Hi. This is my first Harry Potter Fic and after reading the other
Ron/Hermione Project stories I couldn't get this out of my head.
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Fairytales
By: PhoniexChild
Summary: This takes place in Second Year. Anymore and I'll feel like I'm giving something away, so just read. I was going for something fluff-ish, but I think I failed.
Warnings: Not beta-ed and '...' is for thoughts.
Ron Weasley, youngest son of Molly and Arthur Weasley, Ginny's big brother, and best friend of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, walked into the hospital wing. He really wasn't suppose to be here. But Ron Weasley had a certain disregard for the rules when called for. And this, at least to Ron, was certainly called for.
He slowly walked closer to the hospital beds, then stopped. He didn't see Madam Pomfrey, but that didn't mean she wasn't nearby. Ron stood there listening - nothing. Then he quickly, but silently, rushed over to a bed by the window. Hermione Granger was there. Petrified, but there.
He crouched down by her bed. She was just laying there, oblivious to the world. Her eyes were open, but Ron wondered if she was asleep. Ron slowly stood up and leaned over Hermione, looking into her eyes. The light of the fading sun was reflected back to him, but otherwise nothing. Her eyes were blank. For a brief moment Ron panicked. He had once heard the eyes were the windows to the soul. If Hermione's eyes were blank, was her soul gone? The he quickly chided himself for being stupid.?The only creature he knew of that took souls was a Dementor, but they couldn't Petrify people. There was no way the Monster of Slytherin could do both...right? No, Ron told himself, nothing could stop Hermione. She was too bright for that, too pretty -
'Pretty!?' Ron took a step back from the bed, tilted his head to one side, and looked at Hermione. Her bushy hair looked even more frizzy and messy than usual, probably due from running to the library. Her chocolate brown eyes, which were usually squinted while reading a book that was probably too advanced for someone of twelve, were slightly widened from when she glimpsed the monster. Her skin was paler than usual too, but whether from being Petrified or fear, Ron didn't know. But all in all, he realized, she -was- pretty. He couldn't deny it now, definitely since he just figured it out. Suddenly he wondered if Hermione liked him. Even though they argued alot, her reactions during a quarrel with Ron were only used then. Those reactions she used only for Ron. Just for him. Ron pondered this. It didn't necessarily mean that she liked him. He could just annoy her more than anyone else. I mean, the twins often told him he was probably the most annoying person in Britain, if not the Earth.
Ron sighed inaudibly and again wondered if Hermione was asleep. Then he wondered when the Mandrakes would be ready. He missed Hermione terribly. Not just arguing with her, but her mere presence. He just missed -her-.
Ron stepped forward, closer to the bed. She had to be asleep, right? Even though her eyes were open.
A thought dropped into Ron's mind. Sudden and unexpected. He blinked in shock and stared at Hermione, watching her in the now twilight light. She wasn't Snow White, but it could work, right?
Ron let out a shaky breath. He had never kissed anyone before, well that was excluding his mum, of course. But that was different. He had seen his brothers kiss girls before; they didn't know that of course, they had been too busy with their tongues. But still, that didn't help much, no-one he knew had ever kissed a Petrified person. But it had to work, right? I mean, Snow White had been Petrified too. Her Prince Charming had kissed her and viola, she woke up. Though there were two problems with that. One, Ron wasn't sure if Hermione was sleeping or not. For all he knew she could be silently telling him to leave. Merlin, he wished her eyes were closed. At least then she'd -look- asleep. And two, what if this didn't work because it was -Ron-. It could quite possibly be that Ron was -not- Hermione's Prince Charming. That thought alone was enough to convince Ron to leave. He started to, but he glanced back and just couldn't leave her like that. He had to try. Even if he might not be Hermione's prince, he was her friend and he had to try.
Scrounging up his courage, Ron walked, slowly, back to Hermione's bedside. He looked at her eyes again. He wanted, on the verge of -needed-, to see a flicker of recognition in her eyes. He waited, but none came. Snuffing down the seemingly irrational emotions and that annoying little voice, Ron leaned forward, placing one knee on the bed in the progress. His face was oh so close to Hermione's. Their noses were almost touching. Almost. There was no physical connection between them, this was the closest Ron had ever been to Hermione. He moved closer, their noses were now touching, tips only. He noticed that there was no air escaping her lips. For the second time since he had entered, Ron felt a wave of panic wash over him. Though he quickly reminded himself that Petrified people were as still as stone. She was alive, just didn't seem like it.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He slowly closed his eyes and leant forward. As soon as Ron's lips brushed against Hermione's there was a strange, unfamiliar feeling in his stomach. He had never experienced a feeling quite like this. He pressed his lips a bit harder onto Hermione's. After a few seconds' time, Ron pulled away, but he was still close enough that their noses were touching. He gazed into her eyes once more, for anything. They were still blank. Ron quickly got up, standing. He watched her for movement, for -anything-. But nothing happened. She was still still as stone.
An inexplicable emotion swelled up inside Ron. His eyes stung and blinking didn't help.
He was just Ron.
Just Ron Weasley.
Ron Weasley, youngest son of Molly and Arthur Weasley, Ginny's big brother, best friend of Harry Potter, and obviously -not- the love of Hermione Granger.
And, I mean, who ever heard of a Prince Charming with red hair?
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Cya! PhoniexChild
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Fairytales
By: PhoniexChild
Summary: This takes place in Second Year. Anymore and I'll feel like I'm giving something away, so just read. I was going for something fluff-ish, but I think I failed.
Warnings: Not beta-ed and '...' is for thoughts.
Ron Weasley, youngest son of Molly and Arthur Weasley, Ginny's big brother, and best friend of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, walked into the hospital wing. He really wasn't suppose to be here. But Ron Weasley had a certain disregard for the rules when called for. And this, at least to Ron, was certainly called for.
He slowly walked closer to the hospital beds, then stopped. He didn't see Madam Pomfrey, but that didn't mean she wasn't nearby. Ron stood there listening - nothing. Then he quickly, but silently, rushed over to a bed by the window. Hermione Granger was there. Petrified, but there.
He crouched down by her bed. She was just laying there, oblivious to the world. Her eyes were open, but Ron wondered if she was asleep. Ron slowly stood up and leaned over Hermione, looking into her eyes. The light of the fading sun was reflected back to him, but otherwise nothing. Her eyes were blank. For a brief moment Ron panicked. He had once heard the eyes were the windows to the soul. If Hermione's eyes were blank, was her soul gone? The he quickly chided himself for being stupid.?The only creature he knew of that took souls was a Dementor, but they couldn't Petrify people. There was no way the Monster of Slytherin could do both...right? No, Ron told himself, nothing could stop Hermione. She was too bright for that, too pretty -
'Pretty!?' Ron took a step back from the bed, tilted his head to one side, and looked at Hermione. Her bushy hair looked even more frizzy and messy than usual, probably due from running to the library. Her chocolate brown eyes, which were usually squinted while reading a book that was probably too advanced for someone of twelve, were slightly widened from when she glimpsed the monster. Her skin was paler than usual too, but whether from being Petrified or fear, Ron didn't know. But all in all, he realized, she -was- pretty. He couldn't deny it now, definitely since he just figured it out. Suddenly he wondered if Hermione liked him. Even though they argued alot, her reactions during a quarrel with Ron were only used then. Those reactions she used only for Ron. Just for him. Ron pondered this. It didn't necessarily mean that she liked him. He could just annoy her more than anyone else. I mean, the twins often told him he was probably the most annoying person in Britain, if not the Earth.
Ron sighed inaudibly and again wondered if Hermione was asleep. Then he wondered when the Mandrakes would be ready. He missed Hermione terribly. Not just arguing with her, but her mere presence. He just missed -her-.
Ron stepped forward, closer to the bed. She had to be asleep, right? Even though her eyes were open.
A thought dropped into Ron's mind. Sudden and unexpected. He blinked in shock and stared at Hermione, watching her in the now twilight light. She wasn't Snow White, but it could work, right?
Ron let out a shaky breath. He had never kissed anyone before, well that was excluding his mum, of course. But that was different. He had seen his brothers kiss girls before; they didn't know that of course, they had been too busy with their tongues. But still, that didn't help much, no-one he knew had ever kissed a Petrified person. But it had to work, right? I mean, Snow White had been Petrified too. Her Prince Charming had kissed her and viola, she woke up. Though there were two problems with that. One, Ron wasn't sure if Hermione was sleeping or not. For all he knew she could be silently telling him to leave. Merlin, he wished her eyes were closed. At least then she'd -look- asleep. And two, what if this didn't work because it was -Ron-. It could quite possibly be that Ron was -not- Hermione's Prince Charming. That thought alone was enough to convince Ron to leave. He started to, but he glanced back and just couldn't leave her like that. He had to try. Even if he might not be Hermione's prince, he was her friend and he had to try.
Scrounging up his courage, Ron walked, slowly, back to Hermione's bedside. He looked at her eyes again. He wanted, on the verge of -needed-, to see a flicker of recognition in her eyes. He waited, but none came. Snuffing down the seemingly irrational emotions and that annoying little voice, Ron leaned forward, placing one knee on the bed in the progress. His face was oh so close to Hermione's. Their noses were almost touching. Almost. There was no physical connection between them, this was the closest Ron had ever been to Hermione. He moved closer, their noses were now touching, tips only. He noticed that there was no air escaping her lips. For the second time since he had entered, Ron felt a wave of panic wash over him. Though he quickly reminded himself that Petrified people were as still as stone. She was alive, just didn't seem like it.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He slowly closed his eyes and leant forward. As soon as Ron's lips brushed against Hermione's there was a strange, unfamiliar feeling in his stomach. He had never experienced a feeling quite like this. He pressed his lips a bit harder onto Hermione's. After a few seconds' time, Ron pulled away, but he was still close enough that their noses were touching. He gazed into her eyes once more, for anything. They were still blank. Ron quickly got up, standing. He watched her for movement, for -anything-. But nothing happened. She was still still as stone.
An inexplicable emotion swelled up inside Ron. His eyes stung and blinking didn't help.
He was just Ron.
Just Ron Weasley.
Ron Weasley, youngest son of Molly and Arthur Weasley, Ginny's big brother, best friend of Harry Potter, and obviously -not- the love of Hermione Granger.
And, I mean, who ever heard of a Prince Charming with red hair?
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Cya! PhoniexChild