Inseparable
A/N: YES! The R/H writer in me strikes again! This time from Hermione's POV! Well, um, in case you missed that demonstration of my insanity (sorry, folks), this is R/H. So go R/R!
Disclaimer: For never was there a tale of such woe, than that of the fact that this doesn't belong to me and I am not getting any money-o.
Hermione sat, staring stoically across the lake, arms around her knees. At first glance, no one would notice the tears streaked down her face, nor the letter clutched in her right hand. A heavy bitterness hung about her as she sat, trying to conceal her misery.
I just need to think, that's all, the sixteen-year-old prefect told herself. It's not like she hadn't been expecting this. He had been dropping hints for the past five months. For some reason she had still clung to him, refusing to believe it was over. She had been seeing him since fourth year. He had come to Hogwarts last year to be closer to her. She had given herself to him in hundreds of kisses; at the same time, she had thought she had insulated herself from this.
But she hadn't.
And she hadn't expected it to hurt this much.
A new wave of tears threatened to overcome her. A sob caught in her throat. Thank goodness it was Saturday; it would be hours before anyone else woke up. Hedwig had delivered the letter last night, but Hermione hadn't read it until she had snuck down to the lake to watch the sunrise. And bawl, although she hadn't known that at the time. She had been expecting this. Viktor had been less and less open. He had stopped telling her he loved her. Hermione had kept on, though, hoping to bring him back around. She had never realized how much he meant to her—
Footsteps. Hermione straightened and sniffed. Whoever was approaching was attempting to be quiet. It was probably a teacher, demanding to know why she was out so early. It was only seven o'clock, after all—
"Hermione?" said an uncertain voice. Hermione caught her breath. That wasn't a teacher that was—"It's me, Ron."
Hermione looked up, hoping there weren't any tear tracks visible on her face. "Hello, Ron."
He smiled slightly and settled down next to her. She sniffed again. "Something wrong?" he asked, looking down at her in concern.
"Allergies," she said hoarsely.
Ron nodded and looked across the lake. Hermione sniffed once more as she observed hm. He had grown into his long limbs and large nose, now that he was over a head taller than she. His bright eyes were busy taking in his surroundings. His red hair was unruly, as though it hadn't been combed. An uncharacteristic thought came to her mind: She adored his hair. She also adored his freckles. I'm single now, said an irrational side of her mind. Maybe I can tell him how I feel…
She stopped herself and began an attempt to analyze and rationalize this new concept. How I feel? Do I feel something? She stole another glance at him. He was incredibly handsome in the early sunlight. He had obviously come out because he was worried about her. But, her logical brain argued, trying to explain her inexplicable thoughts, Harry or I would do the same. Besides, whether or not he was worried or whatever his thoughts might have been is not the issue at hand.
Upon a short reflection, however, Hermione suddenly realized that she did care about Ron's thoughts. A lot. What he thought of her, what his opinion was…She cared about him a lot, and it struck her as much different than her feelings for Viktor…what a startling revelation. This isn't just infatuation, she acknowledged. This just might be something more…
Belatedly, she became conscious of the fact that she was openly staring at him and he was meeting that open stare. Concern and puzzlement ran through his eyes. Never leaving her eyes, he gently asked, "What's wrong?"
Nothing, anymore, except that I find myself thinking amorously of my best friend, she thought, but instead she silently handed over Viktor's letter. Ron scanned it, his expression darkening. After glaring at it, he threw it into the lake. Hermione watched it fall, feeling oddly detached as it slipped beneath the surface. She looked back to Ron, wondering why she had ever dated Viktor at all. Cautiously, he slipped his hand into hers. Hermione didn't move. She scarcely dared to breathe as he squeezed her hand. A warmth spread through, forcing any thought of Viktor out of her mind. Slowly, hesitantly, she squeezed back. As she stared into his open eyes, she wondered why she had been afraid of liking her best friend.
Ron stared at her, for a few more minutes, then gingerly reached out with his free hand. Cupping it around her cheek, he pulled her face close to his. Hermione didn't resist as he lightly pressed his lips to hers. She caught her breath as bliss and strength flowed through her. When Ron began to back off, she reached forward and pulled him back. Suddenly she found herself unwilling to let go. Freeing her other hand, she slid her hands around his back and up into his hair. He responded by encircling her with his arms and drawing her closer. As she gently parted her lips, she promised herself that Ron was the only one with permission to do this.
When they finally pulled back, Ron allowed a slow, small smile to lift his lips. Hermione sighed and laid her head against his chest. His arms were warm and protecting. She sleepily decided that she would be content as long as he was near.
"I guess we're inseparable, then," she murmured, more to herself, feeling drowsy. Ron's chest made a very comfortable pillow. She hadn't gone to bed until one in the morning and had woken up at five.
"Whatever you want," Ron whispered back, kissing the top of her head. "Whatever you want."
Hermione was quiet for a moment, then replied softly, "Right now, I want you to hold me while I sleep."
Ron smiled again. "That can be arranged."
"Good." She was quiet again, clearing her mind. "Goodnight Ron," she added with a yawn. "I love you."
She was asleep before she could conduct another mental debate. Luckily for Ron, no one had seen them sitting by the lake, although he suspected Harry would soon come down, demanding to know what was going on. He sighed and decided to enjoy the moment, while it lasted.
"Goodnight," he murmured, kissing her again before resting his head on hers. "I love you too."
A/N: YES! The R/H writer in me strikes again! This time from Hermione's POV! Well, um, in case you missed that demonstration of my insanity (sorry, folks), this is R/H. So go R/R!
Disclaimer: For never was there a tale of such woe, than that of the fact that this doesn't belong to me and I am not getting any money-o.
Hermione sat, staring stoically across the lake, arms around her knees. At first glance, no one would notice the tears streaked down her face, nor the letter clutched in her right hand. A heavy bitterness hung about her as she sat, trying to conceal her misery.
I just need to think, that's all, the sixteen-year-old prefect told herself. It's not like she hadn't been expecting this. He had been dropping hints for the past five months. For some reason she had still clung to him, refusing to believe it was over. She had been seeing him since fourth year. He had come to Hogwarts last year to be closer to her. She had given herself to him in hundreds of kisses; at the same time, she had thought she had insulated herself from this.
But she hadn't.
And she hadn't expected it to hurt this much.
A new wave of tears threatened to overcome her. A sob caught in her throat. Thank goodness it was Saturday; it would be hours before anyone else woke up. Hedwig had delivered the letter last night, but Hermione hadn't read it until she had snuck down to the lake to watch the sunrise. And bawl, although she hadn't known that at the time. She had been expecting this. Viktor had been less and less open. He had stopped telling her he loved her. Hermione had kept on, though, hoping to bring him back around. She had never realized how much he meant to her—
Footsteps. Hermione straightened and sniffed. Whoever was approaching was attempting to be quiet. It was probably a teacher, demanding to know why she was out so early. It was only seven o'clock, after all—
"Hermione?" said an uncertain voice. Hermione caught her breath. That wasn't a teacher that was—"It's me, Ron."
Hermione looked up, hoping there weren't any tear tracks visible on her face. "Hello, Ron."
He smiled slightly and settled down next to her. She sniffed again. "Something wrong?" he asked, looking down at her in concern.
"Allergies," she said hoarsely.
Ron nodded and looked across the lake. Hermione sniffed once more as she observed hm. He had grown into his long limbs and large nose, now that he was over a head taller than she. His bright eyes were busy taking in his surroundings. His red hair was unruly, as though it hadn't been combed. An uncharacteristic thought came to her mind: She adored his hair. She also adored his freckles. I'm single now, said an irrational side of her mind. Maybe I can tell him how I feel…
She stopped herself and began an attempt to analyze and rationalize this new concept. How I feel? Do I feel something? She stole another glance at him. He was incredibly handsome in the early sunlight. He had obviously come out because he was worried about her. But, her logical brain argued, trying to explain her inexplicable thoughts, Harry or I would do the same. Besides, whether or not he was worried or whatever his thoughts might have been is not the issue at hand.
Upon a short reflection, however, Hermione suddenly realized that she did care about Ron's thoughts. A lot. What he thought of her, what his opinion was…She cared about him a lot, and it struck her as much different than her feelings for Viktor…what a startling revelation. This isn't just infatuation, she acknowledged. This just might be something more…
Belatedly, she became conscious of the fact that she was openly staring at him and he was meeting that open stare. Concern and puzzlement ran through his eyes. Never leaving her eyes, he gently asked, "What's wrong?"
Nothing, anymore, except that I find myself thinking amorously of my best friend, she thought, but instead she silently handed over Viktor's letter. Ron scanned it, his expression darkening. After glaring at it, he threw it into the lake. Hermione watched it fall, feeling oddly detached as it slipped beneath the surface. She looked back to Ron, wondering why she had ever dated Viktor at all. Cautiously, he slipped his hand into hers. Hermione didn't move. She scarcely dared to breathe as he squeezed her hand. A warmth spread through, forcing any thought of Viktor out of her mind. Slowly, hesitantly, she squeezed back. As she stared into his open eyes, she wondered why she had been afraid of liking her best friend.
Ron stared at her, for a few more minutes, then gingerly reached out with his free hand. Cupping it around her cheek, he pulled her face close to his. Hermione didn't resist as he lightly pressed his lips to hers. She caught her breath as bliss and strength flowed through her. When Ron began to back off, she reached forward and pulled him back. Suddenly she found herself unwilling to let go. Freeing her other hand, she slid her hands around his back and up into his hair. He responded by encircling her with his arms and drawing her closer. As she gently parted her lips, she promised herself that Ron was the only one with permission to do this.
When they finally pulled back, Ron allowed a slow, small smile to lift his lips. Hermione sighed and laid her head against his chest. His arms were warm and protecting. She sleepily decided that she would be content as long as he was near.
"I guess we're inseparable, then," she murmured, more to herself, feeling drowsy. Ron's chest made a very comfortable pillow. She hadn't gone to bed until one in the morning and had woken up at five.
"Whatever you want," Ron whispered back, kissing the top of her head. "Whatever you want."
Hermione was quiet for a moment, then replied softly, "Right now, I want you to hold me while I sleep."
Ron smiled again. "That can be arranged."
"Good." She was quiet again, clearing her mind. "Goodnight Ron," she added with a yawn. "I love you."
She was asleep before she could conduct another mental debate. Luckily for Ron, no one had seen them sitting by the lake, although he suspected Harry would soon come down, demanding to know what was going on. He sighed and decided to enjoy the moment, while it lasted.
"Goodnight," he murmured, kissing her again before resting his head on hers. "I love you too."