January was a desolate month, in every possible way. The re-opening of the Great Hall was put on hold while emergency roof repairs were undertaken and the insurance company were proving finicky, ordering a full investigation into the nature of the work and the undertakings of the original construction company before they would release the money. Ginny estimated it could take weeks before they could expect a pay-out.
Hermione, for her part, had rewritten all her schemes and plans for the year ahead in an effort to free up as much money as possible to complete the roof and added another evening to her lecture schedule.
The snow started falling just as the castle was made water tight, lasting for two weeks and throwing every timeline they had plotted into disarray.
She barely saw Ron or Harry during this time; the entire Weasley family seemed to be tied up in knuckling down, earning money and pushing through. It was, advised Sylvain sagely one morning as he smoked a cigarette in the courtyard, what they did best.
"It's been a famine or a feast for as long as I can remember," he mused, taking a long drag and blowing a perfect smoke ring into the frigid air. "Though this is particularly bad. It can't be long before someone goes cap in hand to that rich aunt of theirs."
Coincidently, the participants of the first Weasley family meeting of the year were, at that very moment, discussing just that, though in a roundabout sort of way.
No-one wanted to be the first to suggest asking Muriel and they galloped up every conversational path bar that one, each offering their scratched-together funds to keep the business afloat.
Eventually, Percy came round to it. "Well someone has to say it. Why don't we ask Aunt Muriel?"
On the very rare occasion over the years that anyone suggested asking Muriel for a loan, it was always met with raucous disapproval. If their aunt, in a whim of generosity, decided to gift them a windfall, it was graciously accepted. The castle had certainly benefitted from a few of those over the years.
But they had yet to arrive at the position of actually asking her for money, despite what she was fond of saying. The siblings knew that the notion embarrassed Molly and made their father feel undermined. Another way was always found.
This time, the table was subdued and Ginny was thankful her parents were still recuperating and had decided not to ring into the conference.
"We all know I hate to agree with Percy," shrugged Fred and Percy sighed, "But maybe he's right. Muriel is loaded, she could easily afford to pay for the new roof and a shit-load of other things as well. Maybe we should just take it on the chin and rattle the old bird's cage."
Ron remained silent as quiet debate commenced around the table. The idea of begging from Muriel was repulsive to him, especially when taking into consideration their last conversation and how rude she was about his family. He couldn't see himself, at any point, agreeing to do that. He'd sell the castle first.
And maybe that's what they should do anyway. He drew a bubbly snowman in the margin of his notes and ruminated on what it would be like to give up Ottery altogether.
His first reaction was one of horror but this was quickly intermingled with a sense of relief. The castle had been his home and his life's purpose since the day he was born and he didn't want to be anywhere else. But even he had to admit it would be somewhat of a release to have the weight of it taken away. Sometimes it felt almost too heavy to bear.
Snatching a glance around the room, he wondered briefly if his brothers and Ginny felt the same way and decided that they probably did not. Bill and Charlie were quite removed from the daily grind and Ron supposed that meant they imagined the pressure, rather than truly felt it. Fred and George had their events business, which provided them with an opportunity to escape. Ginny and Harry had each other and Percy had his seemingly endless work projects to keep him warm. And that left Ron.
"So are we agreed? Ron?"
"Say again?"
Ginny sighed. "We'll keep going to the end of February. If things don't turn themselves around by then, we'll ask Muriel. Mum and Dad'll just have to bite the bullet."
Ron nodded. "Cool. Yeah."
"Speaking of which," Harry muttered, somewhat apprehensively, "Anyone fancy a Valentine's Day ball next month? Muriel's expecting a presence."
"I'll do it!" Fred and George chimed over each other, before a friendly elbow war commenced.
"It's for the Noth Foundation."
"Fred'll do it!"
"George'll do it!"
The elbow war stepped up a gear as they debated which of them had refused first.
"Count me out," Percy said disgustedly. "His daughter is tiresome and the last time I saw her she tried to ride me like a horse."
A voice from the speaker exclaimed, "Thought you'd be all over that Percy!" and Percy cursed as his older brother laughed.
"Actually, I got the distinct impression that Ron would be the most welcome," Harry cut in, anxious to move on so they could wrap things up. "Ron? Thoughts?"
"Yep, fine, no problem. Stick me down."
Harry made a note reluctantly, sensing Ron's distraction; he was not engaging in his usual way. The structural setbacks had been a blow for all of them but Ron had seemed to take it the hardest.
Harry knew Ron shouldered the lion's share of the responsibility for the castle and its fortunes and that was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it really was a boon having someone live here full time, knowing the building and the business so well and being available at a moment's notice when emergencies cropped up.
It was a curse for the simple reason that Harry didn't think it was fair and there were times when Ron's life seemed to suffer because of it.
A week later they sat together in the conference room, propped precariously on stools next to the bar. Around Christmas, Harry had happened to notice a bottle of scotch was getting on the low side and had spirited it away before it could be finished, for just such an occasion as this.
He had intended to spend time properly talking to Ron over the Christmas break but family commitments and the needs of small children had put paid to that. Spending time with the Weasleys was a joyous, boisterous occasion but it didn't lend itself to quiet reflection or one-to-one conversations. Harry just couldn't get Ron alone.
And anyway, he had seemed to be back to his usual self, laughing and playing pranks on his nieces and nephews. That was until the roof came in, of course.
"It'll be what it is mate," Ron said now when Harry asked him how he felt about their current predicament. "I'm not bloody delighted about it but what can we do?"
After a beat, he added, "I just wish there wasn't always something you know? Why can't we just have a few months where nothing fucks itself up?"
"Do you think we should ask Muriel for money?"
"No!" Ron answered sharply and exactly as Harry anticipated he would. "No, I bloody don't. I appreciate what she's done for us and I don't mind getting dolled up every so often so she can hob-nob. I'll even take her occasional 'donations', though I think she gives them in bad grace and I hate relying on her for anything. If that's what it takes to keep her quiet and Mum happy, then brilliant. But I'm not going to ask her to loan us the money. Over my dead body."
They sat quietly over the final dregs of the scotch, listening as the castle closed down for the night. The snow had slowed the visitor footfall, which had been helpful with the building work re-commencing. Still, there were always a few stragglers, mainly students and older people with no-one to rush home to, so it was never quite peaceful until the final door was shut and bolted.
Ron downed the remaining liquid in his glass and massaged his temples rhythmically for a moment.
"It'll come right, mate. You'll see." He clapped Harry on the shoulder. "We always figure it out."
Harry made a noise of affirmation.
"We just have to keep going. Next week the Hall will be open again. And we have the wedding… Lots to look forward to."
Harry risked a barb. "And the Valentine's ball, of course. That must be high on the 'Can't Wait' list."
Ron groaned. "Jesus, don't remind me. Clemmie Noth slobbering over me all night. Did I tell you Muriel wanted me to go to their place in Cornwall at New Year?"
"You did not." Harry was amused.
"As if. Saw the email and swiftly deleted it. She was a nightmare in Switzerland. You know, Muriel told me that trip was about meeting people Carl knew who wanted to invest in antiquity restoration. A bloody lie. Ninety percent of it was Clemmie parading around in mini-skirts in the snow, whining she didn't have Wi-Fi. This was when she wasn't trying to hump my bloody leg. I've never met anyone who had more of a raging horn for a castle than her. And she could buy and sell the place ten times over. Dunno what the appeal is."
"Maybe it's you?"
Ron laughed. "God, I hope not. The only way I'll force myself to go to this thing is if I know it isn't personal. Don't even try to suggest she actually fancies me. I couldn't take it!"
He clutched his chest dramatically and grunted, as though suffering a fatality. When he righted himself Harry said, "Why don't you take someone with you?"
"Like you?" Ron looked hopeful.
"Like a date."
"Who would want to go to that?" Ron frowned and tipped some of Harry's remaining scotch into his own glass. "Those things are all snobby arseholes and speeches about doing so much for the world while they live in mansions so they don't have to mix with the poor people and stick their money in tax avoidance schemes."
"Well, look at it this way. Maybe it's only boring to you because you've done it a lot. To someone who hasn't, maybe it would be a chance to dress up, eat some nice food and drink free Champagne for the evening."
Ron scratched his chin. "Okay, I see your point." Then he smiled. "It would drive Muriel mad of course, if it got back to her. Who would I take?"
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Nicola?"
"Oh, fuck no," Ron replied quickly, shaking his head firmly. "She was in here last week looking at that light in the Pomfrey that's been flickering. Completely blanked me. I think it's safe to say me turning down her very kind invitation for a shag wasn't taken well."
"Mickie?"
"Too young."
"Cadence?"
"Too French. I can't understand a word she's saying half the time."
They ran through various women in their collective circles, until Harry reached the one name he had wanted to say from the start.
"What about Hermione?"
He carefully watched Ron, hoping he would incite a huge reaction. Disappointingly, Ron seemed only thoughtful, quietly pondering the decision as he stared into his glass. But perhaps this was even more telling.
"You guys are friends right?" Harry probed, treading carefully, "And she's always teasing you about having to attend these fancy events and not giving a shit. You could show her what it's really like."
"Mmm. I'll think about it."
Ron rose slowly to his feet and lifted the two empty glasses.
"You should get off now. Before the snow gets any heavier."
They said their goodbyes and Harry drove perilously home in the soft snowfall, with a distinct sense he had planted an important seed of thought.
OOO
The seed of thought didn't grow swiftly or smoothly, but it did grow. Sometimes its progress was impeded, mostly due to Ron's magnificently honed ability to talk himself out of almost anything.
Since Hermione's disappearing act before Christmas, Ron's overtly strong reaction to her New Year's date and their coming together in the face of adversity, they had fallen back into their comfortable pattern: friendly banter and work-related conversations. Their kiss seemed almost unreal now, almost like it hadn't happened at all.
It was risky, asking her to come with him to the Noth Foundation ball. Of course, they would be going as friends, so there would be no danger of his stepping on any toes if Mr. Waltham Hotel was still hanging around.
Still, it felt precarious. She might not even want to go and he didn't relish the thought of her saying no.
At other times, the seed of thought positively flourished. One afternoon he sat with Hermione and Harry going over the figures Bill had sent them and even though it was a dismal topic of conversation, they found themselves laughing and commiserating in equal measure. Hermione said something that made Harry chuckle, which started Ron off until all three of them were at it.
And he looked at her as she sat giggling and marvelled at how much she belonged here with them. Ron knew his friendship with Harry could be a little intimidating to others; he was closer to Harry than his own brothers in some respects and from the outside, it might seem impenetrable. Yet Hermione's arrival had caused him to wonder if they hadn't been a triumvirate all along, just waiting for their third.
Sometimes it was watching her work that caused the seed to grow. She might be bent over a silver soup tureen with an eye glass, delicately running her fingertips over the filigree and making notes in that mad little notebook of hers or frowning, nose deep, in a reference text, her voluminous headphones clamped to her ears.
When he found himself pausing one morning to listen to her talk to a school group about restoring antiquities, he knew he was going to ask her.
Later in the day, he swung into her office jauntily.
This was no big deal. Just asking a friend to come to a work thing. Piece of cake.
Hermione looked up from whatever she was working on and smiled.
Oh bloody hell.
"Are you ok? You went a bit pale all of a sudden."
Ron shook himself off internally. "Yep. Awesome. Can I ask a favour?"
She rolled her eyes playfully and got to her feet. Skirting around the desk, she came to face him before leaning around his body to slide a folder into her bookcase.
She was so close he could smell her perfume and the experience of it triggered hazy memories of other scents. Grass going to seed. Candy apples. Cider.
"Well, what is it?" She was leaning on her desk now staring expectantly at him and Ron felt his bravado weaken. For a moment they looked at each other while he tried to decide what to do.
Fuck it.
"I need a date for the Noth Foundation ball."
Hermione's face remained blankly inquisitive and, for a moment, Ron felt the icy curdle of alarm in his blood until he realised she didn't understand what he was trying to say.
"Will you come with me? To the ball I mean."
This time her face registered surprise, quickly followed by something guarded and unreadable.
"Oh. Uh, sure. When is it?"
"Valentine's Day?" Immediately it occurred to him that she might have plans with Waltham. Buggar, why hadn't he thought of that before?
"You can say no, of course. If you have something else lined up. One of Muriel's requests you know? I usually go stag to these things, I just thought…" He blew out the breath he had been holding. "That you might like to come."
Her stillness caused him great anxiety; he could feel it cramping under his sternum. She was obviously trying to find a way to kindly say no. He had been stupid to think it was a good idea.
Yet, just when he moved to fill the silence with apologies and jokey remarks, she stepped back behind her desk and flipped open her leather-bound desk diary.
Without looking up, she said, "That would be lovely. I'll make a note."
He watched her scribble it onto the page, feeling a tad light-headed from his shallow, panicked breathing. When she finally raised her head again, her face was unremarkably pleasant.
"See you tomorrow then?" she said now, sitting back down. "Unless there was something else?"
Ron backed up. "No. Nothing. Just that. Sure. See you tomorrow."