Summary: The battle is over and all Hermione wants is to wash it all off of her. A chaste Romione shower scene in which all the important bits stay covered up but everything else is stripped away.
Word count: 4253
Rating: T
Trigger warnings: none
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Voldemort was defeated and all Hermione wanted to do was take a shower.
It was an inane thought, and she felt all at once repulsed and tempted to let out a delirious laugh at how trivial it was.
But she couldn’t shake it. Not the first time she really allowed herself to sit down when the battle was over. Not when Harry found her and Ron and the three escaped the Great Hall together. Not after their visit to the Headmaster’s office.
She was covered in dirt and blood, sweat and tears, and the more she thought about it the less she could stand it. She just needed to wash it all off of her — the reminder of everything that had just happened — the death — her skin crawled with it.
Seven flights of stairs ought to have been nothing after the last several hours — months — of hell, and yet the climb to the boys’ dormitory was the exact moment her body decided to suggest to her, Mmm, perhaps we’ve had enough?
Brief Summary: Ron and Hermione continue their holiday break in the castle, free from any other classmates or distractions.
Word Count: 2,323
Rating: T
Any Trigger Warnings: N/A
A/N: Written for Adenei, a follow-up to the fic I submitted for the HPRomione Discord Secret Santa, “Hogwarts for Christmas”.
Stuck in the Castle
It’s official. Her brain is no longer working properly.
A million thoughts race through Hermione’s overactive mind. She slides her teeth over her lips to stop the gasp from escaping her mouth. A cacophony of Flobberworms flit around in her stomach, and she tucks a curl behind her ear in an attempt to catch her bearings.
It’s Christmas Day, and Professor McGonagall has informed Ron and Hermione that they are forbidden to go outside the castle, no matter the circumstance. The snowy weather went from a winter wonderland to extreme conditions in a matter of days, making it far too dangerous for anyone to subject themselves to the frigid temperatures for longer than necessary.
Ron has been disgruntled by this news all morning, and not even the parcel of sweets he received from his mum and dad can cheer him up. She studies him from his spot across the room, observing the pensive look that crosses his face when two of the enchanted pieces on the board smash violently into one another.
Fic Title- Treasure Author Name- reallybeth Selected Trope- fuck or die Brief Summary-
Ron leaned his head down so that his forehead was resting on her bare shoulder.
“Hermione?” he asked, his voice timid.
“Mmm?”
“Are you mine?”
Word Count- 5,704 Rating- Explicit
Welcome to my fuck or die!
As always, I bow down to the cheese, because Cheesy, once again, was kind enough to beta this!
oOo
“You really think one is in there?” Ron asked, his voice doubtful.
“He hid the locket in a cave, didn’t he?” Harry replied, his fingers on the destroyed object he wore around his neck. “It’s not a far stretch that he would hide another the same way.”
The three stood and stared into the open mouth of a large cave, all of them able to feel the magic that was radiating from within. The high of finally having the means to destroy Horcruxes had quickly worn off once they remembered they still had others to find, although the relief of not having the locket around helped ease those concerns.
“There’s definitely a lot of magic coming from inside,” Hermione reluctantly agreed. “But, Harry, that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s dark magic.”
“Well. I guess we’ll see then, won’t we?” Harry said grimly, his face set in determination.
Hermione knew Harry was dead set on finding and destroying the rest of the Horcruxes, and the stress of not knowing where they were located was bothering him the most. Her eyes then went to Ron, and the two shared a look that they’d shared hundreds of times before. It was a look that meant they were both concerned about their best friend, and how quick he was to jump into unknown danger without giving it proper thought beforehand.
“Alright.” Hermione nodded, her eyes still locked on Ron’s even as she spoke to Harry. “If you believe there’s a possibility one is in there, then let’s go.”
Brief Summary: One-Shot of Ron and Hermione talking about places they’d rather be than the cold, miserable tent during the Horcrux Hunt.
Word Count:1406
Rating:G
Trigger Warnings: Discussion of hunger and a mention of throwing up
***
Anywhere With You
The rain dripped steadily on the canvas of the tent. It felt like it was seeping into everything. The very air surrounding them thicker, heavier, sodden down. Every breath Hermione took felt like breathing in fog. Or a cloud. Her skin had started to feel permanently clammy, cold to the touch.
The small cups of broth she had been able to scrape together for an early dinner hardly brought any lasting warmth for any of them. Harry, stuck in one of his locket-clad silences, had taken his tin of soup to the mouth of the tent to sit watch.
Ron had barely moved from his spot on the couch for the better part of the afternoon. Hermione carefully carried over two cups, carefully placing one in Ron’s outstretched hand. His fingers overlapped hers for a moment. She almost startled at the warmth, the dry brush of skin. It was such a stark contrast to how she’d been feeling for days now.
Fic Title: Night Howlers Author Name: Mertronus Selected Trope: FOD Brief Summary: The trio are on the hunt and know they’re safest on their own in the tent…until a new threat changes that. Word Count: 4262 Rating: E Any Trigger Warnings: none
“Before we end with you all tonight,” Lee Jordan was saying over the wireless, “we have one more urgent message from Romulus.”
“Thanks River.” Ron, Harry and Hermione all leaned in a bit as Remus Lupin’s voice came over the airwaves. They’d been so excited when Ron finally cracked the code, and they were able to get updates on what was going on in their world. They’d heard from Kingsley Shacklebolt, “Royal”, on the state of the Muggles, from Lupin about their friends and family, and from Fred, or “Rapier” regarding sightings of You-Know-Who.
Now, Lupin was back with something important. The trio glanced at one another warily, noting the grim tone of his voice. Hermione shivered, despite the many warming charms that had been set in the tent.
“It has come to my attention that tonight will be the third full moon of the year. Every thirty years on this night, the Night Howlers are on the prowl.”
Ron and Harry exchanged a look.
“Night Howlers?” Hermione repeated. The boys knew by the expression on her face that she’d read about them, and was trying to recall what she’d read.
“Please be vigilant, friends, and find cover in a magical building if you…must. While Night Howlers do not seek out children, they do seek the most innocent of adults. I repeat, if you fall into this category, then your safety will rely on taking cover in a magical building, as not even the strongest enchantments over yourselves or something slight such as a tent will prevent Night Howlers from smelling the blood of innocent magical adults. And I believe that You-Know-Who is counting on that fact.”
“Thank you, Romulus,” Lee took over. “Hopefully those listening find a way to remain safe before nightfall.”
“I know you are,” Hermione replied as she sat up further, scooting so that her knees touched his outer thigh. “But I’ll be okay. I’m tougher than I look, you know.”
Ron closed his eyes. “No shit,” he muttered, remembering what she had been through at Malfoy Manor just two days before.
He felt a featherlight touch on his jaw, and his eyes snapped open to find Hermione’s fingertips on him, her eyes searching his.
“I’m glad you’re the one taking care of me,” she whispered.
Word Count- 3,632 Rating- mature
Shell Cottage fics have been done about ten million times before, so naturally I decided to do one. It was supposed to be fluffy but somehow ended up a little smutty as well, but I do not apologize for that ;)
Cheesy (yeah, you’ve heard of her before) has graciously offered to beta this, so thanks to the nicest, cheesiest person in the world! She is also responsible for the title!!!
oOo
A terrified scream broke Ron out of a restless sleep, his body instantly shooting up from the chair he’d been dozing in. In less than two seconds, he’d jumped from the chair onto the small, twin sized bed and pulled Hermione’s writhing body to his. He held her tight, her screams sending bolts of tortuous agony straight to his heart. He’d never wanted to hear those screams again, and yet he had several times since they’d arrived at Shell Cottage, and twice already that night.
“Hermione. Hermione, it’s okay,” he soothed with his lips against her ear. “It’s not real. I’m here. I’m here.”
He hoped his voice was calming even though his words were coming out broken. “I’m not going to let them hurt you again. Never again,” he promised.
Hermione’s screams stopped sooner than they had the last time. Ron released a breath of relief, his heart still hammering so hard against his chest that he felt faint.
“Ron?” Hermione croaked, her hands now clutching his shirt, pulling at it with a strength he was surprised she possessed after all she’d been through.
We love a good second kiss, and this one from @mertronus does NOT disappoint!
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Fic Title: Just Us Author Name: Mertronus Selected Trope: Second Kiss Brief Summary: Hermione asks Ron if he remembers their second kiss. He does…doesn’t he? Word Count: 1799 Rating: T (some language) Any Trigger Warnings: none
“Do you remember our second kiss?” Hermione asked. She was curled up in Ron’s side, her finger tracing freckles on Ron’s bare chest. Her brown curls were spread across both pillows, not that Ron minded, and the scent of her vanilla shampoo filled his senses. Beneath the twisted sheets which were slightly damp from sweat, their legs were tangled together.
Ron sighed in post-coital bliss.
“Our…second kiss?” He asked, one eyebrow raised. “Are you choosing to forget our first?”
“Of course not,” Hermione huffed. “No one ever forgets their first.”
“You almost wanted to,” Ron mumbled under his breath.
“What?”
“I said of course I remember our second kiss.” He smirked. “Best kiss of my life…in the back of that library.”
“What?!” Hermione sat up. “No it wasn’t! We never kissed in the library!”
“I-I mean in my room at the Burrow.” Ron was having a hard time keeping the smile off his face as he took on a scared expression.
The days were warm in the lead up to the plan for rescuing Harry. And they were busy.
There was so much planning to be done, from who was going to travel with who, to planting the false information with the Ministry, to the more finer details such as the Portkeys.
There was hardly any time for relaxing or thinking about anything else.
Hermione didn’t mind, of course, because it was for a good cause, but her mind felt full. While others worried about getting Harry from his aunt and uncle safely, she and Ron also had the issue of the Horcruxes to worry about.
She had no idea when it’d be time to leave. Ideally after Bill and Fleur’s wedding, but she wasn’t taking her chances. In these times, something could happen at any moment and she was preparing for the worst.
She was packing — little things every few days. Clothes for herself and Ron — and for Harry when he got here. Books she thought they might need, a small medical kit because she wasn’t expecting it to be easy, wherever it was they went.
So, in what spare time she did have, she used it to prepare for other things.
She’d just come down to the pond by the Burrow to collect some of the weed in there. She hadn’t realised at first, thinking it to be just standard water weed, but her books bad alerted her to the fact that it contained a type with healing properties.
She hadn’t asked, but she sure Mrs Weasley wouldn’t mind if it meant it could help them along their way (though she didn’t really have any intention of letting Ron’s mum know what was happening anyway).
Today, we have a unique take on Fuck or Die. We’d love to hear what you think!
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Title:Choices
Author Name: JohnMcHacker
Selected Trope: Fuck Or Die
Brief Summary: Ron Weasley is ready to finally fulfil the biggest fantasies of every young man on the planet. Hermione Granger has read enough out of books, and wants to see what the fuss is all about for herself. They’re both ready to take the next step in their physical relationship. But not like this – no, this wasn’t what they had thought it would be like at all…
This is my dark take on “Fuck Or Die”, a trope which I have always had reservations about. Happy ending, I promise.
Word Count: 14,122
Rating:Explicit (for triggers, violence, smut)
Trigger Warnings: Abduction, threat of rape and murder, discussion of non-consent, related angst, magical violence
Author’s note: I’d like to note that I didn’t write this to render a personal opinion on certain topics through fanfiction, something which I dislike and actively strive to avoid. What characters say can be right or wrong or both at once, there is a wide breadth of complexity and nuance to most any topic, and truth often lies somewhere in the middle of two (or more) extremes of opinion. This fic ultimately came about as a result of a plot bunny I thought was meaningful and worth exploring, and that’s really all there is to it.
That being said – I hope you ultimately enjoy reading this. Many thanks to the admins for organising the fest, particularly @be11atrixthestrange for answering my queries. I’d love very much to hear your comments and feedback – especially important this time round, given the subject – so as always, do please let me know what you think! Follow me on AO3 for a tad more light-hearted stuff.
* * *
0. Prologue
Now
Ron Weasley’s wheezing breaths fill the room; thin, laboured gasping punctuated occasionally by wet, blood-flecked coughs.
Hermione Granger cradles his head on her lap, strokes his hair tenderly, the only thing she can do. All those brains, all that Hogwarts education, and the brightest witch of her age is completely powerless, completely helpless, imprisoned in a stripped-bare basement sans wand. Oh, for a thin wooden stick with a magical bit inside.
Our second fic today is another take on Hermione and Ron dancing at Bill and Fleur’s wedding! Enjoy this DH Missing Moment that will warm your heart and leave you wanting more! #JustKissAlready
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Fic Title: Waiting Here With You
Author Name: CowahBull
Selected Trope: DH Missing Moment. Dancing at Bill and Fleur’s wedding.
Brief Summary: Ron and Hermione can never seem to get their timing quite right. They both know what they want but they know this is the closest they can be, here and now, dancing in the garden.
Word Count: 1521
Rating: G
Any Trigger Warnings: None. Only Fluff and excess twirling.
Part One
The Music Playing On For Only Two
“Come and dance,” Ron said, grabbing Hermione’s hand and pulling her from her seat.
“Um,” she stuttered, following him, “s-sure.” As they left their table, she vaguely heard Viktor ask Harry, ‘Ah, they are together now?’ before she and Ron were lost in the crowd of dancers.
Once they reached the middle of the group, Ron faced Hermione, placing his hand at her waist, her free hand finding his shoulder. Hermione’s mind raced to remember her dancing lessons from childhood.
Our first fic today is a lovely Fake Dating from @voldemorts-tap-shoes that’s perfectly packed with tension! Enjoy!
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Fic Title - I Want You Back Author Name - voldemorts-tap-shoes/smjl Selected Trope - Fake Dating Brief Summary - Ron and Hermione hatch a plan to make their exes jealous and end up with more than they bargained for. Word Count - 4487 Rating - T Any Trigger Warnings - none
***
The Leaky Cauldron is packed tonight, and Ron wishes he was enjoying the boisterous atmosphere. There’s plenty to celebrate—England’s just won the Quidditch World Cup, thanks in no small part to his sister, and the party promises to be a banger.
Unfortunately for Ron, the victory has been overshadowed by the fact that his ex, Romilda, is currently wrapped around that git McLaggen like the Giant Squid.
“Will you forget about her?” He doesn’t even realize he’s staring at them until his twin brothers flank him at the bar and order another round for the three of them.
“What if she was the one?” Ron laments, and Fred and George roll their eyes in tandem.
“Bullshit,” Fred says. “She was your Hogwarts girlfriend. Those things don’t last.”
Ron raises an eyebrow at him as he takes a long swig of his drink. “So you and Katie Bell are…what, exactly?”
Fic Title - Drive Author Name - voldemorts-tap-shoes/smjl Selected Trope - DH missing moment Brief Summary - Hermione copes after obliviating her parents. Ron helps. Word Count - 1672 Rating - T Any Trigger Warnings - n/a
******
Ron’s not sure what to expect when he arrives at Hermione’s house. Her owl that afternoon had been brief but specific:
Come over tonight at 7. You can apparate into the back garden. -H
It might have been complicated having two best friends whose names start with the same letter, but he knows every delicate curve of Hermione’s handwriting better than his own. Besides, Harry’s aunt and uncle would never concede to such an intrusion, and they aren’t due to retrieve him from the Dursleys’ for another week still, on Harry’s seventeenth birthday. Dumbledore had been clear about very little, but Harry staying in that hellhole Vernon and Petunia masquerade as a home until he comes of age had been an explicit request of the headmaster’s.
Hermione is meant to come to the Burrow in a couple of days, but Ron isn’t going to turn down a chance to see her sooner. It’s only been a couple of weeks, but he misses her. He’s hoping her request means she’s feeling the same sense of longing towards him.
After Dumbledore’s funeral, they had sort-of-maybe-almost admitted their feelings for each other—saying things without saying them is a specialty of theirs—but for once Ron feels like they’re on the same page. Now, their only hesitation is the upcoming war, rather than doubts about the other’s feelings.
He lands in the garden, per her instructions, and looks up at the house. It’s quiet and dark, the only sound being the low rumble coming from the driveway. Ron follows the noise out front and spots Hermione behind the wheel of what must be her parents’ running car. He circles around to the driver’s side of the silver sedan, where Hermione has the window rolled down. The greeting he’s about to give her dies on his lips as he gets a good look at her blotchy face and red-rimmed eyes.
“Hermione—“ he starts, but she cuts him off with a shake of her head.
“Get in.” Her voice is scratchy, further indication that she’s been crying. A lot.
Happy birthday @cheesyficwriter You enjoy breaking our hearts with your angst-filled stories, and I love chatting all things American teen dramas and medical soaps with you. So in tribute to your birthday, I send that angst right back atcha in the form of some Naley-inspired Romione heartbreak (although there’s no rain today). I hope you have a lush day either way xxx
A streak of lightning cracks and fizzles across the sky, illuminating the small village of Ottery St. Catchpole before fading the buildings to inky black and purple shadows once more. The wind picks up along with the rain, howling through the paper-thin walls of Ron’s small townhouse and sending a shiver racing down his back.
The storm shouldn’t affect him this much; thunder and lightning are common at this time of the year, especially over magical towns, when the oppressive humidity of the British early summer mingles with excess magic that buzzes through the air. It makes for impressive views, and usually, he would be out on his small patio with a pint of beer and enjoying it.
But tonight he can’t bring himself to step outside the back door.
His copy of the Daily Prophet falls to his lap as a sense of foreboding drifts over his body. Ron doesn’t believe in hauntings. In his world, ghosts and poltergeists are obvious with their intentions, and the last time he checked, no ghouls resided in the attic. Yet he can’t shake the feeling that something is coming, a paranormal force that is about to turn his world upside down.
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.
This week’s recommendations all have the theme of “mail”. Please enjoy these and give the authors love (note: I’m not a total hypocrite. I did my searching on my phone this week, which for productivity reasons is not logged onto AO3 so I have not commented on all of these. But I will give all of them love this weekend!
Next week’s theme? Parties! Please share your recommendations in my asks.
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.
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.
