Chapter Text
Even from across the bar, she could see how blue his eyes were.
Hermione wasn't exactly sure why she couldn't stop staring. Sure, his eyes were captivating but she typically didn't find freckled redheads attractive. Nor burly men looking as though raised on a farm. She preferred a slight and slender male physique, likely because she felt more in control that way.
The stranger's eyes flashed in her direction again, and she immediately jerked her head down. Then, almost by its own accord, Hermione's gaze lifted again. They caught eyes once before the stranger turned to continue his conversation with his raven-haired, bespectacled friend and his friend's girlfriend. A hint of a smirk emerged on the stranger's face. Judging by their identically-hued hair and a shared quality in their easygoing demeanour, perhaps found in the ways they leaned against the bar or shook their shoulders as they laughed, Hermione wondered if the girl was the stranger's sister.
The stranger's bespectacled friend said something to him, eliciting a mirthful punch to the shoulder. That hint of a smirk never really went away, even as the stranger kept his eyes trained on his two acquaintances.
Suddenly, the friend and the probable sister stood up and bid their farewells. As the couple moved towards her direction to reach the exit, the female redhead regarded Hermione with what appeared to be unabashed, gleeful curiosity. Her boyfriend behaved in the opposite, determinedly avoiding eye contact. He put two flat palms on his girlfriend's cheeks and positioned her head away from Hermione.
"What?" Hermione heard the girl say liltingly to her beau as they passed her.
"Right, that's my cue to leave, too, then," said a voice from somewhere around Hermione's right ear.
Oh, crap. She had almost forgotten that she was with Parvati. Hermione swivelled in her friend's direction. "What do you mean?"
Parvati raised an impish eyebrow. "Don't think I hadn't noticed you eye-bonking that ginger tree of a man for the past five minutes." She jerked her head in the stranger's direction. "Here's your chance now that his mates are gone. Good luck, love you!"
Hermione grasped Parvati's arm. "No, Parvati, don't leave me—"
"He's coming over, let go of me!"
Hermione swivelled again. Sure enough, the blue-eyed, red-haired stranger had left his seat and was rounding the corner of the bar, his gaze on Hermione now steady and uninterrupted.
Hermione swivelled back towards Parvati in a panic, but Parvati was already at arm's length from the exit. Hermione took a deep breath. She reminded herself that this was exactly why she agreed to let Parvati drag her out that night. Hermione had been needing a viable distraction for quite some time. Finally, it seemed that she had found a solid candidate for the task.
Hermione slowly turned. Solid in more ways than one, she noted, craning her neck to fully take in his towering profile. Proximity revealed (to her relief) that he was better described as broad rather than burly, with a body that seemed more suited for competitive swimming or basketball than powerlifting. Freckles dotted almost every corner of his face and neck, disappearing into the collar of his maroon knit jumper. His eyes were nothing short of arresting up close. They shone with amusement from the interaction he had witnessed between her and Parvati.
"Hi," he smiled.
"Hi." Hermione cursed herself for sounding so breathless.
He pointed to her empty glass. "Can I buy you another drink?"
"Okay," she said after a beat, smiling shyly.
He ordered Hermione another gin and tonic and another lager for himself before claiming Parvati's vacated seat.
The barman was quick to fetch the beer.
"Ah, cheers, mate," the stranger said after settling on the stool and noticing the bottle held in his direction. He grabbed it and inclined it toward the barman, who nodded graciously.
The stranger set the bottle on the sticky counter and looked back at Hermione.
"I'm Ron." He extended a hand, and she took it, firm and calloused against her soft skin. She wondered if he was actually raised on a farm.
"Hermione."
"Her- Hermione? Hermione. Hermione." It was as if he were moulding her name to fit exactly right in his mouth. He grinned at her. Two of his front teeth were crooked, angled symmetrically. They gave his smile an intriguing aspect of permanent mischief. "That's an interesting name, Hermione."
She grinned back, cheeks warm. She liked the ease with which his tongue was now able to wrap around the four syllables.
"My mum's an interesting person," she shrugged. Worried that her meaning wasn't clear, she added, "She's the one who named me."
Ron's grin widened. "Yeah, somehow I got that."
Hermione gave him a look that was both appraising and coy. The barman placed her drink in front of her, and she thanked him before taking a sip.
"Are you a student at Trogshaw?" she asked Ron.
"Yeah. You?"
"Yeah. I'm in my final year, studying law."
"I'm in my final year, too. Business."
"Ah, that explains it."
Ron blinked, causing his gossamer eyelashes to flutter. His mouth twitched. "Explains what?"
"Lots of things," said Hermione loftily. "But mainly why we've never met before."
His mouth continued to turn upwards. "Are you sure about that? Seems like you've managed to figure out quite a lot about me in the, er, minute or so we've been talking."
Hermione leaned slightly back with confidence. "I just know your type. Blokey, follows football like it's a religion, makes a habit of chatting up girls at pubs and carelessly discarding them when you're done."
"Wow. Impressive."
Hermione smiled indulgently.
"For your information," countered Ron with a competitive glint in his eyes, "my religion is not football, it's rugby. This is actually my first time chatting up a girl at a pub. I suppose blokey is debatable, depends on your definition."
Hermione raised her eyebrows. "What are your thoughts about feminism?"
Without missing a beat, Ron stood up, turned his back to Hermione, and began marching toward the exit. Hermione's mouth dropped open, but before she could fully react, he swung right back and sat down. He looked incredibly pleased with himself for the little act.
Hermione closed her mouth and mock-glared at him. "Now I really want to know what your thoughts are about feminism."
Ron shrugged and took a swig of his drink. "I sympathise with feminist aims, I suppose. I just think sometimes the tactics go overboard."
"Just sometimes?"
He smirked but his cheeks turned slightly pink. "A lot of times."
Hermione narrowed her eyes and quipped smugly, "Can we agree on blokey then?"
Still smirking, Ron took another swig of his drink. "You're a hardcore feminist, I reckon."
"Militant," she said with relish. Then she shrugged. "But I have my critiques of the movement as well."
Ron tilted his bottle towards Hermione. "A toast, then, to critiquing feminism."
Hermione let out an incredulous laugh. "I am not toasting to that with a blokey white man."
Hermione immediately worried if she went too far in referring to Ron's race, but he seemed completely unfazed. His expression was instead contemplative. He attempted another toast. "Down with capitalism?"
She smiled. "Isn't that a bit against your career path?"
"Yeah, but we're all hypocrites, innit?"
Her smile converted to laughter as she lifted her drink. "Cheers to the abject shittiness of human nature, then."
Ron eyed Hermione's periwinkle headband and matching cardigan. "Wouldn't have pegged you as the type to swear."
"Well, we're both just breaking stereotypes tonight, aren't we?"
Grinning, they clinked glasses and drank. Hermione set her glass on the counter and contemplated Ron with a bit of disbelief. It defied logic how effortless it was to be with him. Never before had she been able to drop pretences so quickly with someone. It gave her a hint of vertigo. She could barely drop pretences with people she's known her entire life.
Ron must have felt similarly. After a moment of matching Hermione's gaze, he said, "I'm sorry. I swear this isn't some chat or anything. But I really do feel like we've met before."
Hermione arranged her features to look pointedly unimpressed.
"Oh, come on," said Ron, laughing. "When we first made eye contact…you…you didn't feel it?"
"Feel what?" asked Hermione, her expression softening.
Ron hesitated. "This, I dunno, recognition or something. Familiarity."
Hermione simply stared at him. Ron looked down, a flush spreading across his cheeks like wildfire. "Sorry, just being a weirdo…"
"I felt it."
Ron looked up, eyes as hopeful as they were intense. It was Hermione's turn to flush.
"But I'm sure we've never met before," she asserted. There was no way she could ever forget those eyes.
Ron regarded her for a bit longer before saying, "Yeah, you're probably right." He drained his bottle. "After you finish that, wanna get out of here?"
"And go where?"
Ron smirked at Hermione's furrowed eyebrows.
"My dungeon," he said in a creepy voice, twiddling his long fingers together. He dropped his hands and his voice returned to normal. "No, my mate—"
He stopped as soon as he registered the highly disconcerted look on Hermione's face.
"Please," he said in a constrained plea, "forget I made that stupid fucking comment. I'm sorry…I just…" He pulled at his hair and looked pained. "I have this, like, tendency to take things a bit too far and…we just met and even though I feel like I've known you, we don't actually know each other at all, so there's no way for you to know…my intentions. Blimey, what a nightmare, fucking cocked this up, haven't I…?"
He leapt as if burned by his seat, drew out his wallet, and threw a twenty-pound note on the table. "Bye, Hermione," he said without meeting her eyes. "It was honestly really nice meeting you. Hope you have a nice life…"
As he turned to leave, Hermione grabbed his arm. "You were going to say something about your mate?"
Ron beheld her hand for a moment, as if it were something fantastical, before looking up. "Dean, yeah. It's his first art opening. He's really good, actually, sort of a prodigy. That's where my lot and I were headed and then I, er, saw you…"
Hermione lifted her drink to her lips, tipped her head back, and downed it. "Let's go," she said, hopping off her stool.
Ron's eyes, already bulging from how quickly she finished her drink, widened further at her comment. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." She shot him a wicked smile. "Somehow I feel like this night will be worth it even if you do leave me dying in a ditch somewhere."
With that, Ron's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Hermione sauntered towards the exit, sensing him scrambling to keep pace. As the cold night air hit her face, Hermione felt a thrill she associated with the first time she set foot on The University of Trogshaw's campus. Or being on a roller coaster teetering just over the brink before hurtling into the exhilarating unknown. She felt as though she stood at the precipice of an entirely new world, ready to immerse herself in an entirely new way of being.