The first time Hermione and Ron woke up together, all of a sudden, Fred wasn’t dead, Harry wasn’t suffering from terminal internal injuries, his mother wasn’t struggling with the loss of her son, and her parents weren’t lost halfway around the world. They were just two teenagers, laughing and daydreaming, almost feeling guilty for feeling so peaceful, being in each other’s company.
Happy Tuesday! I wrote this ficlet for the Minor Character (MC2) Romione March Challenge on the HPRomione Discord! Thank you to @el-eye-zee-aye for hosting! I had a blast writing Moaning Myrtle
Please check out the collection of works on AO3 for more
The Prefects’ bathroom is one of the happiest places in the castle—at least, in Myrtle Warren’s opinion.
But the best part?
Not just any student can have access to it, so it’s not often that she has to share its brilliance with some horrible and whiny teens. Her favorite feature is the candle-filled chandelier. In the evenings, the light casts a magnificent glow upon the white marble floors, bringing life into the room despite its emptiness.
The toilets really are the best in the castle to swirl into. It’s an honest shame that the large in-ground tub doesn’t get too many visitors. The lavender scent of the bath salts is to diefor. The only thing missing is…
Oh.
Well, perhaps it would be nice to have some company. It was dreadful having to fly from bathroom to bathroom during the recent Battle of Hogwarts, watching in horror as her perfect porcelain toilets were smashed to bits.
Myrtle casts a forlorn glance towards the door, hoping someone will walk in. As if they read her mind, the door swings open so fast that she almost doesn’t have time to hide behind one of the stalls. She likes to make a dramatic entrance, after all.
A familiar-looking boy with stark red hair tugs on the hand of a girl with frizzy brown curls, pulling her quickly into the room before shutting the door. They drop hands as soon as they think they’re alone. The girl looks away from the boy, a blush creeping up on her cheek as she bites her lip. The boy shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks back and forth on his heels.
Myrtle notices that they’re both holding towels underneath their arms. Interesting, very interesting.
“So, uh…” The boy clears his throat. “Reckon I’m not surprised that the wards are no longer up to get in here.”
The girl nods. “Yeah, this is the best place for a bath.”
“Really? So, you’ve, uh, you’ve been in here to…to do that?”
“Yes, of course. Haven’t you?”
Ah.So they were once prefects. Myrtle wants to call out and inform them that they’re not the only couple that has passed through these doors wanting an escape from the rest of the castle. Although, she can only imagine the state of the crumbling structure as it is now. She doesn’t often venture outside of her favorite places.
The ginger-haired boy coughs again, jerking his head towards the tub. “Well, it’s free now, and I could stand to rinse off this grime.” He pats his tattered clothing, and Myrtle wrinkles her nose as she takes a peek through the gap in the stall.
Oh, she can’t stand witnessing this awkwardness any longer as more seconds tick away without conversation between the couple. It’s time for Myrtle to make her presence known.
She flies upward, hovering above the bathroom stalls as she grins at the mutual shocked expressions on the teens’ faces.
“Welcome!”
“Oh!” The girl’s eyes widen, taking a step back as she places a hand over her heart. “Sorry. We didn’t realize anyone was in here, Myrtle.”
Myrtle scoffs and raises her eyebrows at the pair through her thick-rimmed glasses. “I’m not just anyone, you know. I happen to be a valuable presence to this castle. What is it youwant? I don’t suppose you both want to use the bath at the same time…”
“Well, we’re certainly not here to flood the toilets,” the ginger mumbles, but not quiet enough.
Myrtle clenches her jaw, hoping that her narrowed eyes give away a thunderous look, daring the boy to speak further. Her gaze shifts to the girl with bushy brown curls standing next to him, who looks even more recognizable than the boy.
Ohwait.
An image flashes through Myrtle’s memory of a younger Hermione Granger in the girl’s lavatory, except at the time the girl donned cat fur, ears, and a tail. The recollection dissolves Myrtle into a fit of giggles.
“Oh yeah.” She points a finger at the couple, ignoring Hermione’s crossed arms and tapping foot. “I remember you.”
“We remember you, too, Myrtle.” Hermione’s tone is stiff and formal, although her eyes never stray from Myrtle’s.
Too much time passes in silence, and Myrtle grows far too impatient. Are these two going to do or say anything, or is she going to have to do all of the work for them? She sighs, tilting her head at Hermione while breathing in through her teeth.
“I don’t mean to stare,” Hermione chews on her bottom lip, seemingly contemplating her next words. “It’s just—I might have expected to see you in the girls’ lavatory on the—”
“I can travel to any bathroom I see fit, and I like this one.”
“Oh. Of course you can travel,” Hermione quickly adds. “You probably did so through—”
“Throughwhat?”
Hermione’s face flushes. “Nevermind. It’s not important.”
A wave of violent fury washes over Myrtle as she clenches her fists at her sides, all too annoyed by the secrecy. She’s notjust a miserable ghost. There are no rules saying she has to confine herself to one toilet for the rest of her afterlife.
“What’s not important?” Myrtle circles the young couple, observing the curious way their fingers lace together as she leans closer. “The fact that I am dead?”
The boy whispers in Hermione’s ear, but not soft enough. “It’s a touchy subject.”
“Ron!”
A shriek leaves Myrtle’s lips as she flies in front of this boy’s face until they’re nose to freckled nose—oh yes, of course he’s another Weasley, how could she forget? “Do you always bug people? Bug bug bug?” She jabs her index finger through his stomach several times, intent on poking him.
Myrtle will not stand for these pithy insults.
“Hey, stop that!” Ron jumps away, his eyes growing wide at her outburst.
Although Myrtle has half a mind to open up all of the taps in the room—imaginethe amount of bubbles—she doesn’t want to do something that would be considered in typical Myrtle fashion. She’s tired of reflecting on her own dramatic death and could use a new source of entertainment.
These two have been the center of massive gossip about the castle over the years, and she can’t believe she didn’t recognize them right away. In fact, she can recall a young, pretty girl named Lavender frequently moaning about her dormmate, Hermione, so much so that Myrtle started to avoid the poor, jealous girl whenever she would walk in looking for a chat.
A question comes to mind, spilling out of Myrtle’s mouth without a second thought. “Are you two snogging now?”
Ron’s face turns a distinct shade of red that matches his vibrant hair, a clear indicator that the topic of conversation has shifted into uncomfortable, or perhaps unfamiliar, territory.
“That’s personal, Myrtle,” Hermione admonishes.
Fine.She was hoping for some new gossip, but she shouldn’t be surprised that the pair continue to remain tight-lipped. Perhaps it would be best to give the couple some privacy. Believe it or not, Myrtle doesn’t relish in other people’s misery. She is just about to declare as such when the door swings open again, revealing her favorite boy with glasses and a jagged scar on his forehead, along with another ginger-haired girl.
"What are you guys doing here?” Harry Potter inquires, his eyes slowly darting from Ron and Hermione to Myrtle’s ghostly presence hovering in the background.
“Harry! You survived.“ Although pleased to see him, Myrtle can’t help but let her mouth falter into a pout. "I was going to share my toilet with you.”
“Er, sorry to disappoint, Myrtle.”
"Us?” Ron asks, flicking a finger in his friend’s direction. “What about you and Ginny?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Myrtle floats between the two couples, sniggering. “Harry wants to take a bubble bath.”
“Why did she just wink at you?” Ginny demands, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Oh, it’s, uh—it’s nothing, Gin.“ Harry shifts from side to side, avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room. "Honestly.”
“Well, I bloody hope so. She’s a ghost.”
Myrtle lets out a raucous wail. “I. Am. A. Person. With feelings!”
With an air of finality, she flies into a toilet stall and the door whips shut behind her with a slamming force. Myrtle’s shoulders begin to tremble along with the pace of her sniffling. She must look dreadfully unattractive, but she can’t seem to stop crying.
“Of course you are, Myrtle,” Harry’s soothing voice echoes from outside the barrier she’s created. Even though she knows he’s being comforting out of fear of upsetting her further, she still appreciates the attention. He is the Chosen One who just defeated the wizard responsible for her death. She should be grateful, shouldn’t she?
“Harry, you really are a golden egg.” Myrtle opens the stall door to face the couples, resisting the urge to wink at her favorite boy again. She can’t be seen as a desperate flirt. “And so handsome…”
Drat, that one slipped out.
“He’s a bloody martyr, this one,” Ron grumbles, and Hermione nudges him in the ribs.
A frown forms on Myrtle’s face. It’s quite bothersome how much tension is in the air between the four in the room. They did just complete a grim mission to take out the most powerful dark wizard of all time, who has spent years wreaking more havoc on Hogwarts than the basilisk that killed her. Myrtle is sure that the defeat was gruesome and dramatic and she wants all of the details.
“I always knew you could do it, Harry. So, tell me. What was it like destroying a part of your own soul?”
She heard the rumors, of course.
Although Myrtle hopes he’ll indulge her, Harry only winces. “Too soon.”
She purses her lips, growing irritated at the audacity of these couples invading her perfect, wet hideout, without even offering any new information.
“Fine. I suppose I’ll go. Clearly I’m not welcomed in my own bathroom.” Myrtle chokes back a fresh batch of tears, her thoughts drifting to the hard truth of not being the most popular supernatural being in the castle.
What’s so special about a nearly headless ghost, anyway?
“No need to leave, Myrtle. Maybe we should go to the dorms, Harry.” Ginny tugs on his sleeve. “I’m sure the showers will be free there.”
“Right.”
“So you wereplanning to shower together?” Ron glares at the pair.
Ginny snorts. “What was it you were planning to do with Hermione, dear brother?”
A high-pitched squeak leaves Ron’s lips. “That’s not important.”
“Oh, feel free to stay. All of you!” Myrtle drifts between Ron and Harry, a thrilling shiver running up and down her spine from her close proximity to these two handsome boys. “You can pretend I’m not here. I’ll close my eyes!”
“Er, thanks, Myrtle,” Ron moves away from her. “Maybe a cleansing charm will do the trick, actually.”
“No, no. Stay! I can flood this bathroom, if you want me to? That way no one bothers you for a bit.”
Four sets of eyes form a blank stare in her direction, and it doesn’t seem like Myrtle’s idea is targeting the right audience. Maybe she is just a ghoulish distraction, maybe the second floor girl’s bathroom is a better place for her…
“I wish I could find a love like you four have.” Myrtle bows her head, her shoulders sagging in defeat.
“We shouldn’t have encroached on your space.” Hermione offers a sympathetic smile. “We’re sorry, Myrtle. You belong here just as much as anyone else.”
The validation is simple, but it’s enough to make Myrtle’s heart swell with warmth that’s been missing for a very long time.
She twirls her hair between her fingers with a toothy grin plastered to her face. “Well, it’s nice to have visitors sometimes. And you’re always welcome in the girl’s bathroom!”
Hermione leans into Ron as he smiles down at her, wrapping an arm around her waist. Harry mirrors his best friend’s actions, intertwining his fingers with Ginny’s.
Ah, young love.
“Thanks, Myrtle!” With a final wave, the four turn to exit the room. Myrtle’s stomach drops, not yet ready for the loss of her latest companions.
"Oh, one more thing.”
They all face Myrtle again with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension on their faces.
The next set of words that tumble out of Myrtle’s mouth are perhaps the most earnest words she’s ever spoken. “Thank you. Truly.”
Her gaze shifts to Harry, whose eyes soften as he takes in the meaning behind her gratitude.
Thank you for defeating him.
For a simple moment in time, her animosity towards humans grows weaker as her adoration for them shines through.
Maybe they’re not all as unpleasant as Olive Hornby.
A songfic in lyrical form I just had the urge to write after listening to this on repeat the whole day haha hope you like it, I’ll see if I come up with a full on one shot of this storyline sometime hopefully soon ^^
You All Along
It didn’t work out with my lady
We never could get along
One to another retorting
Thinking the other was always wrong
So instead of sitting there sweeping
I checked the paper instead
And written right there all solemn
A tempting offer that read
If you miss feeling that ardor
While drinking some fine champagne
If you want a night to be vulgar
And no longer have to feign
If you enjoy watching a pretty sight
That has your mouth hang agape
Then I’m the one knocking at the door
Answer me and escape
Wanted to forget my lady
And this one was definitely keen
Sounded nothing like my lady
Who always came off all prudish and pristine
So I replied on the paper
And poured all the heart that I had
And never the greatest poet
But still meant all that was said
Yes, I miss feeling that ardor
And not dwell on this pain
I’m not at all into being prude
And I’ll share that champagne
I wanna get to meet you very soon
And something about a red tape
Somewhere in Diagon Alley
Where we both can escape
I waited there as if to elope
And she waltzed in with grace
I knew that smile in an instant
I knew the curve of her face
It was my own brilliant lady
And she said, “I knew it was you”
Then we laughed for a moment
And I said, “Well, I never knew”
“That you missed feeling that ardor
And drinking some damn fine champagne
And pouring all your emotions
While snogging me in the rain
If you enjoy watching the pretty sights
That will have your mouth agape
You’re the lady I’m living for
Come with me and escape”
This is beautiful! Romione snogging in the rain is one of my favorite HC’s
And with that marks the end of our 2022, and inaugural Romione trope fest. We hope you enjoyed it.
Here are some stats about the wonderful stories we’ve shared. There have been:
Five Stuck Together
Seven Sixth Year AUs
Three Fuck or Dies
Six Fake Dating
Fourteen DH Missing Moments
Eleven Second Kisses
And three stories who were greedy and had more than one trope.
These have come from twenty four writers and artists! Aren’t we lucky?
You can catch up on all our entries in our Master List, and don’t forget to fill in our feedback form so we can make 2023 even better!
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to all who participated! We couldn’t have been more thrilled by the results. Check out the masterlist and feedback form above ⬆️⬆️ until next year, Romione lovers! ❤
For the LAST FIC of trope fest, we got you not one, not two, but FOUR SECOND KISSES! Enjoy this treat from @accio-broom!
AND THANK YOU for reading, commenting, reblogging, following, and submitting! Stay tuned for a feedback form <3
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Fic Title: Four Second Kisses Author Name:accio-broom Selected Trope: Second Kiss Brief Summary: Hermione and Ron try their best to find time alone to enjoy their second kiss, but life and war keeps on getting in the way. Word Count: 4826 Rating: T Any Trigger Warnings: Minor swearing, mentions of war and mourning.
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Dusk descends on Hogwarts, shrouding the castle in grey gloom. Although the war was over in the early hours of the morning, fires smoulder across the grounds, and a thick blanket of dark smoke still lingers. Ash floats through the stagnant air in the Great Hall like tiny fairies, catching in every one of Ron’s deep breaths. It fills his mouth with cotton wool. He’ll never be able to wipe the bitter taste of fire and decay from his memory.
Not that he wants to. Why should he have an easy life when so many have lost theirs?
The weight of a hundred giants press on his shoulders, exacerbated by the weariness caused by a year on the run. His bones ache as if they’ve splintered into a thousand pieces, both from the efforts of the battle and the grief from losing so many people.
Tonks. Lupin. Colin. Fred.
A strong urge pulls at him. Ron should be with his family, checking everyone else is okay, comforting his mum. But at the same time, he knows he should be helping with the clean-up effort, or making sure Harry is safe. But despite the long list of should-be-doing’s, Ron sinks into a dark, quiet corner of the hall, out of sight from everyone else.
Closing his eyes, his head droops against the smoke-blackened stone wall. Even though the room is still a cacophony of noise and commotion, he drifts away, too tired to worry about what might happen next.
Ron’s stolen moment of peace doesn’t last long. As the tendrils of sleep drift into the deepest corners of his mind, luring him towards the nightmares he knows will haunt him tonight, a weight plops next to him. The instant warmth that comes with it, the brush of a shoulder, a pair of hips snapped snug against his can only be from one person.
“I was wondering where you’d gotten to,” he mumbles without opening his eyes.
Title: Only the Beginning Author:adenei Trope: Second Kiss Brief Summary: Everyone’s hurting in the aftermath of the battle, but perhaps Ron is hurting the most. Hermione does her best to comfort him as she grapples with what comes next. Word Count:1012 Rating:T TW: Mentions of death, blood, and war. A/N: Inspired by this fanart
Thank you Be11a for putting this together!
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I’m obsessed with the thought of you here in my bed I’m in love with the back of your head And the way you pull me closer No regrets, no clothes, no money, no friends Nobody to say it won’t last Will you love me ‘til I’m older?
~Older [Lea Heart]
Alive.
The word replays over and over in Hermione’s mind as she takes in the hollowed face staring back at her. She’s a shell of her former self—cheekbones so severe they may cut straight through her skin and eyes sunken in from how much weight she’s lost on the run. Even her hair is thin and stringy; damp ringlets cling to her neck and shoulders.
Despite washing off all the dirt, grime, and blood, she doesn’t feel clean. Death surrounds her and exhaustion seeps into her bones. She needs to move, but it’s impossible to pry herself away from the entrancing effect her reflection has.
That is, until the door to the boy’s bathroom creaks open. Hermione turns to see Harry closing the door behind him.
“Alright, Hermione?”
She nods and her voice is hoarse when she speaks. “Just finishing up.”
“Right. I’m going to shower. Ron’s out there.” He gestures to the door, answering her question before she can ask.
And our second fic today is a lovely missing moment from @mertronus!
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Fic Title: The Harsh Reality Author Name: Mertronus Selected Trope: DH Missing Moment Brief Summary: Ron enjoys an intimate moment with Hermione in the tent… Word Count: 809 Rating: M Any Trigger Warnings: none
Ron smiled, his eyes still closed as he ran his fingers up the thighs that were straddling him. When his hands reached her pert bum, he gave it a long squeeze - something he’d longed to do for so many years.
“Mmmm,” Hermione hummed near his ear. Her lips seemed on a mission to kiss each and every freckle along his neck and jawline, and he was quite content to allow it.
“Oh, ‘Ermione,” he groaned.
When her lips finally found his, he sank into the kiss as if he needed her to breathe. Her hips ground down on his and he knew she felt his prick as it reached for her, ached for her. He pulled his hands away from her arse reluctantly, wishing he had several hands as he had so much more of her to explore. He spread his fingers across her slender back pulling her into him as they deepened the kiss. He was drowning in her taste, scent and just everything Hermione, but oh, what a way to go.
Let us know how much you LOVE this second kiss from CowahBull!
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Fic Title: Bedknobs and Breadcrusts
Author Name:CowahBull
Selected Trope: Second Kiss
Brief Summary: The War is over. Voldemort is dead. And Hermione still doesn’t like the crust on her sandwiches.
Word Count:989
Rating:G
Any Trigger Warnings:None
Ron crawled into his four-poster bed more exhausted than he could ever remember. They won. The war was over. Voldemort was dead. Relief rushed over him as he pulled the blankets up over himself and fell fast asleep.
He, Harry, and Hermione slept in the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory until the sun rose once again through the window in the corner. Ron opened the curtains to his bed to see a small tray of sandwiches and pumpkin juice resting on the bedside table. “Ugh, corned beef,” he said to himself, shaking his head as he took his first bite. “Mum must have sent these up.” He turned his attention to the bed to his left and saw a bushy brown head emerge from behind the curtains. A smile spread across his face as he locked eyes with Hermione and he held out the tray of food to her. Hermione moved to sit next to him on the edge of his bed and took one happily as they ate together.
Fic Title: Birds, Friends & Lovers Author Name: Mertronus Selected Trope: 6th Year AU Brief Summary: Moments after the great bird attack of 96, Ron goes after Hermione to confront her. Based on the classic Ross & Rachel moment: “you’re over me?” Word Count: 656 Rating: T Any Trigger Warnings: none
Ron stood still for a moment once the birds had all vanished, seething. Without another word to Harry, he wrenched open the classroom door and took off after Hermione, ignoring Harry’s call and sidestepping the waiting Lavender.
He caught up with his so-called best friend halfway down the next corridor.
“What the ruddy hell was that Hermione?” he almost roared as he spun her around, pinning her against the wall. “You…birds…are you mad?!”
Hermione, who had tears streaming down her face, tried to get away from him but he wouldn’t let her. “Maybe I am!” She finally screeched. “Now let me pass before I do something much worse.”
“What have I done?”
“You mean aside from the awful way you’ve been treating me the last few days?”
“So that means you pin some ruddy birds on me?!”
They were toe to toe in the empty corridor, tears gone and neither backing down from the fight.
“Be happy it was only birds Ronald Weasley, because you know as well as I do that I can do much worse.”
“Brilliant! Some best friend you are!”
“You want to talk about best friends?! You’ve been acting like the worst kind of friend!”
“At least I didn’t attack you with magical birds!” Ron roared.
Brief Summary: A simple and sweet reflection on the morning that follows the war.
Word Count: 1.3k
Rating: T
Thanks to adenei for betaing
Dawn broke, cascading the light of morning across the castle land. The fresh dew sparkled and from a distance it made it look like everything was new again. The sky was painted with splatterings of pink, blue, and yellow. It’s strange how mornings like this can follow such horrid events. A beauty that was both needed and scary.
So much loss had happened here. So much it made Hermione’s stomach twist. The thoughts of the last 48 hours of her life played in a loop in her head. She shouldn’t be here, none of them should, and yet all three of them had survived.
She had never given much thought to what would come after or what would be the next step after Voldemort was defeated. She spent so much of her time wondering how they would get to this point, but there was no plan for what would come after. For once, Hermione felt truly lost, with no sense of direction.
She found a spot to sit near the bank of the lake, and reminisced briefly on when she would come here during the school year to study or relax. Often, the boys would join her, and it was in those moments that she was able to set some of her weighing thoughts down. The amount she used to worry about Arithmancy or Ancient Runes seemed silly now. Back then she felt like a girl, but in the aftermath of the war, she felt older than ever. She had been through things that aren’t typical for the majority of teens, and she wondered if she’d ever feel her age again.
Brief Summary: Finally fed up with his two best friends and their constant bickering, Harry joins in on a plan to force Ron and Hermione into close proximity…whether they want to or not.
Word Count: 1,329
Rating: T
Any Trigger Warnings: N/A
A/N: 5th Year AU that will be told entirely from Harry’s POV. Split into two chapters.
A Very Pasteful Plan
“I know exams are coming up, Hermione. You’ve only reminded me five bloody times!”
“That’s rubbish! I wouldn’t haveto remind you at all if you would just follow the study schedule I’ve drawn up.”
“I don’t need a study schedule, or color-coded notes, mind you.”
“Oh, well, I suppose I shouldn’t even bother anymore.”
Harry groans, massaging the deep crease in his temple. He’s not sure how much longer he can remain apathetic to the nonsense spewing out of his best friends’ mouths. They’re making a lot of noise in the center of the Gryffindor common room for two people talking at each other—not to each other, per usual.
We can’t get enough of #fakedating! Enjoy this take from @mina-roman!
Fic Title: Not a Last Resort Author Name:Mina_Roman Selected Trope: Fake Dating Brief Summary: Hermione tells a fib when she gets asked to the Slug Club’s Christmas Party Word Count: 2,771 Rating:G
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Part I: The Lie
As Hermione perused the aisles of the library, running her fingers down the leather spines of books, she became lost in her own thoughts. After an early rise this morning, she’d finished the ten inches for Defence Against the Dark Arts, revised her Ancient Runes translation, and gotten started on her Arithmancy reading—and she would still be able to meet Ron and Harry for a late breakfast in an hour. Finally, her eyes halted on the copy of New Theory of Numerology, Vol. II that she’d been looking for. Pulling it off the shelf, she flickered through its pages, absorbing the information as her fingers hovered over key names and theorems until a shadow caused the words to disappear.
Hermione looked up and frowned at the sight of Cormac.
“Hey, Granger.”
“Hi.”
“I thought I’d find you here. You always have your nose in a book. Or your hand on one.” Cormac flashed her a pearly-white smile as if he’d taken lessons from Professor Lockhart. “So, the Slug Club’s Christmas party is around the corner. I’m single, and I know you are too…” When Hermione didn’t reply, he added, “Come as my date.”
“No.” Realising how curt she sounded, she forced a small smile. “I can’t.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d been asked to a dance by someone she hadn’t wanted to go out with. When Viktor had asked, Hermione hadn’t processed that he was asking her as his date. Lost in the moment, she’d stuttered out a yes though her heart had cried out against it. Then Neville had also asked, but turning him down had come easily because she already had a date. Ron asking was different. Her stomach had squirmed with the admission of the truth and how much she wished it weren’t the case. But still, she knows now that her pride would’ve kept her from agreeing as he never had truly considered to even ask.
