A/N: originally published on Tumblr in Apr 2021
Hermione sat underneath a foldout kitchen table, leaning against the wall and contemplating the choices that'd brought her here.
The deep bass of the music thumped so it vibrated the cheap linoleum floor, sticky with the remnants of spilt beverages. In the dim lighting, she could just make out the legs of people walking, or in some cases, stumbling past. She couldn't blame them; her own head was spinning a bit from the alcohol.
Somehow, she'd let her roommate Padma convince her to go to that house party. It was the end of the semester and Hermione had been ready to blow off steam. She'd actually been having a really good time, finding that she knew more people from her dorm than she'd originally thought she would.
The night had gone downhill pretty quickly when the beer pong started. Hermione lacked coordination at the best of times, and avoided the game as a rule, but Ginny had practically begged her to play. Well, if begging her and plying her with several shots of coconut rum could be construed as the same thing. She barely even knew Ginny, but the younger girl was vivacious, fun, and determined to end her older brother's winning streak at the beer pong table.
As luck would have it, Ginny's older brother turned out to be the good-looking bloke from Hermione's floor that she'd been eyeing all semester. He was an effortless kind of hot, with a tall, narrow frame that filled out the shoulders of his white t-shirt. His hair was a vibrant red that offset his pale, deliciously freckled skin, complete with auburn stubble along his strong jaw. She'd been so distracted by the look of his bum in his jeans, that it'd taken Hermione much longer than it should have to connect the dots.
"Wait, this is your brother?" She'd squeaked. The other girl gave her a funny look.
"Uh, yeah, that's Ron," she'd said, then raised her voice so he could hear. "And he's about to get his arse kicked."
"I'll believe it when I see it, sis." Ron's lopsided smirk had done funny things to Hermione's insides.
It hadn't been a long game. Ginny wasn't bad, but Ron and his partner Harry were better, and Hermione hadn't helped at all. She'd learned, by way of Ron smugly informing her right before he sank his last shot, that people who didn't get any cups at all had to sit under the table for the next game.
She'd blushed furiously and, to avoid more people chanting at her, crawled under the table.
So here she was, attempting to avoid mortification and scheme an escape. Just when she was ready to swallow her pride and emerge, a large ginger form appeared in front of her on hands and knees. Ron's crooked smile greeted her from between the table legs.
"Mind if I join you?" He asked, and before she could answer he jammed his body next to hers so their sides were pressed together as he sat on the floor, leaning against the wall.
Hermione honestly had no idea what to say, so she studied the profile of his face as he settled in. "Beer?" He asked, digging into his pockets and extracting two cans. "It's unopened."
"Oh." Her gaze flitted between the beer he offered and his face, drinking in his ice blue eyes. "Ok," she agreed, accepting the can and cracking the top.
Ron did the same, and they both took a drink. "So how long are you going to stay under here?"
"Until I die, was the plan," Hermione muttered, feeling her cheeks redden.
"Nah, you're one of those brainy types, right?" She shot him a look. He shrugged. "I've seen you around. Your concentration is truly impressive. When you're revising, nothing can get your attention, and believe me, I've tried."
"What?" Her head whipped around so fast she thought she might have hurt her neck. He was way too big for the space, and they were much too close to each other. "What do you mean?"
"Is it so crazy that I would try to talk to you?" Ron asked, gazing at her with a curious expression.
"Yes, you're much too hot for me." The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, mortified.
And now she knew why she shouldn't drink.
Ron chuckled, a deep rumble that vibrated through her chest. "You're pretty hot yourself," he said, reaching across his body to tuck a curl behind her ear. "So before I kiss you, I just want to be clear that I intend to take you on a date next weekend. That is," he looked less than confident for the first time since their encounter began. "If you want to?"
"Yes," Hermione breathed.
"To which, the snog or the date?"
"Yes," she repeated, biting her lip as she looked up at him.
He grinned, then, cupping her cheek, kissed her. Her heartbeat skipped as he tried to devour her, his soft lips moving against hers.
"Ron? Where are you?"
He groaned against her at the interruption and leaned away from her face, though he kept his hand entwined in her hair.
"Fuck off Harry," he called, then kissed her again.
Hermione realized, as she sat on the sticky floor of the rental house underneath a plastic table, listening to the loud laugh of a guy from her dorm, that she didn't mind parties at all. In fact, as Ron's hand ran lightly down her side and gripped her hip, she considered that she might downright enjoy them.