Okay, before I start, I need to share a little backstory. A few weeks back, I posted a short Romione conversation that was a reference to a scene from ‘Fullmetal Alchemist; Brotherhood’. It was just a spur-of-the-moment post, which I thought was quite funny.
However, @vivithefolle then suggested that I turn it into a fanfiction. Already, plot ideas were beginning to form in my mind.
Cue several days worth of writing, drafting and general authorial stuff, I ended up with a finished fic. Which is just below.
Hope you all enjoy it! If you feel so inclined, please like and reblog, and leave comments/reviews/kudos on the FFN and AO3 pages for the fic!
Read it on FFN.
Read it on AO3.
Hermione Granger was in
a good mood.
After back-and-forth
letters with her two best friends for the past three weeks, they had finally
decided on a day to meet up in The Leaky Cauldron.
Harry had never had the
chance to sight-see around London due to his horrible relatives the Dursleys.
And Ron… well, where to
start with Ron?
He was a pureblood
wizard who had grown up in rural Devon. The only times he had interacted in
Muggle London were the brief journeys to and from Kings Cross Station at the
start and end of each academic year. He had grown up in the wizarding world,
and therefore didn’t really under the muggle world; although (like all the
Weasley family) he found it interesting rather than uncomfortable.
On top of that, Ron was
also kind, caring, funny, and utterly
gorgeous.
Hermione had been well
aware of all of this for several years now. Ron Weasley was… an enigma. He
wasn’t academically minded like she was (although his grades were fine). He
wasn’t traditionally handsome. He was the complete opposite of the boys
Hermione’s parents expected her to be attracted to.
And yet, he got under
Hermione’s skin. She could argue and bicker with him, and not feel like he was
getting sick of her. If anything, he seemed to enjoy their bickering. To an
outsider, it might seem like they couldn’t stand each-other, but nothing could
be further from the truth.
They might not have matched
up on paper, but Ron Weasley was (in virtually every way) Hermione Granger’s
perfect other half. Where she was logical, he was emotional. Where she was
intense, he was relaxed. The cool water to her raging fire.
Hermione was doomed.
Before she had even realised it, she had fallen inescapably in love with Ron
Weasley. Before she had even started noticing boys, she had noticed Ron.
She had never stopped noticing him. When he was in a
room, her eyes were irresistibly drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. When he
spoke, his voice sent shivers down her spine and butterflies into her stomach.
When he laughed, the sound was like bird-song to Hermione’s ears.
Needless to say, it had
been ridiculous of her not to realise her feelings sooner.
Granted, her feelings
for Ron had impacted slightly on her judgement regarding the planning of the
meet-up in Muggle London. But Harry would be there as well, a platonic buffer
who would prevent Hermione completely losing her head around their mutual
redheaded best friend.
Often, Hermione wished
that Harry wasn’t around them quite as much, so she could spent some time alone
with Ron. She liked Harry a lot; he was like a brother to her, but she did
despair of his constant presence around her and Ron.
However, this would not
be the case tomorrow.
A few hours previously,
she had sent Ron’s Owl Pigwidgeon away with her reply to Ron’s last letter,
which covered what parts of Muggle London they would be visiting.
She’d suggested The
British Museum and the National Gallery, plus a look around the Westminster
area, and she was hoping Ron would like her choices.
As if responding to her
thoughts, Pigwidgeon promptly bounced off the glass of her bedroom window,
having flown straight into the pane.
Chuckling slightly,
Hermione opened the window, and the slightly-dazed owl swooped into the room,
dropping Ron’s reply into Hermione’s hands as it did so.
As Pigwidgeon began to
drink out of a cup of tea nearby, Hermione opened up the letter, and read.
Hermione,
How typical of you is that? Museums, art galleries
and popping round the houses of parliament?! Me and Harry need to have more of
a bad influence on you!
Seriously, though, that all sounds great! Looking
forward to catching up with you. And Harry, of course.
Miss you,
Can’t wait to see you,
Ron
Hermione smiled to
herself. She couldn’t help but re-read those last three lines over and over
again.
She hurriedly pulled a
scrap bit of parchment towards her and wrote quickly;
Ron,
Glad you like those choices; hopefully, you won’t be
completely bored out of your mind! Can’t wait to see you tomorrow (and Harry as
well)!
I miss you too,
Love,
Hermione
Hermione felt her heart
beat quicker as she looked down at the second-to-last line. True, she did write
the same in her letters to Harry, but that was different. With Harry, it was
familial. Like she was his older sister, and he was her (slightly annoying)
little brother who kept getting into mischief.
But with Ron?
With Ron, she always
blushed a little writing those ‘love’s;
it felt like she was sneaking a little confession of her feelings into every
letter she sent to the redheaded boy.
She gave her reply to
Pigwidgeon; who gave a happy hoot and promptly soured straight into the closed
side of the window. Hermione chuckled again as the owl bounced off the glass,
and flew out the open side instead.
Hermione looked down at
Ron’s letter again. Did he really miss her that much? Who would miss her? And
miss her so much that they’d happily wander around museums and art galleries
just to be with her again?
Did Ron-?
Honestly,
she chastised herself, don’t get your
hopes up; we’re just meeting up. And Harry’s going to be there the entire time,
so it’s not we’re going on a date-
Hermione’s train of
thought was interrupted as a loud tap at the window. Hedwig was stood on her
window-still.
Hermione let the snowy
owl in. Taking the letter from Hedwig’s claws, she skim-read Harry’s handwriting.
Hermione,
Sorry, but I can’t make it. Dumbledore’s just sent
me a letter warning me not to wander around the muggle world. Hopefully, Ron
won’t hate me for skipping out (send him my regards, by the way).
Enjoy your date,
Harry
Maybe she was just
being paranoid, but Hermione had the distinct impression Harry had written the
letter whilst laughing. She also very much doubted that Dumbledore had asked
Harry not to wander around Muggle London; security wasn’t that tight, even for
Harry.
Her eyes ran over
Harry’s letter again.
“Enjoy your date”
Hermione’s stomach
seemed to drop several feet. A date? With Ron? No, they were just two friends
spending time together. Yes, she had been attracted to Ron since she was
thirteen years old. But her one-sided feelings didn’t automatically make it a
date.
It could never happen
between her and Ron. He was brave, and kind, and sweet, and friendly, and just
wonderful. And she was Hermione Granger, a brainy know-it-all with no social
skills.
Hermione squeezed her
eyes shut as the usual tears threatened to spill.
No,
she thought loudly at herself, you can’t
beat yourself up over this. Sure, Ron doesn’t fancy you, but he’s still your
friend. He cares about you.
Hermione spent the
night tossing and turning; never able to entirely relax. Eventually, she fell
into an uneasy sleep, full of dreams revolving around Ron ignoring her to stare
at a parade of Veela women. It didn’t take an ‘Outstanding’ in Divination to figure
out what that meant.
In fact, Hermione slept
so badly that she almost slept through her alarm. After ten minutes of it
ringing, she finally woke up.
It took her so long to
tame her bushy hair (which had chosen that day of all days to develop massive tangles everywhere) that she almost
missed the underground train to Charring Cross.
She nervously opened
the door to the Leaky Cauldron, and waited nearby the fireplace where Ron would
be travelling to by floo-powder from the Burrow.
Hermione leant against
a nearby wall, and tried to catch her breath back. The pub was almost
completely empty (which was unusual for that time of year), although Tom the
old barman was stood reading a book behind the bar.
Well, here we go,
Hermione thought, trying to calm her busying heart, just you and Ron spending a day together as friends, don’t get your
hopes up…
But she couldn’t help
but get her hopes up. She had never spent a day alone with Ron during the
summer holidays. Even when they had been ensconced in Grimmauld Place the
previous summer, there had always been other people around. They’d been so
focused on cleaning the house that they’d never really gotten a chance to relax
around each-other. And besides, that been before
Ron had given her that perfume for a Christmas present. Before she had even
dared to hope that maybe… just maybe…
he might see her as more than a friend.
Hermione smiled sadly
to herself. It was a pretty forlorn hope, but she couldn’t help it.
Without warning, the
fireplace burst into flames, and a redheaded figure emerged, beaming from
ear-to-ear.
‘Hermione!’
Ron Weasley was stood
in front of her, his blue eyes glistening in the light of the lamps nearby, and
his face covered in soot. He was wearing an old t-shirt (no doubt Charlie’s,
considering the dragon imprinted on the front), and a pair of
slightly-too-short jeans that had clearly seen better days.
In other words, he was
breathtakingly handsome.
Hermione felt
goosebumps erupt along her arms and back as Ron pulled her into a tight hug. He
smelled like an intoxicating mix of soot, chocolate and freshly-mown grass.
There was an audible
chuckle from nearby, and Ron hurriedly let go, his ears turning red.
Tom, the old barman of
the pub, was grinning knowingly at the two teenagers. This clearly wasn’t the
first time two young sorcerers had met up for the day in his pub.
‘Er, should we…?’ Ron
asked, trailing off. He looked rather uncomfortable. Hermione felt her heart
sink slightly; was the assumption that
they were a couple that distressing for him?
‘O-oh, yes!’ Hermione
squeaked, trying to keep her voice cheerful as she began to move towards the
door. ‘We’ve got so much to see!’
A few minutes later,
they were walking towards the British Museum. Ron had insisted on paying for
his own ticket, using some Muggle money he’d changed in Gringotts earlier in
the summer.
Hermione has always
loved wandering around museums. The British Museum was, of course, one of the
best around (at least, in London, anyway). She remembered the first time she
had visited it as a small child with her mother and father. Even at such a
young age, she’d been deeply intrigued in every exhibit.
Today was no exception.
There was a fascinating study on early Rome, as well as an in-depth exhibit on
the ancient Britons. And another one on the industrial revolution and another
one on the Tudors and….
Hermione heard an
all-too-familiar chuckle.
She looked up from the
glass case she was looking at to see Ron grinning at her, dimples appearing in
his cheeks.
‘What is it?’ she
asked, feeling a little embarrassed. Had she reminded me of how much of a swot
she was? Well done Hermione, she
thought, you get one day alone with him
and you just ignore him…. ‘Sorry, are you getting bored?’
‘Not at all,’ said Ron,
still smiling down at her. ‘I just think it’s nice to see you enjoying
yourself.’
Hermione felt her face
burn. Did Ron not realise how wonderful
he was when he said things like that? He was going to give her heart
failure if he wasn’t careful.
A few hours later, they
wandered over to the National Gallery. Ron took his time looking at each
individual painting. Hermione had assured him that none of the paintings would
be moving, but he still insisted on staring at each just in case they did move.
In some of the
galleries, Ron even looked slightly emotional. Such was the case when looking
at examples of Norwegian artwork that used stark contrasts of lightness and
darkness to make a mood. Ron’s eyes teared up at one point, and Hermione
cautiously rested her hand on his arm. He smiled down at her, and Hermione’s
stomach turned over.
In other galleries, Ron
was much more cheerful. In the gallery labelled ‘Abstract Expressionism’, Ron
bounced around, grinning from ear to ear.
‘What a painting,
Hermione!’ he whisper-shouted, smiling broadly. ‘It doesn’t look like
anything!’
‘That’s the point,
Ron!’ Hermione giggled, as she watched the redheaded young man rock excitedly
on the balls of his feet.
‘These muggles were mad!’
Ron grinned, before catching himself. ‘Er, not in a bad way, of course. A bit
like how you go mad over school-work.’
Hermione felt her
cheeks flush with warmth. If anyone-else had said that about her, she would
have been insulted. But she knew Ron didn’t mean it like that; he genuinely liked
how much of a swot she was.
~~~~~~~~~~~
‘Hey, Hermione; look at
that!’
‘Ron, that’s a cinema
poster…’
‘I know, isn’t it
cool?!’
Hermione smiled; they
had just finished looking round the Houses of Parliament, and were wandering
back to the leaky cauldron. Ron was pointing at ordinary muggle things, and
grinning happily like a child in a sweet shop. Despite how much he’d try to
deny it, Ron really was extraordinarily like his father.
Ron was still grinning
at the poster in wide-eyed wonder.
‘Hey, look at that
boy…’
‘I know, right…’
Hermione’s attention
was diverted towards three girls standing nearby. They looked roughly
Hermione’s age, and were all unashamedly staring at Ron.
‘He’s gorgeous…’
‘Why’s he staring at
that poster?’
‘Who cares? Look at those muscles….’
Hermione felt her jaw
clench, as she processed what was happening. These girls were mentally
undressing Ron… her Ron…not that he
was her possession, of course… but he was still her friend…
‘That girl’s glaring at
us…’
‘The one with the bushy
hair?…’
‘Must be his
girlfriend…’
The three girls seem to
quail under Hermione’s angry glare, and they quickly slipped away.
‘Hermione, you okay?’
Ron had turned away
from the poster, looking at Hermione. His face was concerned. Hermione felt her
heartbeat quicken.
‘I’m fine, Ron,’ she
said, smiling. ‘Is there anything else you’d like to see?’
Ron knotted his brow,
thinking hard. Then, a thought seemed to occur to him.
‘Wait, I haven’t seen
your house yet!’
Hermione’s stomach
seemed to turn over.
‘No, you haven’t,’ she
mumbled, her heart-beat quickening. ‘I mean, are you sure? It’s not that
interesting-’
‘But it is!’ Ron
replied, grinning broadly. ‘It’s where you live, isn’t it! Besides, we’ve been
friends for years, and you’ve seen my house. Please, Hermione?’
Hermione felt her
resolve crumble under Ron’s enormous puppy-dog eyes. Why couldn’t she ever say no to him?
‘O-okay, then.’
Hermione stammered. ‘We’ll have to get the underground…’
Ron spent the underground
ride happily grinning around. Hermione couldn’t help but stare at him; he
really did stick out like a sore thumb in muggle London. Not only was he so unused
to the muggle world, but he was also a small-town boy at heart. The commuters
around them eyed Ron with the same suspicion they regarded anyone who showed
friendliness on public transport. Hermione distinctly remembered a Northerner
once causing utter panic on an underground line by saying ‘hello’ to everyone
they met.
At one point, the
carriage became so crowded that Hermione felt herself pressed up against Ron’s
chest. He was so close that she could hear his heartbeat through his clothes.
‘S-sorry,’ she mumbled
against his t-shirt. ‘It can get very busy on here.’
‘No…No problem,’ Ron
replied. Hermione wondered whether his ears were turning red, but she couldn’t
bring herself to look at his face.
Mercifully, they
finally reached Hampstead, and exited the underground train.
‘Oooh, look at that
boy…’
‘Shhhh, he’ll hear
you…’
Oh, not again….
Sure enough, there were
several teenage girls standing just outside the station, and every single one
of them was staring at Ron.
Hermione could happily
admit that Ron was very attractive, but did every
girl on the planet have to realise it too?
‘Wow, muggle London is
brilliant, Hermione! Today’s been amazing!’ Ron grinned, smiling down at her.
Hermione tried not to
feel smug as the collective mouths of the girls around them dropped open. Did they think that Hermione was Ron’s
girlfriend? That was a nice thought.
They began to walk
towards Hermione’s house, which was a few streets away. The initial awkwardness
from the train ride had dissipated, and the two of them had a nice conversation
going.
However, Ron happened
to be standing nearby a large puddle of water as a double-decker bus went
straight through it.
A tidal wave of water
swept over Ron, and he stumbled backwards in shock.
‘Well, that was
unexpected,’ Ron chuckled, spitting water out of his mouth. ‘You okay,
Hermione?’
Hermione seemed to have
lost the ability to talk. Ron’s t-shirt was now almost entirely transparent,
revealing strong chest muscles and a few coppery ginger hairs around his belly
button.
‘Y-yes,’ Hermione
mumbled, dropping her eyes from Ron’s torso. ‘Er, I think so. Not sure about
you, though.’
‘Oh, this?’ Ron asked,
ringing out the excess water from his shirt and revealing his lower stomach
(Hermione’s eyes couldn’t help burning the image into her mind). ‘I’ll be fine.
It’s summer, after all.’
Hermione let out a mental
groan. Did he really not realise what he was doing to her?
A few minutes later,
they had reached Hermione’s home.
‘Wow!’ Ron exclaimed,
his eyes widening. ‘It’s enormous!’
Hermione felt her face
burn. Her parents were reasonably wealthy (they were both dentists, after all),
but she had didn’t think they were that rich. The house wasn’t really anything
to comment on; in fact, compared to many others in the neighbourhood, it was
actually quite cosy. Hermione’s parents weren’t especially extravagant; they
were quiet people who desired a quiet life.
Trying not to let Ron
realise how embarrassed she was, Hermione led him up the garden path. Both of
her parents’ cars were away, as they were both at work.
‘Hello, Hermione!’
Hermione let out a
small squeak. Mrs Parkins, her parents’ neighbour, was cleaning her car just
across the wall. She had put down her bucket of soapy water, and had wondered
over, waving.
Warily, Hermione raised
her hand in greeting.
‘Hello, Mrs Parkins…’
‘Oooh, who’s your
companion?’ the elderly lady asked, motioning towards Ron, who was standing off
to the side, looking slightly self-conscious.
‘Oh, this is Ron…’
Hermione mumbled; trying not to dwell on the fact that Ron’s t-shirt was still
transparent. ‘He’s….er… someone from my boarding school…’
‘Boarding school? What
do you- Oh…’ Ron said, cottoning on after he noticed the look on Hermione’s
face. ‘Er, yes… we’ve known each-other a long time.’
Mrs Parkins raised her
eyebrows as her gaze hovered over Ron’s soaked appearance.
‘I see,’ she said,
giving Hermione a knowing look that made her cheeks burn again. ‘Well, it was
nice to meet you, Ron. It’s not very often Hermione brings young men home-’
‘Yes, thank you, Mrs
Parkins!’ Hermione exclaimed, hurrying Ron through the front door before her
neighbour said anything-else embarrassing. ‘Good to see you!’
Hermione quickly closed
the door behind her, and let out a sigh.
‘So…’ Ron giggled,
taking off his trainers. ‘“It’s not very often Hermione brings young men home”,
eh?’
‘Oh, shut up!’ Hermione
groaned, her cheeks burning. ‘Will you just go and get changed, please?’
‘Get changed?’
‘Yes! You’re soaked
through! You’ll catch your death if you don’t take your clothes off!’
Ron’s eyes widened.
Hermione clapped her hand to her mouth. Had she really just said that?
‘Oh, you mean…. for a
shower?’ Ron offered, after a long pause. ‘Is that okay? I wouldn’t want to,
you know, impose…’
‘It’s… it’s fine,
honestly.’
‘Okay…’
‘It’s the second door
on the right.’
‘Thanks.’
Ron flashed a brief
smile, and then climbed up the stairs.
Hermione let out an
internal groan. This day was just making
things more complicated…
~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione sat down on
her bed, and tried to maintain her cool. This wasn’t easy as she could hear the
boy she fancied stripping his clothes off in the next room. With every wet slap
that the clothes made as they dropped onto the tiles, Hermione’s stomach gave a
guilty squirm.
Do not think about Ron naked, she told herself sternly; do not think about your best friend naked…
The water turned on in
the bathroom, and Hermione heard Ron clamber into the shower. She could hear
the water splashing.
Hermione felt her
breathing intensify, and she hurriedly shook her head, trying to get all images
of a very-wet-and-very-naked Ron out of her mind.
Hermione’s bedroom door
burst open, but it wasn’t Ron.
‘Hello, dear!’
Hermione’s mother exclaimed, her mouth stretched into a wide grin. ‘The
neighbours said you’ve brought a handsome redheaded boy back to your room!’
Hermione felt her face
burn with embarrassment, and she promptly fell off her bed onto the floor.
‘It’s Ron, mum!’
Hermione spluttered, picking herself up off the floor. ‘He’s my best friend!’
‘Oh…’ Mrs Granger said
in surprise, raising a hand to her mouth, her eyes twinkling. ‘I see. So,
you’ve seduced your best friend-’
‘THAT’S NOT WHAT I SAID
AT ALL, MUM; WERE YOU EVEN LISTENING-?’
‘Er… Hermione, you wouldn’t
happen to have anything I could change into, would you…’
Ron appeared in the
doorway, and Hermione’s heart seemed to fail. He was wearing nothing but a
small towel tied around his waist. He was drying his glistening red hair with another
towel. Hermione’s eyes became glued to his torso, which had a few teasing spots
of water still clinging on, not just to the skin but to the delectable coppery
hairs around his belly button and trailing down towards…
Oh dear…
Hermione felt her face
burning again as she tore her eyes away from Ron. Thankfully, he’d been too
surprised by her mother to notice Hermione’s moment of unashamed ogling. She
couldn’t risk losing control like that again. It was too dangerous.
‘Oh hello, Ron!’ Mrs
Granger grinned, managing to contain her laughter at her daughters’ flustered
reaction. ‘I didn’t realise you were here!’
‘H-hello, Mrs Granger,’
Ron said, looking a little embarrassed to be seen wearing so little in front of
his friends’ mother. ‘Sorry to impose… my clothes got soaked earlier…’
‘It’s fine. I’m sure
Hermione’s not bothered.’
‘MUM!’
Hermione’s face burned
again. Was it her imagination, or were
Ron’s ears turning pink?
Mrs Granger chuckled.
‘Don’t worry, dear. I
won’t be here for long; I was just popping back for some paperwork. I’ll see you
this evening!’
Mrs Granger shut
Hermione’s bedroom door behind her.
A few seconds later,
they heard the front door slam from the floor below. Ron and Hermione were,
once again, alone.
‘Er…’ Ron mumbled,
looking very awkward in his small towel. ‘So… those clothes…’
‘Oh, yes!’ Hermione
exclaimed. ‘Bare with me a moment!’
Stepping back inside
her room, she grabbed an old pair of jogging bottoms (large enough to fit Ron)
and a baggy t-shirt.
‘Thanks!’ Ron said, as
Hermione shoved them into his arms. ‘Wait, are these yours-’
‘Just put them on!’
‘Er, what-?’
‘In the bathroom,
obviously!’
‘Geez, you don’t have
to yell…’ Ron chuckled, walking out of the room. ‘I wasn’t gonna strip in front
of you…’
Hermione waited until
Ron was out of sight before screwing her face up in her hands. She could barely
contain the scream that was threatening to explode from her mouth.
Did Ron honestly think that she wanted him to…to…
Hermione’s stomach gave
a guilty lurch. She’d never admit, but that was exactly what she wanted. But she wasn’t going to tell him that.
Ron re-entered the
room. Hermione couldn’t help but notice the way the t-shirt clung to his
muscles, and how the jogging bottoms seemed rather tight on him. She wasn’t
complaining though.
‘Hermione?’
‘Er, sorry, Ron, what
is it?’
‘You’re… staring at
me.’
Hermione’s stomach
turned over again.
‘S-sorry,’ she mumbled,
her face burning as she unsuccessfully attempted to tear her eyes away from his
face.
‘No, it’s okay,’ Ron
said, his cheeks dimpling as he smiled. ‘I’m not gonna complain if a girl looks
at me.’
‘Like those girls
earlier, you mean?’
‘What?’
Hermione groaned. She
wished she’d kept her big mouth shut. Why did she have to get jealous now of all times?
‘There were girls
staring at me?’ Ron asked, surprised. ‘Why? Did I have something stuck in my
hair?’
‘No!’ Hermione shouted.
Why was he still the only person who didn’t
realise how amazing he was? ‘They were staring because you’re gorgeous, and
beautiful, and jaw-droppingly attractive!’
There was a deafening
pause. Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth in a futile attempt to somehow
make the words go back in. But it was too late; her words had tumbled out of
her mouth before she could stop herself.
Ron’s eyes had grown
wide, and his mouth had fallen open.
Hermione dropped her
vision to her knees. She couldn’t look at Ron, petrified of seeing the
rejection she expected on every inch of his face.
‘You… you think I’m
attractive?’
Ron’s voice didn’t
sound disgusted, or uncomfortable. If anything, he sounded… hopeful? Were Hermione’s ears playing
tricks on her?
‘Y-yes. And…well, those
girls certainly did.’ Hermione mumbled, wishing he’d just reject her and get it
over with. The waiting was killing her.
‘Really? I…I didn’t
notice them, to be honest.’
Hermione’s eyes flicked
up to Ron’s. He was looking at her, smiling earnestly and yet shyly. As if he
was choosing his words carefully. Why did
he need to be careful? Wasn’t he rejecting her?
‘Why?’
Ron’s ears turned red,
and he began absentmindedly playing with a loose strand on Hermione’s duvet.
‘I… I was too busy
looking at you, Hermione.’
He said this all very
quickly, as if he couldn’t contain his words any longer.
Hermione felt her face
burn again, and her eyes grew wide.
Could this be…? Did
Ron…?
No, it wasn’t possible.
It couldn’t be possible. There was no
way that Ron Weasley- kind, caring, funny, gorgeous, wonderful Ron Weasley- could ever fall for a plain bossy
know-it-all like her.
Ron’s eyes seemed to
sparkle as they met Hermione’s. He began to lean forward towards her slowly, as
if giving her time to move away from him if she felt uncomfortable.
But that wasn’t going
to happen. Hermione felt her body being pulled irresistibly towards Ron. They
were so close that she could feel Ron’s heartbeat through the light t-shirt he
was wearing.
As one, the two young
people slipped back onto Hermione’s duvet, so that Ron was leaning over
Hermione, his face barely an inch from hers. Hermione was distinctly aware of
Ron’s thigh pressing against her leg, and how his gorgeous blue eyes seemed to
catch the sunshine emanating through the window.
Hermione’s brain seemed
to disengage. Ron’s lips were now a hairs breath from her own, and she could
feel his breath- husky and warm- against her skin.
As if from another
universe, the sound of a door opening reached Hermione’s ears.
‘Oh, so you weren’t seducing him, dear?’
‘MUM!’
Hermione’s mum left the
room and closed the door, laughing cheerily as she walked down the stairs and
slammed the front door. Blushing furiously, Hermione covered her face in her
hands and groaned.
Ron giggled and tucked a
strand of Hermione’s bushy hair behind her ear.
‘Don’t worry; my mum
would have probably yelled at me if she caught us like this in my room.’
Hermione smiled,
giggling.
‘Is that a promise, Ron
Weasley?’
Ron grinned down at
her, a mischievous look appearing in his eye.
‘Oh, definitely, Hermione!’
Hermione Granger smiled
up into the face of the boy she loved, as their lips finally met for the first
time.
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