“Love is everything it’s cracked up to be… It really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for.” “ Erica Jong
Ron was quickly learning to associate Saturday nights with a tense silence-filled gap between him and Hermione. The day’s rehearsals went well: he remembered all his steps and even got through the dress rehearsal in front of all the other contestants while wearing his sequined outfit, without complaining once. Yet Hermione had not said a word to him for the whole day. He knew he had hurt her: she had been on the brink of giving up everything for him, and now thought that he had lied to her. She just didn’t realise that he was prepared to do the same for her.
He and Hermione were dancing last this week. They sat nervously throughout the evening, while the other couples performed and were awarded their marks, before finally the floor manager pulled them up to wait behind the curtain once more. Hermione still said nothing to Ron, instead he merely stood there with his fake grin plastered to his face, hoping it was successfully hiding the torment he was feeling inside.
This jive was going to go well, it had to go well. If it didn’t, he might get voted out and then he’d never see Hermione again. He needed at least one more week to make her talk to him again. He couldn’t leave it like this.
And then they were out on the dance floor, and their music began. Ron worked furiously to keep his feet going and keep his smile on his face. It looked to be no effort for Hermione, but she would not look him directly in the face. He felt like he was dancing with someone he didn’t know, someone who was there because she had to be, and not because any part of her wanted to be. All too soon the dance was over, and they were waiting by the judges table once more, nervously awaiting the results. Hermione did not take Ron’s hands this week, and they fell limply by his sides instead.
“All the steps were secure,” the first judge began, looking in interest at Hermione, who was smiling quite weakly and looking more at the floor than at him, “but there was something lacking there, I don’t know what it was, but-“
“There wasn’t any connection,” the next judge added, and the others nodded. “It seemed like you’d had this enormous row and were only dancing because you had to.” The judges laughed but Ron shifted nervously from foot to foot.
“Again there was some good choreography, but I think what it comes down to is that your heart just wasn’t in it.”
“I don’t think that’s entirely true,” the head judge interrupted. “I think neither of their hearts were in it: Ron, I think you were probably thinking of what steps to do!” Ron gave a mute nod, not trusting himself to say anything. He and Hermione waited for their final score (23) before returning to the middle of the floor to await the results.
It did not take long to count up the public vote, and after only five minutes, the nine couples had been reduced to just two once more. Unfortunately, Ron and Hermione were once again in the final two. Ron closed his eyes. Please, God, he prayed, don’t leave it like this. If we go out this week, Hermione will walk away from me again, and I’m not going to get another chance. Please don’t let it end like this.
“The second couple to leave Strictly Come Dancing is,” Bruce cried, and a drum roll sounded… “Craig and Anastasia! Bad luck, you two, but well done to Ron and Hermione!” Ron was so dumbfounded and overjoyed that he fell to his knees in shock. The audience were laughing but Ron simply could not find the strength to stand up. He’d done it. He had another chance. He was going to fight for Hermione, and he was going to make sure that he won this time.
He was so busy thinking that he didn’t see a hand extended towards him. Looking up, he saw Hermione looking down at him, tears in her eyes and small smile on her face. He took her hand and she pulled him up.
“We did it, Hermione!” was all he could say.
“Yeah,” she said, in a quiet but happy voice. “We did. Well done.” She turned to go offstage, but Ron called her back.
“Hermione! Erm, I’m sorry about what happened yesterday,” he began, awkwardly. “About Heavenly-Paige, I mean, I wasn’t seeing her, honestly. She came round to try and patch things up, but I didn’t want to know, I sent her packing afterwards, honestly…” his voice trailed off. Hermione was still smiling, but a tear trickled its way down her cheek.
“It’s ok, Ron. It doesn’t matter now,” she said, quietly.
“D’you, er, want to go out for that meal yet?” Ron asked hopefully. He could tell by her face what the answer was. She didn’t look angry, but there was a firm resoluteness set in her face.
“I’m sorry, Ron,” she told him. “But from now on, our relationship is strictly ballroom. That’s all.”
“But I’ve said I’m sorry! I’d give up everything for you, Hermione, I swear I would!”
“It’s too late, Ron,” she said, more tears falling. “I… My boyfriend asked me to marry him. He’s asked me a couple of times before but I said no, but this time, I said yes. I’m sorry.” And with that she left the dance floor. Ron felt like he’d seen this scene once before.
~~*~~
Ron was angry. He was angry at Heavenly-Paige, angry at the judges, angry at Hermione’s boyfriend… but most of all he was angry with himself for making Hermione walk out again. After the end of the Saturday night show, he hurried to his dressing room, threw his stupid jive outfit into the corner of the room and changed back into his jeans and shirt. Without even going home first, he headed straight for the nearest nightclub he could find, determined to get as wrecked as possible.
The loud noise that hit him when he entered deafened him, and the bright coloured lights blinded him, but he did not care: if anything, he was glad of them. With noisy basses pumping through his head it was difficult to think about Hermione. He pushed his way through to the bar to order the most alcoholic drink he could.
~~*~~
Ron couldn’t be blamed. He hadn’t known what he was doing. It really wasn’t his fault. But the fact remained: he had tried to hit on his own sister.
Of course, he didn’t realise it was her; he was so wasted he couldn’t tell a lamppost from a person, but when, through some amazing stroke of luck, Harry and Ginny had turned up at the same club, he had tried to chat up Ginny while she waited for Harry to return from the bar. And now he was lying sprawled on the sofa in their front room, watching the sun rise while his head throbbed and he felt mortally embarrassed at what he had done.
“Morning, Ron!” Ginny said cheerfully as she swept into the room with a tray of breakfast for him. “Did you sleep well?”
“Oh yeah,” Ron grunted hoarsely. “Fantastic. Look, Gin, I can’t apologise enough for some of the things I said to you last night. I didn’t realise it was you, and, well.” He broke off, his ears bright red. Ginny laughed.
“You’re just lucky I realised it was you,” she said, pointedly, sitting down next to him on the sofa. “If I hadn’t told Harry who it was, you’d have a nice black eye right now.”
“I should apologise to him too,” Ron muttered, groaning.
“Never mind about him, he found it hilarious once he found out what was going on. Anyway, he’s more concerned about you.” Ron looked at his younger sister, and saw worry blazing in her warm brown eyes.
“Concerned about me?” Ron asked. “Why?”
“Because you go out every week, almost everyday, and drink yourself stupid,” Ginny said gently. “You’re not yourself. It seems like you’re trying to drink yourself to death. You made the papers again with your performance last night.”
“It’s not my fault this time,” Ron muttered mulishly. He explained everything to Ginny, all about Hermione, and Heavenly-Paige, and Hermione’s boyfriend. Fiancé. And all the time he spoke, his little sister watched him quietly. She didn’t like the way Ron lived his life, and for months now had been constantly worried about him and his health. She wanted the old Ron back, the older brother who she would always look up to. But now he seemed like an empty shell.
“You really love Hermione, don’t you?” she asked quietly when he had finished. Ron paused, and then nodded defeatedly.
“Fat lot of good it’s done me,” he sighed.
“If you really do love her as much as you say you do,” Ginny said, slowly, “then I believe that you won’t give up on her. Work at it. Win her back. Even if you have to gatecrash the wedding, you can get her back. If you love her so much, and I honestly believe that you do, then fight for her. Don’t let her walk away again. Go back and find her, and win her heart.”
“You really think it’ll work?” Ron asked, doubtfully.
“I don’t know,” Ginny told him, sensibly. “But it’s worth a try, isn’t it? Better to try now, or you might just end up regretting it forever.”