#black hermione
dude, I just started to analyse this, Quirrel had Voldy at the back of his head right?? Okay, and supposedly Dumbledore knows it all with his great powers and shit, right?? hoW DIDNT HE NOTICE THE FUCKING DARK LORD IN ONE OF HIS TEACHERS?! I mean, dark magic it’s like a vibe right?? bAD VIBE???
It was that Christmas, Ron knew.
They’d had Christmas Eve at the Burrow the night before, and were going to the Grangers for dinner, but Christmas morning was all for them. Ron had never thought he’d need more family than what he had, especially not extra parental figures, but that was before he’d met Hermione’s parents. They were wonderful. Dentists, of all things.
As he and Hermione walked towards the very still park, he slipped his hand into hers, fingers laced together, her thumb idly stroking his. Their footfalls in synch, and he nudged her with his shoulder to get her to smile at him in the way that always made him want to melt into the floor.
Normally, he liked when they were out on one of their regular walks (”morning constitutionals” Hermione would slyly joke in her best prim, McGonagall voice) and they saw other people out and about. A zing of pride always ran through him when strangers passed, knowing that they knew that he, peaky-looking ginger boy, was with someone so lovely and beautiful.
But it wasn’t just all that. It was how almost frustratingly smart and clever she was, how he could barely keep up with her most of the time but was so pleased she invited him along to try, how she was never afraid to push back, how she fought injustice with everything she had. Hermione Granger was never quiet; she roared. And she made him want to be better. She did make him better.
When he was a teenager, he’d think about the “perfect woman,” someone who was always sweet, always agreeable, not a hair out of place. Someone who just wanted to support him in his endeavors and not make waves. Ron didn’t want perfect anymore. He just wanted her.
”Oh, Ron,” she said, breaking the quiet, leaning in closer so that he could smell the lavender in her hair. “It’s snowing,” she said, eyes shining as brightly as the snow that was coming softly down around them.
That Christmas day, Ron felt like a git for not recognizing so universal a truth until that moment.
This was the girl he was going to marry.
