Ron and Hermione 100

Prompt: Molly

2011-03-06T16:44:49Z

Drabbles written for resolutions can be found here

This week's prompt is Molly.

Remember, you don't have to include the actual word in your drabble, just write about whatever the word inspires you to write.

And you're free to use any of the past prompts too!
To see a list of all the prompt posts, click here
To suggest a prompt of your own, click here

Give the boy a chance (prompt: Autumn, Celebration, Crookshanks)

2011-01-19T01:41:57Z

Title: Darn it, Hermione
Author&Rating: Loonynamelass, PG
Word Count: 100
Prompts: Autumn, Celebration, Crookshanks (with a hint of chestnut from hpgw100, but that’s beside the point)
Notes: Dork=bad social skills, intelligence undetermined. Geek=bad social skills, high intelligence. Nerd=social skills undetermined, high intelligence. At least, that’s how the words worked when I was in school. :)

"Ron!" Hermione glowed. Ron basked in his name's glowiness before realizing it’d been designated to her next words: "…can’t wait for September!"

Uh oh. What'd he miss? "Yeah… Autumn renders the chestnut trees especially pretty."

Her rolled eyes indicated that he was unconvincing but amusing, so he tried again. "Your birthday!" He'd hit the mark: calendars, like puppies, are notorious for attracting females.

This detail tempered her disappointment. "Yeah… and the school year starts!"

His rolled eyes: "What chance have I with a nerd-" She protested before he continued resentfully, "who likes Crookshanks more than puppies!?"

Her turn for confusion.

The Late Watch - Part 63

2011-01-04T06:19:06Z

Title: The Late Watch
Author: writerwannabe
Prompt: Secret
Rating: PG13
Word Count:100
Warnings: DH Spoilers
Notes: Just one more part to join the three that I posted on Friday. It's one of those tangents... that sort of refers back to part 6 of the series.

Remember: comments are more than love; they're therapeutic!

(PART 63)

I also bolded the line separator at the new part, so you can spot it easier when you scroll down

You insist on taking the late watch and Harry gives you a cursory glance before nodding and making his way toward his bunk. Ducking out of the tent, you hear Harry and Hermione’s whispered ‘goodnights’ but know hers was not directed at you. Outside snow is falling and you pull your cloak even tighter around your body to protect against the biting wind. Walking around the perimeter to ensure that the protective charms are still holding, you settle atop a large rock and wait. Since destroying the locket, you can’t allow yourself to fall asleep. Not since the nightmares began.

******************************************************************

You’re worried about Ron. He’s taken the late watch every night for the past two weeks and barely sleeps more than ten minutes at a time before jerking awake, plagued by nightmares. Time after time he shrugs off your concern, insisting that he’s ‘all right’. You know that he’s anything but.

You never knew the depth of Ron’s fears when it came to his self worth. That he thought you and Hermione…

You sigh.

Ron drapes his cloak around his shoulders and shuffles towards the tent opening, nodding before disappearing into the night.

Hermione slips into her bed. “Goodnight Harry.”

******************************************************************

“You awake?”

You lift your head a bit and peer into the darkness in the direction of Harry’s bunk. “Barely.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles apologetically. You take that as a sign that you’ll continue this conversation in the morning. You settle back down and just before your eyes slip shut once more, his low voice fills the tent.

“I think you should talk to him.”

“Harry—“

“It’s been weeks,” he implores you. “We can’t go on like this. He’s not sleeping.”

“It’s not my fault that he has a guilty conscience,” you whisper, drawing on your anger. “I don’t care.”

******************************************************************

“Hermione?”

“I said I don’t care, Harry.”

She means it. And Ron knows that and it only adds to the problem at hand. But you swore to him that you wouldn’t tell her the truth about the locket. It hurts you to see how he takes the brunt of her anger with weary acceptance and a part of you knows that her silence only reinforces his fears. “Hermione, please!”

“He left us!” She practically shouts this and you can’t help but wonder if she’s done it on purpose so that he’ll
hear.

“He’s back,” you reply softly. “Isn’t that enough?”

******************************************************************

“He left us!"

You cringe and hang your head as her biting words are carried by the wind to where you keep vigil. For weeks you’ve kept your distance in hopes that she’d come around and forgive you. Her cold stares and harsh remarks do little to bolster your resolve to keep up an effort to appease her anger. It’s clear that she doesn’t want to forgive you for your transgressions. You swore to yourself that you’d do everything to protect them.

You failed.

And the locket? It still manages to haunt you.

You should have told Hermione the truth.

******************************************************************

“No.”

You hear the rustling of his bed sheets, followed by soft, shuffling footfalls drawing near. The bed dips as Harry perches on the edge and he blindly reaches out and finds your arm in the darkness.

“Hermione?”

You’re angry that Harry is so quick to forgive. Sitting up, you pull your arm out of his grasp. “It isn’t that simple.”

“Why can’t it be?” Harry implores you.

Because, you think, he’s hurt you in ways that you can’t confide to Harry. “It just can’t.”

“He’s made amends.”

You glance over at the tent opening. “Not to me he hasn’t.”

******************************************************************

You’re torn.

Your best mates are hurting and there’s little you can do to rectify the situation, without betraying Ron’s trust. They’ve been dancing around an unspoken attraction since the Yule Ball and the tension has been building steadily ever since. But you wonder now if it’ll ever come to a head. “Will he ever be able to?”

“To what?” Confusion colors her words.

“Make amends to you.”

“I don’t know.”

You sigh. “Then I think it’s time that I told you that Ron and I weren’t completely honest with you after we retrieved the sword and destroyed the locket.”

******************************************************************

You’re beyond livid at both of them. They’ve been keeping this secret from you for weeks now.

Weeks.

Harry hadn’t gone into any details when it came to what transpired after Ron rescued him from the lake. He only mentioned that it had affected Ron deeply. Ginny had once confided in you about all the terrible things Riddle’s diary had done before Harry was able to destroy it with the basilisk fang. What if the locket was no different?

Scrambling out of bed, you quickly slip on your trainers and traveling cloak.

There was only one way to find out.

******************************************************************

The cold air, which helped to keep you awake and alert earlier, is now lulling you into a false sense of comfort. Your eyes drift shut as the exhaustion that’s been plaguing you for weeks finally catches up and sleep claims you.

Crack

Your eyes snap open at the disturbance.

There’s no time to think.

You tighten your grip on your wand, whipping it around as you dive off the rock and onto the ground.

“PROTEGO!”

The wand, however, isn’t pointed near the perceived threat as the spell shoots from the tip and heads towards the opening of the tent.

******************************************************************

You storm out of the tent and into the icy darkness in search of answers, intent on uncovering whatever secrets Ron might be keeping. You spot his huddled form near the edge of the campsite and carefully pick your way across the snow covered ground.

Crack

You inadvertently step on a fallen branch and Ron jerks to life, swinging his wand into view. You bring your own up to defend yourself from his instinctive attack, but can only watch, frozen, as his spell is aimed at the tent and not yourself.

It takes a moment to realize what he’s done.

******************************************************************

“PROTEGO!”

Your heart jumps into your throat as you scramble out of bed. One hand fumbles with your glasses as the other simultaneously reaches under the pillow for your wand.

You catch sight of the sword on the table. Common sense tells you to hide it, but your heart prevails and you race toward the tent opening--

Only to be repelled by an invisible barrier.

Anxiously you look outside, relieved to see that you aren’t under attack. Hermione, however, looks fit to kill.

“You selfish arse!”

Sighing, you head back to bed, hoping they’ll have worked it out by morning.

******************************************************************

The blood drains from your face when you realize that it’s Hermione standing a few feet from you and not some Deatheater or snatcher intent on earning reward galleons.

Swallowing hard, you struggle to you feet, hands shaking from the initial fear as well as the subsequent shock at the idea that you could've hurt her had you not aimed your wand at the tent.

Hurt her when all you wanted to do was protect her.

Harry’s standing just inside the tent opening, disheveled and confused and you’re about to tell him that everything is fine.

“You selfish arse."

Apparently you’re wrong.

******************************************************************

Images of the past swirl in your mind’s eye as Ron struggles to his feet.

Sitting atop a chess piece waiting to be taken.

Running off to face his greatest fear after you’d been petrified.

Standing on a broken leg boldly protecting Harry from Sirius.

Sulking in a corner as you danced with Viktor Krum.

Hiding the painful scars that crisscross his arms and chest.

Lying still and unresponsive after drinking poisoned mead.

Pushing you out of harm’s way when Dolohov and Rowle attacked in the cafe.

Suddenly you realize that he was ready to sacrifice himself all over again.

******************************************************************

For a moment you’re unsure if Hermione’s talking to you or Harry.

Then she’s stomping across the snow, her posture rigid and hands clenched into fists and it takes every ounce of willpower not to take a step backwards in retreat. Coming to a stop just inches from you she draws one arm back. You flinch, waiting for the slap that is sure to follow.

Only it doesn’t.

Instead she pockets her wand and reaches out, grabbing fistfuls of your cloak as she buries her head against your chest. “How could you?” She murmurs over and over into your jumper.

******************************************************************

“Hermione?” Ron whispers uncertainly. His hands tentatively touch the back of your shoulders, neither pulling you closer nor pushing you away. But it serves to anchor you, as does listening to his furiously beating heart under your ear.

You swallow hard, forcing the panic that you felt to the back of your mind, as you slowly pull your head away to look up to him. The concern on his face nearly does you in again. “Why use a shield charm, Ron?”

He looks away and his touch is gone, as his hands fall to his sides. “You know why, Hermione.”

******************************************************************

“Don’t you dare turn away,” she shouts. “What if it wasn’t me outside the tent? Don’t you know what could have happened to you?”

You sigh. “Yes. I do.” Apparently a succinct answer wasn’t what Hermione was looking for and she clouts you hard on the arm in response. “Ow. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You were going to blindly sacrifice yourself to some unknown threat,” she replies, quickly. “That’s plenty wrong, Ron.”

“I’d do it again.” And you mean it. And by the look on her face, Hermione knows it too.

“Harry can take care of himself.”

“I know.”

******************************************************************

This whole mess hasn’t been about Harry at all.

“I’m perfectly capable of defending myself,” you cry indignantly. But even as the words come out of your mouth, you can’t help but remember how badly things almost went with the snake at Godric’s Hollow.

“I won’t take that chance.” There’s grim determination in his voice and you’re caught between hitting him again and hugging him.

“If you even so much as think about putting yourself in harm’s way again to protect me, I’ll never forgive you, Ronald Weasley.”

“Yeah, well, we both know what that’s like.”

“Don’t be so presumptuous!”

******************************************************************

It was that word.

It brings forth memories that you’d rather gouge your eyes out than to witness again. Images of Hermione and Harry together. Together. You press your balled fists into your eyes, willing the most horrible night of your life so far to fade.

“Ron?”

Her voice is warm and full of concern, and you want nothing more than for her to leave so you can deal with this alone. “Go back to the tent. It’s getting late.” You brush by her and settle once more on top of the rock. “Next watch isn’t for a few hours.”

******************************************************************

He’s dismissing you.

He’s turning his back, physically and emotional and it grates on your last nerve. This isn’t Ron. This isn’t the same boy who’d argue with you until his face matched the color of his hair.

Something is wrong.

You move to stand in front of him. “Ron?” He ignores you, averting his eyes.

However, you won’t be deterred. “Ron, what happened?”

He let’s out an explosive breath. “I told you, I thought you were a Deatheater and I--”

“No,” you interrupt him. “I want you to tell me what happened when you and Harry destroyed the locket.”

******************************************************************

Startled, you throw an accusatory glance over at the tent. How could Harry tell her after promising not to?

“He wouldn’t tell me anything,” Hermione says as if reading your thoughts. She grasps your chin firmly and tilts your head up until you’re forced to make eye contact. “But you should have.”

There’s an air of disappointment in her voice, wholly unfamiliar to your ears. In the past there’s always been anger, frustration and even exasperation, but never disappointment. And frankly, you're not sure how to respond.

“There’s nothing to tell,” you replied gruffly.

“Then why are you having nightmares?”

******************************************************************

There. You’ve managed to take him by surprise again. “What? Did you honestly think that I slept through all the times you’ve cried out in your sleep?” His eyes drop to the snow at your feet and you know that he’s embarrassed by your revelation.

“Just stupid nightmares,” he mumbles. “Everyone gets them from time to time.”

“Not every night,” you disagree. “And they didn’t start until after you returned.”

He shrugs. “I told you that I had a run in with snatchers. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience.”

“Then why have you woken shouting my name and not theirs?”

******************************************************************

There. She’s caught you now. It was stupid to think that she’d sleep through those most awful of nights. Where the events surrounding the horcrux would haunt you relentlessly in your dreams. When the Riddle Hermione would transform into the real Hermione and order you to leave again so she could be alone with Harry. When Harry would shake you awake and return to his cot without a word and a quick glance across the the tent assured you that Hermione was still asleep.

Only she wasn’t, was she?

“You’re right,” you say at length. “Something did happen that night.”

******************************************************************

You take a seat next to him on the rock because it’s quite clear that he doesn’t want to have this conversation face to face. Waiting has never been your strong suit and it feels like a lifetime passes before he starts to speak.

“I know the locket affected us all,” he begins haltingly. But I think... just maybe, that it affected me more.”

You remember feeling oddly out of touch with your emotions while wearing the horcrux. Irritable, snappish and overly sensitive. But you had blamed it on the stress of having to wear it, not the object itself.

******************************************************************

“How do you know?”

It really was too much to hope that she’d take your word without a proper explanation. “After I left...” You pause, swallowing hard. Even now, thinking of your betrayal causes you to cringe inwardly. “When I finally made it to Bill’s, after dealing with the snatchers, I asked him about magical objects...”

“You told him about the horcrux!” Hermione interrupts.

“No,” you stammer, “I didn’t, I swear.” You can see her staring at you out of the corner of your eye, her expression doubtful. “He’s got experience with that sort of thing. His job, you see?”

******************************************************************

Ron did have a point. As a curse breaker at Gringotts, Bill would be in a position to come across enchanted items. “What did he say?”

“He said that all wizards have the same ability to produce magic, regardless of their blood status.”

“Yes, we know this,” you grind out impatiently. “Lesson one in History of Magic.”

“Then I guess you also know that Purebloods are more sensitive to magic,” he presses, evidently irritated at your rebuke.

You don’t. “How can that be? I’ve never read...”

He shakes his head. “That’s because Purebloods don’t want it to become public knowledge.”

******************************************************************

“That can’t be,” she protests vehemently. “It’s just not possible to keep something like that a secret.”

You shake your head. “I’m not saying that people don’t know... only that you won’t find it published in the Daily Prophet for all to read. Look there’s a reason why certain jobs are only filled by Purebloods. We’re more susceptible to the affects of magic. Bill’s job relies on that. You put a Halfblood or Muggleborn in his position and they might not be able to sense a curse hidden within an object until its too late.”

“But why all the deception?”

******************************************************************

“It’s been used against us in the past.” Ron jumps to his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stares up at the sky. “During the first war against Vol-...You-Know-Who, Deatheaters focused on punishing those who supported Muggle relations. Especially those from Pureblood families.”

A chill runs down your back as you come to a horrifying conclusion. “The Order of the Phoenix.”

Ron nods, finally turning to face you. “I overheard Mum and Dad talking the day I returned from Hogwarts after our third year. Peter Pettigrew knowingly led them all straight into an ambush.”

******************************************************************

Hermione opens her mouth to speak, but you hold up a hand. “Before you accuse me of not telling you sooner, it was all pretty meaningless to me at the time.” She gives you a half nod, an invitation to continue. “I was more upset over the fact that my pet was a Deatheater in disguise than his involvement in Sirius’ arrest.”

“So everything Sirius said about Pettigrew was true?”

You nod. “He insisted on taking Veritaserum in front of the Order to affirm his innocence, something that wasn’t offered to him the first time around.”

“What did he say?”

******************************************************************

Ron retrieves his wand from his pocket as he sits back down at your side. “Pettigrew lured the Order to a village just outside of Kent under the false pretense that Deatheaters were attacking Muggles. The portkey that he acquired brought them to a forest instead. Dumbledore realized immediately that something wasn’t right and ordered them to disapparate to safety. But there was an enchantment of sorts in place and the Purebloods were left incapacitated to the extent where they couldn’t risk apparation. The others escaped, unknowingly stranding the rest.” His grip on the wand tightens. “Then the Deatheaters arrived.”

******************************************************************

Hermione reaches over and lays her hand over yours. Sighing, you release your stranglehold on the wand. “The Order members fought hard, but they were outnumbered. Dolohov and four other Deatheaters managed to take down my uncles, Gideon and Fabian. The Lestranges captured and tortured Neville’s parents with the Cruitiatus before disapparating with them. Aurors located and rescued them five days later but they had already been driven to insanity.

“What about Harry’s father?” Hermione asks.

“He wasn’t with them,” you reply. “The Potters had gone into hiding the week before. Only one person managed to escape that night. Sirius.”

******************************************************************

“How?”

“He changed into his animagus form,” Ron explains. “Took them all by surprised, since he was unregistered and all. He ran until he couldn’t feel the pull of the enchantment any longer and Disapparated back to headquarters. But by then it was too late.”

“Too late?”

“The remaining Order members were at the Ministry demanding a trace on the Portkey. They played right into Pettigrew’s hand. The ambush was a ruse. He wanted them to be distracted.”

“But why?”

“So You-Know-Who could travel to Godric’s Hollow undetected. The ambush took place Halloween, 1981. The night Harry’s parents were murdered.

******************************************************************

Hermione gasps and you turn your hand beneath hers, clumsily entwining your fingers. You wait on baited breath for her to pull away; only she doesn’t and you can only hope that she’ll mistake the blush burning your cheeks for a reaction to the cold night air. “You knew that the Potters were protected by the Fidelius Charm, right?” Hermione nods. “Sirius was the obvious choice for secret-keeper, but at the last moment he convinced them to choose Pettigrew instead.”

“And Pettigrew, in turn, told You-Know-Who and broke the concealment spell,” Hermione adds. “And everyone blamed Sirius.”

******************************************************************

“Right,” he replies. “Members of the Order already knew where the Potters lived. But under the Fidelius Charm, Harry and his family would remain hidden in plain sight to all but Pettigrew and whoever he told. When Sirius escaped, his first thought was to seek out Pettigrew. After all, it was his portkey that send them straight into the ambush. When he wasn’t in his designated hiding place, Sirius grew suspicious and flew his motorbike to Godric’s Hollow. Only it was too late. The house was half blasted apart. Luckily, Hagrid managed to find Harry before the muggle neighbors did.

******************************************************************

“But how did Hagrid know what had happened?” you ask. “Wasn’t he with the Order at the Ministry?”

“Bill told me that Dumbledore placed a charm on the residence before the Fidelius was in place. He was alerted the moment the house was destroyed and sent Hagrid.” He shrugs. “The house became visible at that point.”

“That makes sense,” you reply. “When Harry and I went to Godric’s Hollow while you were ... we were able to see the rubble. It was protected by magic, but only from Muggle view. The Fidelius Charm must also break if the spell-caster dies.”

******************************************************************

“Er... right,” you reply. But the truth of it is, you’re not even aware of what you’re agreeing to. All of your attention is focussed on your left hand and all you can feel is the loss associated with Hermione pulling her hand away after she stumbled over her sentence a moment ago. Her hands are now twisting nervously in her lap and you fear moving yours and drawing her attention to them. “S-So, Sirius wanted to take Harry, but Hagrid told him that he had specific orders to bring Harry back to Dumbledore. That didn’t go over real well.”

******************************************************************

“I can imagine,” you say, staring down at the ground. You’ve made things difficult by pulling away from him. He won’t dare say anything, not that he needs to. You can hear it in the hesitation in his voice, something you’re all too familiar with.

It had been replaced by a new sort of confidence when you arrived at the Burrow last summer. And you had hoped that Ron was finally coming into his own as far as maturity went. But he’s reverted a bit since his return. And most, if not all, of the blame rests on your shoulders.

******************************************************************

“Hermione?” You’ve called her name twice already. It’s so unusual to catch her daydreaming. Well it used to be, when you were forced to spend afternoons in the common room doing coursework. Hermione was always one step ahead as far as assignments went, completing one and jumping to the next. You’ve never seen her just sit still and relax.

That’s not entirely true.

After modifying her parents’ memories and sending them off to Australia, she had arrived at the Burrow a complete wreck. And you hadn’t a clue on how to deal with her. Not until you read that book.

******************************************************************

You’re startled out of you reverie by Ron’s hand on your upper arm. Your head jerks up in surprise and you both stare at the offending appendage for a long, tense moment before he quickly drops it back to his leg.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” you say. “I was miles away. Didn’t mean to drift off on you.” He nods his head and you can’t help but glance up at his profile. Sitting here like this reminds you of the nights the two of you spent at the Burrow before going to the Dursleys to collect Harry on his birthday.

******************************************************************

“Remember when we’d go out to the lake and stargaze?” Her voice is soft and tinged with wistful longing, and it makes you inwardly curse horcruxes, Voldemort, and the rotten snow that continues to fall around you.

“Yeah,” you reply. “Those were some nice nights.” And they were. The two of you sitting not too differently than how you are now, trying to find patterns among the twinkling, night lights. When Hermione finally relaxed enough to just enjoy sitting quietly without having to worry about her parents or Harry or their upcoming plans to leave.

You wanted to kiss her.

******************************************************************

The Burrow was magical. The first few days were spent up in Ginny’s room, when the hurt over your parents was just too great to get you out of bed. Most of the Weasleys were busy preparing for the wedding, so it was nice that Molly, who was quite overbearing at times, was distracted enough to give you some space. But that one morning you rose early and found...

Ron, slumped against the wall just outside your door, snoring quietly with a book half hidden on his lap. A book! On how to charm witches!

You wanted to kiss him.

******************************************************************

You planned on telling her that night under the stars. She seemed receptive to your subtle advances throughout the past few weeks. At least that’s what you had thought. She didn’t shy away when you placed a supportive hand on her back during your evening walks to the lake or take the mickey out when you gave her a compliment. In fact, she smiled more. And every once in a while she’d get this look in her eye that would somehow make your heart beat faster... and if you wanted to be honest, made your trousers feel a bit tighter.

******************************************************************

Something was different that last night. He had acted strange throughout the day, avoiding you whenever possible as he kept to himself, quiet and brooding. You were truly baffled. He played with his dinner and passed on dessert entirely, before dragging you out of the house and leading you down the path. It was only then that you realized that he was dressed rather smart for one of your evenings at the lake. That his hair was neat and parted off to the side and didn’t fall into his eyes. And the sight of him made your stomach flutter nervously.

******************************************************************

You were a git spending the day alone in your room, thinking of the right words to say. The book only got you so far, but it was designed to help you charm witches that you’ve just met. It didn’t mention anything about charming one of your closest friends.

But she was sitting so close and maybe you didn’t need words so you tilted your head, hoping against hope...

Only to pull back sharply when a flying motorbike roared above you, landing just outside the wards, followed shortly by Hagrid’s massive footfalls.

“It’s the Order,” she had whispered. “About Harry.”

******************************************************************

Something special was going to happen that night. His strange behavior, the special clothes... it all added up to something.

But before you could find out, Order members had arrived and the two of you left the solitude of the lake to join a rather heated argument inside the house. Nobody could agree on how Harry would leave the Dursleys, who would accompany him... even what flavor his birthday cake should be.

After all was said and done, you and Ron had retired to your own bedrooms and you couldn’t help but feel that something special had slipped you by.

******************************************************************

She’s drifted off into her own thoughts again and you wonder if she’s thinking about what could have been all those many months ago. You clear your throat gently, trying not to startle her. She jerks her head up anyway and you look away, pulling your hands together into your lap while her attention is focused on your face. “So... er... where did I leave off?”

“Hagrid.”

“Right. Sirius was upset, naturally, but they weren’t sure what had become of You-Know-Who at that point and it was important to keep Harry safe, so Sirius gave Hagrid his motorbike.”

“They left?”

******************************************************************

Ron nods. “Met with Dumbledore and the Order at the Ministry with Harry in tow. Hagrid told them about seeing Sirius at Godric’s Hollow and it set suspicion right off.”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” you realize. “He was a Pureblood and should have been trapped in the forest.”

“Right. And since everyone believed him to be secret-keeper, Sirius was the only one in position to reveal their location to You-Know-Who. Aurors were sent to bring him in, but he was gone by the time they arrived at the cottage.”

“Where did he go?”

“After Pettigrew.”

******************************************************************

“And Sirius was blamed for it all.” There’s outrage in her voice and you can’t help but smile in response.

“He tracked down Pettigrew early the next morning, but the sneaky rat publicly accuse Sirius of betraying his friends. Then he set off an explosion, killing innocent bystanders and faking his own death to pin it all on Sirius.” You shiver in revulsion. “And to think that we took care of that traitor for years.”

“You didn’t know,” Hermione says adamantly.

“Yeah well, Aurors arrested Sirius and the wizarding world celebrated the death of the most vile wizard in history.”

******************************************************************

“I never knew that it happened like that,” you say, still in shock over the Ministry’s blatant disregard of Sirius’ legal rights.

Ron shakes his head. “I didn’t even know the whole truth myself until Bill set me straight.”

Bill. You had been surprised to learn that Ron had sought shelter with his eldest brother, rather than return to his parents after he had left you and Harry. And while the truth surrounding the murder of Harry’s parents has sparked your interest, there is a more pressing matter to discuss. “So, what does this have to do with the locket?”

******************************************************************

Damn. There would be no avoiding this difficult conversation. Wringing your hands together nervously, you resign yourself to reliving the worst night of your life. “I told you that Purebloods are more sensitive to magic. I think that’s why Ginny was given Riddle’s diary. She had that thing on her most of the time, and none of the other girls in her dormitory were affected by it.”

“And so you think the locket had a similar hold over you?” Her tone is skeptical at best. “Wearing it put us all on edge, Ron.”

“Did the locket ever speak to you?”

******************************************************************

Speak? Surely he isn’t suggesting...

“It...it couldn’t have,” you reply, haltingly. “We would’ve heard it.”

“Would you?” He questions, looking away. “Ginny said that Riddle spoke to her all the time through the diary... convinced her that he wasn’t a threat. And we didn’t hear a thing.”

“But...” The rebuttal dies in your throat as Ron turns to you.

“It’s true!” His eyes are blazing. “It might not have spoken to you or Harry, but it spoke to me!”

You hold up your hands in concession. “Then why didn’t you come to us?”

“I thought I was going mad.”

******************************************************************

“At first there was just this vague sense of...” you trail off, unable to find a suitable word.

“Negativity?” Hermione offers.

You nod. “When I wore the locket, I always felt on edge. I couldn’t sleep. I’d wake up three, four times from nightmares that I just couldn’t remember.” You pause. “Then I started to have these thoughts.”

“What kind of thoughts?” she asks.

You shrug. “Things I’ve kept in the back of my mind...that I didn’t want to dwell on. But I couldn’t help it... they were just there. It was impossible to clear my mind of them."

******************************************************************

That was somewhat familiar, you realize. Every time you wore the necklace you couldn’t help but think about your parents. Were they happy in Australia? Did they miss you? Of course not, you would insist, they don’t even know that you exist.

“I had thoughts like that, too,” you admit. “And I always felt more prone to irritability when I wore the locket. It must’ve happened to all three of us, Ron.”

His shoulders slump as you attempt to rationalize his claims. “But did it ever go beyond just thoughts and feelings?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s... difficult to explain.”

******************************************************************

“Try,” Hermione presses. It’s becoming obvious that she’s trying to give you the benefit of doubt.

You clear your throat. “I started to hear voices. Well one voice actually.” You sigh. “Mine.”

“You spoke to yourself?” she hedges.

“No.” How are you supposed to explain this? “I had a nightmare about a week after we stole the locket. I was wearing it at the time... I don’t remember much about the dream, other that it was pitch black and that someone was whispering a word repeatedly in my ear. Only when I woke up, the whispering continued.”

“What word?”

“Soon.”

******************************************************************

A chill runs down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold night air. Soon. “Why didn’t you tell us any of this?”

“I thought I was one step away from sharing a padded room with Lockhart.”

“But still,” you try to reason with him, “if this was happening to you, didn’t you think it was happening to Harry and I as well?”

“Honestly? No. I figured my mind was playing tricks on me.”

Had he acted differently all those months ago? Was there a clue somewhere that you missed? Could you have possibly prevented him from leaving?

******************************************************************

“Look Hermione, I was a mess, okay? We hadn’t made any progress on locating the remaining horcruxes and Harry was hellbent on learning about the Deathly Hallows. I was worried about my family, worried that Deatheaters would find our camp and worried that we we were wasting too much time.”

“That wasn’t all Harry’s fault,” she interjects softly.

For a moment you’re back inside the tent arguing with Harry about how you should proceed. How you told them that you were tired of sitting around and how Harry told you to leave. How Hermione sided with him and not you.

******************************************************************

There.

His jaw tightens and he glances away, once again, closing himself off to you. Whatever the crux of his problem, it has to do with what you’ve just mentioned.

But what?

“I don’t understand,” you say out loud, genuinely perplexed.

“What?” Ron replies gruffly.

But then it hits you.

I get it. You choose him.

All this time, you’ve thought he stormed away that rain drenched night because you didn’t side with him. That you agreed with Harry’s plan. But it was more that that. Much, much more.

And it had everything to do with your mutual best friend.

******************************************************************

“I never chose Harry.”

The words are soft, almost enough to be swept away by the wind, but their impact is deafening.

“Ron.” Her voice is sharp now and tinged with frustration. “I did what I thought was best for the mission. You know that, right?”

“Of course.” You can’t help the bitterness that coats your words. Although you’re now free of the locket’s influence, the hurt that came with Hermione’s decision hasn’t diminished.

“No, don’t you lie to me.” Her hand reaches out and forces your chin around so that you have no choice but to look at her.

******************************************************************

“Damn it, Hermione,” he snaps as he pushes himself to his feet, “what do you want me to say?”

‘The truth’ are the first words that come to mind, but you refrain from answering immediately. Everything about him at the moment: his defensive replies, his rigid stance and his expression are all clues to some mystery that you’ve yet to solve.

A mystery you didn’t want answers to.

That’s a lie.

You’ve wanted to know from the moment he stepped back into the tent, half frozen and apologetic.

But your heart had refused to let you give in and ask.

*****************************************************

“Tell me about the locket.”

It’s the last thing you want to hear. If fact, you were hoping that she’d storm back to the tent, preventing yet another blazing row. You’ve avoided this moment for weeks, wanting to be able to return to Hermione’s good graces without revealing why you had left her in the first place.

“I already said--.”

“No, there’s more to it”, Hermione insists. “What aren’t you telling me?” She stands and grabs a hold of your arm. “What did it do to you?”

“The bloody thing possessed me,” you shout, finally free of the terrible secret.

*****************************************************

Ron’s words echo within the protective enchantments surrounding the campsite. You can tell by his rigid posture that he is debating whether or not to run. He turns, and you brace yourself to grab him to force him to stay, but he merely drops back down onto the rock.

“Possessed?” You can barely get the word out. The very thought of the locket…of Voldemort…controlling Ron terrifies you. “H-How?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

It’s time, you realize, for the truth to come out. The three of you will not be able to move on until then.

“Please, Ron. Tell me.”

*****************************************************

“The sword was in a pool of water, under the ice,” you begin, as the memory rushes back to you. “I spotted Harry some distance away walking through the woods and followed him. By the time I reached the pool, he was already under the water. I waited for him to surface, but when he didn’t, I jumped in after him.”

“Was he alright?”

“Far from it.” You shake your head. “The bloody locket was trying to drown him.”

Hermione half collapses on to the rock next to you and you instinctively grab her arm to steady her. “You okay?”

*****************************************************

The locket attempted to drown Harry. Attempted to kill him as you slept on unaware. And it was Ron who had appeared out of nowhere to save him.

“Hermione?”

Your head snaps up and you meet his eyes, full of concern… and something else that you can’t quite put your finger on. “I can’t believe… why didn’t you tell me?”

“Dunno,” he replies. “It all worked out in the end and why worry you unnecessarily.”

“Ron!”

He ducks his head to hide a smile. “Yeah, yeah I know. From now on no more secrets.”

“Then tell me what happened next.”

************************************************************************

“I pulled Harry out of the water, then went back in for the sword.”

“You retrieved the Sword of Gryffindor?” she asks.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” you mutter. “It’s not like I took the locket with me.”

“Ron, I’m not…” She pauses and sighs. “Go on.”

“Harry thought that I should be the one to destroy it, but I was too afraid.” Hermione places her hand on your shoulder, but you turn away. “I’m a coward.”

“Don’t say that!” Her voice is firm and resolute. “You didn’t have to come back at all, but you did. That’s all that matters.”

*********************************************************************************

♥

prompt: resolutions

2011-01-02T22:41:59Z

Drabbles written for sharing can be found here

This week's prompt is Resolutions.

Remember, you don't have to include the actual word in your drabble, just write about whatever the word inspires you to write.

And you're free to use any of the past prompts too!
To see a list of all the prompt posts, click here
To suggest a prompt of your own, click here

Prompt: Sharing

2011-01-02T22:40:37Z

Drabbles written for music can be found here

This week's prompt is Sharing.

Remember, you don't have to include the actual word in your drabble, just write about whatever the word inspires you to write.

And you're free to use any of the past prompts too!
To see a list of all the prompt posts, click here
To suggest a prompt of your own, click here

The Late Watch - Parts 60-62

2011-01-01T04:57:01Z

Title: The Late Watch
Author: writerwannabe
Prompt: Secret
Rating: PG13
Word Count:100
Warnings: DH Spoilers
Notes: Thanks for the patience and the continued trickling of comments since the last part was posted. Posted with just 5 minutes to go until the New Year...woooooooooo!

Remember: comments are more than love; they're therapeutic!

(PARTS 60-62)

I also bolded the line separator at the new part, so you can spot it easier when you scroll down

You insist on taking the late watch and Harry gives you a cursory glance before nodding and making his way toward his bunk. Ducking out of the tent, you hear Harry and Hermione’s whispered ‘goodnights’ but know hers was not directed at you. Outside snow is falling and you pull your cloak even tighter around your body to protect against the biting wind. Walking around the perimeter to ensure that the protective charms are still holding, you settle atop a large rock and wait. Since destroying the locket, you can’t allow yourself to fall asleep. Not since the nightmares began.

******************************************************************

You’re worried about Ron. He’s taken the late watch every night for the past two weeks and barely sleeps more than ten minutes at a time before jerking awake, plagued by nightmares. Time after time he shrugs off your concern, insisting that he’s ‘all right’. You know that he’s anything but.

You never knew the depth of Ron’s fears when it came to his self worth. That he thought you and Hermione…

You sigh.

Ron drapes his cloak around his shoulders and shuffles towards the tent opening, nodding before disappearing into the night.

Hermione slips into her bed. “Goodnight Harry.”

******************************************************************

“You awake?”

You lift your head a bit and peer into the darkness in the direction of Harry’s bunk. “Barely.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles apologetically. You take that as a sign that you’ll continue this conversation in the morning. You settle back down and just before your eyes slip shut once more, his low voice fills the tent.

“I think you should talk to him.”

“Harry—“

“It’s been weeks,” he implores you. “We can’t go on like this. He’s not sleeping.”

“It’s not my fault that he has a guilty conscience,” you whisper, drawing on your anger. “I don’t care.”

******************************************************************

“Hermione?”

“I said I don’t care, Harry.”

She means it. And Ron knows that and it only adds to the problem at hand. But you swore to him that you wouldn’t tell her the truth about the locket. It hurts you to see how he takes the brunt of her anger with weary acceptance and a part of you knows that her silence only reinforces his fears. “Hermione, please!”

“He left us!” She practically shouts this and you can’t help but wonder if she’s done it on purpose so that he’ll
hear.

“He’s back,” you reply softly. “Isn’t that enough?”

******************************************************************

“He left us!"

You cringe and hang your head as her biting words are carried by the wind to where you keep vigil. For weeks you’ve kept your distance in hopes that she’d come around and forgive you. Her cold stares and harsh remarks do little to bolster your resolve to keep up an effort to appease her anger. It’s clear that she doesn’t want to forgive you for your transgressions. You swore to yourself that you’d do everything to protect them.

You failed.

And the locket? It still manages to haunt you.

You should have told Hermione the truth.

******************************************************************

“No.”

You hear the rustling of his bed sheets, followed by soft, shuffling footfalls drawing near. The bed dips as Harry perches on the edge and he blindly reaches out and finds your arm in the darkness.

“Hermione?”

You’re angry that Harry is so quick to forgive. Sitting up, you pull your arm out of his grasp. “It isn’t that simple.”

“Why can’t it be?” Harry implores you.

Because, you think, he’s hurt you in ways that you can’t confide to Harry. “It just can’t.”

“He’s made amends.”

You glance over at the tent opening. “Not to me he hasn’t.”

******************************************************************

You’re torn.

Your best mates are hurting and there’s little you can do to rectify the situation, without betraying Ron’s trust. They’ve been dancing around an unspoken attraction since the Yule Ball and the tension has been building steadily ever since. But you wonder now if it’ll ever come to a head. “Will he ever be able to?”

“To what?” Confusion colors her words.

“Make amends to you.”

“I don’t know.”

You sigh. “Then I think it’s time that I told you that Ron and I weren’t completely honest with you after we retrieved the sword and destroyed the locket.”

******************************************************************

You’re beyond livid at both of them. They’ve been keeping this secret from you for weeks now.

Weeks.

Harry hadn’t gone into any details when it came to what transpired after Ron rescued him from the lake. He only mentioned that it had affected Ron deeply. Ginny had once confided in you about all the terrible things Riddle’s diary had done before Harry was able to destroy it with the basilisk fang. What if the locket was no different?

Scrambling out of bed, you quickly slip on your trainers and traveling cloak.

There was only one way to find out.

******************************************************************

The cold air, which helped to keep you awake and alert earlier, is now lulling you into a false sense of comfort. Your eyes drift shut as the exhaustion that’s been plaguing you for weeks finally catches up and sleep claims you.

Crack

Your eyes snap open at the disturbance.

There’s no time to think.

You tighten your grip on your wand, whipping it around as you dive off the rock and onto the ground.

“PROTEGO!”

The wand, however, isn’t pointed near the perceived threat as the spell shoots from the tip and heads towards the opening of the tent.

******************************************************************

You storm out of the tent and into the icy darkness in search of answers, intent on uncovering whatever secrets Ron might be keeping. You spot his huddled form near the edge of the campsite and carefully pick your way across the snow covered ground.

Crack

You inadvertently step on a fallen branch and Ron jerks to life, swinging his wand into view. You bring your own up to defend yourself from his instinctive attack, but can only watch, frozen, as his spell is aimed at the tent and not yourself.

It takes a moment to realize what he’s done.

******************************************************************

“PROTEGO!”

Your heart jumps into your throat as you scramble out of bed. One hand fumbles with your glasses as the other simultaneously reaches under the pillow for your wand.

You catch sight of the sword on the table. Common sense tells you to hide it, but your heart prevails and you race toward the tent opening--

Only to be repelled by an invisible barrier.

Anxiously you look outside, relieved to see that you aren’t under attack. Hermione, however, looks fit to kill.

“You selfish arse!”

Sighing, you head back to bed, hoping they’ll have worked it out by morning.

******************************************************************

The blood drains from your face when you realize that it’s Hermione standing a few feet from you and not some Deatheater or snatcher intent on earning reward galleons.

Swallowing hard, you struggle to you feet, hands shaking from the initial fear as well as the subsequent shock at the idea that you could've hurt her had you not aimed your wand at the tent.

Hurt her when all you wanted to do was protect her.

Harry’s standing just inside the tent opening, disheveled and confused and you’re about to tell him that everything is fine.

“You selfish arse."

Apparently you’re wrong.

******************************************************************

Images of the past swirl in your mind’s eye as Ron struggles to his feet.

Sitting atop a chess piece waiting to be taken.

Running off to face his greatest fear after you’d been petrified.

Standing on a broken leg boldly protecting Harry from Sirius.

Sulking in a corner as you danced with Viktor Krum.

Hiding the painful scars that crisscross his arms and chest.

Lying still and unresponsive after drinking poisoned mead.

Pushing you out of harm’s way when Dolohov and Rowle attacked in the cafe.

Suddenly you realize that he was ready to sacrifice himself all over again.

******************************************************************

For a moment you’re unsure if Hermione’s talking to you or Harry.

Then she’s stomping across the snow, her posture rigid and hands clenched into fists and it takes every ounce of willpower not to take a step backwards in retreat. Coming to a stop just inches from you she draws one arm back. You flinch, waiting for the slap that is sure to follow.

Only it doesn’t.

Instead she pockets her wand and reaches out, grabbing fistfuls of your cloak as she buries her head against your chest. “How could you?” She murmurs over and over into your jumper.

******************************************************************

“Hermione?” Ron whispers uncertainly. His hands tentatively touch the back of your shoulders, neither pulling you closer nor pushing you away. But it serves to anchor you, as does listening to his furiously beating heart under your ear.

You swallow hard, forcing the panic that you felt to the back of your mind, as you slowly pull your head away to look up to him. The concern on his face nearly does you in again. “Why use a shield charm, Ron?”

He looks away and his touch is gone, as his hands fall to his sides. “You know why, Hermione.”

******************************************************************

“Don’t you dare turn away,” she shouts. “What if it wasn’t me outside the tent? Don’t you know what could have happened to you?”

You sigh. “Yes. I do.” Apparently a succinct answer wasn’t what Hermione was looking for and she clouts you hard on the arm in response. “Ow. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You were going to blindly sacrifice yourself to some unknown threat,” she replies, quickly. “That’s plenty wrong, Ron.”

“I’d do it again.” And you mean it. And by the look on her face, Hermione knows it too.

“Harry can take care of himself.”

“I know.”

******************************************************************

This whole mess hasn’t been about Harry at all.

“I’m perfectly capable of defending myself,” you cry indignantly. But even as the words come out of your mouth, you can’t help but remember how badly things almost went with the snake at Godric’s Hollow.

“I won’t take that chance.” There’s grim determination in his voice and you’re caught between hitting him again and hugging him.

“If you even so much as think about putting yourself in harm’s way again to protect me, I’ll never forgive you, Ronald Weasley.”

“Yeah, well, we both know what that’s like.”

“Don’t be so presumptuous!”

******************************************************************

It was that word.

It brings forth memories that you’d rather gouge your eyes out than to witness again. Images of Hermione and Harry together. Together. You press your balled fists into your eyes, willing the most horrible night of your life so far to fade.

“Ron?”

Her voice is warm and full of concern, and you want nothing more than for her to leave so you can deal with this alone. “Go back to the tent. It’s getting late.” You brush by her and settle once more on top of the rock. “Next watch isn’t for a few hours.”

******************************************************************

He’s dismissing you.

He’s turning his back, physically and emotional and it grates on your last nerve. This isn’t Ron. This isn’t the same boy who’d argue with you until his face matched the color of his hair.

Something is wrong.

You move to stand in front of him. “Ron?” He ignores you, averting his eyes.

However, you won’t be deterred. “Ron, what happened?”

He let’s out an explosive breath. “I told you, I thought you were a Deatheater and I--”

“No,” you interrupt him. “I want you to tell me what happened when you and Harry destroyed the locket.”

******************************************************************

Startled, you throw an accusatory glance over at the tent. How could Harry tell her after promising not to?

“He wouldn’t tell me anything,” Hermione says as if reading your thoughts. She grasps your chin firmly and tilts your head up until you’re forced to make eye contact. “But you should have.”

There’s an air of disappointment in her voice, wholly unfamiliar to your ears. In the past there’s always been anger, frustration and even exasperation, but never disappointment. And frankly, you're not sure how to respond.

“There’s nothing to tell,” you replied gruffly.

“Then why are you having nightmares?”

******************************************************************

There. You’ve managed to take him by surprise again. “What? Did you honestly think that I slept through all the times you’ve cried out in your sleep?” His eyes drop to the snow at your feet and you know that he’s embarrassed by your revelation.

“Just stupid nightmares,” he mumbles. “Everyone gets them from time to time.”

“Not every night,” you disagree. “And they didn’t start until after you returned.”

He shrugs. “I told you that I had a run in with snatchers. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience.”

“Then why have you woken shouting my name and not theirs?”

******************************************************************

There. She’s caught you now. It was stupid to think that she’d sleep through those most awful of nights. Where the events surrounding the horcrux would haunt you relentlessly in your dreams. When the Riddle Hermione would transform into the real Hermione and order you to leave again so she could be alone with Harry. When Harry would shake you awake and return to his cot without a word and a quick glance across the the tent assured you that Hermione was still asleep.

Only she wasn’t, was she?

“You’re right,” you say at length. “Something did happen that night.”

******************************************************************

You take a seat next to him on the rock because it’s quite clear that he doesn’t want to have this conversation face to face. Waiting has never been your strong suit and it feels like a lifetime passes before he starts to speak.

“I know the locket affected us all,” he begins haltingly. But I think... just maybe, that it affected me more.”

You remember feeling oddly out of touch with your emotions while wearing the horcrux. Irritable, snappish and overly sensitive. But you had blamed it on the stress of having to wear it, not the object itself.

******************************************************************

“How do you know?”

It really was too much to hope that she’d take your word without a proper explanation. “After I left...” You pause, swallowing hard. Even now, thinking of your betrayal causes you to cringe inwardly. “When I finally made it to Bill’s, after dealing with the snatchers, I asked him about magical objects...”

“You told him about the horcrux!” Hermione interrupts.

“No,” you stammer, “I didn’t, I swear.” You can see her staring at you out of the corner of your eye, her expression doubtful. “He’s got experience with that sort of thing. His job, you see?”

******************************************************************

Ron did have a point. As a curse breaker at Gringotts, Bill would be in a position to come across enchanted items. “What did he say?”

“He said that all wizards have the same ability to produce magic, regardless of their blood status.”

“Yes, we know this,” you grind out impatiently. “Lesson one in History of Magic.”

“Then I guess you also know that Purebloods are more sensitive to magic,” he presses, evidently irritated at your rebuke.

You don’t. “How can that be? I’ve never read...”

He shakes his head. “That’s because Purebloods don’t want it to become public knowledge.”

******************************************************************

“That can’t be,” she protests vehemently. “It’s just not possible to keep something like that a secret.”

You shake your head. “I’m not saying that people don’t know... only that you won’t find it published in the Daily Prophet for all to read. Look there’s a reason why certain jobs are only filled by Purebloods. We’re more susceptible to the affects of magic. Bill’s job relies on that. You put a Halfblood or Muggleborn in his position and they might not be able to sense a curse hidden within an object until its too late.”

“But why all the deception?”

******************************************************************

“It’s been used against us in the past.” Ron jumps to his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stares up at the sky. “During the first war against Vol-...You-Know-Who, Deatheaters focused on punishing those who supported Muggle relations. Especially those from Pureblood families.”

A chill runs down your back as you come to a horrifying conclusion. “The Order of the Phoenix.”

Ron nods, finally turning to face you. “I overheard Mum and Dad talking the day I returned from Hogwarts after our third year. Peter Pettigrew knowingly led them all straight into an ambush.”

******************************************************************

Hermione opens her mouth to speak, but you hold up a hand. “Before you accuse me of not telling you sooner, it was all pretty meaningless to me at the time.” She gives you a half nod, an invitation to continue. “I was more upset over the fact that my pet was a Deatheater in disguise than his involvement in Sirius’ arrest.”

“So everything Sirius said about Pettigrew was true?”

You nod. “He insisted on taking Veritaserum in front of the Order to affirm his innocence, something that wasn’t offered to him the first time around.”

“What did he say?”

******************************************************************

Ron retrieves his wand from his pocket as he sits back down at your side. “Pettigrew lured the Order to a village just outside of Kent under the false pretense that Deatheaters were attacking Muggles. The portkey that he acquired brought them to a forest instead. Dumbledore realized immediately that something wasn’t right and ordered them to disapparate to safety. But there was an enchantment of sorts in place and the Purebloods were left incapacitated to the extent where they couldn’t risk apparation. The others escaped, unknowingly stranding the rest.” His grip on the wand tightens. “Then the Deatheaters arrived.”

******************************************************************

Hermione reaches over and lays her hand over yours. Sighing, you release your stranglehold on the wand. “The Order members fought hard, but they were outnumbered. Dolohov and four other Deatheaters managed to take down my uncles, Gideon and Fabian. The Lestranges captured and tortured Neville’s parents with the Cruitiatus before disapparating with them. Aurors located and rescued them five days later but they had already been driven to insanity.

“What about Harry’s father?” Hermione asks.

“He wasn’t with them,” you reply. “The Potters had gone into hiding the week before. Only one person managed to escape that night. Sirius.”

******************************************************************

“How?”

“He changed into his animagus form,” Ron explains. “Took them all by surprised, since he was unregistered and all. He ran until he couldn’t feel the pull of the enchantment any longer and Disapparated back to headquarters. But by then it was too late.”

“Too late?”

“The remaining Order members were at the Ministry demanding a trace on the Portkey. They played right into Pettigrew’s hand. The ambush was a ruse. He wanted them to be distracted.”

“But why?”

“So You-Know-Who could travel to Godric’s Hollow undetected. The ambush took place Halloween, 1981. The night Harry’s parents were murdered.

******************************************************************

Hermione gasps and you turn your hand beneath hers, clumsily entwining your fingers. You wait on baited breath for her to pull away; only she doesn’t and you can only hope that she’ll mistake the blush burning your cheeks for a reaction to the cold night air. “You knew that the Potters were protected by the Fidelius Charm, right?” Hermione nods. “Sirius was the obvious choice for secret-keeper, but at the last moment he convinced them to choose Pettigrew instead.”

“And Pettigrew, in turn, told You-Know-Who and broke the concealment spell,” Hermione adds. “And everyone blamed Sirius.”

******************************************************************

“Right,” he replies. “Members of the Order already knew where the Potters lived. But under the Fidelius Charm, Harry and his family would remain hidden in plain sight to all but Pettigrew and whoever he told. When Sirius escaped, his first thought was to seek out Pettigrew. After all, it was his portkey that send them straight into the ambush. When he wasn’t in his designated hiding place, Sirius grew suspicious and flew his motorbike to Godric’s Hollow. Only it was too late. The house was half blasted apart. Luckily, Hagrid managed to find Harry before the muggle neighbors did.

******************************************************************

“But how did Hagrid know what had happened?” you ask. “Wasn’t he with the Order at the Ministry?”

“Bill told me that Dumbledore placed a charm on the residence before the Fidelius was in place. He was alerted the moment the house was destroyed and sent Hagrid.” He shrugs. “The house became visible at that point.”

“That makes sense,” you reply. “When Harry and I went to Godric’s Hollow while you were ... we were able to see the rubble. It was protected by magic, but only from Muggle view. The Fidelius Charm must also break if the spell-caster dies.”

******************************************************************

“Er... right,” you reply. But the truth of it is, you’re not even aware of what you’re agreeing to. All of your attention is focussed on your left hand and all you can feel is the loss associated with Hermione pulling her hand away after she stumbled over her sentence a moment ago. Her hands are now twisting nervously in her lap and you fear moving yours and drawing her attention to them. “S-So, Sirius wanted to take Harry, but Hagrid told him that he had specific orders to bring Harry back to Dumbledore. That didn’t go over real well.”

******************************************************************

“I can imagine,” you say, staring down at the ground. You’ve made things difficult by pulling away from him. He won’t dare say anything, not that he needs to. You can hear it in the hesitation in his voice, something you’re all too familiar with.

It had been replaced by a new sort of confidence when you arrived at the Burrow last summer. And you had hoped that Ron was finally coming into his own as far as maturity went. But he’s reverted a bit since his return. And most, if not all, of the blame rests on your shoulders.

******************************************************************

“Hermione?” You’ve called her name twice already. It’s so unusual to catch her daydreaming. Well it used to be, when you were forced to spend afternoons in the common room doing coursework. Hermione was always one step ahead as far as assignments went, completing one and jumping to the next. You’ve never seen her just sit still and relax.

That’s not entirely true.

After modifying her parents’ memories and sending them off to Australia, she had arrived at the Burrow a complete wreck. And you hadn’t a clue on how to deal with her. Not until you read that book.

******************************************************************

You’re startled out of you reverie by Ron’s hand on your upper arm. Your head jerks up in surprise and you both stare at the offending appendage for a long, tense moment before he quickly drops it back to his leg.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” you say. “I was miles away. Didn’t mean to drift off on you.” He nods his head and you can’t help but glance up at his profile. Sitting here like this reminds you of the nights the two of you spent at the Burrow before going to the Dursleys to collect Harry on his birthday.

******************************************************************

“Remember when we’d go out to the lake and stargaze?” Her voice is soft and tinged with wistful longing, and it makes you inwardly curse horcruxes, Voldemort, and the rotten snow that continues to fall around you.

“Yeah,” you reply. “Those were some nice nights.” And they were. The two of you sitting not too differently than how you are now, trying to find patterns among the twinkling, night lights. When Hermione finally relaxed enough to just enjoy sitting quietly without having to worry about her parents or Harry or their upcoming plans to leave.

You wanted to kiss her.

******************************************************************

The Burrow was magical. The first few days were spent up in Ginny’s room, when the hurt over your parents was just too great to get you out of bed. Most of the Weasleys were busy preparing for the wedding, so it was nice that Molly, who was quite overbearing at times, was distracted enough to give you some space. But that one morning you rose early and found...

Ron, slumped against the wall just outside your door, snoring quietly with a book half hidden on his lap. A book! On how to charm witches!

You wanted to kiss him.

******************************************************************

You planned on telling her that night under the stars. She seemed receptive to your subtle advances throughout the past few weeks. At least that’s what you had thought. She didn’t shy away when you placed a supportive hand on her back during your evening walks to the lake or take the mickey out when you gave her a compliment. In fact, she smiled more. And every once in a while she’d get this look in her eye that would somehow make your heart beat faster... and if you wanted to be honest, made your trousers feel a bit tighter.

******************************************************************

Something was different that last night. He had acted strange throughout the day, avoiding you whenever possible as he kept to himself, quiet and brooding. You were truly baffled. He played with his dinner and passed on dessert entirely, before dragging you out of the house and leading you down the path. It was only then that you realized that he was dressed rather smart for one of your evenings at the lake. That his hair was neat and parted off to the side and didn’t fall into his eyes. And the sight of him made your stomach flutter nervously.

******************************************************************

You were a git spending the day alone in your room, thinking of the right words to say. The book only got you so far, but it was designed to help you charm witches that you’ve just met. It didn’t mention anything about charming one of your closest friends.

But she was sitting so close and maybe you didn’t need words so you tilted your head, hoping against hope...

Only to pull back sharply when a flying motorbike roared above you, landing just outside the wards, followed shortly by Hagrid’s massive footfalls.

“It’s the Order,” she had whispered. “About Harry.”

******************************************************************

Something special was going to happen that night. His strange behavior, the special clothes... it all added up to something.

But before you could find out, Order members had arrived and the two of you left the solitude of the lake to join a rather heated argument inside the house. Nobody could agree on how Harry would leave the Dursleys, who would accompany him... even what flavor his birthday cake should be.

After all was said and done, you and Ron had retired to your own bedrooms and you couldn’t help but feel that something special had slipped you by.

******************************************************************

She’s drifted off into her own thoughts again and you wonder if she’s thinking about what could have been all those many months ago. You clear your throat gently, trying not to startle her. She jerks her head up anyway and you look away, pulling your hands together into your lap while her attention is focused on your face. “So... er... where did I leave off?”

“Hagrid.”

“Right. Sirius was upset, naturally, but they weren’t sure what had become of You-Know-Who at that point and it was important to keep Harry safe, so Sirius gave Hagrid his motorbike.”

“They left?”

******************************************************************

Ron nods. “Met with Dumbledore and the Order at the Ministry with Harry in tow. Hagrid told them about seeing Sirius at Godric’s Hollow and it set suspicion right off.”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” you realize. “He was a Pureblood and should have been trapped in the forest.”

“Right. And since everyone believed him to be secret-keeper, Sirius was the only one in position to reveal their location to You-Know-Who. Aurors were sent to bring him in, but he was gone by the time they arrived at the cottage.”

“Where did he go?”

“After Pettigrew.”

******************************************************************

“And Sirius was blamed for it all.” There’s outrage in her voice and you can’t help but smile in response.

“He tracked down Pettigrew early the next morning, but the sneaky rat publicly accuse Sirius of betraying his friends. Then he set off an explosion, killing innocent bystanders and faking his own death to pin it all on Sirius.” You shiver in revulsion. “And to think that we took care of that traitor for years.”

“You didn’t know,” Hermione says adamantly.

“Yeah well, Aurors arrested Sirius and the wizarding world celebrated the death of the most vile wizard in history.”

******************************************************************

“I never knew that it happened like that,” you say, still in shock over the Ministry’s blatant disregard of Sirius’ legal rights.

Ron shakes his head. “I didn’t even know the whole truth myself until Bill set me straight.”

Bill. You had been surprised to learn that Ron had sought shelter with his eldest brother, rather than return to his parents after he had left you and Harry. And while the truth surrounding the murder of Harry’s parents has sparked your interest, there is a more pressing matter to discuss. “So, what does this have to do with the locket?”

******************************************************************

Damn. There would be no avoiding this difficult conversation. Wringing your hands together nervously, you resign yourself to reliving the worst night of your life. “I told you that Purebloods are more sensitive to magic. I think that’s why Ginny was given Riddle’s diary. She had that thing on her most of the time, and none of the other girls in her dormitory were affected by it.”

“And so you think the locket had a similar hold over you?” Her tone is skeptical at best. “Wearing it put us all on edge, Ron.”

“Did the locket ever speak to you?”

******************************************************************

Speak? Surely he isn’t suggesting...

“It...it couldn’t have,” you reply, haltingly. “We would’ve heard it.”

“Would you?” He questions, looking away. “Ginny said that Riddle spoke to her all the time through the diary... convinced her that he wasn’t a threat. And we didn’t hear a thing.”

“But...” The rebuttal dies in your throat as Ron turns to you.

“It’s true!” His eyes are blazing. “It might not have spoken to you or Harry, but it spoke to me!”

You hold up your hands in concession. “Then why didn’t you come to us?”

“I thought I was going mad.”

******************************************************************

“At first there was just this vague sense of...” you trail off, unable to find a suitable word.

“Negativity?” Hermione offers.

You nod. “When I wore the locket, I always felt on edge. I couldn’t sleep. I’d wake up three, four times from nightmares that I just couldn’t remember.” You pause. “Then I started to have these thoughts.”

“What kind of thoughts?” she asks.

You shrug. “Things I’ve kept in the back of my mind...that I didn’t want to dwell on. But I couldn’t help it... they were just there. It was impossible to clear my mind of them."

******************************************************************

That was somewhat familiar, you realize. Every time you wore the necklace you couldn’t help but think about your parents. Were they happy in Australia? Did they miss you? Of course not, you would insist, they don’t even know that you exist.

“I had thoughts like that, too,” you admit. “And I always felt more prone to irritability when I wore the locket. It must’ve happened to all three of us, Ron.”

His shoulders slump as you attempt to rationalize his claims. “But did it ever go beyond just thoughts and feelings?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s... difficult to explain.”

******************************************************************

“Try,” Hermione presses. It’s becoming obvious that she’s trying to give you the benefit of doubt.

You clear your throat. “I started to hear voices. Well one voice actually.” You sigh. “Mine.”

“You spoke to yourself?” she hedges.

“No.” How are you supposed to explain this? “I had a nightmare about a week after we stole the locket. I was wearing it at the time... I don’t remember much about the dream, other that it was pitch black and that someone was whispering a word repeatedly in my ear. Only when I woke up, the whispering continued.”

“What word?”

“Soon.”

******************************************************************

A chill runs down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold night air. Soon. “Why didn’t you tell us any of this?”

“I thought I was one step away from sharing a padded room with Lockhart.”

“But still,” you try to reason with him, “if this was happening to you, didn’t you think it was happening to Harry and I as well?”

“Honestly? No. I figured my mind was playing tricks on me.”

Had he acted differently all those months ago? Was there a clue somewhere that you missed? Could you have possibly prevented him from leaving?

******************************************************************

“Look Hermione, I was a mess, okay? We hadn’t made any progress on locating the remaining horcruxes and Harry was hellbent on learning about the Deathly Hallows. I was worried about my family, worried that Deatheaters would find our camp and worried that we we were wasting too much time.”

“That wasn’t all Harry’s fault,” she interjects softly.

For a moment you’re back inside the tent arguing with Harry about how you should proceed. How you told them that you were tired of sitting around and how Harry told you to leave. How Hermione sided with him and not you.

******************************************************************

There.

His jaw tightens and he glances away, once again, closing himself off to you. Whatever the crux of his problem, it has to do with what you’ve just mentioned.

But what?

“I don’t understand,” you say out loud, genuinely perplexed.

“What?” Ron replies gruffly.

But then it hits you.

I get it. You choose him.

All this time, you’ve thought he stormed away that rain drenched night because you didn’t side with him. That you agreed with Harry’s plan. But it was more that that. Much, much more.

And it had everything to do with your mutual best friend.

******************************************************************

“I never chose Harry.”

The words are soft, almost enough to be swept away by the wind, but their impact is deafening.

“Ron.” Her voice is sharp now and tinged with frustration. “I did what I thought was best for the mission. You know that, right?”

“Of course.” You can’t help the bitterness that coats your words. Although you’re now free of the locket’s influence, the hurt that came with Hermione’s decision hasn’t diminished.

“No, don’t you lie to me.” Her hand reaches out and forces your chin around so that you have no choice but to look at her.

******************************************************************

“Damn it, Hermione,” he snaps as he pushes himself to his feet, “what do you want me to say?”

‘The truth’ are the first words that come to mind, but you refrain from answering immediately. Everything about him at the moment: his defensive replies, his rigid stance and his expression are all clues to some mystery that you’ve yet to solve.

A mystery you didn’t want answers to.

That’s a lie.

You’ve wanted to know from the moment he stepped back into the tent, half frozen and apologetic.

But your heart had refused to let you give in and ask.

*****************************************************

“Tell me about the locket.”

It’s the last thing you want to hear. If fact, you were hoping that she’d storm back to the tent, preventing yet another blazing row. You’ve avoided this moment for weeks, wanting to be able to return to Hermione’s good graces without revealing why you had left her in the first place.

“I already said--.”

“No, there’s more to it”, Hermione insists. “What aren’t you telling me?” She stands and grabs a hold of your arm. “What did it do to you?”

“The bloody thing possessed me,” you shout, finally free of the terrible secret.

*****************************************************

Ron’s words echo within the protective enchantments surrounding the campsite. You can tell by his rigid posture that he is debating whether or not to run. He turns, and you brace yourself to grab him to force him to stay, but he merely drops back down onto the rock.

“Possessed?” You can barely get the word out. The very thought of the locket…of Voldemort…controlling Ron terrifies you. “H-How?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

It’s time, you realize, for the truth to come out. The three of you will not be able to move on until then.

“Please, Ron. Tell me.”

*****************************************************

“The sword was in a pool of water, under the ice,” you begin, as the memory rushes back to you. “I spotted Harry some distance away walking through the woods and followed him. By the time I reached the pool, he was already under the water. I waited for him to surface, but when he didn’t, I jumped in after him.”

“Was he alright?”

“Far from it.” You shake your head. “The bloody locket was trying to drown him.”

Hermione half collapses on to the rock next to you and you instinctively grab her arm to steady her. “You okay?”

*****************************************************

The locket attempted to drown Harry. Attempted to kill him as you slept on unaware. And it was Ron who had appeared out of nowhere to save him.

“Hermione?”

Your head snaps up and you meet his eyes, full of concern… and something else that you can’t quite put your finger on. “I can’t believe… why didn’t you tell me?”

“Dunno,” he replies. “It all worked out in the end and why worry you unnecessarily.”

“Ron!”

He ducks his head to hide a smile. “Yeah, yeah I know. From now on no more secrets.”

“Then tell me what happened next.”

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!

♥

Prompt: Music

2010-11-21T16:11:09Z

Drabbles written for Crookshanks can be found here

This week's prompt is Music.

Remember, you don't have to include the actual word in your drabble, just write about whatever the word inspires you to write.

And you're free to use any of the past prompts too!
To see a list of all the prompt posts, click here
To suggest a prompt of your own, click here

Support the team (Prompt: Team)

2010-11-10T00:45:21Z

Title: Support the team
Author: otterandterrier
Prompt: Team
Rating: G
Word Count: 100
Warnings: None
Notes: I'm very ashamed of spamming your Friends Page. This is set in fifth year from Hermione's POV, in case you don't get it, and I don't really love how it turned out, but I needed to unleash some words again.

I'm definitely not one for sports. I wouldn't die if Quidditch was banned from Hogwarts (given the current situation, it wouldn't surprise me), or if I was banned from the Quidditch pitch.

It means a lot to them, though, to Harry and Ron. Since Ron told me he made it to the team, I can't stop smiling. First I was there for Harry, all the way. Now I suppose I have a stronger reason. Because my two friends will be there, I mean. Not that Ron is a special reason or anything.

Thinking of sports is giving me a headache.

A certain combination of circumstances (Prompt: Unlucky)

2010-11-10T00:41:24Z

Title: A certain combination of circumstances
Author: otterandterrier
Prompt: Unlucky
Rating: PG
Word Count: 100
Warnings: None
Notes: I don't think Hermione believes in luck. At least not in the common sense. But for me (and maybe she shares my view), luck is a more or less fortunate combination of circumstances.

Harry said it; Ginny said it; my parents said it; even George, from whom I couldn't hide anything, said it. You can do it. That's what they said. And here I am. Trying.

I have at least fifty different speeches, but I know they'll all vanish as Leprechaun's coins the moment I look at her. It's happened before; I try too hard and end up saying lots of rubbish. Spontaneous, nice rubbish, though.

Now she's here, smiling.

'I'll give this dress a last chance; it's brought me very bad luck in the past—'

Not tonight.

'Will you marry me?'

There's no match (Prompt: Technology)

2010-11-10T00:35:48Z

Title: There's no match
Author: otterandterrier
Prompt: Technology
Rating: G
Word Count: 100
Warnings: None
Notes: I realize I used a lot of even's... Never mind, I was just happy to be writing again as to care too much.

'These are a lot of tellies...'

'Nice remark,' Hermione said, amused.

'I mean, it's a bit... It's scary, actually,' Ron observed, looking at the dozens of moving figures all around.

'Why is it different from moving photographs, or even the radio?'

'I don't know...' Ron frowned.

'Even communication through the Floo Network is similar—'

'I know, but for example, these moov things...'

'Movies.'

'Right. People acts, and it's not even a play.'

'Mhm. Do you still want to get one? I've never been a fan of TV, anyway.'

'Do they have Quidditch?'

'No. Let's go get a new wireless.'

Lurvation (Prompt: Food)

2010-11-10T00:31:51Z

Title: Lurvation
Author: otterandterrier
Prompt: Food
Rating: G
Word Count: 100
Warnings: None
Notes: The title is a word that I invented... It would mean: a physiological need for love. I hope it's clear when this is set :)

Ravenous, constantly greedy. Food barely touches his plate. When he's happy, he eats. When he's sad, eats. When he's angry, eats. Is there a moment when he's not eating? You'd wonder if he's starved at home, like Harry, and that's why he eats like a beast; but any doubt disappears the moment you meet the Weasleys. And you're led to think that he would eat almost anything you offered him, but again, observation would prove you wrong.

I used to think of that as an amusing fact. I never imagined that food would be the cause of my current misery.

Conversations with Molly - Year 1

2010-10-27T04:49:00Z

Title: Conversations with Molly – Year 1
Author: writerwannabe
Prompt: Mother
Rating:PG
Word Count:100
Warnings:None
Notes: Just a short series based on various conversations Ron and his mum have throughout the years that reflect on his feelings for a certain bushy-haired know-it-all

“Oh, you've grown at least three inches since Christmas,” Molly exclaimed as she pulled Ron into an exuberant hug.

“Geroff!”

“Mum, you're embarrassing ickle-Ronniekins in front of his girlfriend,” Fred announced, jerking his head in the direction of a young bushy-haired girl waiting patiently at the far end of the platform.

“Hermione is not my girlfriend,” Ron vehemently denied. “She's bossy and a know-it-all--”

“And Ron followed her around like a lost puppy,” George added.

“A lost, lovesick puppy,” Fred chimed in.

Molly looked down at her son with a knowing smile.

“She's just a friend,” Ron insisted. "Honest."

Reunion (Prompt: Crookshanks)

2010-10-12T01:24:20Z

Title: Reunion
Prompt: Crookshanks
Author: otterandterrier
Rating: G
Word Count (should be 100 words exactly): 100
Warnings: None
Notes: Crookshanks and Ron, Hermione's two favourite red-haired boys. Apologizes for the mistakes... I only felt like writing today.

The ginger cat came out from under the old carved dresser of Muriel's at the sight of his owner. Hermione took him in her arms and nearly squeezed him. She had never kissed an animal: this time, she did an exception.

'Don't worry, you weren't the only one I left behind,' she whispered, scratching the ugly head. 'I'm sorry, Crookshanks.'

The creature purred as if he understood, and in the eyes of Hermione, he knew exactly what she was saying.

Somebody came through the door and silently crouched next to her.

'I found him, Ron.'

With a smile, he nodded.

Ginger Envy (G)

2010-10-11T04:13:09Z

Title: Ginger Envy
Author: mugglemama
Prompt: Crookshanks
Rating: G
Word Count (should be 100 words exactly): 100
Warnings: none
Notes: The rivalry continues...

(Ginger Envy)

on my fic journal.

September (Prompt: Autumn)

2010-09-27T15:28:18Z

Title: September
Prompt: Autumn
Author: otterandterrier
Rating: G
Word Count (should be 100 words exactly): 100
Warnings: None
Notes: What can I say? I missed writing drabbles.

Ron crumbled a fistful of leaves with a crunching noise, to muffle his sigh. Her ears, however, weren't deaf to this.

'What's wrong?'

She had seemed to be asleep, her messy hair blending with the surroundings, but maybe they had been thinking the same, after all.

'I'll have to leave soon.'

'I know. It's going to be a hard week.' Her eyes lit up in an attempt of cheerfulness. 'But at least you were allowed to come today, not to wait until Hogsmeade, right?'

Bending over her, Ron put his arms around her lying figure and kissed her.

'Happy birthday.'

Pissed off (Prompt: Wet)

2010-09-12T18:24:39Z

Hey, I feel so silly being the only one posting here! :(

Title: Pissed off
Prompt: Wet
Author: otterandterrier
Rating: G
Word Count (should be 100 words exactly): 100
Warnings: None
Notes: It's lovely that Ron and Hermione were godparents to James Potter, no? ^-^ And yes, I think they practised with him for when they had their own babies!

'Reckon I can try?'

I stared amusedly at him.

'You want to change James?'

'Sure, it shouldn't be that hard, right?'

A blush turned into a fierce veil of red as Ron said, 'I should practice, don't you think?'

James was in his arms before I could reply. Not that I was able to find words, anyway.

'All right, little man, let's see how it works.'

'Be careful,' I warned him as he removed the diaper, 'you don't want to be baptized by your godson.'

'What—'

His godson laughed and waved fists when the yellow spring caught his godfather.

Going on (Prompt: Date) // Going back, and on (Prompt: Plan)

2010-09-11T05:01:37Z

Title: Going on
Prompt: Date
Author: otterandterrier
Rating: PG
Word Count (should be 100 words exactly): 100
Warnings: Just fluff ^-^
Notes: It's thrilling to think of first dates... They had to have one, not just to hang out. They needed to make it right.

Hermione did two involuntary things: she grunted, and then she blushed. Ron had broken apart from her lips to look at her, instead of starting another round of snogging. So it was not her fault, but it was embarrassing.

'What?' she said.

'What to you?' Ron asked, amused. She frowned. 'I needed to tell you... I—er, please don't... Okay, the thing is—'

'Ron!'

'Iwannatakeyouonadate.'

'Date?' Hermione feared she had misheard, but he nodded.

'Always have. I don't want you to think I'm... ah, fooling around, you know? Would you go on a date with me?'

Hermione beamed, voluntarily.

***

Title: Going back, and on
Prompt: Plan (it could be date as well, actually, but I wanted to use a different prompt)
Author: otterandterrier
Rating: PG
Word Count (should be 100 words exactly): 100
Warnings: Just more fluff ^-^
Notes: Companion piece to the previous drabble. Ron had a plan that was more than dinner out.

'Forest of Dean?'

'Yeah. I've been planning where I'd take you, and...' Ron explained. 'Here I found you. You'd have jinxed me, but I was bloody happy to see you again, Hermione.'

Hermione looked at the polished wooden platform Ron had conjured, tableclothed and reflecting the candles floating above. So different from the dirty tent, covered in snow. She looked back at him.

'I would have jinxed you. But I couldn't have been more than happy to see you there, alive.'

They kissed.

'You mean a lot to me,' Ron's thumb caressed her cheek. 'Just wanted you to know it.'

One fine day (Prompt: Lazy)

2010-09-08T01:04:18Z

Title: One fine day
Prompt: Lazy
Author: otterandterrier
Rating: G
Word Count (should be 100 words exactly): 100
Warnings: None
Notes: Calmer times, still over the summer after the war. What happens with me? I've been writing about a lovable corny Ron. Ron isn't corny on purpose. I think he doesn't realize how cute he is. And hey, I suck at titles, so I stole this.

The bees' buzzing is irremediably soporific. The water stream nearby irradiates calmness. The sun on the skin sends ripples of warmth through your body. And there we are. Pinned to the ground by gravity, together. Doing nothing. 'Shall we do something, Ron?' I ask; 'No,' he answers. 'Your mum sure needs help?' I ask; 'No,' he answers. 'You don't want to talk?' I ask; 'No,' he answers. I turn my head on his lap, to look at him, questioning. 'Isn't laying here enough, Hermione?' 'I'm not used to idling,' I answer. 'I'm not idling, I'm enjoying the day with you.'

Salvation (Prompt: Water)

2010-09-08T00:40:05Z

Title: Salvation
Prompt: Water
Author: otterandterrier
Rating: PG
Word Count (should be 100 words exactly): 100
Warnings: None
Notes: I love watercourses. The last sentence, I didn't think of writing it from the beginning,. I love that song, and yeah, I think they both saved each other. They needed each other, Ron wasn't a leech that clung onto Hermione, they both were in need. Um, clear?

I scrub my face violently, but the filth and the pain don't go. I stare at my reflection on the creek, which is as deep as grief, and almost as dark.

Her reflection is etched on the water. Hermione is standing there.

'Are you planning on drowning?'

I'm considering it too, she silently says.

She shakes her head, more to herself, and kneels. Her arms are cold against my own moistened flesh. I find out that kissing her is the only thing that makes me forget, and remember. Remember Hermione, why I love her. My wonderwall, I'll be your man.

Reaction (Prompt: Sleep) // Department of Mysteries (Prompt: Fairy lights)

2010-08-29T19:06:28Z

Title: Reaction
Prompt: Sleep
Author: otterandterrier
Rating: PG
Word Count (should be 100 words exactly): 100
Warnings: None
Notes: This would be placed shortly after Rose was born, her parents are exahusted as expected, but they lean on each other ^-^ I thought of this one when I got home after classes on Friday, at 5pm, and headed to bed for a short nap. I didn't feel quite like undressing. Bit of inspiration from Outlander. And also, as soon as I'm free of other writings, I'll be writing a ficlet with daddy!Ron and mummy!Hermione :D

'Go and try to sleep,' Ron had said, taking the baby from her. When he climbed up with a soundly asleep Rose, Hermione was lying on the bed, half dressed and not showered.

Placing their daughter on the cot with a tender kiss, he softly dropped next to Hermione. The expression in her face, the depth of her slumber showed she was drained.

Ron slid a hand under the covers, caressing her back. Further down, he found naked legs. His touch on her skin was electric: Hermione's lip slightly curved in a sweet smile, then relaxed.

'I love you too.'

***

Title: Department of Mysteries
Prompt: Fairy lights
Author: otterandterrier
Rating: G
Word Count (should be 100 words exactly): 100
Warnings: None
Notes: After the trio, Ginny, Luna and Neville broke into the Ministry of Magic in OotP. Both Ron and Hermione were severely injured, and it's something that touched me deeply. I've always wondered what kind of after effects the curse that hit Hermione and the thoughts on Ron's arms left. Perhaps I'll write about it some day ;)

The pain had waited long enough, but with her consciousness regained, it attacked full-forcedly. The first sound that escaped her throat was a muffled groan. Her head spun: she turned sideways to avoid being sick. She heard a soft rustling. She hadn't had time to hear anything before, but now she wanted to find the source. Perhaps somebody could explain...

Her eyes only allowed her a blurry, narrow opening.

Something sparkly danced ahead.

Fairies, she thought. She had never seen real fairies.

'Hermione. How... how do you feel?'

Fairies couldn't manage such a male deep, velvet soft voice.

'R—Ron?'

Stress (Prompt: Tired)

2010-08-27T23:55:53Z

Title: Stress
Prompt: Tired
Author: otterandterrier
Rating: PG
Word Count (should be 100 words exactly): 100
Warnings: Sexual angst (for you, not the characters! :P)
Notes: Reckon I was pretty damn tired yesterday as I thought of this at the gym. I don't think Hermione snores, but you know, one always does funny noises from time to time. And it's for the sake of the story, anyway.

'Just a couple of steps—there you go.'

Hermione staggered, falling on the bed.

'That tired?'

'I only need five minutes... It's nothing, really.'

She turned on her side and looked at him through heavy lids.

'I want to give you your birthday present today.'

'Perhaps I could give you a massage first?' Ron grinned.

'Mmm, starting with massages sounds very nice.'

'All right, lie on your back.'

Her skin was soft and warm as always. Under it, the muscles were tightly contracted.

'I think you need a real rest. Like a holiday. With me.'

A muffled snore answered him.

Consistency (Prompt: Anniversary)

2010-08-27T23:52:53Z

Title: Consistency
Prompt: Anniversary
Author: otterandterrier
Rating: PG
Word Count (should be 100 words exactly): 100
Warnings: None
Notes: In psychology, consistency is an "innate human tendency to seek out stimuli that are consistent with one's beliefs and attitudes." For this, I was inspired by a line of the song that goes like this:
"If I was born again, if I started all over/I would go back for you in my time machine."
And by this breath-taking drawing (which I coloured for fun and looks amaaazing). I lurrrve RHr art!

Unwillingly, Ron parted from Hermione, smiling.

'I've something for you.'

'We said it wasn't necessary—'

'—that you get me something, I never agreed myself. One year... I wanted to.'

The small box fitted in her hand.

She was expecting something like a heart-shaped pendant, although cheesy and traditional weren't their style.

It was a mini hourglass, rimmed in gold.

'It's so delicate... Ron, what—?'

'Represents a time-turner. Because... Y'know, if I went back in time, I'd do it all over again just to be with you.'

'All?' Her breath faltered.

'If it means we'll be together, all.'

Books and cleverness (Prompt: Library)

2010-08-27T23:49:27Z

Title: Books and cleverness
Prompt: Library
Author: otterandterrier
Rating: G
Word Count (should be 100 words exactly): 100
Warnings: None
Notes: Placed after DH, when Ginny and Hermione went back to Hogwarts. Harry and Ron decided to visit their ladies in the first weekend trip to Hogsmeade.

'Hey!' Ginny exclaimed happily when Harry and her brother stepped into the Entrance Hall.

'Hi,' Harry said, carefully avoiding looking at Ron. For the sake of not rushing things in front of him, he asked, 'Where's Hermione?'

'The library.' Ginny rolled eyes. 'I asked her something, and she went straight away, saying it'd take her two minutes. You know how she is...'

'When in doubt, go to the library,' Harry added, sniggering. He glanced sideways, expecting some reaction, but his companion was gone.

'Where's Ron?'

'Well... you know how he is. When in need of Hermione, go to the library.'

Tie, Smile- Action! (prompt: Wand, Tie, Smile)

2010-08-12T08:52:36Z

Title: The Last Place You Look….

Author: loonynamelass
Prompt: Wand, Tie, Smile
Rating: PG
Word Count: 100
Warnings/Notes: I declined specifying due to the wide number of job possibilities available for Harry Potter’s right-hand man post-DH. If you consider JKR’s gospel as canon-compliant, then Ron’s setting out to be an auror, which makes a lot of sense with everything that aspires in the following scene.

As calm hands strung the tie through his collar, “Don’t worry,” cooed Hermione, far too amused at Ron’s pre-interview distress. “You’ll be fine.”

“What if I forget something? What- what was I supposed to convey, again?”

Crossing long over short, she reiterated sternly, “Confidence. You are Ron Bilius Weasley. They should be begging to hire you.”

“But…”

“Smile,” she simplified, concentrating on the tie as she yanked it through the loop.

He obeyed. “Yeah, I reckon I can do this…” With a kiss and straightened tie from Hermione, he promptly disapparated.

To no one, Hermione shrieked, “YOU FORGOT YOUR WAND!"

More than enough (Prompt: Tie)

2010-08-06T17:51:31Z

Title: More than enough
Author: otterandterrier
Prompt: Tie
Rating: G
Word Count (should be 100 words exactly): 100
Warnings: None
Notes: Oh, just enjoy. I've run out of words, thankfully.

Hermione smoothed the collar of his shirt.

'Thanks for doing it.'

'Keep thanking me, and I'll change my mind just for the sake of it.'

'I mean it.'

Her shy little smile told him she did.

'I want to make a good impression.'

'You will. And if you didn't...' She blushed. 'I wouldn't care.'

'But they probably want their daughter seeing a... respectable bloke—'

'I told you. I don't care. It's up to me. And you are respectable.'

Tiptoes up, her kiss lingered. It was always up to her.

'You picked a nice tie. Blue and brown, isn't it?'