It Must Be Love

At last, September 19th had come, and Hermione's surprise birthday party (courtesy of Neville, Ginny, Harry, and Ron) was in full swing. The common room was lit with a mysterious red glow, and golden filibuster fireworks danced through the air in an elated fashion. Multicoloured balloons fell from the ceiling, and ever-bouncing bubbles hovered round the room, rebounding off surfaces with the force of a brick. Hermione, who had been lured into the common room by Lavender to be hailed by all the Griffindors in the school, had merely stood in shock for the first five-or-so minutes, but was soon dancing wildly round the room, talking and joking with everyone she saw. She was now dancing with Seamus Finnigan to a fast Brazen Audibles song, the grin on her face evident from the other side of the room.

Ron sat with Harry by the fire and watched her smilingly, taking occasional swigs of Butterbeer. Harry looked at him in exasperation.

"Oh for God's sake Ron, just ask the girl to dance already!" Ron was taken aback. He turned to Harry, who had a trace of a smile lingering about his face.

"And why would I want to ask Hermione to dance with me?" He asked defensively, but his ears had reddened and he stuttered over his words. How did he know? Harry laughed at him quietly. Ron couldn't hear it over the loud music, but saw his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

"Who said I was talking about Hermione?" said Harry grinning. Ron flushed scarlet.

"Just ask her Ron, I know you like her." Ron looked stonily back at Harry. How can he just expect me to walk up to her like that? I'm not going to, she looks happy enough with Seamus. And besides, he can't know for sure that I like her. Can he?

"Go on, you know you want to!" Harry coaxed, grinning. Treat it like a joke. Don't let him know for sure.

"Give over, Harry! Don't make me jinx you!" Ron joked, trying to laugh naturally. Harry however looked solemn suddenly. He wasn't laughing.

"It's not a joke Ron. Why don't you just do something about it, because otherwise you're just going to keep hurting her and hurting her," Harry said seriously. Then he put down his bottle of Butterbeer, got up and walked over to where Hermione and Dean Thomas were swaying gently on the spot to a slow song Ginny had just put on, both looking a little embarrassed. From his seat by the portrait hole, Ron saw Harry tapping Hermione gently on the shoulder. She and Dean stopped and looked at Harry curiously. He said a few words to Dean who grinned and came to sit by Ron, and then Harry began dancing with Hermione, muttering quietly in her ear. Ron couldn't help but notice how anxious she looked.

"Great party Ron, Hermione's really enjoying herself! How did you guys organise it so quickly anyway?" Ron jumped at the unexpected voice beside him. Tearing his eyes away from Hermione, who now had her head buried in Harry's shoulder whilst he stroked her hair and muttered to her, looking concerned. He looked at Dean, who surveyed him expectantly.

"Thanks Dean, it wasn't that hard. Lavender sorted out the room, Neville arranged the food and got permission from McGonagall, and Harry and I tried to invite everybody without Hermione finding out, then we all agreed on the music." Dean grinned at him.

"Cool," he said simply. Just then, Parvati came bounding up to Dean, smiling at him sweetly.

"Come on, you promised me a dance!" She laughed. Dean took her hand and they hurried to the centre of the floor. She put her hands on his shoulders, and he placed his on her hips, and they began to rotate on the spot, muttering jokes to each other and laughing. He didn't know why, but Ron resented it. He shoved his empty bottle away and grabbed a bottle of Vodka-Potent. Pulling the cap off, he sniffed it cautiously. Ron had tried it before of course, but Fred had poured liberal amounts of mulled mead into it. The rest of that night, Ron had stayed in the bathroom with his head in the toilet, listening to Mrs. Weasley bellowing at Fred outside the door, so naturally, he was going to be careful. Satisfied that the drink was un-tampered with, he took a large gulp, then sat watching the dancers.

At long last, the song finished, and Hermione hurried off the floor and towards the drink table, where Ron still sat. He looked up at her, and saw her eyes were red and shining more than was natural. He also noticed her tearstained face.

"What's wrong Hermione? Are you OK?" He stood up quickly and made to put his arm around her. She avoided looking at him, but pushed him away and answered jerkily, "What do you care?" Then she grabbed a few bottles of Vodka-Potent and Firewhisky, and walked to the other side of the room where Harry was sat waiting for her. Standing there in surprise, Ron watched her walk away from him. Whatever he'd done, it looked like she was furious. He watched her drink deeply from one of the bottles she had taken - he wasn't sure which - and then she turned to Harry, tears running down her face and shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs.

Ron, becoming suddenly conscious that he was still standing, sat down quickly, and took another drink from his vodka bottle - it was almost finished already. He then looked back at Hermione, who had already reached for another bottle, having discarded her now empty one on the floor - for once not caring about the extra work for the house-elves. Ron couldn't help but notice that she didn't look to see what she took - he was under the impression that she didn't even care. She looks so small in that chair, he thought to himself. Harry however, seemed to think so too, for he gestured for Hermione to stand up, and then he pulled her onto his lap, rocking her gently and whispering to her as she cried into his robes.

Ron managed to sit unmoving from his chair all night, only ever reaching back for more alcohol or turning his head to watch the dancers. He wouldn't even face the few people who came to speak to him, and so for most of the night, he sat alone. Ron couldn't care less though. What did it matter whether he was with friends or alone? The point was that he wasn't with Hermione - what could matter more than that? He looked around the room glumly, trying not to watch Hermione, who was sat on Harry's lap with an arm around his neck, drinking and talking to him. She's stopped crying at least, Ron thought miserably to himself. There were only fifth and sixth years left in the room it seemed, but it still seemed overcrowded. Ron gazed up at the clock. It was half past one. Sighing heavily, Ron pulled himself up, thinking he might as well go to bed - it wasn't as if anyone would miss him. He began walking up to the dormitory, but Ginny stepped in front of him and pulled him into a chair.

"No, you can't go yet, I need to talk to you," she said angrily. What's the problem with everyone today? Ron thought bitterly.

"So talk."

She scowled at him. "What's wrong with Hermione? Harry refused to tell me and she's not in the best state to tell me for herself."

"I don't know," Ron said furiously. It was true, he hadn't done anything and now she was hardly speaking to him. He didn't even recall having an actual conversation with her that evening. They hadn't even been together long enough for him to give her his present. Ginny looked disbelieving. "Look, I was talking to Harry, he goes and talks to Hermione, and suddenly she's in tears! You explain it."

She looked at him carefully. "Were you and Harry talking about Hermione by any chance?"

"Yes," he said shortly. Ginny sighed.

"I think you'd better talk to Harry, Ron. Don't go to 'Mione until you know what the problem is."

"Fine," snapped Ron. He was sick of his baby-sister telling him what to do. "I'm going to bed." And with that, he got up, walked over to the staircase, and proceeded up the stairs.

The dormitory was empty when he arrived - everyone must still be downstairs enjoying the party, thought Ron bitterly. He lay face down on his bed thinking. He had thought that everything was going to be OK once Hermione's birthday was over, but it was officially the twentieth of September now, the day after Hermione's birthday, and things had only gotten worse. He hadn't thought that his present would make Hermione go out with him, and love him back the fathomless way that he loved her - but he had at least hoped to actually give her the gift. To speak to her. To spend time with her and not be watching her on Harry's lap from across the room. The others may have found it fun, but as far as Ron was concerned, the night had been a complete disaster.