Chapter 1 : Look After You
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Disclaimer: I do not own (although, I would like to): Jane Eyre (that belongs to Charlotte Bronté), Star Trek (Gene Roddenberry) Doctor Who (Mark godtiss..I mean Gattis and Steven Moffat - killer of happiness) and I defiantly don't own Harry Potter (Queen Rowling!) Amazing chapter image by aim.moon at tda!
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The cool crisp winter air drifted from the Hogwarts grounds into the open astronomy tower. The cool air didn’t bother Hermione, she was used to being cold; it was what had happened in Transfiguration that had sent the thirteen year old muggleborn to the astronomy tower crying. She chose the astronomy tower because she knew that no one would find her there. She was smart like that. Hermione knew she was smart for her age, she knew she was bookish and slight worse-for-wear than the other girls at Hogwarts but she didn’t think that she was going to be judged and teased for it. She was, after all, still a girl with two arms, two eyes and two good-working legs; why did she have to be vain too? So what if she choose to wear modest clothes and barely there makeup? So what if Mr Darcy enticed her more than the latest scandal written by Rita Skeeter? Hermione preferred fictional characters, they couldn’t hurt her like people could.
“Thought I’d find you up here,” she didn’t need to turn around to recognize the voice. “You thought I wouldn’t find you?” he laughed. He let out a sigh and waltzed over to the crying Hermione. Swinging his legs under the balcony he sat down next to her. Silence covered them for a moment.
“Have you come to gloat Ronald?” she snapped, avoiding his gaze. Hermione was mad at the world right now. If she had made a wager on who was going to find her, she was certain it was going to be Harry, not Ron: the boy who almost got her flattened by a troll.
“Gloat? Me, never!” Ron exclaimed. He stole a glance at Hermione just as she was stealing a glance at him. One look was all it took; one look and Hermione smiled. “See?” he said, pointing at her smile. “I’m not completely useless,”
“Not completely,” she giggled back, “why are you here Ron?”
“I came to see if my friend was all right.” He said it as though he was genuinely concerned about her. “Isn’t that what friends do?”
“I didn’t know you thought I was a friend.” She admitted back honestly. “Aren’t I just the know-it-all Hermione Granger?”
“Well, yeah you are that,” the smile fell from Hermione’s face, “but you’re still my friend. You shouldn’t listen to them you know; they’re just jealous of you.”
Hermione brushed away a few of her tears and laughed quietly. “Why would they be jealous of me? I’m just the mudblood girl with bushy hair,”
“Hermione!” Ron exclaimed, looking aghast. “Don’t you ever call yourself a ‘you-know-what’! Do you hear me! You are an amazing witch and you can do spells that most grown wizards can’t. Who cares about blood status? It’s so overrated,” he took a deep breath before continuing. He stuck out his pinkie. “Hermione Granger, I pinkie swear that I, Ronald Weasley, will always be there for you no matter what,” She didn’t quite know how to react. “This is what muggles do isn’t it, make a pinkie promise?” He added when he saw Hermione’s face.
“Okay let me get this straight, you want two thirteen years olds to make a pinkie promise to ‘be there for one another?’ Could this get any cheesier?” Hermione laughed. She shook her head slowly but when she realized that Ron was being serious she stuck her pinkie out and wrapped it around Ron’s. “Pinkie swear,”
Ron smiled at his friend and said in a firm strong voice. “Pinkie swear.”
Hermione stared at the door that had slammed only moment before. It was over for the last time. They had broken their pinkie promise. In a futile attempt to stop herself crying Hermione walked into the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea.
What were they even fighting about to begin with? Hermione couldn’t remember. In a fit of frustration Hermione threw her tea against the wall. The cup smashed into several large bits and spread itself across the floor. Running her fingers through her hair, Hermione pulled out her wand and cleaned the mess that she had just made.
Looking around the empty flat, Hermione noticed the smallest details. She noticed the hole in the kitchen wall that Ron had caused when he had attempted to cook dinner to surprise Hermione; she was, however, more surprised when she found the kitchen burning. She noticed all the movies that her and Ron bought when they were went into London for a day.
With a hiccup, Hermione walked blindly over to her bookcase and picked out her favourite book: Jane Eyre. Sitting down, Hermione began to read.
“Hey Hermione,” Ron said awkwardly, standing outside their flat; bags in hand. It had been almost three weeks since their fight and Ron couldn’t stand it any longer, he had to see her again.
“Hi,” she replied weakly. An awkward silence eloped them. Hermione opened her door fully and extended her hands to Ron, “Do you want to come in?”
“Yes, that’d be..good,” Ron replied, stepping over the threshold. Nothing in their flat had changed; the photos were still on the mantlepiece and Ron’s clothes that he had left behind were still on the floor. It made Ron smile, seeing Hermione sentimental over something.
“Would you like anything to drink?” Hermione called from the kitchen, “Orange juice, butterbeer, tea?”
“Tea would be great thanks,” he actually wanted some firewhisky but he knew Hermione didn’t like him drinking, so he didn’t dare ask. He had to get back into her good books before allowing his vices to resurface. Hermione walked into the front room, one cup of tea in each hand. When the couple had sat down Hermione cleared her throat.
“What were we even fighting about to begin with?” she asked, blowing into her tea. Ron shrugged his shoulders.
Ron reached over suddenly and grabbed Hermione’s hand. “I miss us Hermione. I miss the nights were we stayed up and you tried to teach me about Doctor Who and Star Trek; I miss the days were would pretend to be tourists in London and would go on all the chiche’d rides in London; I miss the afternoons were we would come home from work and were both too tired to cook dinner, so we’d order Chinese from down the road; I miss us Hermione and all the tag-lines that come with us,”
“I missed you too Ronald, you big idiot.” She squeezed his hand. “So what do you say; do I give you another chance?” When Ron didn’t answer, Hermione continued teasingly, “Give me one good reason why you should stay,”
He rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. “Gosh, after my little speech I have a lot to live up too. Let’s see how this goes,” Ron dug into his pocket and pulled out a velvet lined box. He opened it and inside was a beautiful diamond ring. Hermione let out a small gasp. “Hermione Jean Granger, when I was thirteen I made a pinkie swear to look after you till the end of my days, and beyond and I intend to uphold my pinkie swear. So will you, Hermione Jean Granger, with all my quirks and flaws accept me for who I am and—risking your sanity and wellbeing—marry me?”
Tears formed in Hermione’s eyes and she brought her hand to her mouth. Ron wasn’t Mr Darcy, or even Mr Collins, if anything, he was Mr Bingley—awkward and clumsy, but unbelievably adorable. Hermione didn’t give a solid answer, instead, she brought Ron to his knees and kissed him firmly on the lips. When they parted, Hermione said, “I think that’s a good enough reason to stay.”