A/N: My thanks to Coyotelaughingsoftly for the brainstorming today when I wasn't happy with the finish. Now I am.
A/N2: My solicitor is withholding butterbeers unless I mention that I don't own copyright or IP for Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, or even Ron's Tom Ford slacks that Hermione found on sale. I do own a haggard housecoat in Stewart Plaid that I've had for years. - DG
Tap Tap Tap
Quiet nights like these aggravated the fire out of her. Hermione put the quill down on the table and picked her book up for the seventh time this evening.
Hermione plucked at her red silky robe and called tonight a lost cause. 8 pm after the shop closed was one thing, but past eleven on a Friday night was unspeakably rude, especially from him. Earlier this week, he'd promised to be home early, so they could have some private quality time. He'd promise her anything once she'd finished giving him one on one attention in a dark corner of the Auror cold case file room.
Ron should have been home three hours ago, having said he was stopping at the Leaky Cauldron with Harry before returning home. Harry had a Portkey for Barcelona, for the weekend. Ginny was abroad with the team so the house was for their benefit for the weekend. She knew he was busy tomorrow and Sunday morning he'd promised his Mum he'd come over first thing and work with Bill to rebuild the property lines out along the orchard.
Seems he forgot the part about promising a leg over tonight.
Hermione closed the book on the table and made the decision to change and go to bed.
Ron'll just have to wait until we find another hour next weekend.
Hermione took the book with her and ascended all of the steps to their bedroom, up on the second floor of the shared brownstone. Each step up reminded her that she was cranky. Ron'd been busy this week and barely had time to kiss her in the morning before having to run off for his shift at 7am. Throw in his hours with George most evenings, and he'd not get home before 9pm.
His workload did nothing to help grow and nurture their relationship at the moment. The only thing that kept her from blowing her lid completely was that he'd asked her if she supported what he was trying to do. They were on the same page when it came to plans for the future. But living in London took plenty of galleons to not live hand to mouth.
Academically, it made sense. She'd been out of Hogwarts for almost nine months and between the two of them saving their galleons, they were close to having a deposit on a flat in the area. She understood and respected Ron's viewpoint that he wanted plenty of galleons in the vault before they moved out. Sure, they could live rent free with Harry the rest of their lives if they so wanted but they desired their own life as well.
But they were stretched so thin on their relationship that what little time they had together was spent in the company of friends and family that they had precious quality time, just for themselves. It'd been weeks since they had a cuddle on the couch, just the two of them. The only times recently they'd had for sex were stolen moments on Sunday at his parent's house during Sunday brunch.
She sighed on the first landing before trudging up the third flight to their bedroom.
Doesn't he understand that I need him too? I need his company, discussing what happens in my job, not just his. I need his hands in mine, kissing me softly, reminding me how much he loves me. I need him in our bed, doing more than just snoring in my ears every night.
Hermione sniffed. It was supposed to be better than this.
Hermione pushed open the door to their room and went to the closet. She hung up the red robe that drove Ron barmy every time she wore it. She pulled off the slightly uncomfortable undergarments she wore when she expected in them a short time, not four hours of wear.
She turned and pulled on the vest she preferred, along with getting the long sleeved t-shirt and jumper. She'd shrug into them once she was finished in the toilet for her evening routine. Hermione opened another drawer and fished out some very warm wool knee socks, sensible knickers and sleep trousers. She slid into the underpants and threw on the very warm housecoat with the bundle of additional clothes in her arms.
She padded across the hardwood of their room to the bathroom across the hall. She had every intention of washing the rubbish off her face and scrubbing her teeth before bed.
She heard him as she was putting cleansing soap onto the flannel in her hand. "Hermione, I'm home," he bellowed up the stairwell.
Hermione shook her head and continued with her bathroom routine before bed. He missed his chance.
"'ermione, 'ere are you?" Ron slurred.
"Merlin, he's pissed. Brilliant,"she thought sarcastically.
She heard heavy footfalls on the stairs, followed by a resonant crash into a wall. He giggled and continued the journey up the stairs while sounding like a flock of Hippogriffs.
Hermione finished applying the cold crème to her face. Next up was the cherry blossom lotion on her neck, along with across her burn-scarred chest and down her arms, including over the healed carving on her arm.
"'ermione, quit hiding. I'm too far gone to play hide and seek."
She lifted a slim leg and started applying the lotion to her legs.
The door slammed open and crashed right back into Ron's nose. "Bugger that hurt."
Hermione snorted. "Serves you right, slamming it open like a troll."
Hermione finished with the lotion and worked to slide the wool knee socks on. On the other side of the door Ron uttered various epithets and curses for his currently hurting nose.
Ron pushed open the door a second time, this time rubbing his nose melodramatically. Hermione turned and glared at her boyfriend. He was obviously pissed. His face was flushed and his eyes were bloodshot. She was also doing everything possible to ignore the aroma of too much Firewhiskey on his breath.
"It hit my bits, too. Come kiss it and make it better."
Hermione stood there glaring at her boyfriend. He looked at her with a lopsided grin on his face. When she didn't move immediately like he expected, he expression changed to lost puppy eyes.
"You're not playful tonight. What's crawled up your arse?"
Hermione ignored his drunken slur and proceeded to turn her back to him and dress in the warmer clothes she'd need and want tonight. She slid on the flannel sleep trousers and then reached for the t-shirt.
"Didn't you hear me?"
She continued to dress with her back to him with the intention of showing him that he wasn't getting into her knickers tonight or for the foreseeable future. Once her jumper was on, she wrapped herself into the housecoat.
Only then did she turn and address her inebriated boyfriend. "Oh, I heard you clearly. I chose to not do a thing to help you tonight. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed."
"Bed? But I just got home. Don't you want to shag me? Isn't that what Friday nights are for?"
Hermione stopped in the hallway and turned around on her boyfriend so fast he stumbled back into the bathroom.
"No, Ronald Weasley, you arse. Three hours ago, I wanted to shag you." Hermione put a digit in his chest and pushed. "Two hours ago, I might have even considered getting a leg over the dining room table. I certainly was dressed for it. But no, you stood me up tonight, out getting pissed with whomever tonight, completely forgetting I was home waiting for you. So I have absolutely no intention of touching you tonight, much less the rest of the weekend." She spun again and walked into their bedroom, slamming the door once again.
She silently counted down. Ron rarely let her slide from slamming the door in the face, much less passing up on the opportunity for a shag. But she was righteously upset tonight and felt the need to make her mind known. His tardiness and lack of communication tonight was unacceptable. Auror missions were one thing but what he did tonight demanded correction.
The door slammed open and Ron stepped in looking Auror fierce. His robes were thrown open, along with his jacket, showing the dress shirt and tie she picked for him this morning. "You're being barmy," he growled before kicking the door closed behind him. He pulled his wand and locked and silenced the door behind him.
"Oh that's rich since we're home alone this weekend."
Ron shrugged out of the robes and jacket and left them on the floor behind him. "Answer me. What is wrong with you tonight?"
"What's wrong with me? Nothing 'cept you promised me Tuesday we'd have some time for us tonight. And I quote: I'll come straight home Friday night, just the two of us since Harry's going to see Ginny. We'll grab takeaway and have a night in.
"Did you conveniently forget that promise you made to me?"
Ron stopped pulling the bottom button of his dress shirt. "Fuck, I did, didn't I? I cocked it up."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You most certainly did."
She ripped back the bedclothes on the bed and crawled in. "Let me know next time you decide that spending our date time with your friends, getting pissed in a pub, is more important than what you told me you were going to do. I'd have not put on your favorite red number and waited in the cold of the kitchen for three hours for you."
Hermione pulled her wand from the pocket and extinguished the lights in their room.
"And you're working for George all day tomorrow, like you promised, as well as helping your Mum early Sunday morning. Your choice to get pissed at the pub means we don't have any time for us this weekend."
"Hermione, it's still Friday night. We've got time for a fuck."
Hermione rolled over into the cold bedclothes.
"There's tomorrow night when I get off work. You can meet me at the shop and we can go out."
"I can't Ron. I'm going out to dinner with my parents tomorrow evening, remember? I've had that planned for two weeks now."
Hermione heard some rustling in the darkness. She knew he was stripping down to his pants so he could cuddle into bed with her. She was still angry as a charging hippogriff with him but he could be extraordinarily convincing when he used his charms and wiles on her.
The mattress sank under his surprising girth before he turned to snuggle into the bedclothes behind her. One long arm wrapped around her warm attire. She was still upset with her boyfriend but the ache of missing him so much during the week dampened any ferocity in her attitude with him.
"I know I fucked up. Harry and I went to the Leaky for a pint and then George walked in. It was the first time he's come in there since Fred –"
"No, I get it. I really do. I'm not asking you to choose between me and your family. But an owl or note or something would be nice, I reckon. I could have done something that sitting in my lingerie for three hours waiting on you."
Ron nuzzled his nose into her hair. She knew it was a matter of moments before he would try nibbling on her ears and neck.
"Did you hang the clothes up?"
"No. I wanted to be in bed with you."
"Honestly!"
Hermione shrugged out of the warmth of the covers and grabbed her wand from the side table. Lumos! She thought and the wand lit brightly. Sure enough, Ron had left his clothes in the middle of the floor for someone to trip over.
She laid the wand on the end of the dresser and proceeded to pick up his nice work clothes and put them in the hamper. The last article was his trousers – black and almost tailored to his long and lean torso. Out of habit, she checked the pockets for galleons and other rubbish he stuffed in them daily.
In there were custard crème wrappers, a chocolate frog card, and a slip of parchment with his hasty handwriting on it. She scanned the information quickly. Each line on the scrap made her eyebrows crawl up her head. Already? He's not hinted or said anything to me about this!
Hermione glanced over and the bed and heard her boyfriend snoring lightly already. "Figures he's fall asleep on me. He can't hold his whiskey like George can."
She put the rubbish from his pockets in his dish on the dresser and finished tidying the room. Once accomplished, she would be able to sleep with him surrounding her in the bed. She crept back to the bed before shirking the housecoat she'd been in. Now that Ron was home, she'd sleep just warm enough to be comfortable.
She settled back into the covers and wiggled her body back up to next to him. He lifted his arm and she found her spot again in his arms.
"I didn't want to stand you up, Hermione."
She turned her head just so, giving him room to kiss her neck.
"But George, he wanted to talk. Hannah brought us a bottle and before –"
"Shhh. It's OK. I'm not mad anymore."
"Really?"
"I reckon I can come second to George."
"It won't happen again."
Hermione rolled in his drunken stupor arms and kissed him languidly. She saw he was truly sorry for making a muck of the evening. Guilt showed out of his beautiful blue eyes. "Rubbish. Just tell me next time or tell Hannah to tell me."
Ron nodded and put his head back down on the pillow. Within a moment, he was snoring.
Hermione smiled before extinguishing her wand and putting it under her pillow.
You don't have to choose, Ron. We chose each other years ago. You're worth marrying, even if you stood me up for good reason tonight.