...Something For The Weekend?

I don't think the twins ever dated for more than about three weeks without getting 'something for the weekend' as they always call it. Bloody patronising, too. It's called making love, but the way they treat it like a joke, it's a wonder that Angelina and Alicia are still with them after all this time.

But they are, so I suppose the twins are doing something right. It means that I listen, too, when they give me those little pep talks that they're so fond of. I swear they only do it to see Harry squirm, and that's fine by me. If I thought for a second that Harry and Ginny were sleeping together, well, I reckon I'd puke. It's good to know that Harry still gets nervous at the idea of Ginny and him, well. . .

Like I said, the idea makes me feel unwell. Anyway, I'm getting way off topic here, aren't I? I should be talking about Hermione and me, and what I planned for this weekend.

It was a simple idea. Cook a nice meal, spruce the flat up, lots of candles. It was simple, romantic and set the mood pretty nicely.

Of course, I was as nervous as a vampire in a tanning salon, so when Hermione arrived, I knocked over one of the candles and nearly set the flat alight. By the time I managed to remember the Fire Dousing Charm, Hermione had Apparated into the flat because she heard me swearing.

I turned around, covered in soot and with my robes singed. This wasn't exactly what I had in mind to start the evening.

But Hermione, well. . .

Wow.

I know it took me a really long time to get around to admitting that I had feelings for her, and that there were even times that I was pretty horrible to her. There have been times when I've hated her, times we've driven each other crazy and times that I though that if I never saw her again it'd be way too soon.

But, seriously, wow.

Seeing her standing there, in a Muggle dress that looked like she'd transfigured her skin into clothing it was so tight, well, I knew that I'd made the right choice by staying with her.

She was beautiful, but, more than that, she was gorgeous.

"Er, hi," I said.

"Hi," she said, grinning. "The look suits you," she added.

I looked down, and smiled ruefully.

"This was supposed to be romantic and stuff," I said, holding up the dripping candle. "Now it just smells of burnt robes. Sorry."

"Ron, it's okay," she said, walking over and kissing me.

I pretty much forgot about burnt robes and anniversaries and everything else for a long time after that.

And then the smell of something other than burnt robes made me remember that there was something other that candles and certain parts of me that were burning.

"The dinner!" I yelled, jumping up and running into the kitchen.

Or, at least, I tried to. Turns out some bloody idiot thought that it'd be a really good idea to leave burning candles all over the place.

Oh, yeah, and someone, probably that same idiot, thought that it'd be a really, really great idea to turn out all the other lights so that I'd run head first into the low beam by the kitchen door.

Once Hermione had stopped laughing, she put out all the little fires and Finite'd the burning dinner. Then she came over to me and started giggling again as I puled myself upright.

"Yeah, ha ha, bloody hilarious," I grumbled.

She gave me one of her Ron-you're-being-silly-just-admit-I'm-right looks. By now, I've learned to accept that Hermione's really smart and knows loads more than I ever will. Normally I just agree with her when she thinks that something's funny, even if I don't see the humour in it.

Not this time.

"It's not funny, Hermione," I said, standing up.

"It is, Ron," she said, waving her wand at me and healing the cut on my head.

"No, it's not," I said, waving her off and stalking away. Of course, the flat isn't big so I didn't go very far, but it's the principle of the thing.

"Ron, you're being silly," Hermione began, before I span around.

"I'm being silly?" I asked. "Hermione, I've been slaving since I got back from the match, trying to get this perfect for you, and now it's ruined!"

"Ron, it's not ruined," she said, putting a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off.

"I don't know what you'd call ruined, then," I said. "Burns all over the floor from these candles, my best robes have been burnt full of holes and the dinner's burnt as well! I'd say that that's pretty close to ruined, wouldn't you?"

"Ron, those things don't matter," she tried again.

"Of course they matter!" I yelled. "If they didn't matter, I wouldn't do them! I'd be like Harry, and never do anything for you."

"Please don't shout," she said, a little sadly, and I felt like a complete git immediately. I've been working really hard to keep my temper under control ever since we had a huge falling out after an argument last year.

It all started when the Great Britain and Ireland Quidditch League had their Christmas ball. It's really just an excuse for the players' wives and girlfriends to dress up in really fancy robes and show off how rich their men are. I can't stand most of the women who hang around the other players and I had no intention of going, but Hermione seemed to really want to go.

"You're joking, right?" I said.

"Of course not," she said. "I like to dress up and look beautiful from time to time."

"You always look beautiful," I said. And she does. Turns out that that wasn't the right answer, though.

"So why won't you take me to this ball and let me show it?"

"Eh?"

"Ron, I want to go to the ball. I'd like to dress up in a pretty set of robes and see what the other girlfriends of Quidditch players are like."

"Bloody boring!" I said. "They haven't got two brain cells to rub together! I can't stand most of them, and the rest are only bearable 'cos they keep their mouths shut and are just pretty to look at-"

Yeah, I know. Oops.

"They're pretty, are they?" Hermione said, and suddenly her voice was so cold that you could have chilled potions with it.

"What? Oh, I dunno. Some of them, I guess."

"I see."

"Not as pretty as you, obviously," I said, trying to make up some lost ground.

"Of course," she said, her voice dropping to sub-zero levels. "So you'll be taking me to the Ball, then?"

"No!" I said, far too quickly.

"Fine," she said.

"What?"

"I said fine," she replied.

"Really?" I asked. It's not at all like Hermione to give up so easily, especially when I've offended her, which I do all the time. I usually don't mean to, though, and she tends to forgive me in the end.

"Yes, it's not a problem. I'll just have to go with someone else."

"What? You can't do that!"

"Why not?" Hermione said. "I'm sure I can find someone who will be happy to accompany me."

"Well Harry won't!" I said hotly. "He agrees with me about how rubbish it's going to be, so he's arranged to take Ginny away for the weekend."

"I wasn't thinking of asking Harry," Hermione said. "I do happen to know other Quidditch players."

"No you don't," I said, bewildered. She'd only been to about two matches in her life. Who else did she know? "There's only Angelina, and you can't go with another woman."

"What about Viktor?"

"What about him?"

"He transferred to the Holyhead Harpies at the start of the season," she said triumphantly. "I'll ask him if he wants to go with me. I'm sure he'd be happy to be my date."

"You can't go out on a date with someone else while you're going out with me!" I said.

"Well then, Ronald Weasley, you can officially consider us broken up," she said. "If you don't feel that I can compare to these stupid, beautiful women you like so much, then I don't want to be with you."

And she stormed out of the flat.

Mad, right?

Anyway, I managed to score a ticket to the Ball at the last moment and did myself up in dress robes and all that sort of thing. I showed up at the Ball, and sure enough Hermione was with Viktor Krum. She didn't look very happy, though, and I knew why.

Anyone who's heard Krum talk in an interview knows that his accent has just become thicker and thicker since he was eighteen. I could hear him mangling the English language as I got closer, but I only had eyes for her.

These days, Krum and me are on an almost equal footing. We both play Quidditch, we both have to deal with all that entails and, it seems, we're both about the same build.

But I'll be buggered if I'm not a damn sight better looking than he is when I put my dress robes on.

I didn't even stop to acknowledge him as I took Hermione's other arm and lead her away from him.

"I'm sorry, you're beautiful and I love you more than anything else on this planet," I said, before she had the chance to say anything. "If you wanted me to, I'd kiss Snape, I'd shave my head, I'd do product tests for Fred and George, if I thought it'd make you happy. I would do anything to make you happy."

"Anything?" she asked. "Even if I asked you to give up playing for the Cannons?"

I thought for a few seconds, and then nodded.

"I would do it," I said. "If you truly wanted me to, then I would do it and never regret it."

"I would," she said. "I'd regret making you give up something you love so much. I think we can compromise, though. Take me away from all these boring people."

"Even Krum?"

"Even Krum. I was just telling him that I was leaving, anyway?"

"You mean I was right?" I asked

"Fine, yes, you were right. It was a dreadful party and I shouldn't have made such a fuss about coming."

"I was right?"

"Don't push your luck," she laughed.

But it's okay, really. I love her, and I would do anything for her. She's mad as anything, but I like that, and I can't stay mad at her when I have so many wonderful memories of her.

I looked at her, looking more beautiful then she ever had before, and sighed.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper. It's not about you, it's my own fault for messing things up here."

"They're not messed up," she replied, as I took her hands in mine.

"There's no dinner," I said quietly.

"I'm not hungry," she replied, squeezing my hands gently and pressing herself against me.

"I've destroyed the flat. Harry's going to have a fit. Our landlord is going to have a fit."

"So?" she breathed, pulling my head down so that my lips met hers.

"My robes are a mess," I managed, a few minutes later.

"Then take them off," she said, biting her lip.

We stood frozen for a long moment.

"Really?"

"Really."

"All this. . ." I gestured. "It was supposed to be really romantic."

"It is," she replied. "You're here."

I picked her up and carried her off to my bedroom. Along the way, I muttered a few spells that freshened the air and also made sure that my room was soundproof.

The twins taught me them. They used them to keep things secret from our parents. Not a problem I have any more but, nevertheless, thank you, Fred and George.