“Hold still,” Hermione snapped irritably, rolling her eyes as he winced and jerked his head back.
“That stings,” he whinged , as she dabbed at his face with a wet cloth.
Hermione pulled away and shook her head. Ron’s nose was bleeding and his left eye had swollen shut and turned a lurid purple color. “Honestly, you have to learn to control your temper. You’re lucky that nobody was seriously hurt, or worse, that the Aurors weren’t called in.”
“M’fine,” he mumbled, turning his head away. “And it’s not like I started the fight. That pompous git had his paws all over you. What did you expect me to do?”
“He did not!” Hermione exclaimed. “He merely reached around me to grab the dish of nuts on the bar.”
Ron shook his head and groaned. “You obviously didn’t see how he was looking down your blouse as he did so. Or how his hand swept down your back and caressed your bum as he turned to leave.”
“He did no such thing!” Hermione said, shaking her head.
“I know what I saw,” he declared stubbornly. “But if you don’t want to believe me, then so be it.” He stood up and marched stiffly down the hall and into the bedroom of their flat, slamming the door shut.
Hermione waited a good fifteen minutes or so for the situation to cool off, before approaching the bedroom. “Can I come in?” She asked, speaking through the door.
“It’s your room, too. You’re free to do whatever you want,” Ron replied crossly.
Hermione opened the door a crack and spotted Ron lying on the bed, his back to her. Pushing the door open further she entered the room and perched at the edge of the bed behind him.
“Obviously you and I have two different accounts of what happened tonight.”
She sighed. Ron never did make it easy on her. “Look, I’m not trying to get in a fight with you over this. It’s stupid really.”
Ron folded his arms across his chest. “Oh, so now I’m stupid.”
“I didn’t say that!” she replied, frustration lacing her words. She pulled at his shoulder
until he rolled over onto his back and faced her.
“Oh so what am I, then?” He asked snidely. “A jealous prat?
“No.” Hermione crawled up onto the bed and sat up, straddling his legs. “You’re an overprotective, but utterly wonderful boyfriend,” she answered.
He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
She nodded, before leaning down to place a chaste kiss on his lips. “ Definitely. Maybe you misread his intentions… or perhaps I did,” he continued on hastily when he bristled at the accusation. “Either way, I don’t think a fight was necessary.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry. I guess I overreacted a bit.”
“Maybe,” she replied. While she never appreciated his jealous streak back at Hogwart's, his protective nature was somewhat endearing now that they were a couple. Not that she'd ever tell him this. “You know what I love best about fighting Ron?”
He watched with sudden interest as she deftly undid his belt and set to work on the buttons of his shirt. “Making up?”
She nodded, then paused. “Are you sure you’re up for that? Maybe we should wait until you’re feeling better.”
“Bollocks,” Ron replied, as he playfully pushed her off of him. He sat up on his knees and went to pull his shirt over his head, biting back a groan as his bruised ribs protested the movement. Hermione sat up as well and eased the shirt off for him, before ordering him to lie back down. “Hermione?”
“Next time, I want to get into a brawl with some ogre twice my size, convince me to apparate home with you instead,” he said, pulling her into a kiss. “That way we can skip the bruises and the argument afterwards and go straight to the making up part.”