Chapter Text
Rumours were mundane. Ron Weasley had his fair share of rumours flying around him due to his virtue of being Harry’s right hand man. In fact, even being around Hermione was enough for some of the rumours to stick to him. Rumours were a part of his life and he had accepted long ago that it was what it was. The new turn of events, however, put him in the centre of them and Ron did not know what to do. He was Ron Weasley; painfully lanky, easy-going and overall mediocre bloke just trying to get past the trauma of the war like everyone else. There was nothing much to say about him but then there it was.
The damn bouquet of flowers addressed to him.
‘Gardenias’;Hermione called them when they examined the nondescript bunch of white flowers found leaning against the 8th year dorms as students went down for breakfast that fine morning.
Initially, Ron didn’t pay much attention to it. He was tired from a sleepless night and he just wanted to get something warm in his belly. Or he hoped he could as soon as possibly but the surprised giggles and exclamations coming from the group of 8th year girls peaked his curiosity.
“Merlin! It’s for him!” Daphne squealed as the group of girls simultaneously turned to pin him with varying levels of shock and astonishment.
“What? Why are all of you staring at me?” Ron suddenly felt squirmish under their excited smiles and stares. He turned to Hermione for comfort but she too was giggling and staring at him with a soft look.
“It’s for you, Ron.” She uttered as she handed him the bouquet.
“What?” Ron’s jaw dropped as he stared at her then down at the bouquet and back at her for answers.
“Hey, don’t look at me. I don’t know anything except that it’s for you. Look.” She smiled as she gestured down to the crisp black namecard nestled in the smooth leaves.
“You’re joking.” Ron frowned as he examined the neat handwriting outlining his name in gold. “Merlin, you’re not.”
“It is funny but hey! Good for you, Weasley!” Seamus hooted before Dean poked him with an elbow.
“Flowers? For me? Someone is seriously trying to have a laugh somewhere.” Ron gritted his teeth as his face grew red with annoyance and embarrassment. Without another word, he rushed back into the dorm and carelessly threw the bouquet on his bed before rushing down to the hall. Now he was sleep deprived, hungry, angry and most of all, embarrassed.
“Heard you got a secret admirer leaving you flowers, Weasley.” Ernie shouted from the Hufflepuff tables and Ron groaned into his mug of hot tea.
If the others didn’t know before, now, everyone knew.
Ron had hoped that things would only spill after breakfast and end there but to his absolute horror, by the time classes were over, the entire castle was buzzing with questions and speculation of who would give Ronald flowers.
“Gardenias symbolise a secret love. How romantic!” Hermione smiled happily as she scratched her current research paper with blue ink.
“Mione, please can you not. Not right now. This paper is killing me.” Ron grumbled as he blinked sleep from his eyes. “Why did I take Muggles studies?”
“For someone whose father works on all things muggle, you sure seem to be quite ignorant of basic muggle configurations.” Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry chuckled softly beside her.
Ron looked around and felt a stab of old familiarity. The trio sitting by the fire trying to finish homework as Hermione wrangled and guided the two of them felt so familiar yet so foreign. They were not the same fresh faced happy children anymore. Ron had tried but it was hard to deny it. They had all lost something in the war; Hermione’s confident assurance had plummeted, Harry wasn’t as kind or trusting anymore. As for Ron, he knew without much difficulty that he was a shell of the boy he had been. He was no longer awed by the wonders of the world and had relegated to a limbo; he was content with floating in the ether away from everything and everyone.
His goal of just getting by Eighth year and resuming his auror training had been shattered by the bloody bouquet still sitting in his room. It quite possible put him in the spotlight; the drama of that one day itself had exhausted him. Mostly because people kept looking at him and giggled and spoke in hushed tones or hollered at him in the halls.
“Are you not the smallest bit curious, Ron?” Harry asked.
“No. I’m not. I hope this is a prank and a one time thing.” Ron rolled his eyes.
“Oh, come on, mate! You’re no fun.” Harry chuckled as he shoved his shoulder playfully.
“Well, I’m not curious. I just want to finish my studies and get out of this bloody castle. I don’t have time for silly pranks and every other student stopping me and asking questions to answers I don’t even want to know.” Ron grumbled as Hermione continued smiling.
“There’s a betting pool amongst the Eighth years.” She stated matter of factly.
“What?! It quite literally just happened this morning!” Ron turned to his two friends with an exhausted sigh. “Merlin, you both are in on it, aren’t you?!”
“Always up to earn some money, sorry mate.” Harry shrugged his shoulders.
“You don’t even need it! And you too, Mione?!”
“Only because I like to win.” She turned her nose up.
“Come on then.” Ron flopped back down on the armchair in defeat. “Who did you bet on?”
“I say it’s probably… a secret.” Hermione smirked; too happy with herself.
“A bad friend is what you are.” Ron grumbled as he stuffed his mouth with some of the biscuits that were on the table.
“Come on, Ron! Liven up a little! I’d be flattered if I was you.” Harry chucked good naturely as he pushed his tousled hair back.
“Flattery never works on you so I don’t even know what you’re going on about. Besides I really don’t think this is the time for all this, erm, these type of things, you know.” Ron ended awkwardly, knowing that he was beet red and failing to act cool and collected.
“It’s precisely the time to do this, Ron.” Hermione’s eyes soften with an all too familiar hurt. “After all that has happened, I think we should be allowed this much. As it is, we’ve already lost so much so a little childish whimsy must be allowed, don’t you think?”
Harry nodded with a tight smile as the atmosphere took on a cloying weight. Ron stated at his two friends as they stared at each other in the soft light of the common room. Suddenly, the fire crackle was too loud and he could hear his stuttering breath. Harry broke the melancholic silence with a hum and a nod.
“Besides, no person can be completely indifferent to a bouquet of flowers; gardenias at that.” Harry wagged his eyebrows and clapped him on the back before turning to Hermione. “Gardenias, right? What did they mean again?”
“Secret love.” Ron said the words softly but in the silence it was deafening and he immediately clapped a hand over his mouth in horror.
“Exactly.” Hermione beamed.