Entranced by Lightening
"Stop it," A fiery red-head hissed harshly, his freckled face distorted with obvious annoyance.
Beside him on a vintage, scratchy couch, a young girl with luminescent, brown eyes and frizzy dark hair raised her thick eyebrows curiously. "Stop what?" Her voice flowed out of her shining pink lips, which were pulled downwards in a frown of momentary discourage.
The boy next to her waved her away with his hand, clearly irritated, though he did not move his face to look at her. His blue gaze was determinedly pinned across the room, toward another couple whose lips were locked in a passionate kiss.
The room that four of them were seated in was small and cozy, giving off a welcoming and familiar glow. A few couches and large, lounging seats were scattered across the room in front of an old-fashioned fireplace. Beneath the clawed legs of the furnishings lay an ancient rug, dusty from time, with red yarn feathering its edges. The Hogwarts crest, barely visible as the material was so worn, was sewn into the ratty carpet. Though difficult to see it was clear that, in its prime, the rug was an elaborate piece of material, and a treasured family heirloom. Against the walls were shelves of books that looked to be untouched for centuries. Few of the books were pulled inches from their original place, however, and fingerprints lay imprinted on their spines. On the ceiling, a chandelier was hooked by a single chain and dangled feebly above the rug; wobbling each time a foot touched the worn, oak wood that composed the floorboards.
Not easily put out, the girl seated beside the red-head leaned in toward him again, her sweet lips puckered, preparing to steal a kiss upon his slightly parted mouth. At last the boy broke his gaze, slowly shifting his blue eyes upon her approaching figure. A look unlike his character had erupted on his usually gentle face; his eyes were an icy blue, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth closed and strained as far as it could possibly go downward. "I said no, Hermione," He said with finality in his voice.
Tears began to leak out of Hermione's eyes when she peeled open her brown eyes to look into his face; his look of anger surprised her immensely and, what was more, stabbed her in the heart. "Wh-wha…what did I do wrong, Ron?" She asked meekly as a tear rolled down her cheek and past her neck, landing in the dip of her collar bone and shoulder.
At the sight of her tears, the irritability in Ron's face faltered and was quickly replaced with regret as his heart tinged with guilt. "It isn't you…" His voice trailed off, lost for words, his mind coming to a stop.
This was true - it wasn't her.
With a fake smile, he took her small hand in his own larger one, drawing his thumb back and forth lightly over her fair skin. She smiled weakly, moving closer to him. Another sharp stab of guilt pierced his heart. Hermione's eyes traveled from their intertwined hands to his softened eyes, but he could not force himself to meet her gaze. Instead, Ron found himself peering at the other couple again, his staring masked by a sheath of red hair.
The next day, Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny traveled down the stairs, greeted by the delectable wafting scent of cooking sausages, steaming hot pancakes, and freshly-peeled oranges. The big eater instantly emerged from Ron like a starved werewolf; he flashed a grin toward Harry, who returned a hungry smile back, and the two of them rushed past the two girls, whom were deep in conversation, and into the kitchen were Ron's mother greeted them with a cheeky smile.
Her brown eyes were alit with cheer as she absentmindedly stirred a pot of boiling water with magic, her wand in her hand and her wrist in action. Ron, with a scent of smell like a hungry thestral, could easily determine that the steaming pot was filled with sausages in the process of being cooked to perfection.
"Take a seat, dears, take a seat!" In her over-motherly voice, she urged, he hand waving to the table with a plate in the center that was stacked miles high with fluffy, tan pancakes. Eagerly, the boys took seats next to each other and stared down the tower of food, which was bound to be delicious if it was cooked by Molly Weasley, they were sure. As they were swapping sneaky glances, the girls stepped into the room, their heads tightly pressed together as they discussed something obviously secret. Ginny occasionally frowned or gasped, "Oh!", and would then proceed to cover her mouth.
The boys payed them little mind, their brains set on food and nothing else. They were silently encouraging each other to try and snatch a pancake without Ron's mum catching them, though both were a bit scared to be caught. Usually, Molly had a strict policy of waiting for everyone to be seated at the table and the food to be done and served before eating could occur. Hungry as they were, however, they were desperate to find a way out of it. Finally, Ron gave in with a small nod and turned his blue eyes onto the glorious mound of pancakes. His mum's back was turned to them as she busily stirred; he reached a heavily freckled hand toward the pancake lying lazily on the top. Just as his fingers skimmed its soft edges, a hand slapped his own on cue. Ron's mum stood there with a hand on her hip, the other stretched over her shoulder in attempt to keep stirring. "Don't touch the food until it's all ready!" She scolded, her lips pursed in an annoyed sort of amusement.
Ron rolled his eyes, chuckling to himself a bit. Harry was gripping his gut and laughing quite hardily. "Oh, shut it!" Jokingly, his red-headed friend teased, pushing him in the shoulder. The force of his push was rather hard however, and Harry and his chair toppled right over.
Every one – with the exception of Molly – burst out in laughter until each of their ribs ached. On the other hand, Molly had rushed to his side, pushing up his chair and gazing at him with wide, terrified eyes. Her hand was on her chest, trying to regulate her breath.
"Oh! Harry! Are you alright, sweetie?" More laughter erupted from the others, ignoring the sharp pains in their ribs. "You didn't hurt yourself…did you?"
Harry righted his glasses; he too was laughing. "I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley!" He exclaimed through bursts of chuckles. She nodded, and then scurried off to finish cooking.
"I hope those sausages are ready soon," Ron said to Harry overly loud, hoping his mother would hear him.
"Oh, Ron, hush! They're just about done."
A smirk unfurled on Ron's face as he glanced back at his mother, who was strenuously multi-tasking; stirring the boiling water that contained the sticks of meat while turning off the oven, and trying to grab the strainer from the cabinet below. Hermione noticed her struggling and excused her self from her chair, walking over diligently to Mrs. Weasley.
"Need a hand?" Politely, she asked, looking up into her boyfriend's mother's eyes.
Mrs. Weasley grinned and nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, Hermione, you're so dear!" She oozed with joy. "Yes, just a bit of help…could you grab me my oven mits and the strainer, please?" Hermione nodded and smiled, then made her way over to the closet. There, she located the oven mits and grabbed them in one arm. The strainer was in the cabinet above the boiling pot of water. Standing on tip-toe, she reached for the strainer and then set it down on the counter, the mits beside it.
"Anything else, Mrs. Weasley?" Hermione asked, her smile large, and her hands folded neatly in front of her. Mrs. Weasley was like a mother to her, and she would do anything to help out.
"Oh, no dear! You've helped enough," Mrs. Weasley reached out a hand and lightly patted the girl on the shoulder to show her appreciation. With another smile and a nod, Hermione turned back and walked toward the table, replacing herself in her seat.
Ron's stomach produced a loud growl that demanded to be sustained with food.
In the next moment, Mrs. Weasley fumbled over with a tray full of hot sausages. "Food's all ready!" She merrily chimed, placing the tray in front of the four. Immediately, Ron and Harry seized plates for themselves and spooned mounds of food onto them, while Mrs. Weasley poured freshly squeezed orange juice for each of them. Knife and fork in hand, Ron and Harry dug in, only stopping for a sip of orange juice here and there.
When all that was left of the stacks of food were crumbs too small for even mice, Hermione and Ginny excused themselves to Ginny's room. Ron and Harry lingered in the kitchen for a good ten minutes, their hands over their full bellies. "Great breakfast, mum!" Ron called out cheerfully. Harry nodded his head in agreement.
After thanking Mrs. Weasley, the two of them stepped into the living room to relax on the scratchy lounging chairs. Ron nearly fell back into his, his blue eyes half-closed in a drowsy state. Harry leaned into one across from him. His green eyes – much like his mother's - were open wide as he looked out the window with interest. Soft light pouring in from the window landed perfectly on him, highlighting his well-carved face, causing light to dance in his eyes and making a slick shine on his hair. Harry's most pronounced feature – his scar – was accented beautifully by the light, giving him a mysterious air that was rather attractive, Ron found himself thinking.
I'll hopefully be updating this soon! This fanfic won't be very long; at the most 5 chapters. Summer is fast approaching and I should be able to find time for my fanfics. Reviews are much appreciated! :)