Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Just this arrangement of words. Harry Potter, sadly, belongs to Ms. Rowling, the WB Corporate Juggernaut, and anyone else who has a slice of the proverbial pie.
Mr. Matchmaker (The Trials and Tribulations of Ronald Weasley).
Three months ago…
"I'm telling you now, one more comment and…"
"And what, Ronald Bilius Weasley?"
"And…well…I'm not sure. But I can guarantee you won't like it!"
"For heaven's sake, I'm just asking for a bit of consideration every now and again Ron!" Hermione huffed angrily, before crossing her arms over her chest and turning away from her red-haired boyfriend. The usage of the word "boyfriend" being somewhat loose, to say the least. They'd finally gotten together several weeks previously after dancing around each other for a good couple of months, but Hermione couldn't deny that she knew it'd be trouble from the start. She loved Ron, god, she really did, but they were just so…incompatible.
He was a slob; she was a hygiene freak.
He was sporty; she was bookish.
She was deep…he was about as deep as a half-filled watering can.
"How can you say I don't give you consideration Hermione? I'm always giving you space when you want it, and comfort as well. For crying out loud, I gave up bloody Quidditch with Harry today, just because you wanted me to stay here." Point in evidence. She wheeled on him angrily, tears springing to the corners of her eyes as she shouted at him, voice cracking in mid-sentence.
"Oh Ron, that's not the point!" She half-shrieked, half-sobbed. "Why have I felt like I've known you less and less every day since we…since we…"
"Snogged?"
"RON FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!" His hands immediately went up in a placating gesture, eyes widening at her sudden outburst. Hermione released a final, choked sob before turning back around, a conjured tissue clutched firmly between her fingers.
Ron sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he did so. The truth of the matter was that he'd been thinking the exact same thing for a while now. He missed his best friend, the girl who'd berate him about failing to do his homework rather than the dirty sock he'd forgotten to clean up, who'd smile and laugh with him and Harry on summer afternoons by the Great Lake rather than scream and rail at him for being insensitive (well, more so than usual). He missed seeing her smile, rather than seeing her cry. There was only really one thing to do; they both knew the direction that this conversation was heading in, one of them just needed to take the first step.
Fortune favours the bold, he thought wryly to himself before tentatively taking the few steps necessary to close the distance between his girlfriend and himself. Reaching out, he placed both hands on either trembling shoulder, wincing as she flinched at his touch. Her back was still turned to him, but the sniffling became quieter, the involuntary convulsions stilled slightly. Now, he thought, do it now. Make it clean.
"I know what you mean." He half-whispered, half-forced out. For god's sake Weasley, suck it up. He cleared his throat subtly before continuing, ignoring the second stiffening of her body at his words. "We both know why." He added sadly, albeit more authoritatively. Suddenly he was engulfed by a swirling mane of curly brown hair as she whipped around, throwing herself at him with such abandon that Ron wasn't sure whether she was going to hug him, or stab him in the face.
"I love you so much," She sobbed into his shoulder. He closed his eyes, feeling the tell-tale signs of an impending loss of masculinity headed his way. His throat tightened painfully, hands shook and he had to bite his lip to keep it from trembling.
Fortune favours the bold.
"I love you too Hermione." He replied, absently stroking her hair with one hand, keeping the other arm wrapped around her. "You're my best friend, love. Well, you and Harry." She tightened her grip about him; a fresh bout of shakes overcoming her. "But that's the problem. You're my best friend, you always have been and you always will be."
"Oh, Ron…" She breathed.
"No, let me finish. I had a crush on you for the longest time, all through our fourth and fifth years. Sixth year, it was waning, but I refused to acknowledge it. When we kissed, it was fantastic; it was great; it was everything I wanted for the last few years…for so long. When we got together I was ecstatic, until I realised that we were together. That we couldn't just be two best mates who had a quick snog every now and again, that the…what's the word…" He trailed off, hinting for her support.
"Dynamic?" Hermione offered automatically. Ron nodded.
"Yeah, the dynamic of our relationship had changed. Fundamentally." He would never admit it, but he felt a twinge of pride at being so eloquent, not stuttering and not fouling up words.
Well, apart from that last one. Maybe he was learning after all.
"And Hermione…" He pulled back from her slightly, causing her to look up at him with such a vulnerable look in her eyes that it made his heart melt. He steeled himself, reaching a hand up to stroke her cheek lightly, affectionately. "I don't want that. I miss my best friend." She opened her eyes slowly, a ghost of a smile faintly tracing the corners of her mouth.
"Sweetheart…" She sighed, and leant in to brush their lips together. He accepted her, taking her bottom lip between his as they met in a brief, chaste kiss. A last kiss.
"So…best friends?" He asked quietly, after they'd pulled back, staring at each other's bloodshot eyes. She smiled fully this time, leaning in once again but kissing him on the cheek this time. A sweet, platonic meeting of flesh. He could live with that.
"Always, Ron. Always."
Present…
The wind whipped around Ron furiously as he descended a little faster than he meant to, pulling up on his broom belatedly as his knees jarred on impact with the ground. Wincing in pain, he glared at the graceful descent of his best friend, who landed next to him with a smirk on his face and amusement dancing behind his green eyes. One word Potter, he thought irritably through the shooting pain in his kneecaps, one word…
"Smooth."
Bastard.
"Yeah, well," Ron grumbled as he achingly slid off his Cleansweep. Christ, that smarted. "Not all of us have Firebolts, snitchboy."
"Or ability?"
"Watch it Potter." He smiled and clapped the other boy on the back, revelling once again in the fact that they were back, here, at Hogwarts. He'd been so certain he'd never get to practice Quidditch again, or even ride a broom when it wasn't on a suicidal mission to destroy a piece of a maniac's soul, or trying to escape said mission with most body parts intact. As it stood, it was Hermione of course who convinced their well-meaning, but tragically short-sighted friend that they stood the best chance of devising a way to search for and destroy the Horcruxes if they had a base of operations from which to work from. And even without their late Headmaster, Hogwarts was still one of, if not the safest place in the Wizarding world. Ancient magic protected them here, things born of the Old times. Even someone as dangerously unbalanced and deliriously self-important as Voldemort wouldn't try to tinker with things that were meant to lie sleeping. The consequences could be too terrible to behold.
At least for now, anyway. They had time. Not a lot of it, but some nonetheless, and Lord only knew they needed it to prepare. To strategise. To research.
Certainly not to play Quidditch outside on a warm, lazy Sunday afternoon. No sir.
"RONALD WEASLEY, HARRY POTTER, GET OVER HERE NOW!" A shrill scream came from the general direction of the locker room. Neither boy needed to turn around, they knew exactly who had been so ungraciously demanding their attention, and they knew exactly why said person was so horrendously angry. Somewhat terrified, the two friends glanced at each other worriedly.
"Uh oh."
"How did she know?"
"I've been saying it for years, Harry, SHE KNOWS EVERYTHING!"
"I HEARD THAT RONALD." The redhead winced.
"I told you this was a bad idea." He sighed, glancing over at a furious Hermione, her hands placed firmly on her hips in a gesture so reminiscent of McGonagall, he actually started for a second.
"I guess we'd better get over there before she…you know…has an aneurysm." Harry said quietly, before he eventually sighed heavily, picked up his Firebolt and began to trudge resignedly over towards their mutual best friend.
Or as Ron preferred to call her at the moment, Medusa.
Discounting the idea that discretion was the better part of valour at this point, and would most probably earn him a swift kick in the shins at the dinner table, he too slung his broom over his shoulders before following Harry's long walk over. As he drew closer, the conversation between the two became clearer, although he only heard parts of it clearly over the distance between them.
"Don't believe…utterly irresponsible…have a mission, Harry!"
"We…nice day…unwind…god, don't hurt me."
He finally got close enough to cancel out the annoying staccato effect of their voices, only to hear the end of the conversation.
"I HONESTLY DON'T KNOW WHY I BOTHER WITH YOU HARRY JAMES POTTER, I REALLY DON'T!" With a final, withering glare at Ron she swung her book bag in a wide arc, causing all who were watching to hiss in empathy for poor Harry as it connected with his arm. She turned smartly on her heel and began to storm off immediately, Harry shooting an apologetic glance at Ron before taking off after her. Neither of them noticed the dark green book that had fallen out of Hermione's bag upon its high-speed collision at Bicep Junction.
Once he could hear the sound of heavy footfalls and Harry's belated attempts to calm Hermione down disappear, and also once the redheaded Keeper had gotten over his initial shock at yet another one of her undoubtedly stress-related outbursts, he hurried over and retrieved the item before anyone else noticed. Running his fingers over the smooth Wyrmhide leather binding, he raised an eyebrow at the word "TORI" embossed in golden fire at the bottom-right corner.
"I know she loves her books…" he muttered under his breath, thumbing the lettering tentatively, "But naming them is going way too far."
As he turned the object over in his hands a silver latch came into view, roughly the width of a sickle; that bound both covers to each other. Curious, he tried popping it, but to no avail. In fact, there didn't seem to be a mechanism for opening it at all. Grinning smugly, he pulled his wand from the pocket in his sleeve he'd had sewn into all his robes, before pointing the wooden shaft directly at the latch.
"Alohomora." He enunciated clearly, pleased at the fact he'd managed to outwit one of Hermione's puzzles. He'd have to brag, and jest, and possibly tease the girl to the point of psychosis later on. If it had actually worked, of course.
The latch stayed firmly secure, the covers not budging a millimetre in either direction.
"Bugger." Ron muttered once more, before sighing and shaking his head irritably. He moved to stash the book inside his robes. "Guess that's why she's the brains of the Trio."
A soft click and a gentle, thrumming vibration in his hand halted his movements, as he slowly drew the book back out of the folds of his clothing. Sure enough, the metal bar was now at a ninety degree angle to where it once was, the pages open and accessible. More out of morbid, possibly masochistic curiosity than anything else, the boy replaced the catch slowly, feeling the vibration cease as soon as both ends touched the leather. Turning to the front cover once more, he grinned as he realised he'd actually figured it out this time.
Not by accident, of course.
He touched the golden writing in the corner once more, enunciating clearly once more.
"Tori. Shit…I mean, TRIO!" He flushed red, despite the lack of anyone around to witness his momentary lapse in mental competency, grinning even wider as the latch flipped open once more. "Let's see what's worth all this trouble." He murmured idly, opening the book as he did so. Without warning, the pages began to fly open at the first hint of physical coercion, flipping to one side quickly as if searching for a specific place. With a final leap of a few inches into the air before settling back down into Ron's hand, the book seemed to have arrived at whatever destination it was travelling towards. With a start, he watched as the blank page began to ink itself, writing in slanted, jade-green writing that he recognised instantly. Ignoring the sinking feeling that he shouldn't be reading this, he glanced at the header.
September 23rd
It happened again.
No, he definitely shouldn't be reading this.
It happened again. That dream, *the* dream. The one where I'm lying on the common room sofa in strong arms, being kissed with a passion I didn't even know existed. Being kissed by…
Ron's heart caught in his throat.
…Harry…
Ron's heart leapt out of his throat, slapped him around both cheeks and darted straight back in through his open, hanging mouth.
This time he leant back, gave me a smile, and I felt his lips brush mine again just as I woke up on said sofa. God, I hoped it was real this time. I hate that it wasn't.
I suppose that's why they're called dreams, though, and not reality.
With an involuntary jerk of his hands, Ron slammed the book shut, wide-eyed and mouthing the words "God, I hoped it was real this time". Well…that was…well it was certainly something.
He had had an inkling that Harry's feelings towards their female best friend had been somewhat less than platonic for a fair while, since their fifth year really. They seemed to have a bond that he could never surpass with her. Whilst he knew that he was Harry's best mate, he also knew there was something, which transcended that between his other two friends.
Now, of course, he had concrete proof of the other half's feelings.
Squaring his shoulders and setting his jaw, Ron began to stride purposefully up towards Hogwarts, forgetting all about the robes and schoolbag he'd left in the locker room.
He was going to help his best friends find each other, recognise their feelings for each other, even if he had to lock them in the dungeon together for a week with no-one but Dobby for company.
Because that's what best friends did for each other.
Author's Note:
Hi again all, this is being written in response to a challenge on the PK forums entitled "Mr. Matchmaker". I actually started it a long time ago, but work's been so hectic recently I haven't had a change to write, much less beta poor Pickle's work. Sorry, I'll get on it soon I promise!
Anyway, updates to MM and Priori by the weekend. Promise ;)