a/n: posting in honor of our favorite redhead - happy birthday Ron!
Admittedly, it wasn't all that unusual for Ron to wake up in need of a cold shower after having a dream about Hermione. It had happened quite a bit more frequently right after they had broken up, nearly two years ago now, but she was still the star of his occasional nocturnal fantasy.
What was unusual about this one—in which the snog they had shared the night before had gone much further—was the fact that in a few short hours, they were heading off on a very real trip together, where they would share one very real bed, and pretend to act like a very real couple.
As he rolled over with a groan, Ron supposed he should have been grateful that his subconscious had chosen the night before the mission to paint these images in his head, and not during it. He made a mental note to grab a vial of dreamless sleep potion from the bathroom cabinet; it wouldn't do to have Hermione waking up next to him in such a state.
He showered quickly before flooing to the Ministry, arriving earlier than he normally would so that he had time for one final review of the case file before heading down to meet Hermione at evidence. The file was sitting on his desk right where he had left it, but there was a scrap of parchment sitting atop it with a note in Harry's scribbling handwriting:
Called in a favor with the paperwork team. Don't make me change it again. -H
Ron grinned as he flipped open the file, revealing his new identification as Owen, fiancé to Emily. The name still didn't exactly suit him, but it was better than having to go through the next two weeks as Dave, and he thought Hermione would consider her new alias an improvement as well.
"You owe me one." Ron rolled his eyes as he turned to face Harry.
"You're the reason we're in this in the first place, so let's call it even?" he volleyed back, leaning against his desk with the file in his hands. Harry chuckled.
"Alright, fair enough. Feeling alright about everything?"
"Yeah, sure." Ron shrugged in what he hoped was a casual manner. "I mean, it's...and we're…" He made a vague gesture with his hands as Harry quirked an eyebrow. "You know, it's only two weeks. It'll be fine."
"Uh-huh," Harry returned skeptically. "Look, I don't want to stir things up with you and Hermione. There's still time to tell Robards—" Ron shook his head to cut him off.
"No, look, you were right. Hermione's the best woman for this job." Ron gave another, more convincing, shrug as he continued. "She and I have a history that's going to lend credibility to our aliases, and at least this way, I won't have to sleep on the floor."
"Why would you sleep on the floor?"
"Oi, Amy, I know we've only known each other three days, but how about sharing a blanket?" Ron snorted sarcastically. "No, trust me. We're going to be fine."
"Alright. Well, I'm heading up to legal to go over this testimony with the bloke who's working Hermione's cases while you're gone. Anything you want me to pass along to your blushing bride?" Harry asked with a grin.
"You're insufferable."
"That's what you want me to tell her?"
"Out, Harry."
Harry gave him a light punch on the shoulder and said, more seriously, "You lot be safe. I'll see you when you get back." Ron nodded as Harry left, and then checked his watch. He had just enough time to swing down to the cafeteria for a coffee run before meeting Hermione.
When he arrived on the third floor, he found Hermione already waiting, chatting with the witch who managed the evidence storage. "Morning," he called to them.
Hermione turned and smiled at him, and then she glanced down at the coffees he was holding and frowned. "I brought coffee too. Figured I owed you one," she said, nodding at the two Ministry cups sitting on the desk in front of her.
"Oh. You don't owe me anything, but thanks." He extended the two drinks that he had brought to Gina. "You drink coffee?"
"Sure. Thanks, Ron." He caught Hermione's eyes flicker between the two of them, but her smile returned as Ron took the drink she had brought and took a sip. She remembered how he took his coffee, too; the thought brought a smile to his face. "I was just telling Hermione, you should be able to find what you're looking for on the third shelf from the back. If you need any help, let me know, and when you pick something, just bring it back out to me. You know the drill."
"Of course. Thanks, Gina. We won't be long." Hermione followed Ron into the evidence storage room, letting the door swing shut loudly behind her.
"She seems nice," Hermione ventured as they made their way to the back of the room.
"Yeah, she's cool. Reminds me a bit of you, actually," Ron said, weaving through the shelves. "She knows every inch of this place like the back of her hand, it's like you and the library. You need something, Gina knows exactly where to find it."
"Hmm."
Ron turned to face her. "What?"
"Nothing." But she wasn't quite looking at him, her eyes darting around at all the neatly labeled boxes. "Something going on there, then?"
"What, between me and Gina?"
Hermione brushed past him, still not meeting his eyes. "Third from the back, she said?"
Ron laughed lightly as he followed her. If Hermione had been jealous of anyone he had been out with since they broke up, she hid it well; this was a side of her he hadn't seen since Hogwarts. "There's nothing going on there."
"I'm just saying, you seem to like her. She's very pretty, and obviously intelligent."
"We just work together. She's good at her job." Ron watched Hermione as she stopped at the shelf Gina had directed them to, but beyond that, she had hit a wall for where to look, though she was still determinedly facing away from him, pretending to contemplate the boxes in front of her. "What if there was, though?" Ron asked. "Would that be a problem for you?"
"No, don't be silly, of course not," Hermione replied with a curt shake of her head. Ron sighed. She was obviously sorry she had said anything, so he decided to let her off the hook. For now. He reached over her head and pulled down a box full of jewelry, setting it down on a table nearby before he began to pull out the relevant contents. "Why does the Auror department have all of this, anyway?" she asked as she watched him, curiosity taking over her discomfort. "Is it really all criminal evidence?"
"Not necessarily. A lot of it is actually unclaimed estate rubbish."
Hermione frowned as he retrieved another box. "Meaning?"
"Remember how long it took before the Minister actually gave us the things Dumbledore had bequeathed us, after he died?" Hermione nodded. "Well, it's still the same, unfortunately. The department screens everything, and a lot of families just never come to get the belongings. So they wind up here."
"That's horrible." He could practically see the gears turning in Hermione's head, the call of a poorly-written law for her to amend, and he waved a hand to bring her attention back to him. She scowled at him briefly, then reached for a handful of the small clear evidence pouches as she said, "Fine, but you'll tell me more about this once we're at the resort?"
"We'll be working once we're at the resort," he reminded her.
"Twenty-four hours a day?" she returned. "You can save it for pillow-talk." Her comment had his mind once again flooded with images from his dream the night before, and he forced them away as he dug through the second box.
They worked in silence for several minutes, Ron setting aside rings he thought Hermione might be willing to wear, while she slid her own pile of options on and off her third finger. Finally, she held her left hand out for his inspection. "What do you think about this one?"
"You're the one who has to like it, Hermione," he pointed out without looking.
"I'm asking your opinion."
He turned to examine the ring she was wearing and couldn't stop the surprised "oh" that escaped him. It was quite gaudy compared to the simple jewelry Hermione normally wore, when she wore any at all, and he was suddenly glad he'd never actually gotten to the point of presenting her with an engagement ring, because his estimation of what she wanted was clearly way off. "It's not—" He cut himself off abruptly. "It's fine."
"You hate it."
"What's it matter what I think?"
"I'm just asking, Ron. You started to say something, it's not what?"
"It's not...er…" Ron glanced at his pile of rings, all horribly basic in comparison. None of them were exactly what he had imagined proposing to Hermione with, but he'd have never gone for the ring she was currently sporting. Maybe he didn't know her as well as he thought he did. "It's not what I'd've picked for you," he admitted finally.
Her lips parted slightly as she looked up at him. "I'm not picking a ring for me," she said softly. "I'm picking a ring for Chloe, my lofty pureblood alias."
"Oh," Ron said again, feeling silly now. "Right, then that one's great, I s'pose. It's Emily now, by the way."
"What?"
"Harry changed our aliases. You're Emily, and I'm Owen."
"No more Dave?" Hermione asked with a sly smile.
Ron shook his head and nodded to her hand. "That's the one, then? If you're all sorted, we can—" He had started gathering the other options back together to return to their boxes, but Hermione's hand on his arm halted him.
"Can I see?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper now.
"I don't think that's a good idea." The line between the mission and reality had already started to blur and they hadn't even left yet. Showing her the engagement rings he had picked out—very much with her in mind, no thoughts of the imaginary Chloe anywhere to be found—could only exacerbate things, whether she loved or hated his selections.
"Please? I mean…" She picked anxiously at one fingernail, no longer looking at him. "It's just a ring, right?"
Ron gave a huff and turned back to his pile, grabbing one of the rings at random. He realized as he handed it to her, though, that this one had caught his eye more so than the others: it was a soft shade of gold—goblin-made silver wouldn't do for Hermione, of course—with an intricately twisted band that looped around to frame the stone in the middle. It was beautiful in an understated sort of way, and when he had thought before about giving a ring to Hermione—because he had thought about it, much more than she probably knew—he had imagined it would be something like this.
Hermione sucked in a breath as she lifted it gently from his fingers. She stared at it for a long moment and then set it down abruptly. "It's a beautiful ring," she said, then added quickly, "for someone else." At that, Ron had every intention of heading straight to Robards and calling the whole thing off, until Hermione squeezed his arm and went on, "Someone who's not Chloe, I mean."
"Well...er…" Ron cleared his throat and shoved the ring back into its pouch. "I didn't pick it out for her, so…" Hermione was clearly choosing not to press him on this uncomfortable topic either, silently watching him pack the little bags away again and replace the boxes on the shelf, though she was biting her lip with the effort of holding in whatever she wanted to say. "Ready?"
Hermione glanced down at the ring she was still wearing, the ostentatious one she'd picked for the trip, and frowned slightly. She shook the expression from her face and took a deep breath, motioning to the door. "Lead the way."