If You Love Her (Ron Weasley)

Twenty-Nine

"Well, that was fucking terrible," I flopped down onto the sofa in the Common Room, a large sigh emitted as I looked over towards Neville, whose expression was the exact opposite of mine.

"I'm going to work here," He stated simply, and I thought he had lost his mind.

"You're going to do what?!" My shriek gained the attention of several Gryffindor's, who glanced around in confusion, but my own confusion was reserved for my own best friend, who I was certain had just said he was going to work at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"I'm going to work here! I'm going to be a Professor, of Herbology," Neville beamed with pride, making my stone-cold heart melt.

"Oh Nev," I placed a hand on his arm, and beamed up at him. "You'd be brilliant! It's just... Professor Sprout isn't that old, is she?"

"No! Professor McGonagall said I could work as a sort of apprentice, when I graduate. Professor Sprout will just train me up so that when she eventually does retire, I'll be able to just step into her role," Neville explained, and I nodded. "I think Gran will be happy, anyway, knowing I've got a plan,"

"Of course she will be!" I leaned over, giving Neville a peck on the cheek, grinning as he furiously scrubbed at the spot with the sleeve of his jumper. "I'm so proud of you,"

"Thanks, Aoife," Neville smiled. "What about you? What's next for Aoife Finnigan?"

"No idea," I deadpanned, and he blinked once, before laughing. "What?!"

"It's just so you! You can never decide on anything!" I was going to argue with him, until I realised he was absolutely correct. I was probably one of the most indecisive people in the world.

"I know! There's just so many choices," I shook my head. "I thought about a Healer, to be honest, but we sort of had a realistic conversation and I'd just never get the OWLs for that,"

"What about doing what I'm doing?" Neville suggested, after a few moments of thinking.

"What do you mean?" I questioned.

"Well, I'm going to train up as a Professor of Herbology," He started, "Why don't you train up as a Professor of Transfiguration? You're the best at it by far!"

I thought for a moment, and wondered what that sort of life might look like. Neville and I living out the rest of our lives at Hogwarts together, as teachers rather than students. It sounded wonderful, magical, even.

————

That afternoon, I found myself in a secluded corner of the library, surrounded by books. It was my personal idea of hell, but I had been talked into it by Hermione, whose hair seemed to be getting larger by the day as the stresses of the OWLs caught up to her.

"If I don't study I'm going to throw up," She had said, and I could hardly say no.

"I would really much rather be at dinner, Hermione," I grumbled, as I looked at the clock on the wall, which read seven o'clock.

"You can eat when you're dead," Hermione deadpanned. "Which will be sooner than you realise if you don't study,"

"You're going to kill me?" I questioned.

"No, you moron," She rolled her eyes. "But you will fail your OWLs, and then you won't get a job, so you'll end up starving and homeless, and you'll be dead before you're twenty,"

I grinned, assuming she was just joking, but when I looked up at her and realised she absolutely was not, I flipped open the potions book in front of me and began attempting to consume the words on the page.

"And anyway, I wanted to talk to you about Ronald," I sighed at her words, trying not to roll my eyes.

"I don't want to talk about it, honestly. He's made it abundantly clear that nothing will ever happen between us, and I'm trying to be fine about it," I stated, shrugging as though I couldn't care less, which couldn't have been any further from the truth.

Truth be told, I was devastated. If someone had told me just a year prior that I would be heartbroken over Ron Weasley, I'd have thought they'd have consumed the strongest Muggle drugs they could get their hands on. But it was my reality, Ron had broken my heart and I was trying to learn to be okay with it.

It was somewhat of a shock, to go from speaking to him every day, searching for him in crowded rooms, spending sleepless nights wondering what it might be like to curl up in his arms, to hear his heartbeat as I slept on his chest, to knowing he didn't feel the same way, to pretending he meant absolutely nothing to me.

"Why don't you just corner him?" She suggested, and at this I did laugh.

"Yeah, that'll make me seem cool and casual, great idea," I scoffed. "He'll think I'm a psychopath!"

"Aren't you?" She cocked an eyebrow.

"No!" I responded, a little too quickly. "Okay, maybe I am a tiny bit. But isn't everyone?"

"Are you at least going to come to the Quidditch match at the weekend?" She asked, and truthfully I hadn't thought about it. There was a reasonable chance Gryffindor could win the Cup, which would be a small miracle considering the status of the team when Harry, Fred and George had been banned.

"I'm not sure," I said, honestly. I knew I should go, I had supported the team more than ever before and it would be a shame not to see the season through to its conclusion. But in the same breath, it had been something I had shared with Ron, something I had thought was special.

"I think it would really help Ron to know you were supporting him," I opened my mouth to respond, but Hermione cut me off. "I know, you're mad at him, and you think he doesn't care for you. But I'm telling you, he does, and they don't stand a single chance of winning the match without you in the stands,"