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deludedvision ([personal profile] deludedvision) wrote2007-07-31 09:18 pm

Deathly Hallows: Ron/Hermione Moments.

So Harry Potter is not about the ships. But that doesn’t actually stop anyone from flailing over their favourite pairings, so I thought I might as well do so. Because I can.

So (thanks to various lists and the book being online so I don't need to type everything), I’ve compiled most (if not all) of the Ron/Hermione (supportive of the pairing, whether both were present or not) moments from Deathly Hallows. It’s been fun, so I might have to do the same with the previous six books!

Complete with art by [ profile] corkart & [ profile] clickart!

“Remus!” Tonks cried as she staggered off the brook into Lupin’s arms. His face was set and white: He seemed unable to speak. Ron tripped dazedly toward Harry and Hermione.

“You’re okay,” he mumbled, before Hermione flew at him and hugged him tightly.

“I thought – I thought –”

“’M all right,” said Ron, patting her on the back. “’M fine.”

“Ron was great,” said Tonks warmly, relinquishing her hold on Lupin. “Wonderful. Stunned one of the Death Eaters, straight to the head, and when you’re aiming at a moving target from a flying broom –”

“You did?” said Hermione, gazing up at Ron with her arms still around his neck.

“Always the tone of surprise,” he said a little grumpily, breaking free.

“Yeah,” said Harry. “Like Barty Crouch, turned into a bone and buried in Hagrid’s front garden. They probably transfigured Moody and stuff him – ”

“Don’t!” squealed Hermione. Startled, Harry looked over just in time to see her burst into tears over her copy of Spellman’s Syllabary.

“Oh, no,” said Harry, struggling to get up from the old camp bed. “Hermione, I wasn’t trying to upset – ”

But with a great creaking of rusty bedsprings, Ron bounded off the bed and got there first. One arm around Hermione, he fished into his jeans pocket and withdrew a revolting-looking handkerchief that he had used to clean out the oven earlier. Hastily pulling out his wand, he pointed it at the rag and said, “Tergeo.

The wand siphoned off most of the grease. Looking rather pleased with himself, Ron handed the slightly smoking handkerchief to Hermione.

“Oh…thanks, Ron…I’m sorry…” She blew her nose and hiccupped. “It’s just so awf-ful, isn’t it? R-right after Dumbledore…I j-just n-never imagined Mad-Eye dying, somehow, he seemed so tough!”

“Yeah, I know,’ said Ron, giving her a squeeze. “But you know what he’d say to us if he was here?”

“‘Constant vigilance,’” said Hermione, mopping her eyes.

“That’s right, said Ron, nodding. “He’d tell us to learn from what happened to him. And what I’ve learned is not to trust that cowardly little squit, Mundungus.”

Hermione gave a shaky laugh and leaned forward to pick up two more books.


“Assuming I survive our hunt for the Horcruxes, I’ll find Mum and Dad and lift the enchantment. If I don’t – well, I think I’ve cast a good enough charm to keep them safe and happy. Wendell and Monica Wilkins don’t know that they’ve got a daughter, you see.”

Hermione’s eyes were swimming with tears again. Ron got back off the bed, put his arm around her once more, and frowned at Harry as though reproaching him for lack of tact. Harry could not think of anything to say, not least because it was highly unusual for Ron to be teaching anyone else tact.

“This isn’t your average book,” said Ron. “It’s pure gold: Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches. Explains everything you need to know about girls. If only I’d read this last year I’d have known exactly how to get rid of Lavender and I would’ve known how to get going with…well, Fred and George gave me a copy, and I’ve learned a lot. You’d be surprised; it’s not all about wandwork, either.”


“Nice,” said Ron, as with one final flourish of her wand, Hermione turned the leaves on the crabapple tree to gold. “You’ve really got an eye for that sort of thing.”

“Thank you, Ron!” said Hermione, looking both pleased and a little confused. Harry turned away, smiling to himself. He had a funny notion that he would find a chapter on compliments when he found time to peruse his copy of Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches; he caught Ginny’s eye and grinned at her before remembering his promise to Ron and hurriedly striking up a conversation with a Monsieur Delacour.


“No, I didn’t,” said Hermione, still wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “And if the Ministry hasn’t found any hidden codes in this book in thirty-one days, I doubt that I will.”

She suppressed a sob. They were wedged together so tightly that Ron had difficulty extracting his arm to put around Hermione’s shoulders.

“…Wow,” he [Ron] added, blinking rather rapidly as Hermione came hurrying toward them. “You look great!”

“Always the tone of surprise,” said Hermione, though she smiled. She was wearing a floaty, lilac-colored dress with matching high-heels; her hair was sleek and shiny. “Your Great-Aunt Muriel doesn’t agree, I just met her upstairs while she was giving Fleur the tiara. She said, ‘Oh dear, is this the Muggle-born?’ and then, ‘Bad posture and skinny ankles.’”

“Don’t take it personally, she’s rude to everyone,” said Ron.


They were all laughing so much that none of them noticed the latecomer, a dark-haired young man with a large, curved nose and thick black eyebrows, until he held out his invitation to Ron and said, with his eyes on Hermione,” You look vunderful.”

“Viktor!” She shrieked, and dropped her small beaded bag, which made a loud thump quite disproportionate to its size. As she scrambled, blushing, to pick it up, she said, “I didn’t know you were – goodness – it’s love to see – how are you?”

Ron’s ears had turned bright red again. After glancing at Krum’s invitation as if he did not believe a word of it, he said, much too loudly, “How come you’re here?”


But the smile vanished from his face at once: Viktor Krum had dropped into Luna’s vacant seat. Hermione looked pleasurably flustered, but this time Krum had not come to compliment her. With a scowl on his face he said, “Who is that man in the yellow?”

“That’s Xenophilius Lovegood, he’s the father of a friend of ours,” said Ron. His pugnacious tone indicated that they were not about to laugh at Xenophilius, despite the clear provocation. “Come and dance,” he added abruptly to Hermione.

She looked taken aback, but pleased, too, and got up.. They vanished together into the growing throng the dance floor.

“Ah, are they together now?” asked Krum, momentarily distracted.

“Er – sort of,” said Harry.


He wanted to find Ron, to tell him about Gregorovitch, but Ron was dancing with Hermione out in the middle of the dance floor.

“Ron!” Hermione cried. “Ron, where are you?”

As they pushed their way across the dance floor, Harry saw cloaked and masked figures appearing in the crowd; then he saw Lupin and Tonks, their wands raised, and heard both of them shout, “Protego,” a cry that echoed on all sides –

“Ron! Ron!” Hermione called, half sobbing as she and Harry were buffered by terrified guests: Harry seized her hand to make sure they weren’t separated as a streak of light whizzed over their heads, whether a protective charm or something more sinister he did not know –

And then Ron was there. He caught hold of Hermione’s free arm, and Harry felt her turn on the spot…


“You’re amazing, you are,” said Ron, handing her his bundled up robes.

“Thank you,” said Hermione, managing a small smile as she pushed the robes into the bag.


“All right, darling!” the drunkest of the men on the other pavement was yelling. “Fancy a drink? Ditch ginger and come and have a pint!”

“Let’s sit down somewhere,” Hermione said hastily as Ron opened his mouth to shout back across the road. “Look, this will do, in here!”


Ron, a few seconds late in realizing what was going on, lunged across the table, pushing Hermione sideways onto her bench.


On the word kill, the figure exploded in a great cloud of dust: Coughing, his eyes watering, Harry looked around to see Hermione crouched on the floor by the door with her arms over her head, and Ron, who was shaking from head to foot, patting her clumsily on the shoulder and saying, “It’s all right…It’s g-gone…”


The Patronus dissolved into nothingness. Ron let out a noise between a whimper and a groan and dropped onto the sofa: Hermione joined him, gripping his arm.

“They’re all right, they’re all right,” she whispered, and Ron half laughed and hugged her.

Harry woke early next morning, wrapped in a sleeping bag on the drawing room floor. A chink of sky was visible between the heavy curtains: It was the cool, clear blue of watered ink, somewhere between night and dawn, and everything was quiet except for Ron and Hermione’s slow, deep breathing. Harry glanced over at the dark shapes they made on the floor beside him. Ron had had a fit of gallantry and insisted that Hermione sleep on the cushions on the sofa, so that her silhouette was raised above his. Her arm curved to the floor, her fingers inches from Ron’s. Harry wondered whether they had fallen asleep holding hands.

© [ profile] clickart

Ron glanced at Hermione, then said, “What if purebloods and half-bloods swear a Muggle-born’s part of their family? I’ll tell everyone Hermione’s my cousin – ”

Hermione covered Ron’s hand with hers and squeezed it.

“Thank you, Ron, but I couldn’t let you – ”

“You won’t have a choice,” said Ron fiercely, gripping her hand back. “I’ll teach you my family tree so you can answer questions on it.”

Hermione gave a shaky laugh.


“Remus, Remus, come back!” Hermione cried, but Lupin did not respond. A moment later they heard the front door slam.

“Harry!” wailed Hermione. “How could you?”

“It was easy,” said Harry. He stood up; he could feel a lump swelling where his head hit the wall. He was still so full of anger he was shaking.

“Don’t look at me like that!” he snapped at Hermione.

“Don’t you start on her!” snarled Ron.

“All right,” said Ron slowly, “let’s say we go for it tomorrow…I think it should just be me and Harry.”

“Oh, don’t start that again!” sighed Hermione. “I thought we’d settled this.”

“It’s one thing hanging around the entrances under the Cloak, but this is different, Hermione,” Rob jabbed a finger at a copy of the Daily Prophet dated ten days previously. “You’re on the list of Muggle-borns who didn’t present themselves for interrogation!”

“And you’re supposed to be dying of spattergroit at the Burrow! If anyone shouldn’t go, it’s Harry, he’s got a ten-thousand-Galleon price on his head – ”

Harry saw Hermione give Ron a little push and he hurried out of the lift, followed by the other wizards, leaving Harry and Hermione alone. The moment the golden door had closed Hermione said, very fast, “Actually, Harry, I think I’d better go after him, I don’t think he knows what he’s doing and if he gets caught the whole thing – ”

“Respect?” Harry repeated, but Hermione shot him a warning look; apparently he was not to argue with Ron while the latter was in such a weakened condition.


Hermione was watching Ron fret over the fate of the Cattermoles, and there was such tenderness in her expression that Harry felt almost as if he had surprised her in the act of kissing him.

Ron wrenched the chain from over his head and cast the locket into a nearby chair. He turned to Hermione.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?

“Are you staying, or what?”

“I…” She looked anguished. “Yes – yes, I’m staying. Ron, we said we’d go with Harry, we said he’d help – ”

“I get it. You choose him.”

“Ron, no – please – come back, come back!”

She was impeded by her own Shield Charm; by the time she had removed it he had already stormed into the night. Harry stood quite still and silent, listening and calling Ron’s name amongst the trees.

After a few minutes she returned, her sopping hair plastered to her face.

“He’s g-g-gone! Disapparated!”

She threw herself into a chair, curled up, and started to cry.

Harry felt dazed. He stooped, picked up the Horcrux, and placed it around his own neck. He dragged blankets off Ron’s bunk and threw them over Hermione.

He and Hermione ate breakfast in silence. Hermione’s eyes were puffy and red; she looked as if she had not slept. They packed up their things, Hermione dawdling. Harry knew why she wanted to spin out their time on the riverbank; several times he saw her look up eagerly, and he was sure she deluded herself into thinking that she heard footsteps between the trees.


The instant they arrived, Hermione dropped Harry’s hand and walked away from him, finally sitting down on a large rock, her face on her knees, shaking with what he knew ere sobs. He watched her, supposing that he ought to go and comfort her, but something kept him rooted on the spot.

The last word came to him as a hiss and a snarl and the golden doors of the locket with a little click.

Behind both of the glass windows within blinked a living eye, dark and handsome as Tom Riddle’s eyes had been before he turned them scarlet and slit-pupiled.

“Stab,” said Harry, holding the locket steady on the rock.

Ron raised the sword in his shaking hands: The point dangled over the frantically swiveling eyes, and Harry gripped the locket tightly, bracing himself, already imagining blood pouring from the empty windows.

Then a voice hissed out from the Horcrux.

“I have seen your heart and it is mine.”

“Don’t listen to it!” Harry said harshly. “Stab it!”

“I have seen you dreams, Ronald Weasley, and I have seen your fears. All you desire is possible, but all that you dread is also possible…”

“Stab!” shouted Harry; his voice echoed off he surrounding trees, the sword point trembled, and Ron gazed down at Riddle’s eyes.

“Least loved, always, by the mother who craved a daughter…Least loved, now, by the girl who prefers your friend…Second best, always, eternally overshadowed…”

“Ron, stab it now!” Harry bellowed: He could feel the locket quivering in his grip and was scared of what was coming. Ron raised the sword still higher, and as he did so, Riddle’s eyes gleamed scarlet.

Out of the locket’s two windows, out of the eyes, there bloomed, like two grotesque bubbles, the heads of Harry and Hermione, weirdly distorted.

Ron yelled in shock and backed away as the figures blossomed out of the locket, first chests, then waists, then legs, until they stood in the locket, side by side like trees with a common root, swaying over Ron and the real Harry, who had snatched his fingers away from the locket as it burned, suddenly, white-hot.

“Ron!” he shouted, but the Riddle-Harry was now speaking with Voldemort’s voice and Ron was gazing, mesmerized, into its face.

“Why return? We were better without you, happier without you, glad of your absence…We laughed at your stupidity, your cowardice, your presumption – ”

echoed the Riddle-Hermione, who was more beautiful and yet more terrible than the real Hermione: She swayed, cackling, before Ron, who looked horrified yet transfixed, the sword hanging pointlessly at his side. “Who could look at you, who would ever look at you, beside Harry Potter? What have you ever done, compared with the Chosen One? What are you, compared with the Boy Who Lived?”

“Ron, stab it, STAB IT!” Harry yelled, but Ron did not move: His eyes were wide, and the Riddle-Harry and the Riddle-Hermione reflected in them, their hair swirling like flames, their eyes shining red, their voices lifted in an evil duet.

“Your mother confessed,” sneered Riddle-Harry, while Riddle-Hermione jeered, “that she would have preferred me as a son, would be glad to exchange…”

“Who wouldn’t prefer him, what woman would take you, you are nothing, nothing, nothing to him,”
crooned Riddle-Hermione, and she stretched like a snake and entwined herself around Riddle-Harry, wrapping him in a close embrace: Their lips met.

On the ground in front of him, Ron’s face filled with anguish. He raised the sword high, his arms shaking.

“Do it, Ron!” Harry yelled.


Ron was breathing heavily: His eyes were no longer red at all, but their normal blue; they were also wet.

Harry stooped, pretending he had not seen, and picked up the broken Horcrux…

…The sword clanged as Ron dropped it. He had sunk to his knees, his head in his arms. He was shaking, but not, Harry realized from cold. Harry crammed the broken locked into his pocket, knelt down beside Ron, and placed a hand cautiously on his shoulder. He took it as a good sign that Ron did not throw it off.

“After you left,” he said in a low voice, grateful for the fact that Ron’s face was hidden, “she cried for a week. Probably longer, only she didn’t want me to see. There were loads of nights when we never even spoke to each other. With you gone…”

He could not finish; it was only now that Ron was here again that Harry fully realized how much his absence had cost them.

“She’s like my sister,” he went on. “I love her like a sister and I reckon she feels the same way about me. It’s always been like that. I thought you knew.”

© [ profile] corkart


“The Deluminator?” she asked, so surprised she forgot to look cold and fierce.

“It doesn’t just turn the lights on and off,” said Ron. “I don’t know how it works or why it happened then and not any other time,” because I’ve been wanting to come back ever since I left. But I was listening to the radio really early on Christmas morning and I heard you…I heard you.”

He was looking at Hermione.

“You heard me on the radio?” she asked incredulously.

“No, I heard you coming out of my pocket. Your voice,” he held up the Deluminator again, “came out of this.”

“And what exactly did I say?” asked Hermione, her tone somewhere between
skepticism and curiosity.

“My name. ‘Ron.’ And you said . . . something about a wand. . . ”

Hermione turned a fiery shade of scarlet. Harry remembered. It had been the first time Ron’s name had been said aloud by either of them since the day he had left; Hermione had mentioned it when talking about repairing Harry’s wand.


Hermione put the vanquished Horcrux into the beaded bag, then climbed back into her bed and settled down without another word.

Ron passed Harry the new wand.

“About the best you could hope four, I think,” murmured Harry.

“Yeah,” said Ron. “Could’ve been worse. Remember those birds she set on me?”

“I still haven’t ruled it out,” came Hermione’s muffled voice from beneath her blankets, but Harry saw Ron smiling slightly as he pulled his maroon pajamas out of his rucksack.

“Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback.”

“Wait,” said Bellatrix sharply. “All except…except for the Mudblood.” Greyback gave a grunt of pleasure.

“No!” shouted Ron. “You can have me, keep me!”


“Reckon she’ll let me have a bit of the girl when she’s finished with her?” Greyback crooned as he forced them along the corridor. “I’d say I’ll get a bite or two, wouldn’t you, ginger?”

Harry could feel Ron shaking. They were forced down a steep flight of stairs, still tied back-to-back and in danger of slipping and breaking their necks at any moment. At the bottom was a heavy door. Greyback unlocked it with a tap of his wand, then forced them into a dank and musty room and left them in total darkness. The echoing bang of the slammed cellar door had not died away before there was a terrible, drawn out scream from directly above them.

“HERMIONE!” Ron bellowed, and he started to writhe and struggle against the ropes tying them together, so that Harry staggered. “HERMIONE!”

“Be quiet!” Harry said. “Shut up. Ron, we need to work out a way—”


“We need a plan, stop yelling—we need to get these ropes off—”


Hermione screamed again from overhead, and they could hear Bellatrix screaming too, but her words were inaudible, for Ron shouted again, “HERMIONE! HERMIONE!”


“You’re lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!”

Another terrible scream—



Harry was not even sure that it had really been there. He tilted the shard of mirror this way and that, and saw nothing reflected there but the walls and ceiling of their prison, and upstairs Hermione was screaming worse than ever, and next to him Ron was bellowing, “HERMIONE! HERMIONE!”


“And I think,” said Bellatrix’s voice, “we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her.”


Ron had burst into the drawing room; Bellatrix looked around, shocked; she
turned her wand to face Ron instead—

“Expelliarmus!” he roared, pointing Wormtail’s wand at Bellatrix, and hers flew into the air and was caught by Harry, who had sprinted after Ron.

Harry had not heard the others coming through the darkness. Bill was wearing a traveling cloak, Fleur a large white apron, from the pocket of which protruded a bottle of what Harry recognized to be Skele-Gro. Hermione was wrapped in a borrowed dressing gown, pale and unsteady on her feet; Ron put an arm around her when she reached him.

Harry’s eyes dropped to the objects clutched in Ron and Hermione’s arms: great curved fangs, torn, he now realized, from the skull of a dead basilisk.

“But how did you get in there?” he asked, staring from the fangs to Ron. “You need to speak Parseltongue!”

Ron made a horrible strangled hissing noise.

“It’s what you did to open the locket,” he told Harry apologetically. “I had to have a few goes to get it right, but,” he shrugged modestly, “we got there in the end.”

“He was amazing!” said Hermione, “Amazing!”

“So…” Harry was struggling to keep up. “So… ”

“So we’re another Horcrux down,” said Ron, and from under his jacket he pulled the mangled remains of Hufflepuff’s cup. “Hermione stabbed it. Thought she should. She hasn’t had the pleasure yet.”


“Hang on a moment!” said Ron sharply. “We’ve forgotten someone!”

“Who?” asked Hermione.

“The house-elves, they’ll all be down in the kitchen, won’t they?”

“You mean we ought to get them fighting?” asked Harry.

“No,” said Ron seriously, “I mean we should tell them to get out. We don’t want anymore Dobbies, do we? We can’t order them to die for us—”

There was a clatter as the basilisk fangs cascaded out of Hermione’s arms. Running at Ron, she flung them around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth. Ron threw away the fangs and broomstick he was holding and responded with such enthusiasm that he lifted Hermione off her feet.

“Is this the moment?” Harry asked weakly, and when nothing happened except that Ron and Hermione gripped each other still more firmly and swayed on the spot, he raised his voice. “Oi! There’s a war going on here!”

Ron and Hermione broke apart, their arms still around each other.

“I know, mate,” said Ron, who looked as though he had recently been hit on the back of the head with a Bludger, “so it’s now or never, isn’t it?”

© [ profile] corkart

A group of four people emerged from the mist, standing alongside the very last carriage. Their faces only came into focus when Harry, Ginny, Lily, and Albus had drawn right up to them.

“Hi,” said Albus, sounding immediately relieved.

Rose, who was already wearing her brand-new Hogwarts robes, beamed at him.

“Parked all right, then?” Ron asked Harry. “I did. Hermione didn’t believe I could pass a Muggle driving test, did you? She thought I’d have to Confound the examiner.”

“No, I didn’t,” said Hermione, “I had complete faith in you.”

EDIT: A few notes.

1. When I first posted this entry, the art I posted by [ profile] corkart was actually altered by me. I had changed the colors and had unwittingly saved (and then uploaded) that edited versions. The originals are posted now. If you saved what I posted before (as well you should, because she is clearly brilliant), please delete and save again! Apologies, once again, to her.

2. If you’re looking for icons highlighting some of these moments (particularly the more romantic/tender moments), I whole-heartedly recommend [ profile] herm_weasley’s set here. They’re wonderful! (You’ll have to join to see them.)
ext_41053: (hp - weasleys - family)

[identity profile] 2007-08-01 02:49 am (UTC)(link)
So Harry Potter is not about the ships.

*gasps* You LIE!

I really do love the kiss picture. &hearts It's so pretty!

[identity profile] 2007-08-01 08:28 am (UTC)(link)
I loved it.


Just. So. ::whimpers::


::adds to memories for memories sake::

[identity profile] 2007-08-01 02:23 pm (UTC)(link)
You know, I was gonna reread the book after my sister was done with it just for these parts. Thanks for saving me the trouble!! :)

[identity profile] 2007-08-01 08:08 pm (UTC)(link)
The Ron/Hermione is DH makes me so, so happy. I found myself stupidly thinking "I'm so glad I'm a R/Hr "shipper""!

[identity profile] 2007-08-02 04:49 am (UTC)(link)
... MEEP.

I absolutely adore that picture... I stared at it for like, five minutes. I think I might go stare some more. What an adorable scene... perfect picture to capture it too. bleeeee.

[identity profile] 2007-08-03 02:10 am (UTC)(link)
EEEE! :D *is happy* Saving this to my memories.

[identity profile] 2007-08-03 02:58 am (UTC)(link)
So I found your post through [ profile] honestlyronald and I hope you don't mind me adding this to my memories! Thanks so much for typing it up! :D

[identity profile] 2007-08-03 10:48 am (UTC)(link)
Oh I love this! You typed up every little moment between them. And you used the perfect art... *adds to memories*

[identity profile] 2007-08-03 05:47 pm (UTC)(link)
This was a very cute idea! And the pictures just add to the adorableness :D
You should totally do this for the other 6 books!!

[identity profile] 2007-08-05 11:38 pm (UTC)(link)
Love it, especially when coupled with the gorgeous art.

[identity profile] 2008-05-23 11:33 am (UTC)(link)
I like you because of your icon!