop. Why, everyone knew that the hero always got the girl- rather, everyone except Harry Potter and Hermione Granger knew that. For years, they had insisted to anyone and everyone that would listen that there was nothing more than platonic feelings when it came to their relationship. But even a portion of Ron's mind believed that one day the two of them would realize that they were crazy about each other. That never happened, of course, because Harry realized that he was crazy about Ginny Weasley.
So, logically, that left Ron and Hermione to get together. Also, for years, they had both been insisting that that was as improbably as Harry and Hermione getting together. Ron used simple excuses, like Hermione not being his type. This was true, he fancied himself as a blond hair, blue eyes kind of man, like his current girlfriend, Chloe. It wasn't that Hermione wasn't attractive- no, she was beautiful, and smart, and funny, and courageous. She wasn't the typical high-maintenance girl that he dated, who was afraid to break a nail or get dirty; Hermione never minded that. In fact, quite often she revelled in it. Then, on the other hand, Hermione, she dated intellectual men with PhD's, were attending universities for their third masters degree, those kind of men. And they all had names like David, Christopher, Alan, Richard, Simon, Edward, Jonathan. Not anything that was one syllable- Ron. Never were their names shortened to Dave, Chris, Rich, Eddie or Jon. No, they were said at length, as if to prove their intellectual worth. They weren't funny, redheaded or apt to stick their foot in their mouths. No, in fact, they weren't much fun to talk to at all (unless you were Hermione and could talk about everything with them), most of them had brown, black or blond hair, as well as wire-rimmed glasses, they usually lugged around heavy books, and they were always sickeningly eloquent.
Besides, Ron had analysed the situation of a relationship with Hermione to death (and he was sure that she had done the same). For years, all that he had heard from his family, who had been pushing for their relationship for years, was how wonderful the two of them would be together, how he really should get a move on, as she wasn't going to be waiting forever, and how he was so thick for not realizing how wonderful Hermione was. She was a great best friend, he would say. A best friend, nothing more. If he had a knut for every time that he heard, "Well, you know what they say…best friends make the best lovers…" he wouldn't have to work another day in his life.
Hermione opened the morning paper at the breakfast table as she sipped her coffee and munched granola. Life was good. Harry and Ginny would soon be announcing their engagement (as their best friend, she was privy to this information), Ron had safely returned home at 3:30 that morning, and…
"Hermione? Are you awake already?"
"In the kitchen, dear," she replied.
…Andrew was good. Her boyfriend for five months now, Andrew Lewis was everything that Hermione had ever wanted. Tall, handsome, intelligent, responsible, had a stable and promising job, was a wonderful conversationalist, interested in everything that she was. What could be better? Oh, that's right- life would be substantially better if only people would realize that she and Ron Weasley were about as improbable as KwikSpell actually working. Since the Weasleys had met Andrew, although they had found him quite charming, which will be said of one who looks like a young Robert Redford, they had not kept their disapproval that Hermione was dating Andrew, rather than their youngest son hidden from Hermione, or Andrew, for that matter, causing him to question everything and need reassurance from Hermione that she truly felt nothing for Ron or Harry (of course the subject had come up) other than purely platonic, sibling-like feelings.
Except for the one instance… but she didn't ever talk about that. They had both made a pact never to say a word since that night before graduation when Harry Potter and Hermione Granger decided to experiment. Did all of those rumours have some truth in them? People wouldn't be saying anything about them unless they had some iota of truth… maybe they saw what the two didn't. A closed-lipped, experimental, passionless kiss ended up turning into a steamy, hungry, needy, desperate snog-session which they realized after prying themselves away from the other had no feelings other than anxiety, lust and desperation. They openly admitted how wonderful it was, how much they had enjoyed it, and would have loved to turn it into a no-strings-attached one night stand, but principal prevented it. There were awkward moments to follow, filled with every sort of tension, but after six months of separation as Hermione took on an apprenticeship in Athens, they had both moved on and realized that there was nothing to it- it was just an experiment, a meaningless kiss. They'd both had and given others, what should make theirs any different?
And by that point, Harry had finally realized just how much he loved Ginny Weasley. Hermione smiled at the thought of her two friends. She was everything that he needed, and he was everything that she's ever dreamed of, literally.
If the Weasleys had a celebration when they found out about their daughter marrying the man that they had been hoping for her since they first met him when he was eleven, then she couldn't imagine what would happen if she and Ron ever decided that they'd might as well get together. But Ron wasn't her type. He was just so…Ron. He wore dirty socks, his apartment was never clean, and he liked Quidditch, for cripes' sake. But no one could make her laugh like he could. No one could stop and start her world with just a look; no one could shatter her world with a grin. No one could make her heart beat like he could. But no. Ron was her best friend, just as Harry had been. When he kissed her those ten years before, she felt as she could have stayed in his arms forever; she felt her heart beating in her throat, and had they not controlled themselves, she would have gone to bed with him in an instant- but only in that instant. Surely, if she felt that way about Harry with just a kiss, while still thinking of him as her best friend, then what she felt for Ron was just…just being worried with the danger that he was in. She was probably just vulnerable at this pivotal point in her relationship with Andrew, and was having second thoughts, transmitting that nervous energy to Ron, the closest man that she knew well enough to have feelings for that wasn't already taken. True, he had a girlfriend, but the two of them were having some problems. It wouldn't last much longer.
But that didn't matter to her, because she and Andrew were going to last.
Dear Hermione,
Since Ron is home now, and Harry and Ginny will need the future best man to be there when the announcement is made, we'll be having dinner tonight at the Burrow at 7:00. If you would please arrive at 6:30 to help minimize the chaos, it would help very much. Feel free to bring that charming boyfriend of yours; there will be plenty of food.
Love from,
Molly
Of course, Mrs. Weasley was just being polite- she probably wanted Andrew there like she wanted Harry and Ginny to break up. She stroked their owl, Tawny, and gave it a piece of toast before letting her fly away to Ron's apartment, most likely, in order to deliver the other letter tied around its' leg.
"Good morning, love," her freshly showered boyfriend said, walking into the kitchen and kissing Hermione on the kiss. She turned her head to meet his mouth with her own in a sweet good morning kiss. "How would you like to meet me for dinner tonight?" He asked, taking the business section of The Daily Prophet from the stack that she had already completed.
"Actually," she said, swallowing her coffee, "I'm going to the Weasleys for dinner tonight. Harry and Ginny are announcing their engagement, and I need to be there."
"The Weasleys? Ah, yes, the redheads."
She nodded.
"Well, how does tomorrow night sound?"
She smiled at him, saying, "Perfect."
"I'm afraid, darling," he said, grabbing a piece of toast and swiping one of Hermione's commuter coffee cups, "That I have to run to the office. Thank you for a wonderful night. I'll see you tomorrow." He kissed her quickly and strode to the mantle where he kept his wand while in Hermione's town house.
"You're not coming over tonight?" she asked, following him into the living room.
He sighed, and turned around. "Hermione, love, is this that insecurity of yours creeping up again? Listen, just because I don't sleep with you every night, doesn't mean that I find you boring, unattractive or that I'm losing interest in our relationship. It's just that-"
"I understand, Andrew, and I'm not insecure. I just wanted to know if you would be here so I didn't stay at the Burrow to all hours, that's all," she cut him off, sighing. Andrew had graduated from Hogwarts six years ahead of her, and worked now as a psychologist. He never left his job, even when with Hermione, analysing everything that she said and did. It was one of his more annoying traits. That, and biting his nails.
"Oh…right. Well, see you tomorrow, then!" He kissed her quickly again, before disapparating.
Ron apparated back home- his first home- at half past six that night, excited to see his family once again. Three weeks was a long time for a Weasley to have absolutely no contact with someone else. Three weeks was a long time for a Weasley not to see a Potter or a Granger, at that.
Apparently, Hermione had arrived just as he had, for everyone who had been seated in the living room was standing and facing her as she made her rounds to the family. Ron leaned on the doorframe to watch her fluid and graceful movements. There was no denying how beautiful she was- how her thick, wavy hair spilled over her shoulders and swished like tassels as she moved from person to person, how her chocolate brown eyes danced with delight when she saw Ginny, as if the two women shared a secret that they were just bursting to tell; how her smile broadened when she hugged Harry and stood on tiptoes to kiss her best friend of sixteen years.
"Ron!" his sister exclaimed, only just seeing him. He hugged her and winked at Harry over Ginny's shoulder. A look between the two men told everything- Harry and Ginny were engaged. Of course, everybody already knew this, but was just waiting for the two of them to say it.
And when they did say it, even though it had been expected for years, there was such tumult that they were surprised that the neighbours didn't call the Muggle police.
September, they were to be married in September. Hermione assumed that she would still be dating Andrew by then- she'd have a date for a Weasley wedding, for once. She would be the maid of honour, and Ron the best men. How would Andrew handle that? Seeing his girlfriend dance with a man that he certainly wasn't fond of and had suspected of sleeping with Hermione behind his back would not be good for the psychologist's psyche.
Andrew.
It was the first time that she had thought of him all night. How could she, when one of the most handsome men that she knew, albeit, her best friend, was sitting right across from her? She found herself entranced by Ron on more than one occasion that evening. When he hugged her in greeting, she liked to think that he held her for a second longer than need be, but perhaps she was imagining things. And why did it matter to begin with?
Andrew.
She couldn't stop herself from staring throughout the course of dinner. She was captivated by the deep blue sapphires that were his eyes, and how nicely the blue shirt that he was wearing, the one that she had bought him for his birthday when she insisted that he wear more blue, brought out the deep azure that stole her breath.
Andrew. She loved Andrew.
And then there was his hair… it had driven her crazy for years, and had nearly been her downfall one night two years ago. The way one lock absently fell across his forehead, the way that she was just dying to run her fingers through it, the way that she was imagining how soft it would feel.
Andrew had nice hair.
And his smile. If there were ever one point in which she could stop the world, stop time, it would be when Ron smiled. The small dimple on his left cheek made him look younger, but the way his gorgeous eyes crinkled made it seem as if he had lived far more than anyone as young as he have should have. His smile could melt her, and there were times when she was sure that Fred, who was sitting to her right, would have to mop her off of the seat.
His shoulders, broad and muscular…his jaw line, somewhat stubbly and strong… his hands, big and rough in contrast to her own… his…
Andrew. She loved Andrew.
"Hermione? Is that all right with you?"
"Huh?" The most intelligent answer that Hermione Granger had ever graced the world with. Damn his smile.
"Navy…is that colour all right with you?"
Navy…Ron's eyes were navy…
"Yes, blue would be lovely…just lovely…"
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