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Harry stumbled through the front door of his house with Ron close on his heels.
“Shoes.” The slur in Harry’s voice betrayed his drunkenness. He wandered into the kitchen to grab water while Ron took off his shoes. The three firewhiskey glasses he had earlier were not helping his attempt. They met back in the living room, collapsing gratefully onto separate couches.
Ron stretched out and sipped at his water as he noted the changes since the last time he visited.
“What’s that?” He jerked his head at a square bundle on the end table.
Harry grabbed it and tossed it at Ron. Not expecting sudden packages, Ron fumbled his drink and nearly splashed himself.
“Gag gift from Ginny,” Harry explained as Ron inspected the five book box set. “A complete set of Harry Potter’s Worldwide Adventures .”
Ron flipped the box set over to check something. “These came out before your first year.”
Harry smiled. “Yeah, Ginny gifted me something similar during her seventh year and has since made it a tradition to find the most ludicrous example of my ‘life story’ every birthday.”
Ron read the rest of the description on the back. “You go to another dimension in the third book and stay there; why is it called Worldwide Adventures? ”
“I don’t read them beyond finding the author's name.”
“Why?”
His friend chuckled. “I enjoy seeing the excuses for why I haven’t received royalties yet.”
Ron pulled out the second in the series and flipped through it. His frown grew more pronounced before he gagged and shoved the paperback back into the box set. “These are awful. I could write better than that.”
Harry laughed and toasted with his water. “Hermione has turned you into a book snob.”
Ron sniffed haughtily. “Had to happen eventually.”
After talking a bit later into the night, a more sober Ron bid his best friend farewell and returned home.
/\/\/\/\
\/\/\/\/
The next morning, Ron sat on the couch while reading the sports page of The Daily Prophet.
"Chudley Cannons scored a goal last week," he said.
Behind him at the kitchen table, Hermione was doing the final edits on her book, The Battle of Hogwarts . She still didn’t like the title, but, as Ron had pointed out, it was accurate.
Her head tilted. "Did the other team have a keeper?"
Ron looked through the rest of the article. "Nope, out with dragon pox."
They both chuckled before returning to their previous activities. For several minutes, the silence was only broken by the shuffling of paper and the scratching of a pen.
"Ron," Hermione spoke up. "Could you check over this for me? I'm sure it's correct, but a second opinion never hurts."
She picked up her writings and deposited them on his lap. Ron flipped through the manuscript, stopping at different parts to randomly check them. He tapped on a page two-thirds of the way through.
"You missed a part."
"Oh?" One of Hermione's eyebrows raised itself.
Ron grinned. "Yeah, after slaying Nagini, we made out."
She slapped him on the head. "Prat."
"You know it." He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
Hermione sat down next to him and rested against him. "Have you ever thought about writing down your experiences?"
He slung an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in close. "I'm not great with words. Plus, no one would want to read it."
"Well, if you ever change your mind, I'd love a signed copy."
He chuckled and pressed another kiss onto her forehead as his mind wandered. Hermione had been complaining recently on how quickly she was going through the mail-order catalog of Flourish and Blotts. He meant what he said, though; his writing would be awful to read, and he had no desire to start digging up the past. Maybe he should try his hand at fiction?
After all, it couldn’t possibly be worse than the torrent of drivel that Harry had written about his childhood.
Probably.
/\/\/\/\
\/\/\/\/
It had been a month since he had thought about trying to write a story. He hadn’t actually written anything yet, but a month had passed, and he was still thinking about it.
Over the last four weeks, his mind kept coming back to writing a story. The idea wouldn’t leave him alone, which was especially annoying since he hadn’t actually figured out what he wanted to write.
Which was why he sat at his desk in his home office, glaring at the blank paper in front of him. A muggle pen tapped against the desk as his nervous energy worked itself out. He was quite glad he had switched to pens. Much cleaner and easier to use.
He shook his head and refocused on the empty space in front of him. There was no desire to relive the memories of his past, so a biography was right out. His grades were decent at Hogwarts, but he never returned for his seventh year, so no textbooks or treatises on magical theory.
The only tip he could remember was to write what you knew.
He snorted and doubted anyone wanted advice on how to survive school as the best friend of The Chosen One.
A drunken memory of Harry Potter’s Worldwide Adventures floated to the front of his thoughts.
Inspiration chose that moment to strike, and Ron’s quill danced across the paper. Ideas were written down, considered, and crossed out. Bullet points appeared to highlight important thoughts while the candle on the desk flickered merrily. By the time he had finished, the outline was three pages long, and the burning wick was nearing the bottom of the wax.
/\/\/\/\
\/\/\/\/
He settled into a rhythm as the days passed. Whenever he could, he would steal away to his office and work on the book. Hermione was suspicious of his new habit, but assurances that he was working on a surprise was enough to waylay her suspicions.
He took a few days break after the first draft was finished. When he finally sat down to start editing his manuscript, he almost binned the entire thing. The thought of sharing what he had written made his stomach churn. He pushed past the anxiety and fear around his capacity for wordsmithing. After all, he wasn’t doing this for himself.
If he was going to finish the book in time for Hermione’s birthday, he had work to do.
/\/\/\/\
\/\/\/\/
Hermione liked to consider herself a smart woman and an accomplished witch. She had survived a bloody war before graduating high school and still practiced constant vigilance.
It wasn’t hard to figure out what Ron was doing in the house’s office space. She didn’t read the crumpled papers he left in the waste bin, nor did she bother with the only locked drawer in the desk. If Ron wanted to surprise her with his autobiography, she was more than happy to wait.
Until Christmas at least. Thankfully, her birthday came first.
It wasn’t too shocking that Ron waited until after the small party to give her the final gift. It was the appropriate size and wrapped in a small cloth.
Ron smiled at her, nervous fingers tapping on the table. “Figured you could use something new to read.”
She sat opposite him and returned the smile. It had been a long road to get here, but now that it was happening, Hermione was starting to feel the same anxiety Ron displayed.
Her hand caressed the shape of the book through the covering. She remembered all the times she had written in the living room or kitchen, hoping the sight would inspire Ron. All the times she had asked his opinion or checked her memories against his came back as she slowly revealed Ron’s hard work.
Was she ready to read about the disaster that was Second Year from his perspective? What thoughts did he have about Harry’s defiant survival in the Triwizard Tournament? Did Lavender Brown get more screen time than her?
The cloth fluttered away and all her thoughts ground to a halt as she read the title.
Ron Weasley and the Spiders of Desire
The front picture was of a short, ginger-haired boy giving a thumbs up to the reader. A very large spider hung behind him, giant hairy legs curling protectively around him. In the background, a blue Ford Anglia was slowly driving around.
Aware of Ron’s gaze, she flipped to the first page. Her hopes of finding answers were dashed as she started reading.
It was a children’s book, similar to the multitude of Harry Potter fiction that was popular with the younger crowd. The main plot of the story revolved around the main character getting rich from selling love potions. However, he was only a first-year student and no one was interested in buying from him. So he snuck out one night and dumped his entire stock in The Forbidden Forest. The next day, he learned that his dumping spot was also a gathering area for Acromantula.
She tore her gaze away as Book Ron tried to deal with all the spider silk shirts he was being given as courting gifts.
“Check the last page,” Ron said before she could speak.
She turned to the end and read the note.
To my biggest fan and love of my life:
Hermione
P.S. Please don’t ask me to write a sequel.
“Surprised?” He asked.
She hugged him. “Very.”