Revenge Is Sweet

"Who did you say was here?" Ron screeched in shock to George, who was leaning into the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place, grinning mischievously.

"You heard me," he smirked, as his eyes twinkled maleficently.

"Are you serious? Wait, what-why-wh--" Ron sputtered bewilderedly. His heart skipped several beats, and it rose a few inches in his chest. He gulped nervously.

"Dunno a thing little bro. We're just going to have to wait for Bill before we suffocate her with a load of pointless interrogations," Fred remarked casually as he strolled into the kitchen, taking a seat across from Ron. It was clear neither Fred or George felt no anxiety or trepidation in the arrival of the magisterial beauty.

Ron exchanged a surprised look with Harry, who was sipping tea innocently next to him.

Ginny and Hermione came down from upstairs, giggling irrelevantly.

Hermione immediately noticed Ron's discomfort yet blissful expression, and asked with concern, "Ron, are you okay?"

He was gazing straight ahead, mouth open, and eyes vacant. She could sense his heart pulsating dangerously fast.

"Ron?" she repeated cautiously.

"Hm? What did you say, Harry?" he asked bemusedly, turning to look at Harry.

"Not Harry, me," Hermione replied bossily, standing up straight.

"Hermione, you are going to love this," George simpered sarcastically, and Fred grinned accordingly.

"What do you m--" she asked, glaring back at him.

And that was when she walked in. The atmosphere changed dramatically, like the arrival of a sudden, unexpected storm that would overtake like no other.

Hermione replied simply with a soft, "Oh."

Ginny covered her hands with her face, overwhelmed with the dread and unpleasant anticipation of the inevitable explosion that would come from Hermione.

Bill, looking a tad uncomfortable, was standing next to her, with his arm affectionately placed around her petite waist. Her pure white-blonde hair was draped neatly on her shoulders, and she wore a gentle smile, modeling her luminous oral pearls. A fake smile, which Hermione read instantly.

"Good afternoon, I think you remember my, uh--" Bill began.

"Girlfriend," she chimed in casually adding her French accent.

"Yes, girlfriend, Fleur Delacour?" he finished confidently.

Hermione smiled bitterly, and Ginny nodded nervously. Harry suppressed an anticipative chuckle and nodded as well.

Ron didn't show any signs that he caught what Bill said.

Fred and George just smiled in a warm welcome.

Bill turned back to her, and said sweetly, "You remember everyone, right? My twin brothers Fred and George, my sister Ginny, Harry Potter, I know you remember him, my other brother--"

"Ronald," she interrupted, smiling adoringly at Ron.

Hermione clenched the top of Ron's chair furiously, fruitlessly attempting to calm herself down.

"And Hermione Granger," Bill finished.

Fleur set her tyrannical gaze upon Hermione, who glared daggers at her.

"'Ermione, 'ow are theengs with Veektor?" Fleur asked righteously.

Ron had snapped out his reverie, and whipped around to glower at Hermione. Everyone seemed to be holding his or her breath.

Hermione chuckled angrily. "There is nothing between me and 'Veektor'," she grumbled between gritted teeth. "You know, I just remembered that I have a - a thing, so, I'll be upstairs if you need me. Welcome to the Order," she called over her shoulder with bitter sarcasm.

And with that, she marched straight up the stairs, never looking back. Ron barely noticed.

* * *

Hermione was pacing across her room. She had been doing this for about an hour. The only thing she could think of was Fleur.

She was trembling with animosity, and her hair was prickling with static electricity. She couldn't remember the last time she was engulfed with so much bottled-up rage.

Then it came to her. The last time she saw Fleur. Her treasured books were scattered around the room, among other things, that she had attempted to distract herself with. But it was all in vain. She couldn't get the sour part-veela out of her head.

And Ron.

She had never known anyone to act like such an undignified moron around another living creature. He always was so taken with her. Her petite and thin frame, her covetous hair, the flirtatious behavior, her manipulative and superficial nature...

Hermione shuddered uncontrollably.

A soft knock interrupted Hermione's vicious soliloquy. "Hermione?" Ginny asked nervously through the door, as she peaked in cautiously.

"What?" Hermione snapped automatically, not turning to look at her.

"Are you done with your thing?"

"Oh! Um, yeah. Why?"

"Well, Harry, Ron and me are in their room and wanted to know if you wanted to chat," Ginny explained innocently.

Hermione bit her lip. She wasn't in the mood at all to sit and chat with the likes Ron, especially after his charade earlier. But, she also didn't want everyone, especially Fleur, to think she that her simple presence could get her this worked up.

"C'mon," Ginny persuaded.

Hermione sighed. "Fine."

As they trudged down the hall, Ginny kept shooting Hermione analyzing looks, as if she was trying to figure out what Hermione was thinking, not fooled for a minute about Hermione's implausible excuse from earlier.

"Hello there, Hermione," Harry greeted nervously as the girls walked in. He and Ron exchanged apprehensive glances.

"Finish your thing?" Ron inquired casually.

"Yep," Hermione replied in nonchalance.

Several moments later, a more pleasant conversation than was expected commenced.

But Harry and Ginny should have known it was too good to last.

Ron just had to open his big stupid mouth.

"Hermione, what do you have against Fleur?" he asked defensively.

Harry and Ginny exchanged horrified glances, complete with agape jaws and bugged out eyes.

An awkward silence fell, and Hermione looked like she was beginning to swell.

"Well, do you hear that, Harry? Mum's calling us," Ginny announced unconvincingly, witnessing Hermione's mouth open to retort nastily.

"I don't hear anything Ginny," Harry replied blankly. "Oh! Right. Yea, um, let's go, Ginny," he ushered forcefully, just catching on.

As they slammed the door behind them, Hermione said in forced calm, yet with a slight hint of sarcasm, "Fleur? Nothing, Ron. Why would you think I had something against Fleur?"

"Well, you always lose it when she's around. You get really angry and mean--"

Her blood began to surge again, and her once-concealed fury was breaking out of its fragile makeshift shell. Hermione interrupted sardonically, "Which is so much better than all of your drooling and fascination with her--"

Ron grunted in outrage. "What? I don't drool around her--"

Hermione responded by raising her eyebrows. She crossed her arms and pointed out coldly, "Oh, so you are admitting that you drool at the thought of her?"

Ron stood up as his ears reddened angrily. "And I'm not fascinated with her, either!"

"Don't give me that, Ron. Everyone can tell that you are! Your eyes gloss over and you seem to fall into subconsciousness, completely oblivious to all of your surroundings. You don't exactly hide your infatuation," Hermione spat nastily, narrowing her eyes malevolently.

Ron was baffled at her behavior. Hermione never liked Fleur, and one might go as far as to say she hated her. But this still didn't explain why she was acting like he always did when they were on the subject of Viktor Krum. Like she was, well, jealous. "What's it to you?"

She hesitated nervously. "Nothing! Its just that it really infuriates me to see my best friend get all worked up over some overrated and grumpy foreigner and act like they are the greatest invention since sliced bread, when they are just as normal as you and I--"

She stopped abruptly at the height of her ramble. There was an unusual glint in Ron's eye that she hadn't seen before, and it was disturbing her, satisfied and mordaciously pleased.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Hermione shrieked, almost fearfully, as her insides turned suddenly frigid.

"Revenge is sweet, don't you think?" Ron asked in a tone of extreme bitterness. His tone was harsh, and cold. She had never heard him like this before.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked wondrously.

"Now you know how it feels!"

"How what feels?" she asked in stupefaction.

"To have a person that you care about goggling over someone else, who they don't even know!" he replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

Hermione finally comprehended what Ron had been hinting at, mildly recognizing that he had mention that he cared about her, and was thinking about it in the back of her mind, taken aback. But she continued to answer snottily. "Do you mean Viktor? Or as your precious Fleur would say, 'Veektor'?"

"Who do you think I mean, Hermione?" he snapped acidly.

"Don't even start on him, Ron! Don't even start! You have this enormously immature grudge against him just because he asked me to the Yule Ball first, which only meant you couldn't depend on me as your last resort," she defended, slightly hurt.

The sheer memory of that miserable event and the explosive aftermath came rushing back. Ron's heart pined angrily. After a split-second of recollection, he opened his mouth to hurl a fervent reply. But she was quicker.

"But you know what it even worse, Ron? Do you? I merely accepted an invitation. That's it! Do you remember what you did?" she asked passionately. She was looking him straight in the eye, poking him hard in the chest, forcing her words to penetrate through his skull. "You asked Fleur to the Yule Ball. You asked her! Wouldn't that be an example of, what were your words? Fraternizing with the enemy? How can you not forgive me for accepting when someone asked me but think that offering is forgivable? Ron, it--"

"Hermione," Ron pleaded quietly, "stop, okay, just for a second."

"And why would I do that?" she replied bluntly.

"Please, Hermione."

She glared expectantly at him, yet a miniature balloon of shame was swelling in the pit of her empty stomach. She ignored it.

"Hermione, I," Ron argued plainly, but sincerely all the same, "I don't care that Viktor asked you. What I care about is that you accepted."

"I--"

"No, Hermione!" Ron shouted angrily. She clearly didn't get the point. Déjà vu, eh? "He's--"

"He's what?" Hermione echoed, hands on her hips and eyes ablaze.

Ron paused, as he talked himself into saying it. "He's not good enough for you! How could you let yourself sink that low? You deserve a hell of a lot better than him, okay?"

For the second time in this heated debate, Hermione was taken aback. But rather extensively, this time. But again, she refused to let that influence her justification.

"Like who? You?"

She regretted it as soon as the words escaped from her mouth. Hermione wasn't sure what to expect from him. She had viewed him as more than a friend for awhile, but she didn't feel like she was ready for all of that to unravel, or for him to say he felt the same way.

But she did. She wanted him so bad to admit that whenever she was around, his heart would beat out of control and his knees would grow weak and unstable. Or that he checked that his every move, breath, and word would be to her pleasing.

This was exactly how she had felt. Always.

Her dubious heart was on edge. Waiting impatiently for his response.

Ron seemed speechless at her sly suggestion. He was staring at her with an undecipherable expression. He rubbed his shoulder anxiously.

"You know what, forget it, Ron. Just forget I said it," Hermione muttered flusteredly as she headed towards the door.

"Wait," Ron said hurriedly.

"What?" she sighed in conceal eagerness.

He slowly stood up and shuffled in her direction, eyes on his hands. His heart was beating faster than he thought possible. More than during their treacherous and potentially fatal adventures and daring actions, more than when Ginny was kidnapped, more than when his father was attacked...

"What?" she repeated gently. Her eyes were hopeful and soft.

Ron brought his eyes up to hers. He wouldn't be able to control his words. He had to ask her, and he had to ask her now. It was now or never. "Why not me, Hermione?"

There had been several astounding revelations that evening. But this one took the cake.

Hermione was completely blown away. This was not her Ron. He's never said anything like this before.

"Hermione?"

Ron's insides slowly began to freeze. She wasn't saying anything. She was just staring at him with this peculiar expression. Ron thought that she hadn't even breathed yet.

He took a quick step backward, planning to run out the door and run until he was as far away as a heartbroken and frightened living creature could exist. Except something held him back.

He turned around to see what was stopping him, but he never got a chance. That's because Hermione had planted a passionate kiss on his mouth, and wrapped her arms around his neck as if she wanted to remain anchored there forever. Truthfully, Ron probably wouldn't have minded. So, he tenderly kissed her back.

A moment later, they reluctantly broke apart.

Hermione smiled shyly, and ruffled his hair affectionately.

"You were right. Revenge is very sweet," Hermione whispered.

Ron chuckled heartily. How right he was.