A/N: It all belongs to her…JKR.
I think I was inspired to write this by a dream…or in the shower, where it seems most ideas seem to strike. All you writers know how it is…the ideas come pouring in when you're not in a place where you can write them down easily. Happens to me all the time.
At any rate…I hope you enjoy! Thanks! And Happy Holidays!
*NOTE* I've made some changes to this chapter and taken out the harsher words. I hope it reads better. I knew there was a reason I didn't write and post after 3am!
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AN INTRODUCTION
Ron was tired of waiting.
He was so tired of sitting back, listening to Hermione go on and on about "Harry this" and "Harry that," that he wanted to scream at her, shake her, something- anything- to get her to notice him. Instead, he took one final glance at where Harry sat at the end of the sofa, with Hermione sitting on the arm next to him…once again regaling the room full of people with yet another `Harry this, Harry that' story.
"AGH!" he groaned, more loudly than he'd intended. Hermione stopped talking and looked at him questioningly. He set his jaw and shook his head at their circle of friends. Without a word he stood and stalked to his room, slamming the door shut behind him. He then proceeded with a string of curses that ended in a wish for a long and painful death for Lavender.
It was, after all, her fault that he was so bloody miserable…her fault that he'd never been able to get Hermione out of his head. "Bugger!" he yelled loudly to the empty room. "Damn you, Lavender!" He kicked the side of the wrought iron bedpost and yelped as the pain shot through his foot.
He grabbed hold of the post and swung around until the backs of his knees hit the mattress and he slumped onto the bed, dropping his head into his hands and thinking back to his final day with Lavender…
Flashback
"We can't do this anymore," Ron said for what felt like the ninetieth in the span of thirty minutes.
Lavender rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips, obviously just as fed up as Ron. "You're right, Ronald!" she haughtily replied. "We can't do this anymore. We never could do this, could we?"
Ron narrowed his eyes at her and stared hard. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Divination, Ron," Lavender taunted. "You know, the class that I excel in and you always create your dreams from fantasies because you're too scared to discover their true meaning?"
Ron shook his head in a maddening attempt to draw understanding from her rambling.
"I've seen it…" she taunted. "I've seen the great love of your life."
Ron's teeth were clenched when he spoke again, "Tell me what the bloody hell you're on about, Lavender…." He shook his head as he moved close enough for her to feel his hot breath on her face, "or so help me…."
Lavender's eyes flashed with a moment's fear and she backed a step away. "I don't have to tell you anything," she countered then abruptly turned to walk away.
Ron grabbed her arm in a tight grip and spun her back around. "Not so fast, Lav-Lav," he said pulling her close against him. "You know you're dying to tell me." He pushed her away just hard enough for her to understand that he was no longer playing games. "Now spit it out!"
Lavender took a step forward, once again closing the distance between them, and looked directly up into Ron's eyes. "Hermione," she replied stressing each syllable. "But of course, you already knew that. Thought you'd use me to get her to notice you, didn't you?" She put her hands on his chest and raised a questioning eyebrow. "Didn't work though, did it…yet?"
Ron grabbed her hands and pushed them from his chest. "Don't ever touch me, Lavender," he warned. "Never again." He took a step toward the door then turned round to face her. "As for Hermione…you have no clue what you're talking about. You'd do well not to mention it again." He reached for the handle when the sound of Lavender's laughter reached his ears, giving him pause. He turned to face her, his face reddening with anger. "Say your piece, Lavender."
"You know how good I am at Divination, Ronald. And I told you…" she stepped forward coquettishly, "I've seen it. You and little miss Hermione. No one else ever stood a chance." She walked past him and opened the door. "Pity I hadn't divined it sooner…" she placed her fingers on his chest and walked them up to chuck him hard on the chin. "All this time wasted, thinking it was only a crush that you'd eventually outgrow." She spun around and took a step out the door. "Just as well though," she called over her shoulder. "You were never worth the effort anyway. I don't envy her." Without another word, she was gone and Ron was left to stare vacantly at the place where she'd stood and told him exactly what he wanted to hear.
He was smiling as he strutted through the door … he'd beat Harry for sure- this time.
End Flashback
Two years ago. Two goddamned years! Ron thought furiously.
That's how long it'd been since Lavender told him about his future. That's how long he'd been fighting against an unseen force to get Hermione to take notice of him. He'd proven to her that he wanted something solid in a relationship. He'd done the floozy thing with Lavender which had, when all was said and done, left him feeling decidedly empty. He hadn't had a relationship since the day they'd broken up. He didn't want anyone but Hermione…and he couldn't understand why, if she was his destiny, she wasn't running into his arms to profess her undying love.
"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" he yelled between punches to his mattress.
He fell back onto the bed with a "bloody hell" and closed his eyes, thinking about all of the people who had gathered downstairs to pay homage to what was once his favorite holiday…
Christmas!
Anymore, it was always the same. He'd sit back in silence as a small piece of him was crushed by the lack of excitement in the eyes of the recipient when they opened a gift from him. Just another blasted excuse to waste money on gifts no one wants, he thought, his bitterness meter rising as he pictured Hermione's face the year he'd bought her that `unique' perfume…the year Harry bought her that blasted book.
He'd never had luck in the gift-giving department. What amazed him was how maddeningly good Harry was at it considering he hadn't, for the most part, been gift-giving for long. "He's brilliant at every goddamn thing…."
"Oh, Harry, this is perfect. You're perfect!" he sang aloud in his mock-Hermione voice. "Oh, Harry, how do you always know just exactly what I want? What I need? What I love?" he continued, his voice growing louder until at last his rage was released in a more low-pitched, `manly' scream.
Knock knock
Ron turned his scowl to the door, silently cursing it for having the audacity to allow someone to knock on it when he so obviously didn't want company.
He closed his eyes and took a few slow, deep breaths, concentrating hard, forcing himself to relax before opening his eyes and shouting, "Come in!" as he sat up on the bed.
The door opened slowly and Hermione's petite face peeked cautiously around it. "You all right, Ron?" she asked a bit timidly. "You seemed pretty upset when you left us."
Ron rolled his eyes. "You think so, do you?" he retorted. "What do you want, Hermione? Why are you here?" He narrowed his eyes and studied her face. "Harry send you up?"
Hermione opened the door further to reveal Harry standing beside her. "No, we came together. We're worried about you."
"Bloody hell," Ron muttered. "Just what I need. Don't you two ever get tired of being, acting, feeling the same?" he asked in exasperation.
Harry stared at Ron curiously. "We're not…" he shook his head. "That is…" he cocked his head to the side and had to ask, "What?"
Ron shook his head. "Nothing," he said on a breath. "What do you want? I came up here to be alone."
Harry and Hermione stepped into the room and closed the door behind them. "We came up here to make sure you're all right, mate," Harry said, taking another step forward to examine Ron a bit closer.
"It's Christmas, Ron," Hermione said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We're your best friends. It's the three of us," she stooped down until her eyes met Ron's fully. "Remember?" she asked softly. "It's always been the three of us. If you can't talk to us…"
Ron brushed her hand from his shoulder. "Forget it," he said, waving his hand at them dismissively. "I don't wanna talk. What I want is to be alone." He narrowed his eyes at Harry, "I thought you of all people would understand that, mate," he added coldly.
"What're you going on about?" Harry asked, shaking his head and trying to make sense of it all.
Hermione placed her hand on Harry's arm and Ron's breathing grew shallow. "Get.out." he said, his anger growing rapidly. "You two take your little," he waved his hand at the spot where Hermione's hand still rested on Harry's arm, "'touchy-feely, can't get enough of you crap somewhere else. I don't need to be reminded of it anymore tonight."
Hermione's hand fell instantly from Harry's arm and they stepped back from each other with a look of total shock and shook their heads. Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ron, her nostrils beginning to flare with rage. "What's going on, Ron?" she asked tightly, continuing to study him. "There're people downstairs worried about you, wondering what in Merlin's name is wrong with you tonight. Luna was going spare when we headed up to find you."
Ron rolled his eyes. "She's always going spare anymore. Reckon this war has messed her up a right bit," he said, his voice softening just a little.
Hermione nodded her agreement. "Well, she has lost her father. We're all she's got now."
The room was silent for a full minute before Ron finally spoke. "I'm not going back down there. And really, guys…" he looked up between the two of them. "You're the last two people I want to see right now…just leave."
"All right," Harry said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Fine. Whatever you say." He put his hand on Hermione's arm and gently pulled her out the door with him.
"Goodnight, Ron," she called over her shoulder. "Happy Christmas."
Ron didn't say a word as he waited for the door to shut behind them. He picked up his wand and cast a locking spell on the door and a silencing charm on the room to keep his own noises in...theirs out. He pulled off his jumper and kicked off his shoes to lie back on his pillows.
"Be warned!"
Ron jumped when the ghostly voice seemed to fill every corner of his room. "Who's there?" he whispered anxiously as he bolted upright in his bed. He rubbed his arms as a feeling of bitter cold seemed to seep right through his skin to burrow deep within his bones.
"Tonight you shall be visited by three spirits," the haunting the voice rang out.
Something about the words rang familiar and Ron closed his eyes and tried to mentally tick off every blasted Muggle movie Hermione had ever made him watch.
Scrooge.
The word appeared like a billboard sign behind his closed eyes. "What do you want?" he asked, his firm voice belying his raging fear.
"You will do well to listen," came the voice in the same hauntingly lyrical tone.
"Leave me alone!" Ron tried to shout, his voice cracking slightly. Suddenly he felt the cold disappear, only to be replaced by such a sudden warmth that he shivered again, despite himself.
He looked down at the floor and scowled. "Bloody gits!" he yelled to the people gathered in the living room below. "Not falling for it. Has to be a trick," he mumbled as he lay back down against his pillows and closed his eyes to sleep.
…forgetting completely that he, himself, had placed a two-way silencing spell on his room and that there was no way anyone could have gotten past it in that short amount of time.
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