I Thee Wed
Chapter 2:
Things Get Ugly
Author's Note: The long-awaited chapter two is here, folks.
…
That's it. Oh, wait, except for one thing. Ron uses bad language in this chapter, please forgive him. And me. ^_~
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I was going to be rebellious and not put a disclaimer in this chapter, but then I realized that nobody would care nor think of it as a rebellious act, so I just put it in anyway.
Dedication: To Redgem, my dear beta-reader and even dearer friend in honor of her birthday, which is tomorrow, July 31st (some people get all the luck.) Without her I would be lost in a sea of misused commas and past participles.
Link to Redgem:
Read her new Neville story, it's excellent!
***
The best way out is always through.
-Robert Frost
***
The first thing that occurred to Ron the next morning was the fact that he was in a very comfortable bed. The second was that his head felt like it had been run over by a giant. The third was that he was glad to have somebody so warm and soft lying next to him.
Wait.
A what?
Instantly the redhead's eyes flew open. He took in soft blue walls, lacy white curtains, and a head of brown, wavy hair.
He closed his eyes again, praying to anybody who was listening that he was dreaming. He opened his eyes again, but his vision stayed the same.
Don't jump to conclusions! he told himself. There is probably a very good explanation for this…I just haven't found out what it is yet. Gritting his teeth, Ron pulled up the comforter of the bed. Unfortunately, he was as bare as the day he was born, and even more unfortunately, he wasn't the only one.
Suddenly the blue walls, lacey curtains, and brown head of hair struck him as very, very familiar. Ever-so-slowly (to be subtle and keep his head from ricocheting off his shoulders) Ron leaned over and peeked at the face of his companion.
There was no doubt about it. The woman had Hermione's nose, Hermione's mouth, Hermione's ears. Her eyes were closed, but he was pretty sure they'd be Hermione's, too. Only one question remained: what in bloody hell had gone on last night?
He played with the ring on his finger to calm his nerves, twisting it madly around and around.
Wait.
One quick glance revealed a golden band. This time his groan was audible, as well as somewhat desperate. Quickly, Ron assessed his situation: he was in bed, naked, next to his best friend of seventeen years, wearing a wedding ring and in possession of a massive hangover.
"Fuck," he muttered aloud.
With that, the figure next to him stirred. Hermione was rolling over, and fear gripped Ron's heart. In one bolt, he was on the floor. He head was pounding, but he was out of Hermione's direct line of sight, and that was all that mattered.
"Who's there?" Hermione's panicked voice floated through the room. Ron instantly felt guilty. Of course Hermione would notice the fact that she was stark naked instantly, and probably fear the worst.
But then, how much worse could things be?
"Er…" Ron moved so that only his head could be seen above the cast-iron bed frame.
"R-Ron?' Hermione's eyes were wide open now, looking vastly confused. "Tell me this isn't what it looks like."
"What does it look like?" he asked, to stall if nothing else.
Hermione laughed, but it was somewhat hysterical. "Well, it looks like we…er…that we…" She trailed off, too embarrassed to go on. "Are you…without clothes?"
Ron winced. "That depends on whether or not you want a lie or the truth."
"The truth," Hermione said, sounding very much like she'd rather hear the lie.
"Yeah."
"How could we? And I don't even remember it! Things like this don't happen to girls like me!"
"And they happen to guys like me?" Ron worked up enough energy to be annoyed.
"Yes…I mean, no…I don't know! I haven't known anything about you ever since you started working for the Cannons!"
His annoyance abated as Ron sighed and leaned his head against the bed. "Well, that's not exactly our problem right now." He paused. "Close your eyes for a moment."
Hermione did so, and when he told her to open them again he was wrapped in a white sheet. He came and sat down next to her, finding she looked very close to tears. A part of him wanted to save the rest of his news for later, but another part knew he probably shouldn't wait much longer.
"Hermione?" he queried.
"Yes?' She didn't look at him, but instead studied the door.
Ron felt his confidence slipping, so he plunged ahead. "Look at your finger."
For a moment she did nothing, just kept staring at the door. After a moment she looked down at her hands where she caught sight of a ring identical to Ron's.
She fainted.
***
An hour later both Ron and Hermione had managed to shower and get dressed, albeit somewhat awkwardly. Since Ron was more properly attired (he was in a sheet, yes, but at least he was in something) he got cleaned up first. Very shortly after getting into the shower he found that all of Hermione's bath stuffs were scented Twilight Tulips, and smelled of the flower they were named for. He considered evading the whole bathing idea, but in the end relented. One sniff of his bare skin had him wishing he hadn't.
Dressing was even harder, mostly because his clothes were strewn throughout the house.
At one point Ron commented, "Must have been pretty wild, eh?" but Hermione silenced him with a withering glare.
Ron would have laughed had he not found his boxer shorts in Crookshanks' water dish. (The man at the pet store where she bought the cat told Hermione he had a mother that lived to be thirty, much to Hermione's delight.)
Sitting at the kitchen counter and drinking coffee, neither friend spoke. Too many thoughts were running through their addled minds, none very pleasant.
Finally, Hermione spoke. "So…you don't remember anything?"
"I remember walking you home. I remember sitting on your steps. After that, nothing."
Hermione nodded sadly. "I think I recall the part where we were on the steps, but that's about it. I hear this happens a lot to people who are…er…intoxicated. However, our memories may be jogged."
Ron held up his hand. "If this didn't jog my memory, I don't know what in the bloody hell will!"
"Language, Ron," his friend tutted, and for a moment, it was if they were thirteen again.
But they weren't. They were grown adults, both very successful and with lives of their own. No longer was every day passed between them, and more often than not they went great spans without seeing each other. It was the way the world worked.
"Thank Merlin it's Saturday," Hermione mumbled into her coffee cup. She was a practitioner of Magical Medicine, and had her own clinic in London. "I don't think I could have possibly gone into work today."
"Why? You could have just taken the ring off and nobody would have known."
"It's that I can't think straight, you git. It wouldn't have been very nice for my career if I had given somebody treatment for the flu when they had a broken arm!"
"They would have gotten over it," Ron said.
Hermione sighed. "But speaking of taking the ring off, I think that would be a good idea. What if somebody comes calling and sees me wearing it?"
"Somebody like, oh, I don't know…Dylan?" Ron's words were icy, as if he didn't like the taste of them in his mouth.
Instantly, Hermione's expression became pinched. "What concern is Dylan of yours?"
"Harry says you've been dating him for four months! Why have you been hiding him from me? Are you ashamed of him?"
Hermione was up and out of her chair in a matter of milliseconds. "No! I didn't tell you because I knew you'd act like the baby you are now! You always do this, Ron. You've ruined perfectly good relationships of mine, just to be spiteful!"
"Why would I be spiteful?" Ron roared, his face as red as his hair.
"I don't know, why don't you tell me?"
They both stared at each other with contempt for a moment, and finally Hermione went to take the ring off her finger and throw it in his face.
However, it was stuck.
Really, really stuck.
Hermione had yanked and maneuvered for nearly a minute before she realized what the problem was.
"No, this can't be happening…please, no…" She trailed off, still tugging at the ring. Ron, still too angry to speak, just sat with his arms folded.
"Ron, do you know what these are?!"
"What?" Hermione looked to be on the verge of tears again, and Ron felt torn between holding her and strangling her.
"They're Forever Yours."
Ron looked startled. "They're yours too!"
"No, no, no. It's a brand. They make rings that you're guaranteed never to lose or misplace…or take off."
"Bugger."
"Ron!"
Just then a knock could be heard on Hermione's door. "What if that's Dylan?"
Ron's expression soured again at the mention of Hermione's boyfriend. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"
"No, I most certainly am not! How will I explain why you only have one sock on?" True to her words, Ron hadn't been able to find both of his socks and had opted to wear just one.
"Tell him the truth," Ron countered. "Tell him you got married and slept with another man."
Hermione slapped him and ran to her bedroom, her tears finally released. Ron rubbed the place on his cheek where she'd hit him, amazed that she could have done such a thing. Amazed that he could have said such a thing.
"Ron? Hermione?" Now the knocking was accompanied by Harry's voice. In a trance, Ron went to let him in.