Romione❤️ one-shots

Best Laugh I've Had

Ron Weasley liked being an Auror very, very much. There were several perks to the job: the fact that he got to work with Harry, its active and fast-paced nature, the fact that he felt he was doing something that contributed to society in a positive way. The generous salary was another bonus, he couldn't deny that. But the number one reason Ron Weasley liked being an Auror was that there was no homework.

The documentation for the cases they worked on was far too sensitive to be taken outside of approved locations within the Ministry, and so although there were far too many long and boring hours writing up endless reports, this didn't have to be done in his free time. He didn't mind working hard, but he did hate the idea of his leisure time being filled with work, too.

There were trade-offs, of course: nightshifts; endless hours of surveillance where he had to remain totally still and quiet for hours on end; a big case coming in and resulting in all leave being cancelled, and extended hours in the office with barely any time to eat or sleep. But, watching Hermione make her way through caseload after caseload, doing another six, seven or even eight hours of work at home after a full day in the chambers made him very, very grateful for the lack of something similar.

That night, he wasn't watching Hermione work. This was because she was entirely hidden behind huge piles of books, and only the fact that he could see her feet (resting on Crookshanks) under the desk and hear the occasional sigh of exasperation let him know she was still there. It was, he reflected, a particular shame, because the books blocked her view of the Christmas tree he'd purchased on the way home from work, which was currently standing in the corner of the room with two boxes next to it, waiting to be decorated.

It may still have been early December—too early, really, to put up the tree—but he was determined it was going to be done tonight. Not really out of any extreme fit of festive spirit, but because it would stop Hermione from killing herself with work for...oh, maybe half an hour.

But—apart from the times she had spent sleeping, or maybe showering—that would be the longest time she had stopped working in the past three weeks. It was time she had a break. He cleared his throat.

"Hermione, love?"

"Hmm?" She looked up, lifting several books up to actually meet his gaze.

"Want to decorate the tree?"

"The tree?" she frowned in confusion. "Oh, right. You said you'd got one on the way home... Can't we do it at the weekend? I'm a bit busy right now."

"I fancied doing it tonight," he said cheerily. "We could put on the Christmas music, have a mince pie and some mulled wine, get into the spirit..." She frowned again. "Okay, not the mulled wine. It's disgusting. But you get the idea."

"I can't, I'm afraid," she said, already setting the books down on the table. "I'm just too busy. But you go ahead—I'm sure it'll look great once you're done!"

His heart sank. "I can't do it alone, that's not getting into the festive spirit!" he said, keeping his tone bright and jolly. "We've got to do it together, that's what we did last year, and the year before. Keep the tradition going, eh? So, come on. Put your stuff down and let's make the place look all Christmassy!"

"Ron," Hermione said firmly. "I can't. You know that. I said I would take two weeks off over Christmas, and I will. I'm not going to do a single thing for work after the twentieth, until we go back to work on the third. Two whole weeks off! We can do whatever you'd like then. But in order to do that, I said I'd have to work harder before, to get everything done before we have a break."

"You said you'd have to work harder, yes, but you didn't say you'd be killing yourself with work!" Ron exclaimed. "When was the last time you stopped working, except to go to bed? And you didn't do that until one last night—and you were up again at six!"