“Bloody ball. Stupid sodding wanker ball!”

Ron Weasley, to say the least, was not happy. He was pacing about his flat, hands ringing themselves to nearly death, mumbling under his breath. He at that moment was quite thankful his girlfriend was not home. Very happy indeed she was not home.

If she were, Hermione would be standing in the doorway of the kitchen, foot tapping against the tile with her arms crossed over her chest. Typical Hermione pose. And she would be rolling her eyes, and telling him to get over it. It was only a ball after all.

“Bloody most important ball of the sodding year.” Ron mumbled.
“What was that love?”

Ron jumped, turning around to catch a grinning Harry standing in the doorway from the living room. His best friend had taken up Hermione’s pose, and was doing quite a good job of it too. Ron scowled, which caused Harry to break pose and laugh.

“You thought I was her for a moment, didn’t you!?”
“Sod off, Harry. I’m a bit busy at the moment.”
“Yes, fretting about the ball.”
”Fretting?” Ron gaped, “I’m going out of my bloody mind with worry!”
“Ron, honestly. It’s just a ball.”
”Whatever you say, Hermione!”

Harry seemed to take the comment in mock offend, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table where he sat down. Ron meanwhile continued to pace like a lunatic, running his hands back through his hair dozens of time before finally pounding his fist against the counter.

“Yes?” Harry asked.
“I’m not going!”
“Oh, you’re going.” His best friend said darkly, “If I’m going, you’re going.”
“Prat. I don’t have to go. Hermione doesn’t like balls anyways.”
“And neither does Ginny particularity. But it’s the bloody ministry ball. You know Hermione will want you to go, just to make a good impression.”
“A good impression?” Ron wailed, “Between the two of us, we’ve captured the most dangerous Death Eaters! How much better of an impression do I need to make?”

His skin color was starting to turn as red as his hair, Ron starting up pacing again. He hated balls. Hated them with a passion ever since fourth year. Fourth year and that Viktor Krum incident. He shuddered thinking about it, turning back to Harry.

“I have to go don’t I?”
“Pretty much, mate. But think of it this way, at least you don’t have to really ask Hermione this time. You’re dating, so it’s kind of given.” Harry chirped.
“One good thing. Honestly, who comes up with these ball ideas?”
“Not a clue. But if you find out first, make sure to hex them.”
“Sure thing.”
“Right. But now, I’ve got to get home. Ginny threatened to Bat-Bogey hex me if I wasn’t home within the hour.”
“Good luck with that, mate.”

Harry nodded, and with a quick wave he had apparated out of the flat, and Hermione appeared just a foot away a few seconds later.

“Bloody hell!”
“Ronald!”
“Sorry, ‘Mione! But Harry was just there a second ago!”
“Oh, I see.”

She eyed Ron up carefully; he seemed to be fidgeting where he was standing. Which was never a good sign.

“What did you do?”
“What?”
“Exactly,” She inquired, “You look guilty. What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Positive?”
“Uhhh…yeah?” Ron stammered.
“Okay.”

Hermione wanted nothing more than to just curl up and sleep, after the kind of day she had experienced. Turning she left Ron in her wake, jogging up the stairs to their bedroom, where she slipped out of her robes and into jeans and a sweatshirt. Sighing, she pulled her tangled hair up into a ponytail, running right into Ron’s chest as she turned around.

“Yes?”
”Are you okay?”
“Fine. Why?”
“Not sure. You just seem, short with me. I didn’t know if I had done something.”
“Do you think I would tell you if you had done something wrong?”
”No?” The red head guessed.
”There you go.”

Gently shoving past her boyfriend, Hermione made sure to close the bathroom door with a sense of authority, hopping up to sit on the sinks edge. From the silence outside, Ron was still probably standing there with a puzzled look on his face. A puzzled look that Hermione just loved, he always looked so cute and innocent when he-.

“Stop it, Hermione.”

Shaking her head, the nearly twenty-two year old witch inhaled deeply, trying to sort out her thoughts. The bookstore had been buzzing with people today, and with Ginny still off in her own world about her last ‘amazing’ date with Harry, she had been of little help. Which meant that Hermione was run off her feet, then only to find out that her most popular book wouldn’t be in for another two weeks, and the author had cancelled her in store signing.

All of that alone would have put her into a mood, but just when Hermione was about to have a breakdown of sorts, Ginny had to mention the upcoming Ministry Ball. Upcoming in the way of tomorrow evening. A ball that Ron hadn’t even bothered to mention, but according to Ginny who had been told by Harry, was defiantly going to be coming.

For no apparent reason this evoked a sense of deep anger towards Ron, remembering all too well the Tiwizard Tournament ball. A ball that had resulted in her feelings being stomped all over on several occasions, due to one red head’s enormous thickness.

She couldn’t help but smile a tiny bit through the tears though; at the words that Ginny had told her after their row in the common room following the ball. They had made her feel a tad bit better, and now served to do the same. Ron was thick, and unless it was food, he wouldn’t see anything dangling right in front of his face.

“Hermione?”

His fist pounded against the bathroom door several times more, but after getting no response Ron fled from the room. Sometimes he just couldn’t understand what he did. Or if he did anything to begin with. It was like Hermione just took everything out on him, whether he was a part in it or not.

“Women.”
‘Women, eh?”
”Fred!”

The twins face in the fireplace had startled him, tripping over an upturned corner of the rug to fall onto the loveseat in the living room.

“That’s me.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Oh, about five minutes. Hermione’s usually right up on hearing people hollering. What’s going on?”
“She’s in a mood, and it’s probably my fault…” Ron trailed off.
“But you don’t know what you did.”
“Nope.”
”Well, best of luck little bro. Just wanted to know if you had seen my stunning wife?”

Ron shook his head, coming to stand in front of the fire. It seemed that as much as the twins wanted to tease him about rowing with Hermione, they did just the same with their respective wives.

“No? Drat.”
“Sorry. What’d you do this time?” Ron apologized.
“Blew up the kitchen.” Fred shrugged, “For the second time this week.”
“I see.”
“Yeah, well I’ll leave you to Hermione. If you see Angelina can you send her along home? I’ve cleaned everything up. Pretty much.”
“Sure thing. “

For a moment Ron felt better about his situation, at least he wasn’t the only male on the planet fighting with his better half. But it was still Hermione he was fighting with, and it never felt good. Lazily his feet took him around their flat, finally settling into the library where his blue eyes scanned over Hermione’s calendar.

His birthday was next week, and then at the end of the month was their trip to visit Hermione’s parents. Turning the page he found more birthdays and anniversaries neatly printed, his missions and lunch dates written in black, and each of Hermione’s own tasks set out in green. It was so organized; so Hermione.

His eyes trailed then to just beside the calendar, where on one of the bookshelves sat a picture of her from fourth year, the same night of the ball. Ron’s lips smiled, she looked so stunningly beautiful. Like an angel.

“Bloody Viktor Krum.”

Hermione had been so mad when he had started in on Viktor taking her to the ball, and before that on asking her as only a last minute request. At the time he had failed to see what the problem was, but now-

And it was then that it struck him that he might just know what was bothering his girlfriend. Sure, it was completely insane and crazy for it to be bothering her, but it made sense in Ron’s mind. Not a lot of sense mind, but enough that he could get a grasp on the situation.

His legs were long, sprinting up the stairs two at a time as he returned to their bedroom. Hermione still sat on the bathroom sink, head resting against the mirror as her brows furrowed at the noise. But she wasn’t expected for the silence that then followed after a folded piece of paper was shoved through the bottom of the door, sliding to a stop just at where her feet would land.

Gingerly she leant down to pick it up, sitting back up with legs crossed as Ron outside leant against the locked door, ear pressed up closely to try and hear if she was reading it or not.


My dearest angel,
I would like to get out of the way first off that you, in fact, are a girl. And then secondly, I would like to apologize profusely for my tardiness in sending out this invitation. I do hope that you haven’t already been in contact with anyone else concerning this matter, therefore making me too late.

I would be truly honored if you (My beautiful, stunning, smart girlfriend who I love more than I love Quidditch) would accompany me tomorrow to the Ministry Ball (I would call it a wanker Ministry Ball, but I have a feeling this might displease you).

Truth be told, love, I was planning on not telling you and just not going. But I’m guessing you found out (Ginny?), and now you’re right mad at me for not asking. But you know how much I like going to balls, and dancing, and dressing up!

If you want to go though, I’ll go. But only if you come with me. And if you don’t want to go, well then, right on! Spiffing! We can order in and watch those Muggle movies you like on the… contraption thing you bought in the living room.

What do you say, love?


She giggled; unlocking the door as she jumped off of the counter, and with a mighty swing opened the mahogany piece of wood, Ron stumbling backwards.

“Whoa!”
“Ron!”
“Hi?” He asked sheepishly.

Hermione couldn’t say anything but throw her arms around his neck, before kissing him quickly. He had no idea how endearing he could be, especially when he was just himself.

“I’d love to go to the ball with you!”
“Great…lovely!” Ron faked a smile.

She bit her lip, arms still around Ron’s neck while his hands rubbed her sides softly, his eyes twinkling with a sort of disappointment while at the same time joy that he was no longer in trouble.

“But…” She paused.
“But?”
“But I think that balls are silly.”
“You do?” Ron asked.
“I do. And furthermore, I think that you and I should stay in, and order Chinese food, and watch movies on the television, and play chess, and just lounge about.”
“You do?”
“Yes, I do.”

Ron nodded feverishly, quite unable to argue or question Hermione anymore unless she change her mind. So a quick snogging session later, Ron followed her down the steps towards the kitchen, smiling like a fool.

“Ron? Are you not going to ask me why I don’t want to go to the ball?”
“No,” Ron said, which caused Hermione’s foot to tap at him, “Alright then, dear, tell me why you don’t want to go.”
“Because,” She smiled, “They are silly. You remember fourth year. We rowed awful, and it almost broke us apart. It’s not worth it. Besides, I can’t find dress robes by tomorrow night.”
“You sound awfully like Ginny there.” Ron teased.
“Oh, shush.”
“Whatever, ‘Mione. Just one question.”
“Sure.” She smiled at Ron.
“If you didn’t want to go in the first place, why did you still expect me to ask you to go?”

Ron looked quite confused as Hermione glowed for a second, waving her wand about and muttering a few words. A plate of sandwiches and two glasses of butterbeer appeared, Hermione grabbing the plate and one glass, with Ron following with the other.

“Oh, Ginny bet me four sickles that you wouldn’t ask, and just take it for granted that I’d come with you.”
“And if I’d taken it for granted, or never mentioned it in the first place?”
“I’d be dragging you there, to suffer with Harry.”

He gave Hermione another very confused look as she curled up in his arm in front of the fire. The logic behind that didn’t make sense at all. She wanted him to ask, to win a bet with Ginny, and she didn’t even want to go in the first place?

“Ron?”
“Hmmm.”
“Stop thinking about it,” She smiled softly at him, “It’ll just confuse you more.”
“Alright, then.”