fic: Love and Mince Pies

[ffictionrec]

Title: Love and Mince Pies
Rating: G
Prompt: Luna, Mince Pies, and Library
Summary: Three times Ron skips a meal for Hermione.
Warnings: Well, this fic is unbeta-ed and therefore contains far too many commas. Proceed at your own risk.

Love and Mince Pies


“The future... seems to me no unified dream but a mince pie, long in the baking, never quite done.” - Edward Young

Fifth Year

Ron was hungry. His stomach was grumbling noisily, he was almost positive that he could smell dinner from six floors up, and yet he was doggedly making his way to the library. To Hermione. He wasn't completely sure why he didn't just join Harry in eating his way through lamb chops and roast potatoes and treacle tarts. Instead of enjoying his well-deserved break at the end of a long Umbridge-filled day, he was voluntarily walking all the way to the library just to check up on Hermione. It's only because I'm worried about my best friend, he told himself. She had been far too stressed this year, thanks to the looming OWLs, the added responsibilities of being prefect and practically running the DA, all of which she took very seriously. He was sure that she was in the library, and had forgotten all about eating, buried in the ancient tomes of texts.

Lost in thought, he didn't see the blonde crouching by a tapestry on the sixth floor until it was too late. Tripping over her, he lost his balance and fell with a crash.

“Oh dear! I'm so sorry, Ron. I didn't see you there.”

He groaned and lifted himself up to a sitting position, feeling a wetness seeping through his shirt. Closing his eyes, he sent a prayer up to Merlin, please don't let it be blood. He looked down and was relieved to see that it was just water. Holding his shirt away from his body, he peered up and saw Luna Lovegood hovering over him, looking concerned.

“Are you alright, Ron?”

“Yes, I'm fine, thanks. It looks like I broke your jar though, sorry.” he said, noticing the shards of glass next to him.

“Oh, it's alright. Nothing a simple Reparo won't fix.” She helped him to his feet.

“Right. Um...what were you doing, then?” he was sure that normal people didn't lurk in corridors, squatting about with jars of water. Ginny did say she was a bit odd, but he had to admit he was growing quite fond of her, having spent some time with her during their DA sessions.

“Oh! I'm looking for my Gulping Plimpy!” she said cheerfully.

Feeling a bit lost, Ron was unable to utter anything except a feeble 'Oh.'

“I promised Dobby I'd give him the recipe for Plimpy Soup! I wanted to catch it for him, you see? And it escaped from me.”

Another 'Oh'. Ron wasn't really all that surprised to find out that Loony Lovegood exchanged recipes with Dobby, the elf.

“Yes, he's one of the few people who talk to me.” Luna was unsettlingly matter-of-fact about it, and it made Ron uncomfortable.

“Uh.”

“You're not carrying any gurdyroots, are you?” she asked suspiciously. “Plimpies are repelled by gurdyroots, you know.”

“Uh, no. No, I don't have any um... gurdyroots on me.”

“Good.” she nodded, satisfied. He nodded back at her, wondering how he could end the conversation politely.

“Are you going to see Hermione?” she asked abruptly.

“Uh, yeah, I think she's in the library.” he said, surprised.

“Yes, she studies a lot, doesn't she?”

He nodded again, and his stomach chose that moment to grumble loudly again, much to his chagrin.

“Oh! You must love her very much if you're willing to skip dinner to check up on her. Ginny says you never skip meals, and that you get very cranky if you do.”

Ron gaped her, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. He looked around, hoping in vain that something would swoop down and swallow him.

“I'd do the same for Harry!” he finally managed to say, in a strangled voice.

“Oh. You're a very good friend, Ron.”

“Uh, I think I see the Plimpy behind that statue!” he exclaimed, pointing randomly and Luna scurried off to find it.

“Good luck!” he yelled after her. Heaving a sigh of relief, he quickly ducked into the corridor leading to the library before being pulled into any more awkward conversations.

When he entered the library, Madam Pince gave him a bespectacled, suspicious look.

“Library closes in 30 minutes.” he was informed in a clipped tone.

He nodded and walked towards the table he had dubbed Hermione's spot all the way back in second year. He stopped short, just behind the long rows of shelves. He could see Hermione through them. But the scene he witnessed wasn't what he'd been expecting. Hermione was there, alright. But he had been expecting to see a Hermione bent over sheets of parchment, scribbling away, or poring over one of the many massive books she loved so much, the Hermione he knew so well. What he saw instead, was a Hermione he'd never seen before. A very, dare he say it, sensual Hermione. It wasn't what she was doing either, it was the way she was doing it. Sitting back in her chair, with a box in front of her, she looked completely relaxed as she bit into a particularly juicy mince pie. Bloody hell, was she moaning? He gulped and stood there staring at the sight until he realised that he'd just described Hermione eating pie as sensual. He shuddered, he was clearly losing the plot.

Or maybe...

No! Loony Lovegood was NOT right, he told his traitorous brain firmly. And to prove it, he boldly stepped out from behind the shelves directly into Hermione's field of vision. Not that she noticed, so lost was she in her own world. A world that was presumably filled with mince pies and pages from Hogwarts, A History.

He cleared his throat three times, before he got any sort of reaction.

“Earth to Hermione!”

Her eyes flew open, and she spluttered incoherently.

“Enjoying yourself, were you?” he smirked.

“Wha-What are you doing here?” she nearly shrieked. Thankfully, Madam Pince didn't suddenly appear to kick them out.

“Tut-tut. Miss Granger! First, you not only bring food into the library, you eat it in the library, then you disrupt it's sanctity with your shouting? What would Madam Pince say if she knew?” he said, in a mock scandalised voice.

She half-heartedly threw a quill at him, which harmlessly fluttered to the ground a few feet short. He grinned, picked it up and seated himself across from her.

“Mmm, sugar quills too!” he said, licking the end of the quill. “Here I am, skipping dinner for you, and all the while, you're holed away in the library, gorging yourself on sweets.”

He winced inwardly, he just had to go and mention skipping dinner. Maybe she hadn't caught it.

“You skipped dinner? For me?”

No such luck.

“It's no big deal.” he said, as casually as he could manage. “I just thought you were overworking yourself again, and it won't do to keep missing meals. Also, you keep leaving me alone with the angst machine.”

“Angst ma- oh. Right, sorry. Although, you mustn't say that Ron! He's been through a lot! Anybody would react the same way in his position.” she was back to lecture mode, and while Ron was much more comfortable with this Hermione, he interrupted before she could really sink her teeth into it.

“Hey, you know I don't mean it that way! Anyway, I wouldn't have bothered if I knew you were having your own little feast up here. And to think, all those lectures I had to sit through, about spoiling my teeth, and eating sweets for dinner, and what not.”

“Oh stop! You know sugar quills are the only snack I allow myself when I'm studying.”

“Uh-huh. And what about that box filled to the brim with pies? Finally cracked, did ya? Went down to the kitchens to-”

“I did no such thing!” she whispered fiercely, as though he'd suggested that she had cheated on an exam. “If you must know, they're from my mother.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Your mother? Doesn't she know we get food here at school? We get mince pies too, you know. Delicious ones.”

“Not like the ones my mum makes.” she scoffed.

“Right.” his eyebrows rose further.

“No, really! She's the best at making mince pies. They're practically famous in my parents' circles. She only makes them once a year, and since we are going to France for Christmas this year, she decided to make them early.”

“And she sent some to you.” he nodded, understanding.

“Yes, she always does, if I'm not going home for the holidays. She knows they're my favourite. I was going to wait till later, but I couldn't resist having just one. Then I, um... got a bit carried away.”

“A bit. Yeah.”

“Oh, go ahead. Have one!” she said, holding out the box challengingly. “They are better than anyone else's in the world, you'll see.”

“I'm sure they are.” he said, grinning at her as he helped himself to a piece. She was rarely this passionate about food. But as he stuffed it whole into his mouth, he realised that she really hadn't been exaggerating.

“Bloody hell, Hermione! Where've you been hiding these all these years?”

She turned slightly red. “Well, I hadn't exactly wanted to share them before.”

He smirked. “I don't blame you! I'd nick that box from you right now, if I didn't know that you'd probably clobber me to death. But thanks for sharing them with me anyway.”

“Well, it's the least I can do. I should be thanking you, really.”

“Whatever for?” he asked, surprised.

“For being concerned enough to skip your dinner.”

She blushed. And as she bites into yet another of her mother's famous mince pies, he thinks that perhaps Luna Lovegood wasn't quite as Loony as everyone made her out to be.

Sixth Year

He was miserable. And hungry. But going down to The Great Hall for dinner would mean having to deal with Lavender. He liked snogging as much as the next bloke, but it was a bit ridiculous, in his opinion, to be expected to suck face all day, everyday. And it was especially hard to do so when Hermione was shooting daggers at them. Although, to be honest, he didn't see the point of snogging at all if Hermione wasn't watching. But even that could get to be a bit much when it's the only interaction he's had with her in months.

So, he was sitting in the library, the only place he was sure Lavender won't search if she decided to look for him. Of course, if Hermione decided to stroll in, wanting to get some last minute studying done before the holidays, he wouldn't be totally averse to seeing her.

He sat at her spot, in the exact chair that she liked to sit in, idly flicking through the pages of a book, the name of which he had already forgotten. And just as he was nodding off, head propped on his hand, he heard someone call his name. He jerked and sat up.

“Ron?” this someone was waving a hand in front of his face. A blonde someone.

“Wha- Luna?”

“What are you doing here?” she asked curiously.

“Um...” he looked down blankly at the book that lay open in front of him. “Studying. I'm studying.”

She looked at him suspiciously, but didn't say anything. Instead, she sat across from him, pulled out a copy of The Quibbler from her bag, and started reading it. There was silence for a while, that stretched uncomfortably until Ron decided to break it.

“Luna, why aren't you in The Great Hall? You know, eating dinner and such?”

“Oh, I already ate!” she said brightly, setting down the tabloid. “Dobby sometimes brings me his new recipes to taste.”

“Right. Of course he does.” he was used to Luna's eccentricities by now. Dobby's too, come to think of it.

“Why aren't you at dinner? Are you avoiding Lavender, or hoping to see Hermione?”

He groaned. Luna's uncanny ability to read the situation always unnerved him.

“Both.” he answered honestly. He doubted he'd be able to successfully lie to Luna anyway.

“You miss her.”

“Well, yes. I know I do, thanks.” he said tersely, but she seemed unperturbed by his tone.

“Hermione said she had to do some packing, so I don't know if she'll come, Ron.” she sounded apologetic.

“Oh.” he said, feeling dejected.

What had he been hoping for anyway, he asked himself. Even if Hermione had come to the library, she would have either ignored him, or they would have ended up in yet another squabble. Although, if he was being perfectly honest with himself, he would have preferred a blazing row with Hermione to having to make out with Lavender all day long.

He stared unseeingly at the pages in front of him, barely listening to what Luna was saying, when she set a mince pie on top of the book. He looked up, surprised.

“It's not much, but it's all I have right now.” she said, regretfully.

He looked at her puzzled, he had obviously missed something.

“Because you skipped dinner.” she explained further, clearly repeating herself.

“Wow. Cheers Luna!”

He took a big bite out of it and chewed it slowly. That's funny, he thought, before realisation hit him.

“Um...Luna, where did you get this?” he asked carefully.

“Oh, Hermione gave it to me. Isn't it divine? She says her mother sent her some, apparently she thought Hermione won't be going home for the holidays this year.”

He sighed inwardly. It was all his fault. She was going to come to the Burrow for Christmas, they'd planned it all a long time ago, and he'd mucked it all up.

“I should go," said Luna, stuffing The Quibbler back into her bag. "I have to give my pair of spectrespecs to Ginny, I'm sure I saw a wrackspurt fly into her bag earlier.”

He nodded, bemused.

“Sure. Goodnight, then. Thanks for this, Luna.” he said, holding up the small pie.

“You're welcome! Goodnight, Ron.” she replied, looking pleased.

He waved as she walked away, and sighed again. He looked down at the delicious pie in his hands and sat back to enjoy the rest of it, taking uncharacteristically small bites. He was determined to make this small part of her last for as long as possible.

Seventh Year

Ron whistled contentedly as he walked down the familiar corridors, past portraits of the ancient witches and wizards. They all stared at him, whispering amongst themselves over the red-head. Some even called out to him, and Ron cheerfully waved back at them. He patted the pocket inside his robes, making sure the package he was carrying was still there.

He was excited to see Hermione after months of separation, and doubted anything could bring him down. She was supposed to have come to the Burrow to spend Christmas with him, but had cancelled last minute, saying that she needed to stay and study for the NEWTs. Not long after, Ginny, caught up in the same fear, had sent a letter along similar lines, much to her mother's consternation. Ron had only caused her further distress when he announced that he and Harry would be attending the Christmas feast at Hogwarts, instead of having Christmas Dinner with the family at the Burrow. Hoping to surprise the girls, they had begged for special permission to attend the feast and the Headmistress had finally given in, after Harry flooed into her fireplace, just to get rid of him.

Harry was currently in the Great Hall, with Ginny and the others, presumably stuffing himself full of roast turkey and pudding. Ron would've liked to have been doing the same right about now, but his insane girlfriend apparently insisted on shutting herself in the library even on Christmas day.

He wondered briefly why she had changed her mind when she had been looking forward to coming to the Burrow for so long, but dismissed it from his mind. After all, she had always been mental when it came to tests.

As he reached the sixth floor landing, cheerfully greeting the portrait of Glanmore Peakes, he noticed someone climbing down stairs, coming towards him.

“Luna!”

“Oh, Ron!” she skipped down the final few steps and hugged him.

“It's so good to see you! How are you?” he said, pleased.

“I'm great! It's been a long time, hasn't it?” she sounded equally delighted.

“Quite a few months, yeah. I thought you'd be at the feast with the others.”

“I'm going there now. I was just in the owlery, sending a letter to Neville.” she flushed pleasantly. “His gran insisted that he go home for the Christmas holidays.”

Neville, along with Hermione, Seamus, Dean, and Parvati, had decided to come back to Hogwarts to finish seventh year. Ron surmised that he and Luna were still going strong.

“Are you going to the library then? To see Hermione?”

“Um, yes. Ginny said she's still up there.”

“Yes, she must be. She's been very stressed about NEWTs and -” she stopped short.

“And?” he prompted.

“And... I don't know.” she said tilting her head thoughtfully, brows furrowed. Ron, who was used to calm and serene Luna, felt a bit worried at her concern. So much for nothing bringing me down, he thought.

“Well, I'm going there to drag her from her books to have some fun, whether she wants to or not.” he told Luna determinedly.

“She does listen to you.” she said. “She could use some fun.”

“Right. I'll go make sure she does just that.” he assured her.

“I'll see you at the feast, then?”

He nodded. “See you there, Luna.”

She waved cheerily and disappeared down the stairs.

He took a breath and squaring his shoulders, strode into the library, ready to fling Hermione over his shoulders and carry her down to the Great Hall, if needed. He wasn't surprised that even Madame Pince wasn't at her desk, glaring at everyone who dared enter her sacred space. He'd seen her earlier in the Great Hall, enjoying the feast like all other normal folk. It looked like Hermione had taken special permission to keep the library open through the Christmas dinner.

It seemed eerily quiet at first, but as he made his way to back of the library, he thought he heard someone quietly sniffling. His heart wrenched as he realised that it must be Hermione. He rushed to her table to see her sitting in her chair, surrounded by her books and parchment and bottles of ink. But instead of being buried in her work, she was weeping softly into her hands.

“Hermione?”

She looked up, alarmed, her hand involuntarily reaching for the wand she'd kept within easy distance.

“Ron?” she said incredulously, when she saw who it was.

He closed the distance between them, and then she was in his arms, dissolving into tears once again. He held her, as her body wracked with sobs. And he continued to hold her till she calmed herself, her tears exhausted, sobs turning to hiccups. He stroked her hair lightly, not ready to let go yet. His stomach, however, seemed to have other ideas, as it rudely decided to growl loudly. Hermione broke away from him, laughing softly.

“Oh Ron.” she said fondly, wiping her eyes.

Ron, pleased to have made her laugh, however inadvertently, chuckled along with her.

“Yeah, same old me. Can't help but think with my stomach.”

"I've missed you." she said, smiling at him. “But what are you doing here? I mean, I'm glad you're here, of course-”

“I came to see you.” he said, cutting her off. “Harry and I both did. He's with Ginny, right now, at the feast. We got permission from McGonagall and everything.” he explained.

“Really? She never said anything to us.”

“We asked her not to. Wanted to surprise you.”

“Oh. I'm sorry.” she said, looking down at her ink-stained fingers.

“You're sorry? What for?”

“For- for cancelling. For not being at the feast. For making you come all the way to Hogwarts only to find me in this state. For blubbering all over your shirt.”

“Hermione, you did nothing wrong! You didn't make me do anything. I came because I wanted to come. As for my shirt, a simple Scourgify will fix it in no time. But what I would like to know is, why did you cancel?”

She looked at him, surprised. “I told you. To study-”

“For the NEWTs. Yeah, I remember what you told me. I also remember the long letter you wrote me a month ago, with a very detailed schedule of your study plan that you made just for the holidays.”

“I... it wasn't enough.”

“Hermione, you could give the tests now, and ace them all, no sweat. I know you know that. So, why don't you tell me the real reason? Please tell me what had you in such a state.”

She looked unsure, but taking a deep breath, she nodded.

“I was excited to come to the Burrow, Ron. I was looking forward to it, really. I had planned all my study sessions so I could have enough time to spend with you. But then, I got a letter from my parents a week ago, they wanted me to come home, Ron. And- and I didn't want to go!” her eyes filled with tears again. “I didn't want to go home, Ron, because it- it isn't home anymore! I didn't want to tell them the truth, though. I felt guilty, but I told them I had to stay at Hogwarts to study for exams.”

“Hermione -” but she didn't let him speak, as she continued resolutely on.

“And I was going to go ahead with my original plan, but the guilt kept niggling me in the back of my mind. So, I decided to do as I had said, and cancelled visiting you too.”

“Hermione -” he tried again.

“I'm so sorry, Ron!”

“Hermione, listen! I'm not mad, okay? I understand, it must be hard staying away from them. They're your family, of course you'd feel guilty for not going home.” he said, hoping to comfort her, but she shook her head.

“You don't understand, Ron. I do miss them, but it's not home anymore. You're home! And I think they know that. The thing is, I don't think they care.”

You're home. She says it like it's a fact of life, and it throws him a bit, but he sets it aside for another time. She needed him now.

“Hermione, they do care. Of course they do -” his attempt at comforting her is cut short again.

“No. No, they don't. My mum- she didn't even - Oh Ron! She didn't even send me mince pies this year!”

The heartbreak in her voice made his chest ache.

“I know we've been drifting apart. Things haven't been the same since Australia, but I never though it was this bad.” she finished quietly.

“Hermione-”

“I know! I know it's silly to get upset over mince pies, of all things. But it's - it's-”

“Hermione!” he said firmly, deciding that this had gone on long enough. She stilled.

“Merlin! If I'd known....” he reached into his robes to pull out a slightly crushed misshapen package and set it in front of her.

“What...” she looked down at it blankly.

“It arrived three days ago. I think your mum knew you were coming to the Burrow. I mean, until you decided to stay instead.”

She continued to stare down at the packet.

“She doesn't hate me.” she whispered.

“Of course she doesn't! I'm sorry that it's a bit crushed. Pig was a bit overly excited and smashed into several walls before he stilled long enough for me to take it off him. But I froze it as soon as I got it, so it should still be - mmmm.” he's cut off by Hermione's lips pressed against his. With her hands on either side of his face, she kissed him as thoroughly as she first had, back in the Room of Requirement in the middle of the war.

As she broke away, he smiled, his eyes still closed.

“Remember to always keep you supplied with mince pies.” he said.

“My mum's mince pies.” she corrected him.

And as he watches her enthusiastically dive into the parcel of mini pies, he thinks he'd happily skip meals for Hermione for the rest of his life.