AN: Hello my lovelies! I've had this idea stuck in my head for quite a while now. This is my first Ron-fic(I'm not sure what else to call it. Ronmione? Romione? Hon?). I can't wait to write the next chapters, I have some great ideas... Mwahahaha! Anyways, I hope you all like, rate and review please!
Just a little FYI, this story is set on a Friday in the wintertime when Ron and Lavender are together in HBP.
Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the HP franchise, all cred for that goes to the genius JK Rowling, who absolutely must be a wizard. Maybe she's a historian for the Ministry and she was just writing down for the muggles what had happened in wizarding history. Maybe Harry wrote an auto-biography and she just put it in third person and sold it to us muggles... In that case, Hogwarts in real and I never got my Hogwarts letter. Dammit.
Let's ignore my rambling and continue on with the story!
Ron wasn't having the best of days. Really, he wasn't having the best month, for that matter. Today, however, it was as if Merlin thought it would be particularly amusing to throw everything in Ron's path that would be sure to put him in a mood by the end of the day when he got back to the common room.
He woke up from a nightmare he couldn't quite remember, with a sheen of cold sweat coating his body, and he was shaking like all hell. It was near three in the morning. Ron sank back into a fitful sleep, and awoke mere hours later, feeling exhausted. He starved until lunchtime, due to one very simple reason, or rather, person; Lavender.
After brushing and showering, he had gone down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Upon walking through the large doors, he didn't have time to even let out a yelp before a streak with brown-ish hair and reeking of perfume tackled him. Ron smiled, and put his arm around her, kissing her cheek as they walked to the Gryffindor table, but a small, depressed, and wary part of his brain wished that it was another brown-haired Gryffindor that had run to him.
He sat down across from Harry(Hermione was nowhere in sight) who had the slightest frown on his face. Lavender proceeded to place a line of wet kisses down Ron's neck.
"Ron, have you read the paper?"
He shook his head 'no' the best he could with what could've been a leech suctioned to his neck. Irritated as he was, he gently shoving Lavender away, and then seeing her pout, he muttered "Later, okay?" before turning his attention back to Harry.
"No, why? What happened?".
"Another murder. Three muggles were killed yesterday in Manchester, and another disappearance in-"
What Harry said after that could've been babbling from a baby for all he heard, for Lavender had looped her arms around his neck and was snogging him as if he were going to Azkaban the day after. Which is why Ron was starving and in quite a pissy mood by lunch. His emotions worsened after going to a DADA class taught by Snape, and getting 30 points from Gryffindor taken away because he came into the classroom a second late. Each and every one of his classes had homework.
Hermione's day hadn't gone much better. She woke up feeling well rested, thinking that this was odd. She glanced at the clock, and panicked, realized she had overslept by about a half hour. Breakfast would be starting in 5 minutes. Scrambling to pick out her uniform, of course she wasn't looking where she was going, so she tripped over a small clutch bag. She plunged headfirst onto the floor.
After pulling herself up, she felt her nose, wincing slightly. There was ruby red liquid on her delicate hands when she pulled it back, She groaned, knowing she'd broke her nose, and realized she was dripping blood on the soft carpet of the dorm. After fixing her nose and cleaning the floor and her face with a quick episkey and scourgify, Hermione got herself ready. Before leaving for breakfast, even though the fact that she was already late was flitting around in her head, she decided to check out the bag that had delayed her further.
It was hot pink, and after unzipping it the slightest bit, she saw that it was bulging with make-up. Who else could the bag belong to but Lavender? Anger bubbled up in her as she marched towards the Great Hall, bookbag in tote. She had just gotten in when she spotted Harry. And then that familiar head of red hair. Walking a bit closer, she saw arms ensnared in that hair she loved so much. Lavender. The anger fizzled away, leaving nothing but a deep sense of-well, it wasn't quite sadness. It was more like, a feeling of not belonging, of knowing that you aren't wanted. She backed out of the Great Hall, hoping no one had seen her, opting to tickle the painting of pears and eat in the kitchen.
Lunchtime was spent the same way as breakfast, and after classes, she gathered up some more spare parchment from the dormitory, and hurried up to the library, where she proceeded to do her homework. She lost herself in the work, forgetting about Ron, and all the while enjoying the numbness that came from not feeling. Feeling nothing was better than feeling that emotion that turned her into a depressed shell of her old self.
Time was a trivial matter, and after the homework was finally completed(and the ink bottle thoroughly depleted), Hermione received quite a shock when she checked the time and realized that dinner had just about ended. A grumble from her stomach told her that it was less than happy with Hermione's dedication to her homework.
She felt emotionally exhausted. She'd kill for some food.
Ron reached the common room a few minutes before Hermione, and walked into a brightly lit common room, surrounded by streamers and brightly colored banners.
"What's going on?" Ron asked Seamus.
He responded with a devilish grin, and pulled up his hands, revealing bags carrying bottles upon bottles of butterbeer and fire-whiskey.