Hey friends! Thanks for being patient. Here's another "episode" of The Loft :)
x Ron x
Shoveling cereal into his mouth, Ron stares across the room to where Hermione's sprawled out on the couch amidst a crocheted blanket and a mountain of tissues. Apart from her personal bubble of chaos, the loft itself is immaculate. Over the past week, Hermione dedicated all of her free time to either crying over romantic comedies, or stress cleaning, and as a result, the loft looks like an Ikea showroom, and Ron's Netflix recommendations are all fucked up.
"Didn't you watch that one yesterday?" he asks with a mouth full of food.
Hermione props herself up onto her elbows and raises an eyebrow at him. "Yes, I did. Why does it matter?"
"Dunno," he shrugs, before slurping the remaining milk from the cereal bowl. "Seems kinda pointless."
Ron sets the empty bowl into the sink and is about to leave the kitchen, but stops when Hermione clears her throat.
"What?"
"You're just going to leave your bowl there?"
"Yep. That's how things work here. When you need a dish, you take a dirty one from the sink and wash it."
"I've noticed," she says, "and I think it's disgusting."
"Well, you're new here, so you're the one that has to adapt. It's simple, really."
Ignoring her eye roll, he breezes past the couch and into his bedroom. She can deal with a few dirty dishes.
Unfortunately, the interaction reminds him that he has a pile of dirty laundry to clean. Groaning, he trudges over to the closet and braces himself for the mess when he opens the door.
To his shock, there is no mess. In fact, everything is clean, folded, and neatly stacked on his shelves. What should be a pleasant surprise instead makes his blood boil — only one person in this loft would even think about doing his laundry, and it's the same person who has absolutely no right to touch his underwear. His face heats up as he realizes what she's probably seen — Ron's underwear collection isn't exactly manly, and there are certain things Hermione doesn't need to know about him yet. Or ever, for that matter.
Ron storms back into the living room, clutching a wad of clean boxers. "Hermione!"
"What?"
"What the fuck?" He waves his underwear at her. What's the point of hiding them anymore when she's already rummaged through them all?
"You're welcome!" she hisses. "Your laundry was getting full. And stinky."
"I didn't say thank you," he says. "You can't just go through my clothes! Do your own laundry."
She mumbles something into her throw blanket just as Ron slams his bedroom door behind him.
Once in his room, Ron scrambles for his phone to send a text to the loft's group chat — the one that doesn't include Hermione yet.
Loft meeting in ten. My room. Don't tell H.
x
There's a knock at Ron's door ten minutes later, and Ron opens it to find Neville waiting patiently, bouncing on his heel. Hermione's still curled up on the sofa in a pile of blankets, and bears him no notice.
"Are you sure you don't want Hermione to come?" whispers Neville as he passes through the door.
"Positive," says Ron once the door shuts behind him.
Seamus pops in a few moments later. "Is this meeting about me? Did I do something?"
"Nope," says Ron.
Another knock at the door reveals Harry, closely followed by his sister.
"Hey!" says Harry.
"Hi… erm...Ginny?"
"Hey, brother," she greets him smiling, plopping down on his bed next to Neville.
"What are you doing here?"
"Just hanging out," she shrugs.
"Did Hermoine invite you? You weren't watching movies with her."
"No. Harry invited me."
Ron shoots a confused glance at Harry, who's pointedly looking away. "Harry has your number?"
Harry shrugs and glances down while Ginny brushes the subject aside.
"What's the point of this meeting?" asks Ginny.
Ron scowls at the group. Harry and Ginny hang out? Since when? "You don't have to be here since you don't even li—"
"What exactly are we discussing at this 'loft meeting'?" asks Seamus, cutting him off.
A few Dorito chips escape Seamus's mouth at his question. Ron resists pointing it out to him for fear of undermining his own complaint. "Okay, listen. Have you noticed how clean this place is?"
"Yeah, it's awesome," says Neville.
"Seriously," says Harry, nodding in agreement. "The fridge doesn't smell bad anymore."
"I agree. What's the problem with that?" asks Seamus, squinting toward his closed door, from which they can hear the muffled dialogue of Hermione's movie.
Groaning, Ron opens his closet door and gestures to the neatly folded rainbow of underwear. "That's the problem."
Seamus laughs. "Hermione did your laundry?"
"Yes," growls Ron. "Can you believe it?"
"What I can't believe is that you're upset about it. I wish she'd do mine!"
"Of course I'm upset. She went through my clothes!"
"Don't be!" laughs Seamus. "This is the closest you've gotten to a girl touching your boxers in what, months?"
"Shut up," groans Ron. "She didn't do any of yours?"
Ron glances back at his roommates; they are all shaking their heads no. "We don't let our laundry sit for days on end. Not like you," mutters Harry.
"You think she's just picking on me because I'm the loft slob?"
"Well…yeah," says Seamus, while Harry shrugs.
"Ron, it's not that big of a deal. She's upset, and cleaning is a good distraction for her," interjects Neville.
"Plus, she still doesn't have all her stuff back," says Ginny. "She doesn't have her own things to clean."
"Her stuff is at her ex's?" asks Ron. It would make sense — she has been wearing the same pair of sweatpants around the house since moving in.
Ginny nods.
"If she needs clothes, I could let her peruse my lost and found drawer," says Seamus. "I have a drawer for leftover clothes from women I— ."
"Yeah, we know. You talk about it all the time," interrupts Ron. "Also, jar."
Seamus chuckles.
"Maybe if she gets her stuff back, she won't touch mine."
"She already tried," says Ginny. "Why do you think she's been a mess for the last twenty-four hours?" She gestures toward the living room, drawing everyone's attention to the sound of drama brewing onscreen, as a heated argument between scorned lovers fills the silence.
"She went there?"
Ginny nods.
"And it didn't work?"
"All I know is she left empty-handed and crying. Cormac has a way of doing that to her."
"Can you… encourage her to go back?" asks Ron, ignoring the lump in his throat that forms at the thought of Hermione leaving that douchebag's apartment in tears. He shakes his head to dissolve the image. He can't let his pity for her get in the way of maintaining the natural order of the loft.
"She'll need more than encouragement," says Ginny.
"Then let's go with her," says Harry, eying Ginny, who smiles at his offer. "We can help!"
"No," says Ron. "I don't want to get involved."
At that moment, there's a loud crash in the living room. A few seconds of silence follow, indicating the interruption of Hermione's movie, and then she shrieks.
"Fuck," groans Ron.
They rush to the door and pour into the living room. Hermione's on her feet, clutching her blankets around her, staring at the TV. On the floor. Shattered.
"What the hell, Hermione!" shouts Ron. The tone of his own voice makes his own hair stand on end, and he'd hate to be on the receiving end. "What the fuck did you do?"
"I...I threw the remote at the TV, and it knocked it off the stand. I'm so sorry!"
"Why?"
"Because Bradley Cooper was about to cheat on his wife with Scarlett Johannsen, and it made me angry. I just reacted."
"It's a MOVIE, Hermione! It's not real!" screams Ron.
"It's real for me," she says back, her eyes watering with tears.
"You owe us another TV," says Ron. He glances at his roommates, hoping for backup, but they all just stand there motionless, gawking at the scene before them.
"I can replace it!" she says. "I swear, I have another TV. I'll go get it!"
"At your ex's?"
"Yes," she says, her voice breaking like she's about to cry again.
Ron addresses his roommates. "We're going now."
Hermione looks unsure. "I… I can't."
Ginny approaches her. "You can. You just need some courage."
"When it comes to Cormac, I don't have that."
Ginny pulls out a flask from her pocket. "Now you do. Drink this."
"What is it," asks Hermione, sniffing it and wincing. "I'm not a big drinker…"
"Liquid courage. Drink it, and let's go."
x
They take two cars to Cormac's apartment, assuring that they'll have enough room to haul back Hermione's belongings and that Ron doesn't have to drive with her. He doesn't think he'd be able to resist yelling at her again.
Ron, Neville and Seamus pull up behind Harry's pickup truck and watch as Hermione exits, takes a deep breath, and scuttles to the front door of a modest duplex. A few empty beer bottles are scattered around the two lawn chairs in the front yard, and there's a small garden that looks like it stopped being maintained about a week ago. Hermione knocks and waits. Ron catches his foot tapping impatiently, and his frustration grows at Cormac's slow response to her knock.
When Cormac finally opens the door, Ron lets out a big exhale. His ears burn with the realization that he was holding his breath. Seamus sends him a knowing smile.
The boys watch as Hermione starts to argue with the tall, sandy-haired man at the door. He'd be quite intimidating if he wasn't wearing a bright green hat featuring the logo from the Broadway musical Wicked. His impeccable taste in musicals only makes Ron hate him more.
"That's her ex?" asks Seamus. "The dude has muscles."
Ron ignores the wave of insecurity Seamus' comment ignites.
"His yard plants look awful," adds Neville. "He should take better care of his ferns."
Leave it to Neville to notice someone's plant maintenance, but Ron latches on to his criticism anyway. "Yeah, he really should water those."
They watch their argument until Cormac opens his arms in invitation.
"Don't do it, Hermione," says Neville.
Yeah. Don't do it, Hermione.
Hermione collapses into Cormac's open arms, and he engulfs her in a hug, running a comforting hand down her back. Ron feels sick at the sight and looks away — it must just be disappointment at the thought of Hermione not getting her television...nothing more.
"What the hell?" says Seamus. "He's like her kryptonite."
Cormac and Hermione sway on the spot and then freeze. Hermione appears to stiffen in his arms before pushing him away and pointing at the dying ferns. "You were supposed to water these!" she yells, loud enough that the boys can hear her.
"Well, I'm not really a plant guy!" says Cormac. "And neither is Romilda!"
At the sound of Cormac's new girlfriend's name, Hermione reaches for the potted fern on the porch and lifts it overhead.
"What are you— argh!" shrieks Cormac as Hermione dumps the pot on top of him, showering him with soil before slamming the pot onto the concrete where it shatters. "What the fuck, Hermione!"
"Oh shit!" says Seamus. "Don't mess with Granger."
"That was scary," says Ron before he can stop himself. "Brilliant, but scary."
The door to Harry's pickup opens, and Ginny exits, slamming it behind her and sauntering across the lawn. "I'm going to get your stuff, Hermione," she calls, before swiping past a stunned Cormac into the house.
Harry follows and motions toward Ron to help.
"Let's go," says Ron, opening his car door.
Ron makes sure to knock into Cormac's sturdy shoulder on his way through the door, and waits until he's out of sight to rub it. He really does have muscles, he thinks to himself. His insecurity bubbles back up at the thought.
Ron finds Hermione stumbling down the stairs carrying a pile of clothing. The alcohol Ginny gave her must be taking effect because she loses her balance and nearly trips, just barely catching herself on the bannister. Her clothes tumble from her arms and onto the stairs. On instinct, Ron drops to the floor to help her.
"Ron, no!"
It's too late. Ron is already on his hands and knees gathering her belongings into his arms. He blushes when he realizes he's holding a pile of her bras and underwear.`
"Erm, sorry," he says, handing the pile back to her. Her cheeks are rosy, spurring Ron's guilt for making her feel awkward. Not that he has any reason to feel guilty for simply touching her underwear — Hermione touched his, after all.
Ron clears his throat. "I'll just… help my sister with your other stuff," he says, passing her on his way up the stairs.
"Sounds good," she says awkwardly, and the two part ways.
x
Half an hour later, both cars are filled to the brim with all of Hermione's belongings, except for one: her television.
Cormac is guarding the monitor with his life, clutching it with his ham-like hands while Seamus tries to tug it free. The boys managed to move it out to the lawn, but now Cormac is putting up a fight.
"You can't take this!" he yells.
"Give it up, Cormac!" says Hermione, her arms folded.
"Yeah, dude, it's not even yours!" says Seamus.
Ron approaches the two to help Seamus try to pull it from Cormac's grip.
"Who the fuck are you, anyway," asks Cormac.
Ron opens his mouth, but Hermione beats him to it.
"These are my roommates, and I love them!" Her words slur together.
"You… what?" asks Cormac. His surprise causes his grip to loosen just enough for Ron and Seamus to slide it from him. "Are you drunk?"
"I love them so much!" she yells, which adequately answers Cormac's question.
"Maybe cut back on the 'love' talk, Hermione," says Ron, his stomach churning with discomfort.
Hermione ignores him and addresses Cormac. "I love them, and I hate you!"
Discomfort aside, Ron can't help but chuckle at her passion.
"She's a lightweight. Noted," adds Ginny, mostly to a grinning Harry.
"Now I'm taking my TV!"
"No!" says Cormac. "You never even use it!"
"I paid for it!"
"We can work out an arrangement," he pleads.
"Bro, she's taking the TV," says Ron, as he and Seamus haul it into his car.
"One more thing," says Hermione. "That's my hat!" She points at Cormac's Wicked cap.
"No, this is Romilda's," he says. "She loves musicals."
"No, it isn't! I love musicals!"
Ron watches with wide eyes as Hermione opens the door to his car and sticks her hand into a box. She pulls out half a dozen hats, all featuring a different Broadway musical.
Cormac crosses his arms, standing his ground. "Will you just get out of here now?"
He looks ridiculous trying to intimidate in his Wicked hat, and two can play that game. Ron reaches into the box for a second hat and plops it on his head. He's excited to see that he selected Les Miserables memorabilia. "Give her the hat back, and she'll leave," says Ron, crossing his arms to mimic Cormac.
Neville reaches for a Cats hat and sticks it on his head. "Yeah. Give it back."
Harry fishes out more hats — Rent for himself, Annie for Ginny, and Fiddler On The Roof for Seamus — and the three pull them over their heads, cross their arms, and stare Cormac down.
"No," says Cormac.
Ron exchanges a glance with his roommates, who nod in understanding. "One, two, three!"
Seamus, Ron, and Harry rush to tackle Cormac to the ground. He's caught off guard, and stumbles back before collapsing, and the boys are able to pin him down as he struggles. Neville swipes the hat from his head.
"Get in the car, quick!" says Ron, holding Cormac down for everyone to get a head start. Feeling a sense of pride at tackling the guy, Ron roughly pushes himself off and sprints to his car door, slamming it shut and turning over his engine before Cormac's even able to scramble to his feet.
"Wooo!" says Ron. "That was awesome!"
He expects a response from Neville or Seamus but is greeted with silence instead. Ron glances to the passenger seat to find that he's sharing the car with only one person: Hermione.
"Oh, Hermione," he stumbles, immediately feeling awkward at her presence. "Where's everyone else?"
"Harry's car had more room," she says.
"Gotcha."
They continue in awkward silence for a few moments before Hermione speaks up again. "Thank you for helping. You didn't have to do that."
"Yeah, well… now that you have your things back, you don't have to touch mine anymore," says Ron, "especially not my underwear."
Hermione laughs. "Well, something good came from me touching your underwear."
"What's that?"
"Now I know you're also a Broadway fan."
Wincing, Ron recalls his collection of Broadway musical-themed boxers at the bottom of his drawer. He wasn't sure if she was planning on bringing it up, but it might just be the only common ground between them.
As it turns out, he's also wearing his Hamilton briefs, but Hermione doesn't need to know that. She'd probably think they clash with his Wicked cap.
"Don't tell the guys," he says cautiously, knowing he can no longer deny his guilty pleasure." Erm...maybe we could watch a musical sometime?"
"I'd love that!" she smiles.
Ron smiles back. Maybe she isn't so bad.
"Does this mean we're friends?" she asks.
Ron laughs. "No. We're still just roommates." It's going to take a lot more than a shared interest in musicals for them to be friends.
Hermione nods. "I'll keep trying for friends, but I can live with roommates for now."
"Let me clarify. Roommates who don't touch each others' underwear," he says. "Deal?"
"Roommates who don't touch each other's underwear. Deal," she confirms with a small smile before turning her focus back to the road.
The phrase doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, and he can't prevent the memory of Hermione's bra in his hands surfacing. He stares intently at the street, and hopes she doesn't notice the blush creeping back up his neck — he wouldn't want to give her the wrong idea.
From the corner of his eye, he can see her face flushing too. Ron's heart flutters before logic takes over. Maybe she's thinking the exact same thing as him — hoping he doesn't notice her blush, so as to prevent him from assuming she's attracted to him, or something.
If so, it's a good thing they're on the same page. Roommates who don't touch each other's underwear.