InsaneJournal

Far Too Long - for qwertytigger - Ron - PG-13
Title : Far Too Long
For : qwertytigger
Pairing : Ron
Prompt : as only you can write him, with teasing twins and funniness and fluff....
Words : 2377
Rating : PG-13
Warning : not that I consider this warningsworthy, but it didn’t turn out to be Ron!gen, it’s Ron/Hermione, so the three H/Hr people on my flist should be made aware of the fact…


We were so close.

My palms still tingled from the feeling of stroking her hair at Dumbledore’s funeral.

She had flowed into my arms and everything had felt right, even as the world was turned upside down.

But, being me, I was scared I’d spoil things if I actually made my move.

No, you make a move on a pretty girl in a bar.

I wouldn’t make a move on Hermione.

I’d be swallowed up by Hermione. And not in a smutty way. Well, yes, hopefully, in my deepest, darkest fantasies.

No. That’s not why I wanted her.

And god I wanted her.

And I had been so good, since my birthday, since we were speaking again.

Trying so hard to prove I deserved her.

And this would be my ultimate test.

I knew that seeing her at the wedding would kill me.

I liked the thought that only I knew how gorgeous she was, and I’d stared at my reflection, as I dressed, vowing to behave myself.

“No jealousy,” I said sternly.

“You’re a bit full of yourself,” the mirror complained. “You don’t look that good.”

Harry sniggered and I frowned at him.

“Go get her,” he said bracingly.

I could have made some comment about him and Ginny, but it was good to see him smile, so I just gulped audibly and let him push me through the door.

At least I wasn’t ashamed of my dress robes. In fact, I couldn’t have looked better, as Bill had dressed us all, and obviously what looked good with his hair flattered the rest of us, too.

Hermione had smiled broadly at me when I’d tried them on, and she’d done up the clasps and smoothed them across my chest and I’d been desperate to catch her hands and hold them against me, but the twins had noticed and started patting each other down and making comments about broad shoulders, and my ears had burned and Hermione had pulled away.

I stopped at the foot of the stairs and Harry ploughed into me, from behind.

“It’ll be fine,” he said, regaining his balance on the bottom step.

“I’m gonna do it,” I muttered, not moving.

He wrapped his arms round my chest and rested his chin on my shoulder. “And yet, you’re not moving,” he pointed out.

“Maybe it’s not the right time,” I said, stalling.

“Good point,” he said.

I pulled away and turned to face him.

“What?” I squeaked.

“Why ask her at a wedding, when you both look this good and there’s champagne, and music playing, and enchanted fireflies in the trees? Wait until the three of us are trapped somewhere by Death Eaters, dirty, wet and cold. That’ll give you a lovely memory to look back on.”

He grinned.

“Look,” I said. “Maybe it would make things awkward. On this quest. If we got together.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Right,” he said. “I can see how it’d be odd. For Hermione. If you and me got together.”

“You are not helping,” I complained. “Harry, seriously. I don’t want to complicate things; to spoil things.”

“Ron,” he said calmly. “You adore each other. How can being with the girl you love spoil destroying evil soul fragments?”

“Love?” I echoed, running a nervous hand through my hair.

Harry reached out and smoothed it down again.

“Do it,” he said firmly, spinning me round and shoving me towards the lounge.

I pushed the door open.

Ginny was slumped inelegantly in an armchair, her bridesmaids robes demurely covering the trainers I knew she was wearing underneath, in protest at the frilliness.

She glanced up at Harry and flushed and looked away.

Mum was retying Charlie’s tie.

Bill was staring out the window, looking dazed and slightly ill.

Hermione was standing by the fireplace, talking to my dad.

Her hair was piled up, like at the Yule Ball, but not all smoothed out, so pieces were already threatening to escape.

Her robes were low-cut, for her, and a sort of dirty pale pink colour.

Although even I knew I mustn’t describe them like that; I’m not a complete idiot.

They were all floaty and clingy and for a moment I almost crossed the room and did it.

But.

“Scrubs up well, your bird, I must admit it,” said a voice in my ear.

“Attractive plumage,” a matching voice agreed in my other ear.

I gritted my teeth.

“Really, Fred, George,” Harry murmured. “Your feelings for Pig are hardly appropriate.”

The twins laughed and slapped Harry on the back and moved into the room.

“Those two,” I muttered. “As if I’m not already… and they… thanks, Harry.”

Hermione caught sight of us and her face lit up and she floated over.

“Oh, don’t you both look handsome?” she said, straightening Harry’s tie.

“Thanks,” Harry said, and gave me a Look.

“Yeah,” I said, past the lump in my throat.

Harry nodded his head, significantly, towards Hermione and I grinned nervously.

“You look lovely, Hermione,” he said, finally, obviously giving up on me.

“Yeah,” I added.

She smiled and flushed slightly. “Thank you,” she said, looking at me, even though Harry was all suave, and I was an idiot.

It was time to start, so she linked her arms with ours and dragged us into the garden.

We took our seats, near the front, grinning at Charlie trying to gentle his big brother like a nervous dragon; rolling our eyes at my dad, conjuring handkerchief after handkerchief to keep up with Mum’s tears; smirking at Ginny’s robes and flinty eyes, as she followed Gabrielle up the aisle.

Then I looked away.

Maybe it was an odd decision, at a wedding, and Harry had fallen off the bed, laughing, when I’d told him about it, but really it was the only way.

The only way to get through the day, without humiliating myself, was not to look at the bride.

I couldn’t imagine what Fleur would look like, but I knew it wouldn’t do me any good to peek.

So, I faced determinedly forwards, listening to the Wedding March and letting my hand slide casually off my lap and brush against Hermione’s robes.

“Oh,” she breathed, and for a moment I thought she’d caught me, but then Harry made a strangled noise, in his throat, and I realised they could see Fleur.

I chanced a glance at Bill, who looked spell shocked, and Charlie, who’d been selected for his role on the grounds that he was the groom’s sole gay brother.

Even Charlie looked stunned.

As I caught a glimpse of her passing by, I looked down at my knees.

They were close to Hermione’s and I sighed and imagined Hermione’s knees and the wedding washed over me.

By the time we had drunk toasts to the happy couple, and I’d ignored them leading the dancing, I was pleasantly tipsy and I was imagining Hermione’s knees wrapped round my waist as I ravished her, but was no closer to telling her.

Not about the ravishing; about the fact that I was head over heels for her.

The three of us were sitting at one of the impractical little tables that Fleur had chosen, glasses of wine and plates of finger food balanced precariously between flowers and candles and more enchanted fireflies in a globe.

The music had changed to something slowish, that I was maybe starting to think I could almost not cock up dancing to, when the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

“Vill you dance vith me, Herm-own-ninny?” a voice said. “For the sake of old times?”

Hermione’s eyes were very large, in her flushed face, and she cast a desperate glance at me as she accepted his hand and stepped out onto the dance floor.

I watched him take her in his arms and was violently shredding my serviette to pieces, when Harry’s hand closed over mine and took it away.

“She’s just being polite,” he said quietly.

“What is he even doing here?” I hissed.

Harry looked apologetic.

“You knew he’d be here?” I demanded.

“I knew he’d been invited,” Harry admitted.

“But why?

“He and Fleur are friends,” Harry reminded me. “She wanted a sort of reunion of the Tri-Wizard Champions.”

“Can’t have a proper reunion,” I muttered. “Not without bumping off the rest of you.”

“Thanks a lot, Ron,” Harry complained.

“Oh, Harry, I’m sorry,” I moaned. “You know I didn’t mean it. It’s just look at us!”

“What?”

“It might as well be sodding fourth year all a-sodding-gain,” I said.

“How?”

“We’re sitting here, neither of us dancing; you’re mooning over your girl, I’m glaring at Hermione and Vicky. Shit, we’re pathetic.”

Harry grunted.

“Have I made progress if it’s a different girl?” he asked.

“No,” I said grumpily.

“Dear, oh dear, oh dear,” said a sad voice, as Fred took Hermione’s empty seat. “Surely, surely, Ronniekins isn’t pouting and watching his woman dancing with Viktor Krum?”

“Quick, Fred,” said George, dragging a spare chair over and sitting on my other side. “It’s 1994, put a large bet on Harry for the Tri-Wizard!”

“Very funny,” I muttered.

“I reckon our little brother must have sustained brain damage, being underwater in that lake for so long,” Fred said. "Surely he’d have whisked the fair Miss Granger off her feet by now?”

“He still hasn’t told her?” another voice said, in astonishment, as Charlie joined us.

“I’m working on it,” I growled.

“Need any help?” Fred asked. “I could cut in, make small talk, mention how you talk about her breasts in your sleep.”

“Don’t you bloody dare,” I snapped.

“I’ll do it,” Charlie offered. “You know she won’t trust you.”

“Ah, Hermione has always had a soft spot for me,” Fred scoffed, getting to his feet.

“Race you,” Charlie laughed, leaping up and elbowing Fred out of the way.

I stood, transfixed, and watched them shoving each other as they approached Hermione and Krum.

“Harry,” I moaned. “They wouldn’t.”

Harry shrugged.

“You may have missed your chance, Ronnie,” George mused.

Charlie reached them first and smartly tapped Krum on the shoulder.

Hermione gave him a wide smile and her hand and he leant down and kissed it.

“The smarmy git,” I muttered, taking a step towards them and tripping over my feet as Charlie passed her hand to Fred and turned to hold his arms open to Krum.

Fred whisked a startled Hermione deeper into the crowd as Krum shook his head, laughing, placed a kiss on Charlie’s cheek, and led him away.

“What the hell just happened?” I whispered.

“Didn’t Hermione tell you?” George asked, leaning back in his chair, stretching out his legs and crossing his ankles. “Charlie brought Viktor as his date.”

“His date?” I squeaked.

“I suppose the gay Wizarding scene in Eastern Europe is rather small,” George mused

“Why didn’t anyone tell me this?” I demanded, whirling on him.

“’Cos it’s funny watching you lose it,” George sniggered.

“No, it bloody well isn’t!”

“You’re missing the point, as usual,” George said.

“Which is?”

“That - while Viktor not only isn’t a threat to your woman, but has a thing for red-headed blokes and was more likely to fancy you than Hermione - Fred is a threat to your deepest secrets, and has her in his clutches.”

“He wouldn’t, would he?” I begged, ignoring the bit about Krum.

George shrugged. “Why don’t you go and rescue her, Ronniekins?”

I threw a desperate look at Harry.

“I’m not gonna do it,” he said firmly. “Let’s call this your moment.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, nervously. “I don’t know what to say.”

George got to his feet and glared at me.

“I can’t take it, anymore,” he said flatly.

He grabbed my wrist and strode onto the dance floor, dragging me after him, with Harry trailing in my wake.

I tried to dig in my heels, but they were new and the floor was shiny, and I skidded after him.

We reached them just as Fred dipped Hermione, deeply, and I looked into her face, which was upside down and inches from my cock.

We all froze.

“Ron?” she said and Fred set her back on her feet.

“Ron has something to say to you,” George said firmly, folding his arms.

She looked nervously at the four of us. “I’m not in the mood for a joke,” she said carefully.

I took a step back and her face fell and I found Harry in my way.

He pushed me forwards and I found myself face to face with her.

Harry and Fred folded their arms, too.

I cleared my throat.

“Hermione,” I said. “Would you dance with me?”

“OK,” she said slowly, cheeks colouring, and she stepped into my arms.

“You can go now,” I told the twins.

“Start dancing,” George insisted.

I rolled my eyes and started shuffling from side to side.

Fred grunted.

“Go,” I muttered.

“Tell her,” George said.

“I really think the moment is gone,” Hermione murmured, against my chest.

“Guys, maybe we should leave them alone?” Harry suggested.

“Tell her,” Fred echoed.

“She knows,” I snapped.

“Knows what?” George prompted.

“Knows I bloody well love her,” I shouted.

Hermione stopped swaying and took a step back.

“Shit,” I muttered. “I’m sorry, Hermione.”

She sighed and bit her lip.

“Sorry you said it, or sorry you’re related to these two?” she asked.

“The related,” I said swiftly. “Honestly. I was gonna say it; I just wanted it to be perfect.”

Hermione giggled.

“It’s the only first time I’ll ever say it, and I wanted it to be bloody perfect,” I sighed. “And these two…”

I broke off, realising that Harry had dragged the twins away.

“You really do look awfully handsome today,” Hermione said quietly.

I blinked down at her.

“Y-you look lovely.”

“It was a beautiful wedding,” she offered.

“Yeah,” I said. “Romantic music; soft lights.”

She stepped closer and reached for my hands.

“I love you,” I said.

“D’you know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that?” she said, smiling up at me.

“About three minutes?” I suggested.

“Don’t spoil it,” she warned.

“Too long,” I said. “Three minutes is far too long; I’ll never keep you waiting that long again.”