Chapter 22
"Down on the ground, Granger! Thirty! You too, Midgen!"
Hermione and Eloise dropped to the stiff, frozen grass and reluctantly started yet another round of push-ups. Dedalus Diggle stood above them and yelled at everyone else. "Protecting your partner is just as important as protecting yourself! Don't cut corners on Shield Charms!"
Eloise was grunting alongside her, and Hermione's arms were burning. It was freezing outside, but no one was cold. Hermione could already tell she wouldn't be able to finish the set.
She groaned inwardly.
"Midgen! Granger!" he barked. "You heard what I said?"
They were gasping in between each push-up. "Yes, Auror Diggle!"
Hermione's arms trembled. Eloise turned her head. "You got this!" her shaky voice rasped in encouragement.
Hermione collapsed on the twenty-third. Eloise was still at it.
Barely.
"Can't finish?" he taunted from above her. "You know what that means. Get going, Granger!"
Struggling to get up, she heard Ron laughing behind her as she broke into a slow jog around the acreage at Paddington safe house.
"You find that fucking funny, Weasley?" John Dawlish's voice rang out, making Hermione smile.
Serves him right.
Ron's laughter abruptly stopped.
"No!"
"No, what?"
"No, Auror Dawlish!"
"Go join your girlfriend!" Dawlish ordered.
She heard Ron curse under his breath as his feet pounded on the ground behind her.
oooooooooooooooooooo
"You're really coming along with the Confringo hex, Ron."
Hermione went up the stairs of Paddington safe house, practically dragging herself by the railing. Her muscles were throbbing. She didn't think she'd be able to move tomorrow without a muscle salve. The wooden stairs creaked with her and Ron's ascent. Everyone else had retired from a long, grueling day by the time they finished their laps around the grounds. She and Ron had just finished their laps.
"Thanks," his voice echoed up the staircase hallway behind her. "It means a lot to hear you say that. I don't know which of the Aurors drives us harder. Proudfoot keeps hitting me on my side, but I can't keep up with Diggle. He looks old, but he's quick."
Sometimes Hermione wondered if she was too hard on Ron, making him overly dependent on her approval. He didn't grasp the fundamental theory behind each spell and charm as easily as she did, and often struggled with hexes. But he worked his arse off during combat training and was shaping up to be a competent fighter regardless.
Hermione reached the top of the stairs and turned around to wait for him. From his gait as he pulled himself upwards, it looked like he was also suffering from the exertion of tonight's training.
She rolled her shoulder. "I don't think I'll be able to move tomorrow."
"Yeah," Ron agreed, stretching with a wince after arriving at the top floor. "Remus and Diggle were pretty hard on you." He rubbed the back of his neck. "When this is all over, if I'm still going on about being an Auror, remind me of how painful today was."
They were alone on the top floor and the only light was dim, creeping out from the crack underneath the bathroom door. His red hair glinted orange, a bit like fire, from the angle of the light below. She peered up into his tired eyes.
"You do so well when you apply yourself though," Hermione encouraged him. "I bet you'd have no problem with it. Especially when this war is finished. You could probably train new recruits."
"Maybe," Ron sounded doubtful. "I work hard because I want to protect my family. I want to win." He grimaced as he rubbed a particularly painful area in his neck. "But I don't want to do this for the rest of my life. I know that's what Harry wants. I'm not sure what I want."
"Oh," she tried not to sound disappointed, but he caught the tone of her voice and glanced at her warily.
It wasn't that she disapproved of Ron not wanting to become an Auror, it was the fact that working hard was the reason he didn't want to do it. Hermione preferred that he work to his full potential, but he didn't feel the same way. Contemplating his cautious expression, she wondered if she pushed him too far past his comfort zone like when they were doing Horcrux research. And if so, maybe he resented her for it.
Ron didn't have the same drive to achieve that she did. Perhaps she should stop badgering him and simply accept the goals he set for himself. Hermione wasn't satisfied without pushing herself to her limits, but they didn't have to be the same in order to be together.
Did they?
Hermione didn't want him to be discouraged. Especially when he was trying so hard. Merlin knows, he had just been in the infirmary. At least the Nott raid had gone without a hitch.
Ron was loyal and tough and brave and could be relied on in a fight without question. That much she had heard from others in the Order, and knew from their adventures at Hogwarts. She couldn't blame him for wanting something calmer and easier after the war ended. He wanted to settle down, not continue fighting.
They gazed at each other awkwardly at the top of the stairs.
"Do you want me to rub your neck for you?" she offered, hoping to cover up her disapproval.
Hermione didn't know whether she should follow Ron into his bedroom, or if he would follow her into hers. And then there was the issue of roommates. Harry would clear out if it looked like something would happen between them, but Ron was normally embarrassed about it. She wondered if she should start planning their make out sessions in advance. Perhaps coordinating with Lavender – which was also tricky given Ron's history with her – so she could have her room to herself.
They didn't appear to have much luck when allowing alone time to happen spontaneously. She wondered why that was, everyone else seemed to be falling into bed right and left. Some had found serious partners, others found temporary ones. But it seemed like everyone was shagging except them. At least Ron wasn't afraid of her crying while he snogged her anymore.
"Um," he looked down at her, trying to decide what an offer of a massage would mean.
Hermione wasn't sure how clear she could be. She was all but throwing herself at him. He seemed to be pretty happy after her visit to the infirmary. She couldn't help but think of Malfoy. If she offered to massage him he'd probably be on her in half a second.
Why were things so difficult between her and Ron?
And then they heard a low moan. It was quiet, but it was there. Ron's eyes widened. He heard it too. It sounded again, a little louder this time. They shared a conspiratorial look and quietly approached the door that the sound was coming from, crouching in front of the doorknob.
Another low moan.
Hermione clamped her hand over her mouth, stifling a giggle. She felt like she was back in Hogwarts, sneaking out past curfew with him and Harry.
"Neville," Ron mouthed soundlessly to her with a huge grin, his blue eyes crinkling with mirth.
"Hannah?" she mouthed back, her hands making the word a question.
Ron nodded eagerly and Hermione made a thumbs up sign. They shared a moment, covering their mouths to suppress their laughter as Neville vocally enjoyed Hannah's company. She was happy for them both and cast a Silencing Charm on the door to give them privacy.
It was great that Neville and Hannah were getting some action, now maybe she and Ron could?
Hermione sent Ron what she thought was an enticing grin, laced her fingers through his and started leading him towards her room. When he saw the direction she was leading him in he abruptly started shaking his head. He didn't want to see Lavender. He was embarrassed by how he had treated Hermione last year. But she thought he took his shame and regret to an extreme sometimes.
Hermione and Lavender had made amends since sixth year – the war did a lot towards squelching petty school fights – and had become closer by sharing a room at Paddington safe house. Certainly, Lavender's interest in Oliver Wood eased the friction between them as well. Or was it Dean now that they were working together? But she saw Lavender snogging Justin Finch-Fletchly the other day. Hermione couldn't keep track of all the men she slept with. She seemed to go through them faster than her phases with hairstyles.
Regardless, Ron's affection was no longer a cause for rivalry.
Hermione held up her index finger, and quietly approached her bedroom door. She opened it and peeked in. Lavender looked up, sitting on her bed and paging through the latest issue of Witches Weekly, chewing gum loudly. The large bubble she was blowing popped.
"Oh hi, Hermione. Have you regained the use of your arms yet?"
Hermione's face fell. She heard Ron leaving in the other direction, not wanting to snog her, think about snogging her, attempt to snog her or even think about attempting to snog her in front of Lavender. Hermione turned back to see him retreating to his room and Lavender immediately understood and leaned forward, peering out in the direction of the hallway even though she couldn't see him.
"I still make him uncomfortable, don't I?" she whispered apologetically in between loud chomps on her gum. "Do you want me to leave?"
"No, it's okay," Hermione whispered back, shaking her head. "Thanks." She furrowed her brow, even with the ponytail, she could see that Lavender's hair was a lot shorter from yesterday. "Did you cut your hair?"
Lavender's face fell. "It got singed and Dean blew off his finger. Mary easily reattached it but," Hermione saw tears in her eyes. "I can't do anything about my hair!"
"Why don't you wear a bun?"
"Well, I will now!" she cried. "It takes forever to grow hair that long without split ends!"
Lavender's dismissal of Dean's lost finger made her wonder how often the two of them lost digits in their bomb making lessons. Or maybe she thought her hair really was more important.
"I'm sure there's a potion for that," Hermione said as Lavender pulled some of her strands forward, inspecting them. Lavender didn't appear mollified at all, and continued chewing her gum, pulling her hair forward to search for more split ends.
Hermione closed the door and followed Ron into his room, feeling a little dejected. With the exception of their first kiss when she cried, she felt like she was always chasing after him.
Ron opened the door to his room and walked in. Hermione, feeling somewhat like she was intruding, steeled herself to follow him inside. Ron went directly to his bed and flopped down face first with a groan. She poked her head around the door and thankfully, saw that Harry wasn't there. He must be with Ginny somewhere else. She glanced at Ron, lying down on his bed, and sat down next to him. Her arms hurt, but she could massage his neck a little.
Hermione reached out, tentative. She still didn't feel entirely comfortable touching him in this way. Gently, she rubbed circles in the area between his neck and shoulder. He didn't say anything, so she kept going. She rubbed the back of his neck, his shoulders, his upper back, and then back up to his neck again.
"Does that feel good?" she asked, unsure as to whether he liked it, if it hurt, if it helped. He wasn't saying anything.
"Yeah, it's okay," he replied.
Okay?
She continued for a little bit more and then stopped. Her arms hurt too, and she wasn't sure if he was actually enjoying her massage or if he was just tolerating it, not wanting to hurt her feelings. For the third time tonight, she asked herself why this was so difficult.
"Ron?" Her voice came out small and unsure.
"Yeah?" He turned his head around to face her, brows furrowed at her hesitant tone.
"Do you want to be with me?"
He rolled over on his side with a groan of pain and studying her expression, considered his answer. "Of course."
Of course.
Like it was expected? Like there was already an unspoken agreement that they were together?
Hermione didn't feel like she was with him. They trained together, they hunted Horcruxes, they snogged on occasion. Seldom occasions. The former two they did with Harry around all the time and the latter was almost always awkward save for a few heart stopping moments.
Despite his unexpectedly disappointing answer, Ron shifted himself to the side and made room for her to lie down next to him. She snuggled up next to him and laced her fingers though his. They stared at each other in silence for a few minutes, sharing a pillow. His eyes were so clear and so blue. He looked puzzled. Again, she thought of Malfoy. She didn't think she'd be able to lie down next to Malfoy like this. She'd be all over him. Or he would be all over her. There wouldn't be any moment of confusion or puzzlement, the attraction was simply there. Undeniable.
She had to stop comparing between the two of them. It was ridiculous. It's not as if she compared between Ron and Harry. Or Ron and Neville. Or Ron and anyone else.
Maybe she and Ron made better friends than lovers. But they hadn't ever tried to be more than friends, had they? And even as friends, they were usually with Harry, which changed the dynamic completely. Feeling bold, she released his fingers to slide her hand over his mid-riff and down to the curve of his arse. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips against his, searching for entry, which he gave her.
They kissed slowly, tentatively, affectionately. She curled her fingers around his bum and he wrapped an arm around her, pressing her closer. She thought perhaps things might heat up but he winced.
"I'm sorry, Hermione. My neck really hurts."
She pulled away. "Do you want me to rub it again?"
No snogging tonight, but she could give him a nice massage.
"Nah, that's okay." Feeling disappointed, Hermione got up to leave but Ron reached out and grabbed her arm. "Stay here for a bit? Until Harry gets back?"
Hermione smiled. She could lie down next to him. She reached out for his hand again. Hand holding was reliably good. So far, at least that hadn't been awkward.
She sighed in contentment, squeezing his fingers and leaned against his shoulder. "So if not an Auror, what is the Great Ronald Bilius Weasley going to do after the war?"
He traced the ridges of her knuckles as he spoke. "You mean after we destroy all those bloody trinkets and put You-Know-Who six feet into the ground?"
Hermione huffed a laugh. "Hard to imagine a life that doesn't involve going after those bloody trinkets, isn't it?" The search was dragging on with no leads. It was incredibly frustrating. She, Harry and Ron were at their wits' end.
"I don't know what I hate more. You-Know-Who, or his Horcruxes." He stretched his neck again and grimaced, returning to her question. "I'm not sure honestly. I think I'd like to do something in Quidditch. I'm not good enough to play professionally, per se, but there are a lot of administrative and support positions that could be interesting."
"I bet any job like that would include free tickets to games," she observed.
"It just might," he replied with a grin. "In fact, I could quite possibly get paid to attend Quidditch matches, depending on the position."
"Are you sure you're up to that?" Hermione asked in mock seriousness. "It sounds like a terrible sacrifice for this potential job of yours."
He released a sigh of faux resignation. "And yet one I must be prepared to make." They stared at the ceiling when Ron yawned loudly. She was getting sleepy too and yawned right after him. "But don't worry," he continued with another yawn. "I'll make sure I get tickets for my friends." And he squeezed her hand affectionately.
She felt him drifting off to sleep next to her. His breathing evened out, becoming steady.
Ron was tired and didn't realize that he had called the two of them friends. It just slipped out. Unintentionally.
Was that all they were? Friends?
Was it only the expectation that they should be more making them consider a romantic involvement in the first place?
Was that why this was so difficult?
Chapter end notes:
I can hear you all screaming from the other side of your screens, "YEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSS!"
Next up: more Theodore Nott!
And more Star Wars!
