It's still all JK Rowlings...
She was as bloody-minded as he was. He’d tried talking to her like nothing had changed, but she showed him that everything had changed, and he discovered he already knew that. He changed tactics and tried getting her to talk about anything so that he could have the talk with her about what had happened, and maybe get them back to normal, but the look she gave him before vanishing in a swish of hair and robes told him there was no going back. Now he was stuck without a way forward that he could see, and no going back. And either way, it was all bollocks.
She was mulish when she set her mind to something and had an iron will to get through almost anything. The upshot of this was that because of their mutual pigheadedness, he’d lost something very important. The swoop was long gone; in its place was a knot that went alternately cold then hot and occasionally twisted. He saw less of Harry as well; he was either with Hermione, or Ron was…well, as Harry reminded him whenever it was just the two of them, there was Lavender to consider.
“Nobody ever said it would be easy, Ron.”
“Yeah. I know. I just have to find the right way.” Harry pfft-ed at him. “What? I’m trying to be sensitive, here.” Teaspoon my arse.
“Bit late for that, mate. You didn’t see Hermione sitting on that desk all by herself…” Harry looked pained. “Why did you and Lavender have to pick that classroom?”
Ron remembered every detail of that night like a series of Creevy’s photos: Lavender pressed up against him and the catcalls that surrounded them before her suggestion they find somewhere quiet while she nibbled his ear. The look of horror on Harry’s face as Ron pulled Lavender by the hand into that room. Lavender giggling while backing out of the doorway, leaving him there to face Hermione’s fiercely intense glare. “Don’t remind me.” I see that look on her face all the time, now. Ron set his jaw. “I didn’t know she was in there. How was I supposed to know she’d be so...”
“Pissed off? Think on it, Ron.” Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation as they were calling it a night.
“I didn’t take up with Lavender just to annoy Hermione, you know.” Not entirely, anyway.
“You think Hermione sees it that way?” Harry barked out. “You snarled at her for days after finding out about Krum.”
Ron snorted in disgust and pushed his shoes off. “Hermione still could have told me about him,” he replied, frowning darkly. “And Lavender wanted me.” He couldn’t have turned her down even if he’d wanted to, and he didn’t want to; not when she had been so enthusiastic. Especially after he’d convinced himself that the girl he wanted thought he was a total failure…
“So did Hermione. Your date conveniently slipped your mind, did it?” Harry said shortly, pulling Ron out of his thoughts. He thumped down on his bed rubbing his forehead. “Look, Ron, there’s got to…”
“What, Harry? Enlighten me!” He’d had enough of this and yanked off his socks. “What’s the ideal way to chuck one girl who’s mad for me for the sake of another who won’t even …” He tossed the socks to the floor, just as Neville walked in and looked from Harry to Ron quickly, paling just a bit. Ron glanced tiredly at Harry. “Does everyone have to know my business?”
“You think there are people at Hogwarts who don’t know your business?” Harry snorted, as he turned to his now open trunk and began rummaging. “You’ve had an audience, you know. And you’re dating one of the biggest gossips in the tower.”
Harry was right; Ron remembered how Lavender and Parvati had put their heads together when Hermione announced she was going out with McLaggen. Ginny had taken the piss all during Christmas, as had Fred and George, even without knowing about the bloody ridiculous chain. And Lavender was sure to have told Parvati. Who would have told Padma. Who would have told…Ron groaned at the thought that word of that thing was sure to have gotten around in record time. Blimey, Hermione probably knew, too...
“Cheers, Harry.” He blew out a frustrated sigh. “I know what needs to be done, okay? I know what I should say to her,” He yanked his jumper over his head, struggling to get his arms out of the sleeves and talking even louder despite Neville’s appearance.
“Wait,” Harry turned, toothbrush in hand, his face scrunched in confusion. “Which ‘her’ are we talking about now?”
Neville’s eyes widened. “There’s more than two?”
”The one that has actually stopped talking…stopped listening, too.” Finally escaping, Ron threw his jumper to the floor to join the socks.
He jerked on his tie violently to loosen it. “It is a two way street, you know,” he grumbled even louder. Neville’s mouth thinned and Ron stopped just long enough to frown at his attempts not to laugh before continuing his tirade at Harry. “I don’t suppose you mention that to her in all your time together, do you?” He was waving his arms about now, the Gryffindor tie in his hand fluttering madly.
“Actually, I…” Harry’s eyes darted from Ron to Neville, and back; he was shaking his head ever so slightly. “She won’t talk to me about you. If I bring it up, she ignores me…”
“Ah.” Neville nodded, apparently cottoning on, “Hermione, then.”
Ron threw an exasperated stare at Neville. “See? It’s a bloody mess, Harry!” Ron was pointing the wrinkled tie in his fist at Harry. “I get daily, visual, constant reminders from her that I’m not…that she doesn’t...” He flung the tie behind him to sit calmly in the growing pile at the foot of his bed. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t know!” Ron turned red-faced and furious eyes upon Neville, who was chortling in the middle of the room. “What in hell is so bloody funny, Nev?!”
Harry doubled over and nearly fell into his open trunk. “WHAT?!” he roared.
“You—“ Neville coughed. “Your hair!”
“What about it?” Ron ran his hands over his scalp and got a nice shock for his efforts. He scowled at Harry and Neville.
They were both doubled over, wheezing. “You. You look. Like an electrified hedgehog…” Harry was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. He had to take off his glasses to wipe his eyes. Neville was sitting on the floor now, his snorting finally taking him off balance.
Ron kicked his half completed pile of clothes; he couldn’t kick Harry or Neville. Well, not Harry anyway. “Well, that’s just bloody great…” And he stormed to the loo, knocking an oncoming Seamus into the wall in the process.
“Hoy! Mind where you’re going, Weasley!”
“Sod off, Finnegan!” he barked over his shoulder.
“And just what is it he’s arsed about now?” He heard Seamus asking as the door closed on muffled howls.
~*~
It was exactly like one of their rows but without any words. He continued to make small gestures whenever she was around in attempts to make peace: like handing back her dropped quill; which he still had since she wouldn’t take it from him. He found himself standing close behind her in class queues hoping that he’d bump her, or that he’d think of a clever way to start a conversation.
‘Oi, Hermione. Hear the one about the Hag, the Healer, and the Mimbulus mimbletonia?’
Nope, still nothing clever. Still no conversation, either. No banter. Just a quill with ink stains on it tucked away in his robes’ pocket.
If he held the portrait door open behind him for her, she gave him a look that could frost over a Firecrab and struck up a conversation with Neville, maneuvering him to walk between them. Neville looked at Ron apologetically every time it happened but walked with her nonetheless. Neville was bad enough. Every time she sat with Macmillan in Potions the icy knot in his stomach was almost unbearable.
She practically lived in the library; he was sure she’d have taken meals there if Pince would’ve allowed it. Which gave him an unexpected opportunity; he didn’t want to end up in a shouting match with her, and if they were in a place where they were forced to be quiet, maybe … maybe she would listen to him. They might even apologize to each other. Now, if he could shake Lavender long enough to actually go.
But the girl just could not take a hint.
That’s how he’d found them. With Lavender somewhere in the library behind him just as he was rounding a bookcase, that’s when he saw them. Potions books open, talking quietly, and Hermione smiling as she calmly nodded. Macmillan was probably telling some stupid joke that he thought was ‘deeply amusing,’ the git.
Of course Lavender saw them, too, and bounced with excitement. Don’t watch the bouncing! She even went so far as to suggest that they should go out, if they weren’t already. That got his attention; had Lavender overheard something? “He’s perfect for her!” The knot tightened.
Ron snorted. It figured that the only conversation Lavender wanted to have with him was about setting Hermione up with someone. “I wouldn’t say perfect…” He turned away from the happy scene, the knot starting to burn again.
“Don’t be silly!” She was gushing now, “Look, Won-Won,” And elbowing him until he turned back to see. He grimaced at the endearment and at the scene in front of him. “He simply can’t take his eyes off her…” There was Hermione shaking her head and obviously arguing some important point; she was moving her hands around as if she were drawing a picture. Hermione couldn’t talk without her hands. Her hands that had ink stains to match the quill in his pocket. “Don’t you think so?” Lavender was looking at him expectantly. Ron had the sinking feeling he was being tested somehow, but had no idea what the answers were. The burning in his stomach turned to lead.
“Nah. He’s not her type.” I am. Lavender tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him. “What?” He shrugged. “He’s not. He’s . . .” An utter prat? Wanker? Not me? Ron cast about for something that would end this painful conversation, “not… interesting enough. And he’s a total suck up. Hermione can see right through that rubbish.” And he left under the presumption of finding a book while Lavender looked at him sideways.
She was coming back to the common room later and later. Ron knew she was researching Horcruxes; Harry had told him. And she and Macmillan were obviously study partners. But that cheesy clod didn’t have to walk her to the tower every night, did he?
“Hermione make it back all right?” Harry’s voice carried heavily from across the pitch dark room. Bugger, thought I’d been quiet.
“Yeah. Macmillan walked her back. Again.” He barely concealed the sneer from his voice, scratching absently at the back of his neck. “She’s certainly keeping herself busy.”
“’Free agent’, Ron…” Harry whispered from his four-poster.
“Not now, Harry,” Ron had sighed as he got into his bed.
Another week went by with no truce, no conversation, and no resolution. Short of standing on a table in the common room and shouting ‘I’m sorry Hermione’, there was no way of getting her attention. Not that his shouting the roof down would help matters; the window for a simple apology had long since closed. And Lavender would certainly frown on such a public display. Especially if it wasn’t directed at her. But that might also solve his other dilemma of breaking it off with Lavender with as little drama as possible.
He was thinking back on all these things, arranging them in his mind; twirling the nearly worn quill absently, while staring out the window at the rain howling outside. No Apparition lessons on the grounds in this downpour.
“Ready to go, Harry?” he sighed, dropping the quill on his bed.
”Oh. I’m, er, meeting up with Hermione. Told her we’d go together.” Harry shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, mate, I just assumed…”
“Oh. Right.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “No problem, it’s not like she’ll say anything to me anyway. I’ll just hang back…”
“Erm, isn’t Lavender waiting for you? She’s usually just outside…” Harry indicated the door where Lavender was inevitably waiting for him.
He looked toward the closed door, and his shoulders drooped. “Oh. Yeah. You’re probably right.” He looked at the small quill. Deciding he’d take it with him, he walked to the door, the persistent cold plunk still in his stomach despite a very warm breakfast and jumper.
“Ron, just . . .” Harry started and stopped just as suddenly. Ron raised his eyebrows at him. Not now Harry. “Maybe she’ll come around, yeah?”
“Yeah. Maybe,” he mumbled. Ron was really at the end of his thoughts, though. Unless something drastic happened, it was settling on him more and more that this was just the way it was. Hermione had given up on him. Harry would always be in the middle. And Lavender…
“Won-Won? Ready to go? We don’t want to be late, or we might not be able to sit together,” she said, peeking through the door. Ron nodded quietly, stuffing the quill into his robes’ pocket, and followed her down.
The lesson wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d thought it would go. Although seeing Susan splinch like that was nearly enough to put him off ever Apparating. And Macmillan! Purple in the face with concentration and prancing into his hoop! He had to find Harry. There was too much to talk about, and Harry had Apparated before. He would know what the tingling in his feet meant…
“I expect your trainers are too small, Won-Won…”
Sure it was snide, but she spoke to him. Without any provocation on his part, even. Ron tried not to smile. Harry was standing right there, after all. Not that it mattered; Harry was too busy telling him all about Malfoy to really pay attention to what was going on with Hermione.
They’d made it all the way back to the common room before Ron noticed he’d left Lavender alone down in the Great Hall.
Eight million thanks to queenb23 for her outstanding beta, calm demeanor, and unfailing encouragement.
