Ron’s newest disguise has to be one of the silliest things Hermione has ever seen.
He had a great enormous hat that reminded Hermione of American Cowboys, a winter cloak at least three times too big, and a scarf that wrapped all around his face so just his eyes and freckled nose poked through.
Not only was the disguise poor, but it drew more attention than plain clothes would have and had nearly everyone in the sparsely occupied cafe pause what they were doing to crane their necks and look.
He stumbled over in what Hermione quickly realized were wellies that had to be at least a size big on him.
He, after much struggle, managed to sit.
Hermione composed herself.
It wouldn’t do to laugh.
“Were they out of fake mustaches?” Hermione asked, keeping her face straight.
Ron blinked.
“They have those? Is that a muggle thing?” Ron inquired, his voice muffled by the ridiculous scarf Hermione recognized as the one she knitted three Christmases ago.
“I’m being sarcastic. You look ridiculous. Who told you that was a proper disguise?” Hermione replied, arching a brow and tilting her head.
She didn’t need to see Ron’s face to know it was turning red.
He slammed down the hat and ripped off the scarf.
Sure enough, his cheeks were the color of sunburn.
“For your information, it was Harry.” Ron snapped.
A laugh bubbled up before Hermione could stop it.
Harry had a cloak of invisibility. What would he know about disguises?
Ron scowled and Hermione clamped her mouth shut.
Hermione pushed over the coffee she ordered for him, two creams and a bit of cinnamon, as a peace offering.
Ron greedily gulped it down and Hermione returned to nursing her own.
Ron came up for air and asked, “So, are we set? For the fundraiser?”
Hermione perked up in her chair. She squirmed a little and tried to contain her excited grin.
Ron guzzled his coffee and gestured for her to get on with it.
“It’s all confirmed,” Hermione replied, beaming. “They sent out invitations to buy a ticket this morning. They’ve put all sorts of political figures and celebrities on the list. I’ve heard talk of inviting some people from the Quidditch world, which I thought you’d like to hear. It’s all coming out to about 28 galleons per ticket-“
Ron choked. He barely saved the coffee cup from dropping to the floor. Hermione reached over to mop up the splatters of coffee with a napkin.
If his loud hacks didn’t attract the entire cafe’s attention, his cry of “28 galleons!?” did.
Hermione’s head whipped around to see if anyone recognized his voice.
Ron, upon realizing exactly how loud he was, sputtered to a halt.
They looked at each other, and instinctively ducked down at the attention, trying to make themselves as small as possible.
Once people returned to their breakfasts, Hermione defended herself.
“It’s not exorbitant.” Hermione hissed. “It’s only around 200 pounds in muggle money.”
Ron steadied himself in his chair and leveled Hermione with an incredulous look.
“Just how many muggles do you know have 200 pounds to shell out on a dinner?”
“I know muggles who would,” Hermione insisted. “They’re all doctors and would be excellent company, too. And another thing, it’s not just a dinner, there’s a live string quartet and dancing-“
“Sort of like the Yule ball, then?” Ron said. He slouched in his chair and tried to appear casual, but Hermione could tell by the wicked look in his eye he was trying to rile her up.
And it was working.
Hermione groaned.
“You of all people don’t get to bring up the Yule Ball,” Hermione muttered.
“I wasn’t that bad.”
“You threw a complete tantrum!”
“That’s only because you had preferred going with Neville to going with me or Harry!”
“Well, what was I supposed to do, wait around for you to ask me. The Ilvermorny champion would have asked before you thought too!”
Ron leaned forward, pointed an accusatory finger at Hermione, and opened his mouth to argue.
One look from Hermione silenced him.
“Besides,” she said, quickly changing the subject before they tore open old wounds, “It’s all for a good cause. The Muggleborn Education Equality Foundation has already bought 1,100 books and supplies to send to first-year students so they can catch up on wizarding terms and culture before their first year at Hogwarts. Imagine how many more children, maybe even in endless other countries, could be helped after the fundraiser.” Hermione finished her gushing with a large gulp of air. She had leaned forward while speaking, entreating Ron with passionate words and gleaming eyes, chest rising rapidly with the exertion of getting it all out in one breath.
Ron slurped his coffee.
“It’s a good cause.” He agreed easily.
He leaned back further in his chair, looking as though he was a king lounging on his throne.
Hermione put her hand on his.
It was only for a brief moment, as neither of them liked PDA or the unnecessary and untrue press coverage they got after, but it was enough to express her sincerity.
The foundation has been Hermione’s baby, her pride and joy, for the last year. She felt incredibly protective of it.
It was a way for Hermione to go back in time and tell small and confused Hermione that it wasn’t her fault she felt she was so behind her peers, that she was at a disadvantage, and most wizards never stopped to think that someone raised entirely muggle might not know what the floo was, or the technical difference between slicing and chopping potion ingredients, or even something as silly as the rules of Quidditch.
“Thank you, Ron, really. It means everything that you will attend as a spokesperson. You really can’t imagine. I know it’s been difficult to be seen together lately, with everyone convinced we’re soulmates and all that.” Hermione implored. She squeezed his hand before pulling away.
Ron shrugged.
“It’s no big deal, Mione. What are friends for?” He grinned crookedly. “Although, if you want to repay the favor, you should make up a fake boyfriend, so Mum stops asking when I’ll stop dragging my feet.”
The two laughed.
“You’ll obviously get your ticket free,” Hermione continued blithely. “As a spokesperson, you’re not expected to pay entry.”
Ron bristled.
Hermione had hurt his pride enough times to see the signs.
His jaw ticked, his shoulders tightened, and his nose crinkled.
“What do you mean ‘obviously’?” Ron accused. “Did you tell the entire board on the foundation I couldn’t afford a ticket?”
Hermione huffed and struggled not to roll her eyes.
This is why Rita Skeeter, the vindictive witch, and her types will forever be entirely wrong about Hermione and Ron.
They could never date.
They could barely manage to communicate without someone’s feathers being ruffled.
To Hermione it felt like pulling teeth, constantly feeling as though she wasn’t just talking to Ron, but his big fat ego too.
“Well, chin up, buttercup,” Hermione said, using a phrase her mother often had said to her. “At least the Quidditch players will be fun to see.”
“Name one, Mione,” Ron said.
At her glare, he broke out into a smug grin. He folded her arms over his chest, leaned back in his chair, and basked in the knowledge he knew something she didn’t. “Just for fun, name a Quidditch player.”
“Your sister.” Hermione retorted.
The grin dropped off Ron’s face.
“That’s cheating.”
“It’s not. She plays for the Harpy’s.”
“Well then, name a Quidditch player. That’s not Ginny!”
As Hermione tried to do the rapid mental calculus required for her to recall a single detail about the sport, she heard the bell ring to signal new customers.
She and Ron both bolted up at the exclamation of “Are those Harry Potter’s friends?!”, threw down the money they owed, and scrammed.
The last thing they need is someone to catch wind. They’re getting lunch and writing a whole article about the ‘war vet love birds’ getting ‘cozy’ during a ‘date’.
Hermione’s grudge against Rita Skeeter was uncontested and unending.
“If I have one more person come up to us saying that we’re just so cute together, I’m going to throw up.” Ron griped.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
She eyed the room and was very impressed with the planning committee.
They decorated the room with sweeping silver curtains over large windows, light gray tablecloths on the long tables, and twinkling champagne-colored lights glowing softly from the dark gray ceiling like stars.
“It doesn’t help that we have spent all of our time so far holed up together talking.” Hermione quipped, taking a sip of her bubbly drink.
Ron groaned.
“It’s not MY fault everyone here is boring and you’re the only person I know!” He whinged.
Hermione shook her head at his complaining.
Only Ron could find something to fuss about during an all-expenses-paid night of dinner and entertainment.
Hermione could see the other guest glancing at him and her and shooting her knowing looks.
Hermione sighed.
Ron followed her gaze and frowned.
“Can’t bloody mind their own business, can they?” He muttered.
Hermione’s shoulders slumped.
Would she ever escape the pressure to one day magically fall in love with Ron?
It was ridiculous, and strangers were not nearly as bad as the people they knew.
Hermione almost wished she could see what they saw.
From where she stood, she and Ron could not be more opposite if they tried.
That very evening, they were even wearing opposite colors, the direct opposite of matching. Hermione’s pretty blue dress robes clashed brilliantly with Ron’s rust orange dress robes that did his hair many favors.
She swirled her drink and turned away from the gossip.
She searched her mind for something to take Ron’s attention away.
She settled on their most popular topic of conversation and the thing they have the most in common: their best friend.
“It is a shame Harry couldn’t come-“
“Because he’s a traitor,” Ron grumbled.
“-Shame he couldn’t come.” Hermione persisted.
She could feel Ron watching the room, watching him, and the nervous energy it gave him.
Out of ideas, Hermione looked about the room for something else to talk about.
She found it on the other side of the banquet hall.
“You do know other people here,” Hermione exclaimed. “Look, Fleur is here, and she brought a friend.”
Ron’s gaze followed where Hermione was pointing, and he choked.
His eyes bugged, and his mouth gaped.
He looked like he had just seen a ghost, or something far more exciting.
Hermione looked at him in alarm.
He sputtered for a moment before finally finding the words he was looking for.
“Viktor Krum!” Ron gasped in a strangled voice.
Hermione peered back at Fleur.
The man she was with was tall, handsome looking from what Hermione could see, and very serious looking.
“I suppose so,” Hermione said. “I’m not sure who is with her.”
Ron gasped again and clutched Hermione’s shoulder.
“Hermione.” Ron squeezed her shoulders and looked into her eyes, wild and unbelieving. “You actually have no idea who that is? How is that even POSSIBLE!” He exclaimed.
His voice carried and garnered a few looks from the surrounding audience.
Hermione hurriedly shushed him and smacked his arms away.
“Something tells me his name is Viktor Krum.” Hermione retorted sharply.
“Oh, hardy har, Hermione!” Ron snapped. He leaned in closer and lowered his voice to a frantic whisper.
“He’s the seeker for the Vrastra Vultures. He is on the Bulgarian National team every year. He’s the best seeker alive, Mione. He was the youngest player to be in the World Cup EVER. Remember, he played at the World Cup we went to in, the summer of fourth year? He’s a legend.” Ron ranted.
The redhead was completely mooning over this man.
His eyes held pure worship when he looked over at Fleur and her guest longingly.
Hermione looked back at the man and squinted, trying to see if his severe-looking expression rang any bells.
She shrugged.
“No, not really,” Hermione replied.
Ron groaned in exasperation. He ran two hands over his face, gripped his hair, and made several gestures of frustration. His hair stuck up funny when he pulled it. Hermione reached over to smooth it, but Ron batted her hands away.
Fine. Hermione had no problem with Ron looking silly. He did it often enough.
“Oh, come on, Mione!” He exclaimed. “Merlin, I miss Harry, He would get it!”
Hermione looked from Ron’s annoyed expression back to Fleur. To Hermione’s pleasant surprise, the beautiful woman noticed her as well.
Hermione waved.
Fleur waved back.
Hermione looked at the distressed Ron and smiled like a little girl who thought she played a wonderful joke.
“We should go say hi,” Hermione said firmly. Her perfectly white smile remained.
She marched over.
Ron spluttered and rushed to follow her, scrambling behind with an expression similar to when he would discover an essay he had forgotten about was due that day.
Despite his wheezy protest, they stand before Fleur in no time.
“Fleur, I’m so glad you could come! You look stunning!” Hermione greeted.
She opened her arms for a hug, which Fleur eagerly accepted. They exchanged air kisses and pulled away.
“‘ermione! Mon ange, how are you? I am so ‘appy to see you!” Fleur said. She eyed Ron, who had grown rather pale and was having a hard time taking his eyes off the looming man next to Fleur.
So was Hermione.
Viktor Krum, up close, was more handsome than Hermione was expecting.
He had piercing dark eyes, a strong jawline, and a beautiful hooked nose that had broken several times. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and had very muscular arms.
Very muscular.
“My favorite little brother! I ‘ad no idea you’d be haire tonight. How are you enjoying zis evening?” Fleur cooed. She reached over and smoothed the parts of Ron’s hair that still stood up. Ron was so baffled, that he let her.
“I’m fine, thanks,” Ron replied stiffly.
As smooth as silk, Flue moved on.
“Where are my manners? Zis is my friend, Viktor. He is a seeker on a Bulgarian team. Zat is an excellent position, ‘ermione.” Fleur said.
Hermione flushed at her lack of knowledge being brought to the attention of the good-looking man.
He seemed not to notice, still focusing intently on what Fleur was saying.
“Viktor, zis is my brother-in-law Ronald and his good friend ‘ermione Granger. They are spokespersons for the foundation”
Viktor turned his attention to Ron and Hermione.
Hermione, for one, was not ready.
She had heard it said that seekers are all focused, that they needed to be 100% locked in, to find the snitch.
Under Viktor’s gaze, Hermione felt like a snitch.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Viktor said.
His voice was low and rough.
He rolled his rs in a way Hermione didn’t know she found attractive.
It made Hermione weak in the knees and she could tell she wasn’t the only one.
Ron was practically swooning. His facial muscles all relaxed and he was practically swooning.
His eyes were wide as he tried to take all of Viktor in. And there was a lot to take in.
Viktor took Hermione’s hand.
His palm was warm and callused.
He brought her hand to his lips, and held it for a moment longer, before letting it drop.
Hermione glowed red at the chivalry. She could feel herself joining Ron in a starry-eyed gaze.
Viktor turned to Fleur.
“You nefer told me you had such good looking brothers, Fleur. You wound me.” Viktor winked at Ron.
Hermione knew she wasn’t mistaken when she heard him squeak. His face was a similar shade to Hermione’s own.
Fleur batted Viktor’s chest.
“You should not be surprised,” Fleur laughed. “Just look at me!”
Viktor joined in on Fleur’s laughter.
Only a woman as beautiful as Fleur would be unaffected by a man like Krum.
Viktor’s serious expression melted when he laughed, making him even more attractive.
Hermione could barely stand it.
Viktor turned his attention back to Ron and Hermione.
“How long have you both been involved with the foundation?” Viktor asked.
“Just after graduation!” Hermione rushed to answer. She barely saw Ron’s glare, her full attention on the athlete in front of her. “I have been involved since its founding. Education has always been a passion of mine and I’ve been helping when I can ever since.”
“Yeah!” Ron agreed. His face grew a deeper shade of red. “Me too. Very passionate.”
Viktor smiled. His teeth were very white and well taken care of, Hermione noted.
She couldn’t help but find healthy teeth attractive given her parents.
For an athlete to have such nice teeth was truly remarkable.
“This is good! Passion is good!” Viktor said. He leaned closer, and Hermione and Ron both shuffled forward, like moths to a flame. “I attended Durmstrang, vitch does not allow muggle-born entry to the school. I have been vorking vith people to apply pressure to change this rule, and when Fluer spoke about tonight’s event I knew I would meet like-minded people.”
“Wow. Wow. That’s incredible. What a noble goal. Very impressive.” Ron breathed.
Hermione couldn’t find fault in Ron for his simpering. The man was impressive. However, Ron’s delivery could use work.
Because she is such a good friend, she stepped on his foot to stop his fawning.
Ron grunted and shifted away from her.
“Well, you’ve come to the right place. We’re very excited to have you here tonight.” Hermione replied.
Fleur looked off to the right.
She smiled and waved to whoever she saw, and turned back to Hermione and Ron.
“There is someone else I want to introduce Viktor to,” Fleur declared. “We’ll catch up with you later, mon cher.”
Hermione swallowed down the impulse to tell her no, don’t take Viktor away, she wasn’t ready.
The look on Ron’s face said he was doing the same.
Instead of begging, Hermione said, “Of course. You both should come find us later.”
“Please do!” Ron implored. He did not attempt to hide his moon eyes from Viktor. “I’d love for someone sound to talk to.”
Hermione refrained from glaring at her best friend for implying she wasn’t sound. She was determined to appear giving and kind to the very attractive man leaving.
Fleur blew them both a kiss and squeezed Hermione’s hand. And made her way over to the right.
Viktor chuckled.
“It vas a pleasure to meet you both. I look forward to speaking to you both later.” Viktor bowed.
When he straightened, he sent a wink their way and followed Fleur.
“Oh my Merlin, he is so hot,” Ron said.
“He is so fit.” Hermione agreed.
“So hot.”
“So very hot.”
“Did you see his arms?” Ron asked.
“Did you hear his accent?” Hermione shot back.
Ron melted.
If Hermione felt like she was on cloud nine, Ron looked it.
“Mione, be honest. Am I crazy, or was he flirting?”
“I was just thinking the same thing!” Hermione exclaimed, flapping her hands in excitement.
Ron lit up.
“Really?” Ron asked.
“Yes!” Hermione insisted. She gripped his arm and pulled him closer. “Tell me I’m not delusional. Tell me the wink meant something.”
“Oh, it had to have!” Ron replied.
“And he kissed my hand! For like, a little longer than he needed to. You saw that, right? He lingered?”
“Wait,” Ron blurted. His brow furrowed, and he pulled back. “You think he was flirting with you?”
Hermione hesitated.
“Well, I did until you said it like that,” Hermione carefully replied.
Ron scrunched his face and waved her off.
“No, no, Mione, I’m saying I think he was flirting with me.”
“Really?” Hermione asked, surprised.
Jaw tense, shoulders up, nose scrunch.
She offended Ron.
“Well, I don’t think he’s calling just anybody’s brother handsome,” Ron replied hotly. He crossed his arms and scowled at Hermione.
Hermione knew better than to rise to it.
“I agree,” Hermione placated, raising her palms to show she meant no harm. “I think he was very charming and definitely flirting.
Ron’s shoulders dropped with his defenses.
“Definitely flirting.” He agreed.
Hermione looked at the surrounding crowd.
After ensuring there were no eavesdroppers, Hermione lowered her voice and brought herself closer to Ron.
“Ron, I think it’s clear we are both very interested in him,” Hermione said.
“So?” Ron replied.
Hermione squawked.
“So? So what do we do? How do we navigate this without affecting our friendship, so!”
Hermione whispered hotly.
Ron as though she had grown a second head.
“Hermione, he’s a famous rich athlete. I don’t think he’s going to go for us.”
Hermione frowned. “But you agreed he was flirting.” She hesitated.
“I mean yeah, but…” Ron trailed off.
They both turned to where Viktor and Fleur had walked off and found them easily.
As luck would have it, Viktor looked back at them. He sent them a broad smile that made butterflies shoot off in Hermione’s stomach.
“You know what? Let’s do this,” Ron said firmly.
Hermione jolted and looked at her friend.
“Do what? What are you saying, Ron?” Hermione questioned.
Ron tore his gaze away from Viktor and looked at Hermione.
Ron gestured between the two of them.
“Let’s both try to get permission to write to him. We’re both successful, attractive people. We are both grown. Whoever he is interested in, he’s interested in. If it’s neither of us, there’s an open bar. If it IS one of us, the other will be there to congratulate.” Ron rushed.
The gears in Hermione’s head turned.
Slowly.
She was frequently interrupted in her head by daydreams of Viktor Krum’s arms.
“Ok.” Hermione agreed slowly. “Sure. We’re both grown-ups. We won’t fight over a boy.” She lied.
Ron opened her arms in agreement. “Absolutely! There is no universe we don’t try to woo the hot athlete. No petty competition, just pure well wishes for our friend.” He corroborated her lie. “Let’s shake on it.”
Hermione felt a little silly performing her and Ron’s ‘secret’ handshake in public, but could think of no better way to sign off in agreement.
They stood, looked at each other, and promptly sprinted to try to find Viktor first.
Like with most of her victories, Hermione wasn’t even sure she won to begin with.
Her evening was spent not encouraging people to get interested in education, rubbing elbows and networking, or even catching up with acquaintances.
It was spent in a tit-for-tat with Ron.
Typical.
For every success Hermione made, Ron was right alongside her, and vice versa.
When Viktor sat next to Ron for dinner, he followed the meal by asking Hermione to dance the opening dance with him.
Hermione had a fascinating conversation with Viktor about ancient ruins that made her heart burst with how unfair it was that a man could be so intelligent and attractive. Her heart similarly dropped at the sight of Viktor trying to teach Ron how to play billiards by the bar.
He held both friends in rapture talking about the countryside of Bulgaria, where he grew up.
He spoke of green forest, tall mountainsides, and crystal-clear rivers running through it all.
“You haff to see the beauty for yourself to understand. You must come.” Viktor implored.
Breathlessly, Hermione and Ron agreed.
Hermione wasn’t sure what was more magical, Viktor's company or the fact she and Ron agreed on something on the first try.
They stand now, sipping on drinks quietly while Viktor appears to brood.
Hermione exchanged glances with Ron, who seemed equally confused at his change in mood.
“I must confess, this has not happened to me before,” Viktor said. He seemed nearly shy, the way he ducked his head and looked to the ground. “But I like you both. Very much.”
Hermione could hardly take the anticipation.
She discreetly grabbed Ron’s hand for comfort, and he squeezed it back.
“But…?” Ron pressed.
Viktor sighed. He looked into his glass before setting it down. He took another moment to gather himself before turning to look at them in their eyes.
“I haff never been approached by a couple before,” Viktor explained. “It is nearly unheard of in my country and a new idea for me.”
Ron stiffened.
Hermione hardly noticed, too busy having the word ‘couple’ ring in her ears.
When Viktor glanced away, Hermione and Ron’s heads whipped to exchange incredulous expressions.
‘Couple?’ Ron mouthed in outrage.
Hermione could only shrug helplessly.
Fucking Rita Skeeter.
Viktor looked back at them and they quickly schooled their expressions.
“I admit, I vas unsure of what to do. However, I am very attracted to you both. Vould it be unseemly to ask you for a date?” Viktor implored.
His brown eyes were luminous in the soft light, and sincerity radiated off of him.
Hermione blinked.
“Us? Like, all three of us? Go on a date?” She asked.
Viktor looked between her and Ron, her and Ron, her and Ron again before he retreated into herself.
He raised a palm, expression panicked.
“I do not vant to intrude on your relationship. I am so sorry, I misread the situation-“
“NO!” Ron blurted.
Hermione looked at him, confused.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Ron swiftly and discreetly pinched her arm.
Hermione squeaked and was silenced.
“No, no, you didn’t misunderstand.” Ron insisted. He looked at Viktor and gave a longing look. “We’d love to take you out. We are both interested. Very, very interested.”
A hopeful look blossomed on Viktors’ face.
He grasped Hermione’s hand and kissed it.
Afterward, he grasped Ron’s hand and did the same.
He pressed a piece of paper into Ron’s hand and leaned down between the both of them to whisper. “I am in London for two veeks. Write to me.”
Just like that, he was off.
Hermione and Ron watched him leave with stupefied expressions on their faces.
Ron uncrumpled the paper Viktor handed him.
Hermione looked over his shoulder to read after nudging her way over.
It was an address.
Score, Hermione thought to herself, well aware of how silly it sounded.
“So, we just can agree to fake it until we make it, right?” Ron said.
“Oh, absolutely. I’d share a boyfriend with you.” Hermione said, not looking away from where Viktor disappeared.
“I’d share a boyfriend with you.” Ron agreed.
“It’s all settled then,” Hermione replied absentmindedly. Then, “He’s so fit. I can’t believe we did that!"
“I know! He is SO hot. Harry is going to puke!”