my romione

Chapter ten: Hallowe'en

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started towards Ron, who was nearest and had no way to escape.
Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: he took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll’s neck from behind. The troll couldn’t feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry’s wand had still been in his hand when he’d jumped - it had gone straight up one of the troll’s nostrils.
Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him with a terrible blow with the club.
Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Ron pulled out his own wand - not knowing what he was going to do he heard himself cry the first spell that came into his head: ‘Wingardium Leviosa!’
The club flew suddenly out of the troll’s hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over - and dropped, with a sickening crack, on to its owner’s head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

anonymous asked:

"You always this quiet?"

This prompt took me aaaages for some reason, I had so many half-baked ideas that never went anywhere. And then I remembered that my life is nothing without Deathly Hallows missing moments. Enjoy! 💕


You Always This Quiet?

The plan was changing, as of course it would - nothing about the extraction of Harry Potter from the Dursleys’ could be simple, of course - but finally the rest of the Order had headed home, leaving Ron alone with Hermione in the cozy comfort of the Burrow’s kitchen. Ron couldn’t exactly say he was growing accustomed to these moments of solitude with her, as her mere presence seemed to heighten every one of his senses, but they’d been more and more frequent over the past few months and he was certainly not complaining. He was eager to see Harry, sure, but he rather liked having her all to himself.

“Tea?” he suggested, rising from the table to fetch the kettle. Hermione just shrugged, which Ron took as a yes. The great thing about finally being of age was the freedom to use magic whenever he pleased, and within seconds he had the water boiling. “You want milk or sugar or anything in it?”

“I don’t care,” she muttered back, her eyes fixed on a burn mark in the table.

Ron paused, his hand halfway to the cupboard. Since when did Hermione not share her opinion? “Lots of sugar it is, then,” he declared brightly, fully anticipating a speech on the irreparable damage he would do to their teeth with his sugar addiction.


Ron turned to look at her, watching her hair fall in curtains around her face. Hastily, he prepared two cups (and he did accidentally dump quite a bit of sugar into them in his rush) and then sat down in the chair beside her.

“You always this quiet?” he asked, knowing that the truthful answer was a resounding no. She never shut up usually, and he loved it. He could bicker and banter back and forth with her for hours and never get bored, so these monosyllabic responses were, frankly, a little scary.

“I’m just worried,” she said finally, idly stirring her tea. “About my mum and dad.”

“Oh.” Of course she’d be concerned for them. They were Muggles, they had little defense against Death Eaters. “Well, I’m sure Kingsley could put some wards up around your house, like he’s done here-”

“But they’re not there,” she said, her voice hoarse. “They’re in Australia.”

“Wait, what?”

“I modified their memories,” Hermione confessed, watching the milky liquid swirl around in her mug. “I changed their names and made it so they thought their life’s dream was to move to Australia and now they’ve gone, and - and they don’t know I exist. They don’t think they have any children.” She dropped her forehead into her palm as Ron stared, open-mouthed, and searched his brains for something, anything, to say.

“Oh, Hermione-”

“I didn’t know what else to do!” she cried, finally meeting his eyes. “It’s only a matter of time before the Death Eaters go looking for them, and - and they’re Muggles, they never asked for any of this! It’s my fault that they’re in danger, I have to protect them.”

“It’s okay,” Ron said gently. Feeling like he could - like he should, really - he placed a hand on her back. “You know they’re safe now, that’s what’s important.”

“But what if I’ve done the spell wrong? I’ve never done that kind of magic before, I studied the theory as much as I could but we all know theory isn’t the same as actual practice and-”

“Hey,” he interrupted her fretting. “I’m sure you did fine. And it’s not permanent, the spell, is it? You can get them back?”

“No, it can be undone. But that’s actually the worst of it, what if I go to find them and they never forgive me for it? If I was them, I’d be furious-”

“Look,” said Ron, “they had enough faith in you to send you to Hogwarts in the first place, didn’t they?” He’d begun rubbing a circle into her back without even realizing it. “And it was the right thing to do, because you’re brilliant. They know that… and I know that.” Hermione nodded, blinking rapidly to keep tears at bay. “So they’d have to trust you, right, that you did the right thing?”

“I suppose,” she said, not sounding convinced.

“And if we - when we win - and it’s safe for them to come back…” Ron took a moment to summon his courage. “I’ll go with you.”

“You would?” She seemed in awe.

“Yeah, of course. If you want me to, I’ll be there.”

She sniffled and mustered up a watery smile. “Thanks, Ron.”

“Yeah, anything,” he replied, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “Now drink your tea,” he changed tacks, needing to break the ice, “it’s getting cold.”

She brought the mug to her lips and took a small sip, only to nearly choke and gawk at him in astonishment. “That’s like liquid candy! How much sugar did you put in here?”

“Just a little bit,” he chuckled.

“You know, when you eat sugar,” Hermione began, “it wears away at the enamel on your teeth and that’s permanent damage, and it can also cause cavities…”

Ron leaned back in his chair and sipped his own sugary tea, thoroughly enjoying his lecture.


you can find more four word prompts here!

everyone talks about “did you put your name in the goblet of fire” being the worst book to movie dialogue fail but lets be real the worst is where hermione answers a question in class and snape calls her an “insufferable know-it-all” and in the book ron is furious and he goes OFF and says “you asked a question and she knows the answer! why ask if you don’t want to be told?” but in the movies they just make him say “he’s got a point, you know” and i’m still mad about it

have you ever experienced that feeling where you fall in love with your otp all over again? like everyone loves their otps as they progress slowly and they slowly fall in love with them, but then while reading fanfic or watching fanvids or just sitting around but you’re suddenly hit by how beautiful and amazing your otp is all over again and just how far they’ve come and every reason why you ship them and it just makes you emotional and want to cry in the middle of the room and it’s fucking wonderful

Me: I’m feeling good today!

Brain: do you realise that you are probably gonna be alive when your favourite author/actor will die

Me: what

Brain: yeah, and also chances are you are also going to watch your OTP die.

Me: what NO

Brain: or maybe half of your OTP


Brain: or they could be forced to kill each other


Brain: Just imagine the possibilities!

Me: *uncontrollable sobbing*