WHO: Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley WHEN:> After the talk of chocolate frogs WHERE: Fortescue's WHAT: Ice cream and talking WARNINGS: Nope
Harry leaving had left her feeling more homesick than ever, and thinking about the past. Hermione has been spending the majority of her time in the library, finding it comforting to at least still have that, trying to figure out how this place worked. Between that, and contemplating starting up S.P.E.W. again in some form, she hadn’t been out much. She just knew that she needed her time occupied, and to keep her head clear from all of the million thoughts floating around in her head.
That’s why an ice cream date with the one person who kept her sane ( for the most part ) and grounded was exactly what she needed. She packed up her books and her research into her bag, and took off for Fortescue's.
It didn’t take her long to get there, and she quickly ducked inside to beat the heat. Hermione found an empty table and dropped her bag before tucking her skirt under her to sit down. To pass the time while she waited for Ron, she pulled out on of her books and opened it to where she had last left off. —
Ron had been doing his best to keep busy since Harry left. It helped that he had Weasley's Wizard Wheezes to occupy his time. He had also been frequenting Charlie’s Quidditch Pitch often, the familiarity of the game a bit of a comfort. And, of course, he had been spending time with Hermione, which was not all that surprising considering they lived together. Still, he had noticed that she had become a bit distant lately. Several times, he thought he should talk to her about it, but then again, being communicative in a helpful way was not really his strong suit. Perhaps he would work up the nerve to later, or she would bring it up and save him the trouble.
For now: ice cream. Ron aparated from the shop to the alleyway in the back of Fortescue's, not putting in much of an effort at being discrete around the Muggles. They never seemed to notice anything magical or alien anyway. He rounded the corner and entered the ice cream parlor, stuffing his wand into his pocket and scanning the place for his fiancée. Girlfriend. Whatever. No surprise, she had her nose in a book.
Ron grinned as he approached her table. “How many is that today?” He asked, like a concerned friend questioning a drunk how much they’d had to drink. He bent down and kissed the top of her head before taking the seat opposite her. --
She smiled when she heard his voice, and she could feel her cheeks get warm. The more time they spent together, the more “normal” it all felt. But there were still times when she felt like a silly school girl with a giant crush on a boy who she didn’t have a chance with. Sometimes she had to pinch herself that this was real. “Only my second today,” she said as she closed the book and looked up at him. “Trying to pace myself. If I’m not careful, I’ll run out of books. And then what would I do?” She sighed dramatically at the thought.
“But I do plan on rereading the first one later. I want to make sure I’ve written down all the important parts.” She slid the book into her bag and the turned her attention back to her boyfriend.
“I appreciate you meeting me here. I’ve really been missing chocolate frogs. It’s not taking you away from the shop, is it? I don’t want to keep you if it is.” Her brows came together, and she bit down on her bottom lip as she worried she was taking him away from his job. --
“Rumor has it, Tumbleweed, Texas, is not the only place in the world that has a library,” Ron joked. “And haven’t you worked out the internet, yet? It’s like a library, only better. You don’t even have to be dressed to go there.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.
He gave an enthusiastic shrug and waved his hand dismissively. “We’ve got more than enough hands stirring the pot.” Which was true, with Fred being here and Angelina without her ministry gig. “They can spare me for the afternoon. I’m all yours.” He drummed his hands on the table and looked over her shoulder toward the counter. “Shall we order?” --
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t put much stock in rumors,” she said with a little shrug and a smirk. “If we believed everything we heard I’d be dating a Bulgarian bonbon and breaking Harry’s heart.” She leaned forward and smiled. “The Internet just isn’t the same as a book. There’s something so wonderful about an actual book.” Hermione glanced around before making her next comment. “And oddly enough, I can actually take books home and not be dressed with an actual book. It’s a win win situation.”
Hermione felt better knowing she wasn’t taking him away from any of his responsibilities. It was nice to see him so focused. “I like the sound of that.” Not wanting to make him wait any longer for ice cream, she pushed her chair back and stood up. “I’ve kept you waiting long enough. Come on,” she said, holding her hand out.
“Would you like to share?” She already knew the answer to that question, but she asked anyway. --
Ron laughed, remembering. “And I’d have a tattoo of a Pygmy Puff on my arse.” His smile grew wider still at Hermione’s modesty. He pretended to be shocked and clapped his hand to his chest as if clutching an invisible set of pearls.
He got to his feet and took her hand in his, interlacing their fingers. He would never voice such a sappy feeling aloud, but he loved the feeling of her hand holding his. Every time she took his hand, it felt like she was choosing him all over again.
Ron noticeably cringed at the suggestion of sharing, but recovered by suggesting, “We could get a double serving? Triple? Make sure there’s plenty to go around.” He glanced over at her sheepishly. --
“Can you imagine?” Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of Ron permanently marked with a Pygmy puff. “I’m not sure I could have ever taken you seriously ever again.” She squeezed his hand, and smiled up at him.
If there was one thing she could say about Ron, it was that he never failed to make her smile. “You look like I kicked your puppy,” she said with a laugh. “I know you a bit better than to actually share an ice cream with you.” Hermione leaned into him some. “I’ll spare you the agony of watching me eat your ice cream, and get my own.”
Up at the counter, Hermione mulled over her choices, but ultimately went with chocolate. It had been what she wanted to begin with. “But I still reserve the right to try some of yours,” she teased. --
“If you insist,” Ron beamed at her, adding nobly, “But just so you know, I really would share.” Maybe. He ordered strawberry peanut butter with chocolate chips on top for himself, and paid the cashier for both of their ice creams. He walked alongside her back to their table. The ice cream was delicious. He had to hand it to the Muggle owners. It was almost like the real thing.
He waited until Hermione had had a few tastes of her ice cream before asking, “Does that satisfy the chocolate frog craving? Even a little?” --
Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but she knew deep down he’d probably give her just about anything she ever asked for. Maybe.
It wasn’t quite up to chocolate frog standards ( and even then those standards weren’t ridiculously high ) but it helped. Even just a little. “It’s certainly better than nothing,” she said with a little smile. What the ice cream didn’t do was squash the ache she felt in the pit of her stomach.
Her eyes dropped to stare at her ice cream where she watched her spoon circle the dish. The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming for her. It wasn’t often that she was at a loss on how to solve the problems before her. But this place was different, and no matter how many times Ron told her it was something she had to accept or she’d drive herself crazy, she couldn’t get it out of her head.
She let go of her spoon and brought her hand up to trace the spot that bellatrix had carved into her arm. “I’m not sure anything will ever compare to chocolate frogs anymore.” --
Ron was not so busy in the enjoyment of his treat that he did not notice Hermione’s mood shift. He pressed his lips together tightly as she traced the scar on her arm. Unbidden, the memory of her screams filled his ears, and he clenched his jaw tight, wishing he could will the memory away.
“How can I help?” he managed to say. “I know you’re not happy here.”
—
Her look softened and she reached across the table to grab his hand. “It’s not that I’m not happy. I’m actually very happy.” She stopped there, trying to figure out the best way to express just how she felt about the whole situation. “I just miss things. People,” she said with a little shrug.
“We spent all that time without anyone. It was just us. I made my parents forget about me.” And despite knowing it was the best decision, it still wasn’t easy. “We lost so many people and I was finally getting back some normalcy. I finally had my life back.” Hermione knew that without Ron here with her it would have been a million times worse. She’d already had to lose him once.
“Losing Harry just made it seem more real. And I hate not being able to do anything about it.” Her hand moved back to her arm. “I don’t want you to think I’m not happy, though.” --
Sometimes Ron could almost forget that Hermione was younger and that the war was still fresh for her. There were times when it was for him too, but mostly he had gotten on with his life. He largely had Harry and Hermione to thank for that, and now he hoped that he could somehow return the favor.
“I know it’s not the life you planned on, or even one that you want, but do you think you could get used to it? I know it’s never going to seem normal. And important people are missing.” Important people are also here, he thought, with Fred on his mind.
—
“That’s not,” she paused and shook her head. “Ron, I don’t know what life would have been like for me back there. But I do know that any life that has you with me is a life I want.” She sighed and looked back down to her quickly melting ice cream. “I know this all seems so silly. I know that I’m lucky to be here with you and everyone else. We get a chance that no one else does.”
The logical part of her had thought this through a million different times. She knew what an opportunity this was, but sometimes she couldn’t help but feel homesick. She just wished she could do something about all of it.
“Sometimes I just wish I could talk to them again, or write to them. Anything. But I know is silly because they don’t miss me.” Hermione looked up at him. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here. But I do know that if you promise to keep taking me for ice cream that I could definitely get used to life here. Even if it is unbearably hot.” --
Ron’s ears went a bit pink at that, and his lips spread into a lopsided grin. He knew that she wanted to be with him, but it was always nice to hear her say it.
“If I could figure out a way to make that work for you, I’d do it. But in the meantime,” he nudged his dish on the table toward her, an offering, “there’s always ice cream.”