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Hermione Granger stalked up the stairs angrily, clenching her fists and frowning. Oh, she was going to give him a piece of her mind, yes she was. And he would be crying for days after what she had to say, if there was any justice in this world.
It had been an extremely busy last few days and all her friends knew that, knew not to bother her unless it was an emergency. But, of course, he just couldn’t help himself from wasting her time and he’d been doing so for years now. Merlin, she was an idiot for even responding to the first letters three days ago, but she had yet to learn how to say no to her friends.
Mione, I really need your help, the letter had started and UGH she should’ve just ignored it then and there! She hated that stupid nickname– she always had. But the word help had caught her attention and she kept reading. I have something important coming up and I want to change my hair, it’s been looking like shit, should I cut it off or leave it long? Also, what’s the name of that tailor that helped Harry out last year? I know you’re busy, but so’s everyone else and I trust your opinion most anyway. Thanks, Ron
She couldn’t think of what ‘important’ thing Ron had coming up, but she jotted down the name and address of the tailor, to ask Lavender or Ginny about his hair, and to please stop bothering her, and sent the letter off. Thinking that would be the last of it, she had turned to the ever-growing stack of paperwork on her desk and kept working. His next letter came within an hour, Pigwidgeon tapping at her office window. She sighed, but let him in and opened the piece of paper.
You said not to bother you but I really wanted your opinion on my hair, I’m sure Ginny would fuck it up on purpose and Lav is literally on her honeymoon so I don’t think she’ll respond. Also, the tailor is working on my robes but I’m thinking of changing the color. Do you think green or grey would look better? I swear I won’t take up anymore of your time after this. Good luck with everything at work, Ron
Hermione had completely forgotten about Lavender’s honeymoon, but her mind was too full of work to always be aware of her friend's whereabouts. She got out a fresh piece of parchment and wrote,
Ron,
What is so bloody important that you need all this advice for anyway? Please ask Harry or anyone else next time. In terms of your hair, it looks good long but it could do with a trim. And green robes would suit you as long as they’re not bright green. Now please leave me alone.
Hermione
Hopefully her stern tone would translate through her words and she wouldn’t have to deal with this anymore. She was honestly surprised Ron hadn’t just shown up at her office with his stupid questions. Actually, he had tried once but Hermione’s assistant Lewis had followed the rules about not letting people in after 5 and Ron hadn’t gotten past him. Pushing thoughts of Ron’s hair out of her mind, she went back to scribbling furiously at the page in front of her. It was time for quarterly reports at the legal aid office in the ministry, and since her promotion Hermione had been given the extra load of checking through every one of her employees' reports before the deadline. The deadline was in two days and she still had so many reports to get through. Luckily, she didn’t get any more letters from Ron that day.
The next day she was able to catch up on most of her work and even allowed herself a short break for lunch instead of eating her sandwich while reading or writing at her desk. Pigwidgeon dropped off a slip of paper right as she was finishing up for the day which read, If you must know, I’m trying to impress someone I fancy. Maybe you could come over tomorrow after work to make sure I look alright? Ron
Hermione stared daggers at the note, clenching her teeth and scowling before she even knew what she was doing. She crumpled the page and threw it in the nearest bin, where it promptly set itself on fire. With effort, she got her breathing under control and tried to think clearly. So Ron fancied someone? That’s what this was all about? She couldn’t fathom why in God’s name he would go to her of all people looking for advice that he would use to impress some other girl. How dense could he be? At some point he must’ve realized how she felt… right? No, it’s not like she went around flirting with him or staring lovingly at him. In fact, she had been avoiding him more and more and the feelings had faded somewhat, at least that’s what she told herself. But the sight of him on a broom still made her heart race and her cheeks warm, and he had a way of making her laugh like no one else. Well, he had apparently found someone else and had wasted Hermione’s time figuring out how to dazzle her. Yes, she would go and see him tomorrow and he would regret ever inviting her.
The day the reports were due passed in a blur, she set aside her negative emotions and got to work, finishing everything in record time and going to a few meetings with her boss before leaving for the day. She got home, ate, changed, and showered, then finally let her feelings back in. She apparated to Ron’s street without a second thought, anger boiling within her.
She reached the top step and forcibly unclenched her hands, wanting to appear normal before tearing into Ron. Hermione knocked once and stood back, waiting.
The door opened and there stood Ron. He was wearing resplendent emerald green robes which were tailored to perfection and loafers to match. His hair was still long enough to reach his shoulders, but he had done something to it… maybe a waving charm, to make it fall just right around his face. And his face, Hermione’s anger melted a bit as she met his gaze, his face was perfect. The lopsided grin, the striking blue eyes, the crow’s feet from laughing so much, the sincerity of it all. Hermione swallowed, realizing this would be harder than she imagined.
“Hermione,” Ron said by way of greeting, and stepped aside to let her inside.
She walked through the hall and into the living room and stopped in her tracks. There were candles on every surface, casting the room with ambient flickering light. There was soft music playing that somehow reminded her of the Italian seaside. The dining table was set up with a tablecloth, fancy cutlery and plates, flowers, and more candles. That’s when she noticed the delicious smell filling the room, something spicy and wonderful. Hermione was absolutely gobsmacked. Was he having his date here at his flat?
“Ron, what is going on?” Hermione asked, putting her hands on her hips and facing Ron.
Ron barely reacted under her intense glare, “It’s a romantic gesture,” he motioned to the room around them, “and it’s for you.”
Hermione frowned, “What? What about the girl you fancy?”
Ron stepped forward and grabbed her hand, “You’re the girl I fancy, Hermione. Surely you figured that out.”
Her heart leapt into her throat at those words. Ron fancied her. Her . A blush spread on her cheeks.
“But why were you asking about your hair and the…” the realization hit her and her blush deepened.
“I wanted to impress you,” Ron said with a small smile, “Did it work?”
“Ron, you are such an idiot,” replied Hermione, then grabbed his face and kissed him.
After a moment of shock, he kissed her back. She tangled her hand in his hair as he drew her close, lifting her slightly off the ground to get a better angle. Internally, Hermione shrieked with delight at this casual display of strength, and then kissed him with more enthusiasm. A few minutes later they parted, breathless.
Ron smiled sheepishly, “Wow, that was so much better than I ever imagined.”
Hermione giggled and kissed him on the cheek, “So… what’s for dinner?” she asked.
“Oh, shit!” Ron yelled, sprinting into the kitchen.
Hermione laughed again and followed only to find him furiously chopping an onion while two pots on the stove stirred themselves magically. Impressed, Hermione came up behind Ron and kissed his shoulder.
“Can I help?” Hermione asked.
Ron put down the knife and turned to her, with a serious look in his eye.
“Hermione, I would like to take you to bed right now and forget about this food. Is that alright?”
Hermione couldn’t fight the grin that spread over her face, “I was going to say the same thing.”