WHAT IS GOING ON?

This is an AU but I tried to reference stuff about their relationship in canon. This is set the summer before Deathly Hallows. Hermione is a muggle. In my universe, Harry is still the Chosen One and Ron Weasley is still his best friend and they are still off to find Horcruxes instead of attending school. Ron is working in a muggle coffee shop to earn money for their trip while keeping a low profile as there is still a war going on.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the content on the HP series. I am doing this out of sheer adoration and devotion. Cover image is by tumblr user cascadestyles.

He's such a strange boy, she thought, glancing at the clumsy waiter. His bright red hair seemed so out of place against the gray blur that was their town. He had spilled yet another drink. What was that now, 15? He just seemed so unused to... lifting things. She sighed. She actually hoped his unfamiliarity with manual labor had to do with him being an upper class brat than some growing disease.

For awhile now she had been observing the boy, a lanky fellow no older than 17. Must be his first summer job, she mused, or at least his first at a coffee house. At the tender age of 17, she herself had never needed to work. Her parents were both dentists with their own practice across town. She certainly didn't live in the lap of luxury but her parents asked nothing more from her than devotion to study. As if they even needed to ask!

She continued to observe him as he wiped the mess he had made two tables from her. He was trying his best to look apologetic as his boss berated him for messing up an order for the 15th time. She wasn't sure if she should feel proud or ashamed that she got the number right.

He was attractive certainly, despite his alarmingly bad waiting skills. He looked like a nice person,the type with a sense of humor and a lot of friends. He'd make faces behind the backs of his weirder customers, to the amusement of his coworkers. Rather insensitive though, she noted.

He must have felt the weight of her stare, a phenomena she could never quite understand, because he turned to her and just kind of stared back.

"Can I get you anything else?", he asked awkwardly after what seemed like an eternity.

She looked away, blushing.

She was watching him again today, the weird boy who was bad at lifting things. Today, he was showing a magic trick to a small boy, one of the kids of one of the businessmen chattering away on their phones. It was the trick where you pull coins out of someone's ear. She had seen it many times before but she noted he was particularly good at it.

"The key-", he said to the boy slowly, "- is knowing exactly where it is."

"Exactly where it is in my ear?"

"Yeah. Or in your hand." He winked. The boy gasped opening his palm.

He ran to his father screaming in delight about the "magic waiter".

She looked at him curiously. She didn't like not knowing things.

"How did you do that?"

He looked at her and grinned.

"A good wizard never reveals his secrets."

Her eyes narrowed.

"You meant magician. The phrase starts with 'a good magician'."

He laughed.

"That it does. Ron Weasley. And you are?"

She blinked.

"Hermione. Hermione Granger."

And then they were friends.

She kind of liked having this secret friend, this mysterious boy no one had ever heard of, someone who was just hers. He'd whisper in her ear, giving her his commentary on all the people around them. She'd laugh under her nose and shake her head, playfully chiding him for being so nasty.

"It's all in good fun, Granger. I make fun of everyone."

"How fair of you."

"My parents raised me to treat everyone equally." There was a long pause. His expression darkened as he continued, "Where I'm from, that place I don't really like to talk about, there's a ton of discrimination. It is pretty awful."

She couldn't really imagine what kind of awful backwards place he was from or what kind of discrimination this place had. Gender? Racial? Was the place that backwards? Was it class? Was it religious persecution? Was that why he was so secretive? Was he on the run?

Whatever it was, she knew he wasn't going to tell her.

She shook her head and finally said, "I'm sorry. That sounds awful."

From across the room, they'd share these looks. How she enjoyed their looks. Was this flirting? Friendly banter through nothing but pointed glares and cheeky grins was so much better than those heavy smolders other boys gave her.

Come to think of it, she mused, most things with him were better.

"Doing magic again? Let's have a look then," she said cheerfully, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Ron was performing one of his tricks for a disinterested 8-year old.

"Well, I was just showing young Rose here how pretty her name is. How? By showing her a rose."

The girl called Rose interrupted.

"I know what roses look like."

He rolled his eyes in mock-annoyance and muttered something about "cheeky little know-it-all's".

"Yes but do you know what they look like out of thin air!?" He pulled out a bouquet from behind the girl.

For a second, her eyes widened.

"Cool," was all she said. She walked away, flowers in hand.

Ron scoffed, "Daft that girl is! I just pulled flowers out of thin air!". Hermione laughed.

"Well, I liked it," she said honestly. She didn't catch him blush as he fumbled with something in his pocket.

"I, uh, got one for you too," he said awkwardly, pulling a single rose from behind Hermione's head. How was he doing that?

"Thanks."

She blushed and looked away. So did he.

"How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"There was a huge mess there a second ago. I've seen you clean things up, you are awful at it. Where did it go?"

"I guess I'm improving."

She struggled with what to say next. He looked at her expectantly.

"That was um, pretty brilliant…cleaning. Err, good work?"

"Always the tone of surprise," he said, laughing.

She blushed but didn't look away. Their eyes met, blue on brown. He might have been clinically insane or maybe he was actually like a wizard or something. He might possibly even be both, she thought, she wouldn't put it past him. Regardless of all that, she liked him a lot.

She had kissed him. She, Hermione Granger had kissed the coffee shop waiter who she had known for a week and who was really only a very casual friend, little more than a complete stranger when you think about it. A casual friend-stranger who she liked a lot.

As he opened the door for her as she walked out, she grabbed his arm and kissed him. It was such a brief thing really. She was sure no one had noticed, well, no one except for him.

Right after they just looked at each other not saying anything. Embarrassed, she got ready to leave again, ready to lock herself in her room and cry, but then suddenly he grinned.

"That was brilliant."

She grinned right back.

"Always the tone of surprise."

"You are so peculiar."

"Gee…thanks."

"No, I am not saying it to be mean. You just are. The way you think, the fact that no one in town knows you, the fact that you are working to pay for a trip with your best friend but you don't know where you're going but are leaving quite soon, the way you always pause when asked a question about your background like you're struggling to make something up and the way you carry trays…IT'S ALL WEIRD!" She took two big breaths, her cheeks flushed.

For a moment, he was silent but then he smiled.

"I guess you are right, 'Mione. I am peculiar."

Hermione wasn't the type of girl who snogged friend-strangers in the girl's washroom. She wasn't the type who snogged friend-strangers. She wasn't the type who did much snogging actually.

True, this boy was more a friend than a stranger. At times, actually, usually times like this, she even felt he was more than a friend. He really only merited the term stranger because even now, after all their lengthy conversations, their stolen glances, their secret snog sessions, after all that and more, she knew so little about him. This boy, this wonderful boy with clear blue eyes she could look into forever, this boy who she was allowing to kiss her and touch her and make her feel things she had never felt before, did she even know him at all?

She really wasn't sure.

Yet there they were, kissing as if their lives depended on it. She was pushed up against the sink, hands in his hair and legs dangling. His hands were on her waist, keeping her steady as they, well, snogged. It was incredibly inappropriate and wonderful.

"I'm leaving tomorrow. " The words hung there for a long time. He sounded as awkward as he did during their first conversation, their first moment, a conversation that felt eons away right now, during what she felt was their last.

" I know. You are never going to tell me where to though, right?" She asked almost petulantly.

"Sorry."

"Well, I hope you have a great trip, Ron."

He paused for a long time.

"It was fun," he said at last, giving her a sad sort of smile that made it hard for her to be cold. Dense as he was with picking up emotional cues, he meant well and that was one of the things she liked about him so she smiled back for his sake.

"Yeah. It really was."

"If I'm ever in town again, I'll look you up."

She had a feeling he was lying but she nodded anyway. She made for the door.

She felt a tug on her arm.

"Wait. I, um, not that this backpacking trip is particularly dangerous or anything but you never know… I just wanted to say… ", he trailed off.

"Yes?"

"Whether we see each other again or not, I'll really miss you."

She didn't know what she had been expecting but she was sure that wasn't it. She nodded again and went on her way. He didn't stop her.

"Hi, 'Mione."

It had been months since she had heard that voice but she recognized it all the same. There he was, Ron Weasley, the strange boy of the coffee shop, standing in said coffee shop, in front of her table, smiling expectantly. For a moment, she just looked at him, the boy she had been thinking of all year. He was a bit different now, thinner, somewhat older and there was something infinitely sadder and wiser about the way he carried himself. Nevertheless, he was still Ron and so she still liked him a lot.

But it was one of those moments where anything said would be an understatement so she didn't even bother thinking of anything spectacular to say at all. She just went with:

"Hi."

He smiled.

"Walk with me?"

She smiled.

With them, it was always so easy. She couldn't imagine a world where she did not like this boy.

"Alright."

They walked out into the street. He linked their arms and she leaned into him. Together they strolled through the streets of the grey town that to Hermione, never looked better.

"Will you ever tell me where you went off to?"

"All in good time." He winked.

"How do you know I'll want to waste all that time with you?", she asked teasingly.

"You're holding on to my arm rather tightly."

She blushed in spite of herself. She shoved him lightly.

"How do you always manage to make me smile?"

"Magic."

*END*

Hehe. I am terrible at writing Ron and to a lesser extent, Hermione. They are just too great? *sighs* This plot bunny has been on my mind for awhile now so I thought I might as well get it over with. Please have mercy on my self-esteem and R&R. Constructive criticism is appreciated.