R/Hr Drabble: The Last Laugh
Author: lauryne78
Title: The Last Laugh
Rating: G
Pairing: R/Hr
Word Count: 500 (for my original writing - not including the quote from HBP)
A/N(optional): Angst!! Lots of it!!
“Hermione laughed unkindly at Ron's disastrous first attempt, during which he somehow managed to give himself a spectacular handlebar mustache; Ron retaliated by doing a cruel but accurate impression of Hermione jumping up and down in her seat every time Professor McGonagall asked a question, which Lavender and Parvati found deeply amusing and which reduced Hermione to the verge of tears again.”
--Chapter 15, Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince
He’d always used to love listening to her laugh. In fact, though he really couldn’t admit it fully to himself, he’d subconsciously sensed for some time now that about half the reason he goofed around so often was in hopes of making her laugh. Hermione wasn’t a pushover where laughter was concerned, either. She had strong willpower and often even his most hilarious antics would only result in the corners of her mouth twitching, or her eyes sparkling with amusement.
Which, he had to admit, he also enjoyed.
But full-blown, deep laughter was rare for her. She wasn’t a giggling sort of girl - thank Merlin - and her chuckles, even, were hard-won. Body-shaking belly laughs were like prizes, treats that only came once in a blue moon. And Ron would feel warmer every time he drew one out of her, secretly proud because he seemed to make her laugh more often than anyone else could.
But this...this was not the kind of laughter he cherished getting from her. This laughter wasn’t nice, it wasn’t kind - it pierced into him, knife-sharp, and made his skin prickle from anger. This was not laughter because of something funny he’d done…this was…she was laughing at him. It only made his heart sink further and a cold lump felt like it had taken up residence in his stomach. How could he have ever thought she’d asked him to Slughorn’s as a date? How could he have ever believed she’d meant there to be anything more between them? She obviously thought he was an idiot who couldn’t do anything right.
His anger grew as his mind raced back over all the times he’d felt inadequate and instead of being nice to him, she’d chided him for not doing schoolwork, or scolded him for not supporting her ideas, or nagged him for neglecting one of his Prefect’s duties. In that moment, it seemed like she’d been judging him ever since they’d met, and for a split-second, pushed on by shame and fury, he loathed her for it.
So it was easy, when Professor McGonagall asked her next question, to start making fun of Hermione’s quirks - forcing himself to forget that he used to find them endearing - and doing an exaggerated impersonation of her. Lavender’s shrill giggles and Parvati’s softer laughter rang in his ears, egging him on, and it was only once Hermione’d fled the classroom with Harry chasing after her that Ron allowed himself to stop.
He sank back in his seat, unmoving as the rest of the class packed up their belongings around him. Lavender and Parvati’s chatter only half-registered with him, because all he could see in his mind’s eye was Hermione’s face just before she’d left. Her eyes had been about to brim over with tears, and she looked like he’d cut her to the quick. All of his earlier anger at her had evaporated in that instant and he’d felt lower than a Flobberworm.
He didn’t think he’d ever feel like laughing again.
Title: The Last Laugh
Rating: G
Pairing: R/Hr
Word Count: 500 (for my original writing - not including the quote from HBP)
A/N(optional): Angst!! Lots of it!!
“Hermione laughed unkindly at Ron's disastrous first attempt, during which he somehow managed to give himself a spectacular handlebar mustache; Ron retaliated by doing a cruel but accurate impression of Hermione jumping up and down in her seat every time Professor McGonagall asked a question, which Lavender and Parvati found deeply amusing and which reduced Hermione to the verge of tears again.”
--Chapter 15, Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince
He’d always used to love listening to her laugh. In fact, though he really couldn’t admit it fully to himself, he’d subconsciously sensed for some time now that about half the reason he goofed around so often was in hopes of making her laugh. Hermione wasn’t a pushover where laughter was concerned, either. She had strong willpower and often even his most hilarious antics would only result in the corners of her mouth twitching, or her eyes sparkling with amusement.
Which, he had to admit, he also enjoyed.
But full-blown, deep laughter was rare for her. She wasn’t a giggling sort of girl - thank Merlin - and her chuckles, even, were hard-won. Body-shaking belly laughs were like prizes, treats that only came once in a blue moon. And Ron would feel warmer every time he drew one out of her, secretly proud because he seemed to make her laugh more often than anyone else could.
But this...this was not the kind of laughter he cherished getting from her. This laughter wasn’t nice, it wasn’t kind - it pierced into him, knife-sharp, and made his skin prickle from anger. This was not laughter because of something funny he’d done…this was…she was laughing at him. It only made his heart sink further and a cold lump felt like it had taken up residence in his stomach. How could he have ever thought she’d asked him to Slughorn’s as a date? How could he have ever believed she’d meant there to be anything more between them? She obviously thought he was an idiot who couldn’t do anything right.
His anger grew as his mind raced back over all the times he’d felt inadequate and instead of being nice to him, she’d chided him for not doing schoolwork, or scolded him for not supporting her ideas, or nagged him for neglecting one of his Prefect’s duties. In that moment, it seemed like she’d been judging him ever since they’d met, and for a split-second, pushed on by shame and fury, he loathed her for it.
So it was easy, when Professor McGonagall asked her next question, to start making fun of Hermione’s quirks - forcing himself to forget that he used to find them endearing - and doing an exaggerated impersonation of her. Lavender’s shrill giggles and Parvati’s softer laughter rang in his ears, egging him on, and it was only once Hermione’d fled the classroom with Harry chasing after her that Ron allowed himself to stop.
He sank back in his seat, unmoving as the rest of the class packed up their belongings around him. Lavender and Parvati’s chatter only half-registered with him, because all he could see in his mind’s eye was Hermione’s face just before she’d left. Her eyes had been about to brim over with tears, and she looked like he’d cut her to the quick. All of his earlier anger at her had evaporated in that instant and he’d felt lower than a Flobberworm.
He didn’t think he’d ever feel like laughing again.