A/N: Originally written as a response to a prompt from LilyJean630 and submitted to the 2018 Romione Sin Fest on tumblr. Not JKR.

10:15am, The Burrow

The night started, improbably, in the chicken coop.

Ron had been scattering the chicken feed to the squabbling hens when Ginny appeared on the other side of the pen, leaning her forearms on the low wooden rails.

"I hear you're taking Hermione out tonight," she said without preamble.

"From who?" Ron answered evasively, not thrilled with the idea of his family discussing his love life.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "From her. We do talk."

"Fine, yes. And?" Ron grunted in return, digging his hand into the bag of seed.

"And I need a favor," she answered seriously. "I know it's a cheek, but I need you guys to go on your date another night, and come out with me and Harry for his birthday instead."

"But his birthday's not 'til next week," Ron countered. "Mum's going to give him a big do and everything."

"You know Harry doesn't want a big fuss. He just wants to spend time with me, and I'm generous enough to share him with you, too."

"OK, so we tell mum to scale it back." Ginny was already shaking her head. Ron scowled, exasperated. "I don't get it."

"It HAS to be tonight. Harry just found out that Kingsley needs him next weekend, and you know he can't say no."

Ron sighed and slung some chicken feed with more force than was strictly necessary. Didn't it just figure! He had planned this date for weeks - scouted out a restaurant, bought a new shirt, changed his galleons and sickles (okay, sickles and knuts) into muggle money and everything. But Harry was his best mate, and birthdays only came around once a year. With any luck, he'd have loads more dates with Hermione - whom he knew would also want to celebrate the fact that Harry was alive and happy for another year.

"OK, what's the plan?" he asked, resigning himself to the inevitable.

Ginny grinned. "We go out after dinner tonight, the four of us. To a muggle pub, so no one recognizes him or embarasses him or anything like that. We can have a few drinks, relax - just a normal birthday," she shrugged.

Normal. He had to admit, that sounded pretty appealing.

"OK, fine. But remember that I'm giving up a date with Hermione. This night better be brilliant."

8:37pm, The Painted Horse

"I've got the first round," Ginny announced as the four of them scraped stools up to a dented, somewhat sticky table.

The pub was worn but lively, with a comfortable atmosphere and youthful clientele. When Hermione had asked Ginny how she knew about this particular spot, she had only smiled mysteriously and asked what everyone was having.

"Are you sure you won't need help carrying them?" Hermione worried.

"I'll be fine, I'm a woman of many talents," Ginny replied archly with a mischievous wink in Harry's direction.

"Unnecessary," Ron mumbled as Ginny pushed past him towards the bar.

"Oh hush, it's his birthday, remember?" Hermione teased, bumping his shoulder with hers. She smiled up at him warmly and he couldn't help returning it. Ron thought she looked exceptionally lovely tonight; her excess of curls hung soft and loose around her face and her purple jumper was just fitted enough to send his imagination racing. Several attractive scenarios of how this night was supposed to have played out flitted through his head as he lost himself in her eyes, imagining close conversations in a dimly lit cafe, a stroll under the stars with his arm around her, sliding his hands under that jumper as she breathed his name in his ear...

Harry, who had been watching Ginny's back as she disappeared into the crowd, suddenly squinted and seemed to gaze at something intently. "Hey, isn't that Dean?"

Startled out of their moment, Ron and Hermione both swung around toward the bar where Dean Thomas was taking a pint of ale from the bartender. There were several patrons between him and Ginny, who clearly hadn't seen him.

"Dean, mate!" Ron cupped his hands around his mouth and called to him in a deep voice. When Dean looked over, startled, Ron waved him over. Dean grinned and waved back. He seemed to fiddle with a small object in his hand for a moment, before shoving it into his pocket and making his way towards their table.

"Ron, Harry, Hermione," Dean nodded to each of them in turn. "Gotta say, I wouldn't've figured to run into you here! What brings you to London?"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten one of the cardinal holidays of the wizarding world, the birth of the Chosen One?" Ron joked, grinning at an obviously-embarrassed Harry. "Ow!" Ron jumped as Hermione poked him in the ribs.

"It's Harry's birthday," she clarified, as Ron rubbed his side.

"Well, almost-birthday," Harry muttered, "it's really not until next week…"

"Well, fancy meeting you lot here!"

"Neville, Seamus, hi," Harry greeted them in surprise as he and Ron both moved to exchange quick handshakes with the new arrivals.

"'Ello, 'ello, dear housemates," Seamus grinned. "We came as soon as we heard."

"What do you mean, 'as soon as you heard'?" Hermione asked, peering around at them through the dim light. "How did you know where we were?"

"The coins, o'course - what the 'ell, mate," Seamus started, before Dean elbowed him in the arm, jostling his drink. "They've been right useful this summer in situations such as this," he added, taking a few calculated sips from his pint to prevent any further spillage.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "You mean you've been using your DA coins to meet up to go drinking?" she asked in a scandalized voice.

Dean and Neville looked somewhat chastened at her tone, but Seamus merely rolled his eyes. "Come on, Granger - it's a damn sight better than what we were using them for before!" he retorted.

Harry laughed. "He's a got a good point, Hermione."

"Thank you, 'arry," Seamus replied grandly, tipping his drink in his direction.

"I suppose," Hermione sniffed, then broke into a reluctant smile as Ron draped an arm around her. "It really is much better, isn't it?" she confided sheepishly, leaning into him.

"AAAYYYY!" the group chorused approvingly, the latecomers clinking their glasses together.

"Hey, you lot! Where did you come from?" Ginny called happily as she pushed through the crowd, deftly depositing four pints on the table.

Seamus grinned. "Funny you should ask…"

10:32pm, The Painted Horse

Neville had gotten the next round and then it was Ron's turn. He carefully counted out some of the muggle money that was supposed to have paid for dinner at a relatively nice cafe and slid them to the bartender. He deposited a few of the pints with Neville, Dean and Seamus, who had drifted over to watch some of the football match playing on the television above the bar - apparently the reason Dean had been at the pub in the first place. Picking up the rest, he carried them over to Harry and Ginny, who were engaged in an extremely competitive game of darts while Hermione looked on. The already-bustling pub had gotten more crowded and rowdy as Londoners streamed in to celebrate the beginning of the weekend. He paused as he handed Hermione her drink.

"This is number three for you, are you sure about this?"

"Yes, Ron," Hermione tsked in exasperation, carefully taking the glass from him. "You know, there's nothing specific to the Y chromosome that makes men better able to "hold their drink'," she added disparagingly. "It's a simple matter of metabolism and weight-to-alcohol ratio. I know what I'm doing."

Ron grinned at her swotty tone. He looked around covertly to check that no one was watching them, then quickly pressed a kiss to her mouth.

"Whatever you say, love."

11:50pm, The Painted Horse

"Ron! RON! Roooooon!"

Ron staggered as a hand latched onto his arm, the weight of their body making him stumble. He snapped his head around to discover the identity of the person waylaying him on his way back from the loo and found himself looking into the wild eyes of his girlfriend.

"The food!" she hissed urgently.

Ron's mind spun as he tried to make sense of this, sadly coming to no logical conclusions whatsoever. "Wha?" he added, unhelpfully.

"I forgot about the food!" she moaned, gripping his arm. "You have to keep eating, or the ratios change! Ohhhhhh," she slurred, covering her eyes, "Can't let Ron find out about this, ll'never hear the end of it…"

Ron giggled uncontrollably. He was far from sober himself and was having, all things considered, a pretty wicked time. While he had planned to take several opportunities to kiss Hermione in the darker corners of the pub, it turned out that his schemes hadn't been necessary - as the night went on, Hermione had been happy to snog him wherever they happened to be standing, dark or no. Thanks to the alcohol that he himself consumed, he hadn't really stopped to consider why she was suddenly so uninhibited about publicly displaying her affection for him.

Ron was about to gleefully point out the flaw in her plan when he was distracted by a commotion at the bar. He wheeled around unsteadily just in time to see a large, ugly-looking bloke take a swing at Seamus amid a general outcry. Unthinkingly, he gripped Hermione's hand as he pushed his way towards the bar but got swept up in a mass of bodies as more people seemed to join the altercation. The crowd spilled into the street and Ron looked around wildly for Harry or Ginny or anyone he recognized, finding no familiarity in the increasingly blurred faces.

The crowd clustered around a shoving knot of men that seemed to include some of his mates, alternately hurling slurs and encouragement, when an urgent, high-pitched whistle joined the cacophony. He vaguely registered Seamus and Dean taking off running in different directions, but his feet seemed cemented to the ground. A shrill voice was loudly protesting something about rights quite close to him, but before his brain could catch up to the situation, a strong arm clad in blue clapped down on his shoulder.

1:22am, Enfield Metropolitan Police Station

"We are fucked."

"Yup," Harry agreed readily.

"We are royally fucked," he repeated.

"So fucked," Harry added cheerfully.

Ron sank onto the bench against the back wall. Only a few moments ago, the officer had swung the bars of the dingy cell shut, leaving the outer room through a swinging metal door while muttering about leaving this lot to sober up for a bit.

Hermione collapsed onto the bench next to him, leaning into him heavily. His head still felt like someone had stuffed it full of oatmeal and then put it in a washer on spin cycle. "So what do we do?"

"We've all got our wands, right?" Ginny asked. "We're not fit to apparate, but we could probably open the lock on the cell. Then if we confund the guards on the way out the door…"

"NO!" Hermione interrupted shrilly, looking confused but upset. "No confunding, no obliviating! It's not right!"

"S'ok, s'ok," Ron slurred as wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "We won't do any of that,"he soothed, looking at his best mate and sister pleadingly.

GInny blew out a puff of air. "OK, then I guess we're stuck here for the night."

"It's not the end of the world, but what about Mum and Dad? We can't… we've got to let them know. If they get up in the morning and we're not there, Mum's going to have kittens," Ron grimaced.

"We get one phone call, I think! I've seen it in films!" Harry hissed excitedly.

Ginny shook her head. "No phone at the Burrow, remember?"

Harry's face fell. There was quiet for a moment as Ginny narrowed her eyes in thought. "How about a Patronus message?"

Harry looked doubtful. "If someone sees…"

"I can keep watch, make sure no one's coming, and you cast it real quick," Ron reasoned, warming up to the idea. "I think they have to be pretty short. What should it say?"

"'Be back tomorrow, don't worry about us'", Ginny suggested.

Ron shook his head. "You're just asking her to worry, then."

"'In muggle jail, don't panic.'"

"That's way worse!"

"Look, Ron," Harry jumped in, "just make sure the coast is clear and we'll improvise."

Ron leapt up and bounded to the bars. Head still pounding, he carefully peered up and down the hallway outside the holding cell. "OK, do it now!"

Harry and Ginny looked at each other expectantly.

"Well?" Ginny's eyes widened and she flapped her hand at him. "What are you waiting for? Do it!"

"Me?! I thought you were going to do it! You suggested it!"

"I don't know how to do it! I figured you did! You're the expert at Patronus casting!"

"I can cast one just fine; I don't know how to make it talk!"

Ron groaned. "OK, does any of us know how to do it?"

A loud snort from the bench echoed around the cell. Ron, Harry and Ginny swung around and beheld the sight of Hermione fast asleep, head tipped back against the wall and lightly snoring through her open mouth.

"Great. Brightest witch of our age. There goes our last hope," Ginny groused.

"Lay off her," Ron began warningly.

"No sense in playing the knight now, Ron, she can't hear you," she shot back.

Color flooded Ron's face. "This was all your idea, you know!" he growled.

"Oh, excuse me for trying to make sure Harry had a proper birthday, for once!"

"Uh…"

"Oh right, excellent birthday, really bloody festive atmosphere in here!"

"Guys…"

"Well I wasn't the one that…"

The bang of a door made them jump, as well as the crisp, enunciated words that followed.

"Yes, I'm afraid these are my siblings."

Three heads snapped around at the familiar voice. "Percy?"

"Hello, Ron, Ginny, Harry… er, Hermione," Percy replied as the three gaped at him. Hermione continued to snore. He turned to the officer that had escorted him into the room and cleared his throat. "We apologize for their behavior and will take full responsibility from here," he said rather formally. Still grumbling about delinquents, the officer unlocked the cell door and swung it wide.

The three conscious members of the party shared a quick look before jumping into action. Harry and Ginny moved obediently to the door while Ron stooped to slide his arms under Hermione's knees and shoulders, grunting as he hoisted her followed Percy quietly down the hall, Ron cradling the still-sleeping Hermione close.

"How…" Ron ventured to ask, once they had passed the sergeant's desk.

"Neville," Percy explained as he held open the door to the station for them. "He came to George's apartment when he realized you had been apprehended by the police. George, having some… experience with this sort of situation, contacted me, correctly assuming that I would be able to assist you." He sighed. "The usual policy is to let these things run their course through the muggle legal system. But with Harry Potter involved, the press would've had a field day. So I was able to use a back channel to secure your immediate release and forestall any resulting proceedings."

Ginny gaped. "But what did you tell them so that they would let us go? Surely those police officers don't know who Harry is!"

'Oh no. What I've just said is the high-level situation. As far as those officers are concerned, you wayward youth are actually connected with a distant but influential branch of the royal family."

"Ooh, posh," Harry giggled.

"I know quite a lot of useful people, actually," Percy replied drily, ushering them into a darkened alley.

"I also took the liberty of bringing each of you a vial of Sober-Up potion," he continued, taking four small glass vials of a sickly green liquid from his pocket. "Happy Birthday," he said as he handed one to Harry.

"Cheers, Percy" Harry beamed at him.

Percy continued handing out the vials, Ron shifting the girl in his arms to take both his and Hermione's. "Considering the time, I think it would be best for me to side-along you back to the Burrow as soon as possible. The sober-up potion, while certainly useful, does tend to leave one a bit disoriented for a short period." He looked at them as Harry and Ginny downed the potion. "I'll take Harry and Ginny first and perhaps in the meantime, Ron, you can... ready Hermione for travel. I'll give you a few minutes."

"Er, right," Ron replied. Harry and Ginny were both blinking rapidly and shaking their heads as if to clear them. They joined hands with Percy and Ron watched as they disapparated with a pop.

With some difficulty, Ron set Hermione down on an upturned crate pushed against the side of a building. He uncorked the vial and made quick work of his potion, shuddering slightly at the sensation of the alcohol effervescing out of his skin. He looked down at Hermione with clearer eyes, thinking how untroubled she looked - and how vulnerable.

"Hermione," he whispered urgently, kneeling next to her. He gently brushed her hair from her face, tracing her smooth brow with the pad of his thumb. "Hermione."

Hermione started, looking at him with bleary eyes and wiping a hand across her mouth.

"Ron?"

"Here, drink this. Sober-up potion." Ron helped her raise the vial to her lips and watched her closely as she swallowed. With a clearer head, he found it alarming that she had woken up and drunk something he had given her so easily, without even verifying his identity. A part of him warmed at the thought that she trusted him so implicitly, but a bigger part was being swallowed up by the guilt growing in his stomach.

He could see her tense as she took in their surroundings, but before he could say anything, Percy reappeared with a pop.

"Back to the Burrow," he explained shortly. Hermione looked at him intently, finally nodding slightly. She took Percy's arm, but reached for Ron's hand as well.

2:02am, The Burrow

They reappeared on the front porch of the Burrow with a muted crack. Hermione stumbled into Ron and he wrapped his arms around her unthinkingly. Percy straightened his glasses and cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. "Well, I'm going to reset the wards and then I'll be off. Goodnight Ron, Hermione."

"G'night, Perce, and… thanks," Ron said feelingly from over Hermione's bowed head. Percy nodded to them and strode down the steps into the garden.

Ron gently untangled Hermione from his arms, looking away. "We better head upstairs. You're staying, right?" he asked, navigating them into the house and through the darkened kitchen.

"Yes, I had worked it out with my parents to stay the weekend," she whispered softly as they mounted the twisting stairs.

As soon as he had shut his bedroom door behind them, he gave her a condensed summary of the last few hours. She was quiet, legs tucked neatly under herself on his patchwork quilt, as he told her about the fight, the police station, and their unlikely savior in the form of his most pompous brother.

"It wasn't exactly the night I planned," Ron finished ruefully, not quite meeting her eyes.

Hermione was silent for a few moments, her head resting on his shoulder. In the stillness of the room Ron found ample time to curse himself for the mess he had let her in for. He leaned his forearms on his knees, clenching his fists together. Finally she sighed.

"You know, we never really got to be young. Not that I was ever very good at it," she mused. "We never got to make foolish decisions and silly mistakes."

"I dunno. I can remember some pretty dumb moments," Ron snorted. "From me, I mean," he amended hurriedly, glancing at her.

A small smile pulled at her lips. "We both made mistakes. But that's not what I meant." She paused. "It was nice to feel… carefree. To have a little too much of a good time. I know that we were lucky to get out of trouble. But it was, well, normal trouble." She exhaled a short laugh. "We're not quite used to that."

"I shouldn't have been so out of it, out in muggle London," he said stubbornly, looking at his hands. His fringe, which still wanted cutting, threw his eyes into shadow. "Anything could've happened to you," he added quietly. He winced at the thought of Hermione's parents having to pick her up at the station, or, worse, what might've happened if they had been separated after the fight. He swallowed hard at the panic that rose at the mental image of her alone in the darkened streets, disoriented and defenseless…

She ducked her head and angled her face up to him until he relented and looked into her eyes, flickering in the candlelight.

"I understand, but it didn't," she said with sincerity. "And I felt safe all night, because I was with you. Or rather, we were together. I agree, we should probably be more careful. But we take care of each other. We always have."

For the second time that night he tenderly pushed her hair from her face, his hand lingering on her cheek. She covered it with her own, squeezing tightly, and he knew they were both adding the same unspoken vow.

"Anyway, by all accounts, it was a memorable evening," she said firmly, fighting a smile.

He huffed out a laugh. "Still, didn't expect it to end like that," he said with regret.

"The night hasn't ended, not yet." She leaned into his palm, placing a shy hand on his knee. "Has it?"

A rush of love and desire surged through him and he lowered his face to hers, his kiss answering the question in her eyes as the invisible threads that bound them, anchored and supported them, wound ever tighter.