New Year's Resolutions
He liked her face best in the winter, he thought. Cheeks flushed with cold, hair tousled by the wind, snowflakes caught and nestled in the fabric of her cloak-she was beautiful.
She was sitting next to him now - on a whim, he had asked her to take a carriage ride with him through Hogsmeade. Carriages ran regularly through the streets of the town during the holidays in the evenings for Christmas light viewing, and despite her sentiment that making horses draw carriages was cruel, she agreed to the outing. They sat silently together beneath a blanket, their bodies jostled with each click of the horse's hooves.
The shops of Hogwarts twinkled with enumerable fairy lights, and Ron could hear enchanted carols as they clopped along the cobbled stones of the main road. He felt he ought to say something to her, and he opened his mouth to comment on the weather when she beat him to it:
"Have you much more revising to do?"
"Er... not too much, I guess."
"And by 'not too much' you mean that you haven't started, don't you?"
"Well, I..."
She knew him too well.
"You know, Ron," she said, taking on her usual pedantic tone, "You should really stop procrastinating. It's a horrible habit, and it only hurts you in the end."
"Well, it's not that easy for me, you know--there's--there're things that get in the way..."
He could feel his face getting hot, and he began to feel like those monks who melt snow with just their body heat. Except that those monks would never be on the receiving end of one of Hermione's lectures. Buddhist monks probably never procrastinate on their studies, he mused.
Procrastination had become a way of life for Ron Weasley. It affected everything about him, from schoolwork to interpersonal relationships. Case in point: Hermione. He had honestly meant to say something to her for ages, but he could never find The Perfect Moment. And this certainly wasn't it- she was probably super-stressed about exams and, oh yeah, the total chaos that the wizarding world was in.
But then-maybe she was on to something with this whole not putting things off deal. Fred and George had always joked that "you should never put off 'til tomorrow what you can do the day after tomorrow," and Ron could certainly do that. But part of him wanted to 'pluck the day,' (Carpe Diem, when properly translated, Hermione had told him, meant 'pluck the day,' not seize the day).
"You know, Hermione, you're right."
The words flew from his mouth before he had time to catch them and stuff them back in. Hermione's eyes lit up.
"Did I mishear you? Did you just say that I was right?" She beamed at him.
"Erm, yeah," Ron squeaked, blushing harder, "I really need to-to stop putting off what I've been--been meaning to do for a long time. That is, I...er...Hermione?"
"Yes, Ron?"
"When I asked you to the ball fourth year late and you told me not to choose you as a last resort...Er...Herm...Hermione, you're not my last choice. That is, I...What I mean to say is...I know there's no ball this year, but I--I just wanted to say that...I...I..."
Ron had completely lost his grip on the English language.
Hermione, though, seemed to understand his sputtering. She simply smiled at him and covered his gloved hand with her mittened one.
***
So, this was basically a Christmas present to myself. I hope you enjoyed it.
He liked her face best in the winter, he thought. Cheeks flushed with cold, hair tousled by the wind, snowflakes caught and nestled in the fabric of her cloak-she was beautiful.
She was sitting next to him now - on a whim, he had asked her to take a carriage ride with him through Hogsmeade. Carriages ran regularly through the streets of the town during the holidays in the evenings for Christmas light viewing, and despite her sentiment that making horses draw carriages was cruel, she agreed to the outing. They sat silently together beneath a blanket, their bodies jostled with each click of the horse's hooves.
The shops of Hogwarts twinkled with enumerable fairy lights, and Ron could hear enchanted carols as they clopped along the cobbled stones of the main road. He felt he ought to say something to her, and he opened his mouth to comment on the weather when she beat him to it:
"Have you much more revising to do?"
"Er... not too much, I guess."
"And by 'not too much' you mean that you haven't started, don't you?"
"Well, I..."
She knew him too well.
"You know, Ron," she said, taking on her usual pedantic tone, "You should really stop procrastinating. It's a horrible habit, and it only hurts you in the end."
"Well, it's not that easy for me, you know--there's--there're things that get in the way..."
He could feel his face getting hot, and he began to feel like those monks who melt snow with just their body heat. Except that those monks would never be on the receiving end of one of Hermione's lectures. Buddhist monks probably never procrastinate on their studies, he mused.
Procrastination had become a way of life for Ron Weasley. It affected everything about him, from schoolwork to interpersonal relationships. Case in point: Hermione. He had honestly meant to say something to her for ages, but he could never find The Perfect Moment. And this certainly wasn't it- she was probably super-stressed about exams and, oh yeah, the total chaos that the wizarding world was in.
But then-maybe she was on to something with this whole not putting things off deal. Fred and George had always joked that "you should never put off 'til tomorrow what you can do the day after tomorrow," and Ron could certainly do that. But part of him wanted to 'pluck the day,' (Carpe Diem, when properly translated, Hermione had told him, meant 'pluck the day,' not seize the day).
"You know, Hermione, you're right."
The words flew from his mouth before he had time to catch them and stuff them back in. Hermione's eyes lit up.
"Did I mishear you? Did you just say that I was right?" She beamed at him.
"Erm, yeah," Ron squeaked, blushing harder, "I really need to-to stop putting off what I've been--been meaning to do for a long time. That is, I...er...Hermione?"
"Yes, Ron?"
"When I asked you to the ball fourth year late and you told me not to choose you as a last resort...Er...Herm...Hermione, you're not my last choice. That is, I...What I mean to say is...I know there's no ball this year, but I--I just wanted to say that...I...I..."
Ron had completely lost his grip on the English language.
Hermione, though, seemed to understand his sputtering. She simply smiled at him and covered his gloved hand with her mittened one.
***
So, this was basically a Christmas present to myself. I hope you enjoyed it.