Chapter 1
7 July, 1999
Ron woke groggily as someone shook him out of his deep and surprisingly peaceful slumber. With a last moan of protest, he opened his eyes to find Hermione staring back at him.
"Wuzzgoinon?" he asked sleepily.
"It's almost noon, and I thought it was about time you got up. Plus I figured you could use some lunch," she said softly, offering him a plate of sandwiches like it was a peace offering.
"Thanks," he told her, taking one and stuffing it into his mouth.
"It's not much, but it was all I felt confident in preparing. I have a long way to go before I'm as good with cooking spells as your mum or Fleur…or you."
Ron nodded appreciatively, deciding there was no point in reminding Hermione that her limited cooking skills had kept them from starving while they looked for Horcruxes last year. "So what? Mum sent you up because she knew you wouldn't just let me roll back over for another kip?" he asked, reaching for a second sandwich."
Actually we're the only one's here," she said, biting her lip nervously. "Everyone else left hours ago."
Ron choked a bit on his sandwich in surprise, his comfortable demeanor vanishing in an instant at her words. "Where'd they go?" he asked apprehensively.
"To see Fleur and the baby. Andromeda was bringing Teddy over for a play date and Harry had the day off so he and Ginny decided to go with your mum."
"Yeah, I'm sure she wouldn't miss that," Ron sighed, before finally getting out bed, relieved that he'd worn more than just his shorts to bed. "Why didn't you go with them?" he asked, pulling on a shirt while Hermione turned away politely.
"I had some things I needed to do and I thought it might be easier with everyone out of the house," she stated, peeking at him to make sure he was dressed.
"Guess this place can be a bit mad at times. Hard to have a moment's peace with Mum these days."
"It's lovely," Hermione sighed contentedly.
Ron watched her for a moment before shaking his head clear of cobwebs. "So what are you doing up here? House too quiet to study? Or were you just bored and needed a break?" Ron asked curiously, wondering why Hermione had disturbed her solitude to wake him.
"Well actually I wanted to ask your help with something."
Ron groaned "Don't tell me Mum left some chores and you wanted some help"
"No, not exactly…" She looked at him nervously. "I thought you might help me cut my hair."
That was about the last thing Ron was expecting. "Huh?" he asked dumbly."It's just…my first day at Ministry is on Monday and I haven't had it cut in ages and I thought it might be a good idea to start things off on a new foot."
He looked at her, searching for an ulterior motive but found nothing. "Uh, yeah sure. You know I've never done anything like this before."
She looked relieved now that he'd agreed. "That's alright. I trust you. Look, you finish eating and meet me in Ginny's room. I'll go get everything set up." And before he had a chance to utter another word, she'd swept out of the room, leaving him with his plate of sandwiches and a mystified expression on his face.
After two more sandwiches and a quick shower, Ron made his way down to Ginny's room to find Hermione waiting in a chair in the center of the room. "Ready to get started?" she asked happily.
Ron made his way over to stand behind her, taking the scissors she offered. "You sure you want to do this?"
"Not really," she laughed honestly. "But I really do need it cut. It's such a distraction and I don't want to have to deal with it falling in my face all the time when I'm trying to work." Still Ron hesitated and Hermione spoke up to reassure him. "Don't worry. We can just get your mum to fix it with magic if you botch it."
"You sure you don't just want to wait for her?" Ron asked as he snipped the first lock of hair from her bush mane and watched it fall to the floor. "Mum always cut our hair when we were little and I'm sure she'd do a better job of it than me."
"It's just hair," she told him. "And like I said, I trust you."
Ron gulped as he cut another piece, just as nervous as before. He worked on in silence, the mountain of brown curls building around his feet. But after he established a sort of rhythm, it didn't seem too bad. Hermione didn't flinch or anything as he sliced through the mass of hair he'd come to know so well, even love, over the years. It was easy being around her like this, so long as they didn't say anything.
"So last night…I noticed you left as soon as Harry mentioned the idea of me moving in with him."
Of course it couldn't last. He should've known she'd want to talk about what had happened last night. "Yeah…must've eaten too much. Upset stomach," he lied feebly as he snipped another bushel of curls.
"I'm sorry. You didn't even get pudding."
He couldn't believe she'd bought it. "No permanent damage," he said. "I managed to get your sandwiches down just fine today."
Another pause. "Are you…I mean are you alright…with what Harry suggested?" she asked softly and Ron could imagine the delicate worry expressed on her face as she spoke.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well I mean…he told me he asked you first, so I thought—""Harry wants to live with you," Ron interjected, assuming she was probably disappointed, thinking that she'd only been Harry's fallback and not his first choice. "He told me about he was going to ask you while you were in Australia. And last night…he seemed really excited about the idea."
"No, that wasn't…I mean…why did you tell Harry you didn't want to live with him?"
Ron was silent as he continued to work. He'd finally worked up the nerve and told Harry he wasn't going to move in with him after taking his Auror evaluations. Harry had accepted it, no questions asked, but Ron knew it must've stung a bit. But how could Ron explain his reasons when he didn't fully understand them himself?
Sure there was the issue of gold. The flat Harry had picked out was expensive, too expensive for an Auror-in-training salary. He had all the gold George had owed him for working at the shop, but he didn't want to piss it all away the first chance he got. It might've seemed a lot of money to him, but he knew it was knuts compared to what someone like Krum made. And he knew Harry would be more than willing to help cover Ron's share of the expenses if needed, but Ron didn't want to count on Harry for such things; Charlie had once told him that gold issues were the quickest way to break a friendship and no flat was worth the risk of losing Harry.
Harry had found his own way; he was moving out into his own place, he'd established himself as a first-rate Auror outside of his involvement in the war, all this without the support of his two best friends. And Ron just wanted a piece of that same thing, to prove that he was capable of standing tall on his own two feet.
Of course, he didn't much fancy being a fully-qualified wizard living in his parents home forever, but something told him to be patient and another opportunity would present itself.
"Dunno. It just…didn't feel right."
"It wasn't…because of me, or anything?" Hermione asked, practically whispering.
"What do you have to do with it?" he asked surprised.
"I don't know. Things are just…I know things are difficult between us right now."
"Yeah…?"
"Well…I didn't know if you were worried."
"About what?"
"About me being around all the time. If Harry and I were still friends and I was over at your place all the time to visit him. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
Ron wanted to tell her that wasn't the case, but he knew it was a lie. Being around her—right now for instance—made his skin crawl, made his head feel light as a balloon and his jeans fit a little too snugly. His stomach was constantly turning in her presence, out of nervousness as well as the occasional memory of what she'd done.
"I always knew you and Harry would stay friends," he said plainly, not sure what else he could say.
"And what about us?"
Ron twitched, taking a larger chunk of hair off than he'd meant to and silently cursed himself. "You and I will always be friends," he said softly, needing to believe in the words as much as she did.
She pulled away from his hands to turn and look at him. "Are we though?" she asked, her eyes glistening faintly. "I mean I know we said we'd try…but you left the room at the very mention of me living with Harry. This is the first time we've managed to speak together for more than a few minutes at a time, and it took waiting until the rest of your family was out of the house to get you to agree to be in the same room as me."
"I'm not—"
"I know you're avoiding me, Ron," Hermione said. "And it's okay. I-I understand why. I don't want to force you to be around me."
Ron turned her head and got back to work. He couldn't look at her, couldn't focus on anything except his desire to make everything better when she was crying. "You're not forcing anything. It's not that I don't want to," Ron said feebly. "I'm trying—"
"I know. And you have no idea how much that means to me…after everything…But…what if it's always this hard?"
"It'll get easier."
"But what if it doesn't?"
"It will," Ron promised, again hoping time would prove him right.
Hermione was right too thought. He'd known it'd be hard to forgive and forget and try and move on, but being around her like this all day, every day was torture. Every time he was around her he felt himself being pulled in opposite directions. A part of him wanted to flee at the sight of her, felt sick as his mind pictured those lips touching Nathan's, imagining his hands canvasing her flesh in ways his never would again, remembering how she'd lied to him for months, only admitting the truth after he'd confessed that he already knew. But the other part wanted to take her and carry her up to his room and finished what they should've done all those months ago, to bury the past where it belonged and be with her like he'd always wanted.
"Do you think you'll do it?" Ron asked, trying to shift the conversation away from them and back to her and Harry.
"Well it'd certainly be nice to have a flat mate. Living alone is sort of scary, isn't it? And I can't imagine a better roommate than Harry."
"I take it you haven't seen his room lately?" Ron joked lamely.
"Yes he's already warned me about leaving his dirty laundry lying around. But that's just another reason to do it, isn't it? Someone will have to make sure Harry doesn't overwork poor Kreacher."
"Only you," Ron said fondly, snipping a few more locks of hair. "You realize you'll have to let Kreacher do some work. Drive the little bugger mad if you didn't let him pick up after you."
Hermione giggled softly. "I suppose that'll do me some good. I mean if I'm planning on doing some real good for house-elves in the Ministry I'll have to get used to the idea that they really do like serving wizards. And what better way than to have a house-elf in my own home."
Hermione's admission was so surprising that Ron almost cut a chunk of hair that wasn't meant to be cut and started. Hermione whipped her head around when he jumped, afraid he'd made a mistake.
"All finished," Ron assured her quickly. He moved around to her front, thanking Merlin that her tears from earlier seemed to have stopped as he crouched down to examine his handiwork. He cupped her face with both his large hands, running his fingers through her soft hair. It was shorter than he'd ever seen it; the mass of curls was gone, leaving on chic wave that fell just around her ears in little ringlets. A part of him had moaned at the loss of each curl he'd snipped, but looking at the finished product he had to admit it looked good on her: different, but good.
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked nervously and Ron realized he'd been staring at her rather intently.
"Just, uh, checking to make sure it's even," he said, removing his hands and standing quickly. "Check for yourself," he suggested. She stood and moved to look at Ginny's mirror, turning her head this way and that.
"I love it," she whispered as she turned to look at him.
Ron couldn't help but smile. "Yeah?"
She nodded, smiling back at him. "It looks okay in the back?"
He gulped, his throat bone dry. "Yeah it's…it's great."
She took a small step toward him. "Thank you."
He shrugged nervously, shifting his feet. "It was just a haircut."
She took another step. She was so close, the toes of her shoes touching his as she came to a stop and Ron managed to take a breath in relief. "Can I ask you something?" she asked softly. Ron nodded. "Do you…do you even want to be friends with me Ron?"
"I-I ah…"
Her hands reached up to his shoulders before sneaking behind to the back of his neck. "Don't you think that's part of the problem?" she whispered, sounding breathless. "Because I'm trying, really trying…but I can't thinking part of the reason why it's so difficult is that I can't help wanting...more."
"I don't think—"
"Then don't," she said before cutting him off as she pressed her lips to his.
Ron obliged more than willingly. He didn't want to think, not now, not when he could feel her mouth moving against his, felt her fingers playing in his hair as she pressed herself against him softly. If only they could just feel, without thinking, ever again. Everything seemed so right so long as he didn't…
He broke away, taking a step back and pressing the back of his hand to his lips as if he'd just been burned.
"I'm sorry," Hermione said immediately, looking very guilty at what she'd done even though he was sure she'd been enjoying herself as much as he had and probably wouldn't have stopped if he hadn't.
"I can't—"
"I know. I didn't mean—"
"I can't. I can't do this," Ron said before fleeing the room, feeling very much like a little boy terrified of asking a girl to be his date to the Yule Ball.
His thoughts raced as he left Hermione standing there behind him. It had only been three days since Hermione had come to the Burrow, and there were still three more to go to go before she and Harry could move into their flat. He didn't know if he could last that long. Already the resistance he'd built up was crumbling based on what he'd just allowed to happen.
What you wanted to happen, a nasty voice inside his head told him.
This closeness was more painful than he'd imagined. Yes, they'd seen each other a lot over the past year, but their meetings had only ever lasted a few hours. And he'd always had an escape route, and more importantly, a place to escape to.
But now, she was always around: sitting at the dinner table, sleeping a few floors below him, laughing in just the next room over. She was a constant presence in his life, and every time he caught sight of her or heard her voice she invaded his thoughts. He should've known he wouldn't make it.