Work Text:
I threw this together in just under 20 minutes! Go me!
Word count: 581
oOo
This is wrong. This is so, so wrong.
The words kept repeating in Ron’s head as he pulled out the pink chair for Lavender, waiting patiently as she smoothed her skirt before sitting. A few months ago, if someone would have told him he’d be at Madam Puddifoot’s on Valentines day with Lavender Brown, he wouldn't have believed them. But there he was, sweating profusely as said-girl gazed up at him through unnaturally thick eyelashes.
“Aren't you going to sit, Won-won?” she asked in the baby-voice that was getting increasingly more intolerable by the day.
Ron cleared his throat. “I…I can't,” he stuttered. This was all too much and the air inside the tea shop was stifling. “Bathroom. I’ll be back,” he managed before turning around, leaving his confused girlfriend at the table.
Instead of heading to the bathroom, however, Ron slipped out the shop’s back door, inhaling deep, grateful breaths of fresh, unperfumed air in the dim alleyway. For the millionth time, he pondered how he’d gotten to this point. He’d been planning to break it off with Lavender for weeks now, but every time he talked himself into finally doing it, he would feel immense guilt and chicken out.
Closing his eyes, he rested against the cool brick of the building and let out a groan of frustration. It was only then he sensed someone nearby, a very quiet breathing mere feet away. When he opened his eyes and turned towards the noise, he was startled to see Hermione standing there, her eyes wide and body posed as if she had come to a sudden stop.
“Hermione? What are you doing here?” The question came out harsher than he meant it to, and Ron winced at his own brashness.
Hermione pointed ahead to the other end of the alleyway. “There's a shortcut to Tomes and Scrolls through here,” she explained in a quiet voice.
“Oh.” He’d missed her so much it hurt, but now that she was here in front of him, Ron had no idea what to say.
“I take it you're on a date right now?” she asked, eyeing the building behind him.
Ron let out a bitter laugh. "Well, you can guess how the date is going—considering I'm out here instead of in there."
Hermione’s eyes darted to the end of the alleyway. “Well, I hope it gets better for you, then.”
She started to continue, but Ron moved to her side, desperate for her not to leave. “I don't want to be with her,” he blurted, the words coming without thought.
Hermione stopped, her jaw tightening. “I gather you should be telling her this, not me.”
Ron ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he muttered, not stopping her as she moved again, this time passing him. His voice shaky, he turned and questioned, “When you asked me to Slughorn’s party, were you…was it as a friend?”
Hermione froze, her back to him. “I don't think that matters now,” she said, her voice barely legible.
“Hermione…please,” he pleaded, “I need to know.”
When she didn't answer, Ron reached out towards her, his fingertips grazing her left shoulder blade through her jacket. Hermione’s body stiffened and he quickly pulled his hand away, scared he’d overstepped.
“Like I said,” she repeated, “it doesn't matter now.”
Ron’s heart sank as she walked away, her words final. And yet, there was now a spark of hope that someday… just maybe… he could spend Valentine's day with the right person.