It was a beautiful night, and the moonlight filled the corridors, illuminating Ron’s path—much to the chagrin of the paintings, who were desperately trying to get some sleep.
Ron was on the hunt.
Ron was on the hunt for a specific curly-haired witch.
Ron was on the hunt for a specific curly-haired witch who had a habit of staying too late in the library.
As Ron turned the corner and nodded to Madam Pince, the not-so-friendly librarian in charge of the nearly empty library, he heard sniffles coming from one corner of the room.
Upon locating the source of the sound, he found Hermione, in tears, next to a desk piled high with books and papers. Her hair was twice its usual size, and though Ron usually found it endearing, the sight of her crying made his heart sink.
"Hermione, what’s wrong?" Ron asked gently, starting to shuffle through the books and papers to get to her.
“It’s nothing.” Hermione hiccupped as she wiped tears from her eyes. "Oh no, my essay!" She gasped, looking down at her once-perfect Transfiguration essay, now covered in smudges and wet spots.
"Hermione, have you eaten today?" Ron asked, crouching down to her level.
“Of course I’ve eaten—”
"Okay, that’s good. What’s up?"
Ron had learned over the years that if he wanted Hermione to tell him what was wrong, he couldn’t just ask her straight away. He’d have to work around it, slowly, until she was ready to open up. It took time, but it was always worth it.
“What’s up?” Hermione repeated, surprised.
“Yeah, what’ve you been up to? Sorry, I was at Quidditch practice all day…”
“Oh, that’s okay. I’ve just been working on my essay.” Hermione looked up at Ron, who was staring at her with a mixture of admiration and concern.
“That’s good,” Ron said, though his voice had a hint of worry. “But we’ve got to make sure you’re not working too hard.”
“We?”
“We,” Ron repeated firmly. “You’re the brains behind everything, but it’s my job to make sure you’re okay.”
Hermione cracked a small smile at that. It was progress.
“Hermione—"
“It’s my essay. I worked so hard on it, and now it’s ruined,” Hermione finished, with a faint, embarrassed smile.
“Well, I’m sure there’s something we can do about that.” Ron pulled out his wand, muttering a quiet spell.
The paper smoothed out, and the smudges vanished, returning Hermione’s neat handwriting to the page.
“How did you do that?” Hermione asked, wide-eyed.
Ron chuckled softly. “Always the tone of surprise.”
Hermione gave him a pleading look, and Ron continued. “It’s a simple spell, really. I learned it in third year when you were taking fifty subjects and kept smudging your work.”
Hermione flushed. “I wasn’t taking fifty subjects! And I’ve never seen you use that spell before… and you certainly don’t use it on your own work.”
“Well, I only use it for yours,” Ron admitted. “I know how much you care about presentation, and I also know how hard you work. I just... I use it when you're not looking so you don’t worry.”
At this, Hermione looked like she might start crying again, which made Ron nervous. But then she threw her arms around him, whispering, "You really are amazing, Ron Weasley."
“Always the tone of surprise,” Ron said, his ears turning pink. He added quickly, “It’s not a big deal.”
“And that’s what makes it so amazing.” Hermione pulled back slightly to look him in the eye. “Thank you.”
Ron didn’t know what to say, so he just hugged her back.
“Are you feeling better now? I could teach you that spell, if you want... so there are fewer tears next time.”
Hermione smiled, but it quickly faded. “Yeah, silly me, crying over a smudged essay.”
“It’s not silly,” Ron said softly.
This time, Hermione didn’t know what to say, so she just smiled shyly at him.
“Wait, you only realized your work was smudged after I showed up, and you were crying before that—”
“No, I noticed before—”
“Hermione.” Ron’s voice turned more serious, cutting her off. “Please, tell me what’s wrong.” He implored her, his concern growing.
Hermione looked away, her face flushed with embarrassment.
“Mione?”
“Something happened in Ancient Runes today…”
“Go on.”
“Well, Professor Bathsheda Babbling asked me to come up to the front to demonstrate how I solved this rune puzzle, and I tripped on someone’s bag and crashed into the blackboard—”
“Are you alright? Is anything broken?” Ron asked, grabbing Hermione’s arm and checking her over for bruises.
“Only my ego.” Hermione gave him a weak smile. “After I fell, the whole class started laughing, even after Professor Babbling checked that I was okay. Some of them even kept giggling while I was showing my work. It’s nothing, I know, but…”
“Who?” Ron’s voice was sharper now.
“Who?” Hermione repeated, shocked.
“Who laughed?”
“Ron, you can’t be serious—”
“Hermione!”
“No, Ronald! It was just a silly thing. I got upset, that’s all.” Hermione added more forcefully than she intended.
“No! If it hurt you enough to make you cry hours later, then it isn’t a silly thing!”
“I’m more embarrassed than hurt!” Hermione practically screeched, earning the disapproving glares of Madam Pince.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Ron raised his hands in mock surrender. “I just worry about you, you know? Especially when I’m not there, like in classes where you don’t have me or Harry.”
“I know you mean well, but I’m not hurt. I’m not! Just embarrassed.”
“But earlier—”
“I was crying over the embarrassment, I know it’s silly, but—”
“It’s not silly.”
“I was just fed up with it all. There’s Hermione Granger, tripping in front of the whole class. How embarrassing! What a fool!”
“Mione—” Ron began, pulling Hermione into another hug. “I promise you, no one thinks that.”
“Yes, they do—”
“No, listen to me, they don’t.” Ron held her gaze, determined to make her understand. “Okay, how about this: tell me about a time when someone, other than yourself, did something embarrassing?”
“What?”
“Tell me about a time when someone, other than yourself, did something embarrassing.”
Hermione furrowed her brow, thinking hard. “I can’t,” she said quietly.
“Exactly—”
“I don’t get your point—”
“No one can ever actually remember when someone else did something embarrassing! So there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, because everyone else has probably already forgotten it.”
“Ron—”
“No, listen. You can’t remember a time when anyone else did something embarrassing, and neither can I! So why would anyone remember when we do something embarrassing?”
Ron rushed through the words, trying not to be interrupted. When he finished, he was out of breath.
“That’s really clever, Ron.” Hermione looked up at him, a newfound admiration in her eyes.
“Always the tone of surprise.” Ron smiled, his ears going pink again. “It’s something my mum used to say to us when we were little and upset over something.”
“No, it’s brilliant.” Hermione pulled him into a tight hug. “That really helps put things into perspective. I’ll definitely remember that next time.”
“You don’t have to remember it. I’ll always be here to remind you.” Ron’s voice was soft, and his ears were now bright red, but he kept holding her.
“Well, I suppose we’d better get going before Madam Pince kicks us out,” Hermione said, pulling away reluctantly.
“Yeah, we probably should,” Ron agreed, helping her gather her work into her bag. Once they were finished, they walked toward the Gryffindor common room together, side by side.
As they reached the entrance, Ron hesitated.
“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked, glancing at him in concern.
“I lied,” Ron admitted.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“I told you I couldn’t remember a time when anyone else did something embarrassing. But I just remembered one.” He gave her a sheepish grin.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Go on then.”
“One time, Harry overslept before Quidditch practice. He was rushing to get ready, and when he came downstairs, he was so distracted that he walked straight into a suit of armor. His broomstick went flying, and—well, you get the idea.”
Ron’s face lit up as he chuckled, but his tone softened when he looked at Hermione. “But it’s funny now. It wasn’t funny then, of course, but we all laughed about it afterward. Because it’s just… it’s just life, you know? We all do silly things.”
Hermione smiled, her earlier tension easing. “I suppose you’re right. Everyone’s human, after all.”
“Exactly,” Ron said, his eyes meeting hers with a rare sincerity. “And that’s what makes the embarrassing moments easier to laugh at once they’ve passed.”
They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, but neither of them moved to give the password right away. The silence between them was comfortable now, not awkward.
“Thanks, Ron,” Hermione said quietly, her voice full of warmth. “For listening. For being… you.”
Ron shrugged, embarrassed, but a smile tugged at his lips. “Hey, you’d do the same for me.”
Hermione’s smile deepened. “You know, I think I’m finally starting to get that. And I think I’m going to be okay with the whole tripping thing.” She paused, before adding softly, “As long as you promise to remind me about Harry’s armor incident every now and then.”
“I can do that.” Ron chuckled.
They exchanged one last, meaningful look before Hermione turned to the portrait. “Goodnight, Ron.”
“Goodnight, Hermione.”
With a soft smile, Hermione slipped through the portrait hole, and Ron lingered for a moment, watching her go. A warm feeling settled in his chest, but as he turned to head to his own room, a thought crossed his mind.
I am so screwed.