Rain. Again.
Wet drops in his red hair. Wet drops on his long nose. Wet drops all over his coat on her shoulders. Even more wet drops on his cheeks that freckles. He hated rain.
Ron was seating between his two best friends, in that comfortable silence, in spite of the recent events, that only long time and deep understanding can bring between unrelated persons.
Harry was touching his scar, Hermione had that little wrinkle at the side of her eyes, meaning she was thinking, probably about horcruxes, and him, well, he was watching her and her wrinkles. And the drops falling on her.
She has yet to talk to him since his return, but he could wait. Not like he didn't deserve it. When you like chess, you know how to be patient.
Suddenly, his saw a glimpse of excitement of in her bright eyes, meaning that she had discovered the solution of something. After all theses years, he liked to think he could read her like a book. In a single movement, she took a hardback near her bag and opened it. Busying herself in her quest, Ron still watched her. Her, the book, the rain.
She found herself rapidly annoyed by the constant rain ; blurring her vision, sticking the pages, and slowing her reading.
And, just like that, none a drop touched her book anymore.
A reddish umbrella was above her, and Ron's hand was holding it. She smiled. A little.
"Thank you, Ron"
It's was such a long time since he has see her smile.
From that moment, he didn't hated rain that much anymore.
---
So, the last installment of my writing marathon day.
Written with the song Cherbourg of Beirut in mind.
I suggest you to read Knives Out and Come Feel The Sun first.