a/n : Written for Remedial-potions aka bowtruckles

Sharing a Drink

It was just a mug of butterbeer.

A non-descriptive one of Madame Rosmerta's, really. Nothing fancy, nor special in appearance or content, merely a vessel for a bright and bubbly amber-colour beverage with a luxurious foamy top, something Ron had previously had scores of times if not more. To anybody present at the little pub, the day would seem nothing out of the ordinary except perhaps that it was a pleasant sunlit Saturday afternoon, a Hogsmead day for the hundreds of Hogwarts students who were trying their best to make up for the Umbridge-rule that was prevailing in school recently. Yes, in a way it was quite special.

But for Ron, everything was different- special in fact- for reasons, reasons he could barely admit to himself let alone confess them to another.

"I think these spells would be the best ones to start with, in the next meeting," Hermione told Harry, who in turn seemed to be lost in thoughts, staring at the table at the far end of the room. Ron would have glanced and tried to figure out what the bloke found more interesting than Dumbledore's Army- if only he could divert his attention from that one mug.

As it so happened, the said mug was his- up until a few minutes ago when Hermione had absentmindedly grabbed it instead of her own. And she had taken a deep swig from exactly the same spot where he had… Suddenly his throat felt a little too parched. Ron gulped and took a deep steadying breath. His heart throbbing away like the school band wasn't making things easy.

Hermione was still scribbling away on a piece of a parchment muttering to herself, unaware that both his and Harry's attention was elsewhere. Slowly he grabbed the mug towards himself and took another swig. The beverage bubbled its way down his throat and made him giddy in a way he had never experienced before. Confused, he placed it back on the table quickly and stared at it, hard. Woah, did the butterbeer taste different or had he lost his mind?

"That dumb toad," muttered Hermione all to herself as she scribbled a little too furiously, almost poking the parchment with her quill. "I'm expecting a few more Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs to join us in the next few days. I need more coins," she informed them, eyes still glued on the list in front of her.

And once again, just like before, she grabbed his mug and took a sip, a deep one this time. Sitting right next to her, Ron exhaled slowly, hoping his very best that she wouldn't notice the ridiculous reddening of his ears. But of course, Hermione was way too busy with her work. She placed the butterbeer back, more than half of it gone, shared between the two of them. Ironically, Hermione's own mug was sitting right at her left, very much in view. But, Ron told himself that she could have missed or assumed it was Harry's. There could be no other explanation for what was happening. He wasn't complaining though. Not yet, not until she figured that he had already noticed.

Once again, he picked up the mug carefully, glancing once at Harry who had his head turned in such an odd angle that Ron was sure the bloke would end up with a horrible sprain in his neck. He took another sip, a small one this time, and placed it back on the table, a bit more towards her. Hermione spent an inordinate amount of time scribbling this time while the butterbeer warmed up, lost its fizz and the foam all died down. Finally, when Ron had silently questioned his life's choices and admonished himself a thousand times over, she picked it up again. This time she drained it completely and dropped the empty mug right next to her almost full mug.

It was a bloody miracle that Ron did not combust into a flaming ball of fire right there and then, out of sheer nerves.

Oblivious to everything, Hermione rolled up her scroll, capped the bottle of ink and placed everything neatly inside her bag before looking up at Harry.

"You are hopeless," she declared with an exasperated sigh and then turned to Ron. "If he doesn't manage to tell Cho soon, we'll have to do something," she said matter of factly before picking up her sling bag.

"Let's go?" Harry replied sheepishly, suddenly in a hurry to leave. Ron, still staring at the empty butterbeer mug and secretly wondering how to secretly nick it, only managed a nod.

"I need to visit the post office and then buy some rolls of parchment," she informed them as they jostled their way out of the pub.

Ron gave one last longing look at their table which was now being cleaned by a young wizard. The mug was gone.

"Yeah, let's get out of here. If we have time, maybe we can visit Hagrid?" he sighed. It was obvious that the bonkers God of Luck had felt a little too kindly towards him today, nothing more, nothing less.

As the trio left the pub, no one noticed the curly-haired witch grin a little sheepishly to herself as she tied the scarf around her neck, hiding the rising blush.

….