Characters: Ron and Hermione
Disclaimer: They're not mine. I'm just here to play with them. Like Barbie and Ken.
Wordcount: 1,824 thereabouts.
Notes: Just what the title implies. For musesfool who was looking for things to help her procrastinate. Written about a year ago. Seeing its first light of day on livejournal.
“Calm down,” she muttered as she walked along the empty corridor. “It was harmless. It was nothing. He didn’t mean it, it was an accident.” Prefect duties aside, they should not have been drinking fire whiskey in the common room, but she couldn’t deny them wanting to unwind after the events of the past week. Especially now, with Dumbledore gone. How could Snape…she shook her head in denial, fingers curled into fists and beating haphazardly against her legs.
It was only when Ron pulled her into his lap as she was passing she knew they had way too much to drink and it was time to escape. Funny now, she thought, how quick I was to run from the common room out the portrait hole instead of escaping up the dorm room steps. He wouldn’t have been able to follow me then.
The flickering lights from the torches danced around her as she stopped and took a deep breath. Exhaling slowly, she let her fingers drift over her other hand, where she could still feel the trail his fingers took as they softly brushed over her palm.
Maybe it was something else, if not the fire whiskey. Maybe Ron slipped up and it was, well, maybe it was another love potion or something instead. Oh! I don’t want to think about this! He drives me mad!
But…but what if it wasn’t a potion or melancholy? What if he didn’t mean anything by it and he was just being playful?
She brought her hands up to her face and could feel the heat in her cheeks. She stamped her foot in impatience. “But I want it to mean something!”
“Are you normally in the habit of talking to yourself?” A low voice asked from behind and she jumped as her hands dropped to her sides. Hermione spun around and faced him, leaning against the wall a few feet away from her.
“You followed me!”
He shrugged his shoulders and pushed off from the stones to move closer to her. “You forgot something,” he said, chuckling lightly. “You forgot me.”
Hermione turned back around and closed her eyes, her heart suddenly beating very quickly. She didn’t know what to do. Ron was standing behind her, so close, his robes hanging open, his shirt no longer tucked in his pants and his red and gold tie askew. He looked so casually tousled and so very comfortable. Hermione’s instincts were telling her to run back to the common room, not ready to face these feelings he stirred deep inside of her, but her heart, oh her heart, would not let her move. She felt more than heard him step closer to her.
“Why did you run away?” He asked into her hair. She could feel him back there, breathing in her scent, his fingers coming up to twine in the bushy, long locks. She shivered, not from the cold, but from the numerous emotions assaulting her all at once. “I can tell-“
“Tell what?” She turned towards him and instantly she realized her mistake. He was so close and when she looked up into his eyes, she was lost.
“You’re feeling for me the same I feel for you,” he whispered.
“You must be drunk! I can’t, I don’t,” she stammered, trying to break the spell his eyes had on her. His hand took hers in his and an electric shock flew through her body and her eyes widened, as did his. “I don’t understand!”
“Tell me you didn’t just feel that, and I’ll call you a liar,” he said as he brought her fingers to his lips. He lightly kissed each finger and she resisted the urge to moan. “I’m very much not drunk, Hermione.”
Her heart was thumping a staccato beat against her chest and she could feel a fever beginning build though her body. Every nerve ending on her body seemed to be filled with waiting and every time his gaze met hers, her heart turned over in response.
What was this? The intellectual in her asked. How could he be making her feel this way? He was her friend! Her best friend! It just couldn’t be right and she was afraid it could ruin the dynamics, the easy friendship the three of them shared. “Stop, Ron,” she said as she began to back away from him, her hand still in his grip. “If you’re not drunk, then whatever potion you’ve been poisoned with, we can get an antidote from Madam Pomfrey, I’m sure of it!”
Why did she not want to break the contact between his fingers and hers? It would be so easy for her to pull her hand away, but his hand was so soft to the touch. “Maybe I have been poisoned, I don’t know and I don’t care." He reached out with his other hand and snaked it around her back, bringing the distance between them to just a few inches.
“Please,” she whispered, not sure if she wanted him to stop or keep going. His face, so close to hers was all she could see. His warm breath brushed against her cheek as he leaned down closer to her.
“I can’t help myself,” he whispered as he softly kissed her forehead. Hermione grabbed a handful of his robes and whimpered as he rained light feathery kisses down her nose, pausing to pull away just before reaching her lips.
“I’ve been thinking about this moment for a very long time,” he said as he looked down at her. “For the first time I have you alone and I want to talk about us. Who gave you permission to grow even more pretty?”
Without thinking, she made a decisive noise in her throat and looked down at the floor.
“You are.” He stated firmly and he tucked a finger under her chin and lifted her face up towards his. “Never let anyone else tell you otherwise.”
She remembered back to that day on the train, when she had caught him looking at her when he thought she wasn’t aware. Hermione had thought nothing of it at the time, even though there was something in his expression she had never seen before. He had blushed when he realized she had caught him and turned away, clearing his throat and looking out the window, suddenly interested in the landscape rushing by. She had smiled slightly, not giving it a second thought.
Then there were the accidental meetings, the lingering glances and suddenly, Hermione found herself thinking about him in way she never had before. It became maddening, being so close to him every day, not knowing if what she was sensing was real, or just her imagination. She had started daydreaming about him and becoming increasingly uncomfortable in his presence.
But he was there, always there and from the way he was holding her, he was feeling the same way.
She came back to the present when his hand cupped her cheek. He tilted her head up towards him again. His gaze traveled over her face and searched her eyes. “Can I kiss you?”
Hermione bit her bottom lip as her eyes welled with tears. He didn’t wait for her response, he brought his face down to hers and suddenly his lips were there, so soft. Feathery light they were as they brushed hers, so she wasn’t even sure at first if the kiss happened. She closed her eyes so tightly because he was kissing her so softly at first, and it was maddening. He held her gently as if he was afraid she would break. The touch of his lips was suddenly almost unbearable in its tenderness.
His hand came up and snaked under her hair, cradling her neck in his hand. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Then his lips parted hers, his tongue darting in between them. He touched her tongue with a quickness, making her knees go weak.
The first kiss was more then she ever dreamed it could be and she never wanted it to end. Hermione grasped the front of his robes, knowing if she let go, she would float away. How could it be him? All this time, he was right there in front of her and she had never given him a second glance until this year. He nibbled her bottom lip and slowly led her towards the window behind him. He leaned against the windowsill so we were the same height, bringing her close to him between his open legs, never letting her mouth go.
They finally broke the kiss and gasping, she buried her face in his throat. She could feel his uneven breathing on her cheek as he held onto her tightly. Ron laid his head against her chest as she lightly ran her hands through his fine, red hair. She looked over him to the casement window behind them. Who was that girl reflected back against the night sky? She almost didn’t recognize herself. Her long brown hair was pulled over to the side, her face was flushed and her lips felt swollen from his kisses. Hermione’s reflection against the glass stared down at his bowed head, wondering once again what she had done to deserve him. She wrapped her hands around his neck and hugged him tightly to her, eyes once again threatening to well, right before a tear slipped down her cheek and into his hair.
He looked up sharply and she gave him a crooked smile.
“You’re crying,” he said. “Did I hurt you?”
“I can’t help it,” she whispered, shaking her head. He stood up and folded her into his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head. “I think you broke my heart,” she said softly against his chest, winding her arms inside his robes and around his back.
Ron looked down at her with a frightened expression on his face as he wiped the tears away with a flick of his thumb.
“You’re worried,” he said and she nodded.
She had to say the words she knew would bring the end of this, of them.
“We can’t do this. Not now. There is so much at stake and if he learns about us, it may throw his concentration off and we can’t have that. I can’t have that on my conscious.”
“So he can never know?’ He asked.
Hermione shrugged her shoulders and he tightened his grip on her, bringing her towards him so fast, she gasped. His lips came down on hers, devouring her mouth. It took her breath away and was over much, much too soon.
“He can never know, but I’ll never give you up for him,” he said and then he released her, leaving her feeling bereft and shipwrecked. “Do you understand, Hermione?”
She nodded, bringing her fingers up to touch her swollen lips.
Then he walked away, leaving her to puzzle over this new quandary she found herself in.