A/N: So, there was this list of four-word prompts going around on Tumblr and a few lovely souls actually sent in some! So I've decided to post them here. The chapter title will contain the prompt phrase. P.S. I can be found on Tumblr at remedial-potions. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I wish I owned Harry Potter. But I don't.
Is That My Shirt?
She'd been in the bathroom for a while. Too long, really, for Ron's taste, not that he had any right to have any sort of opinion about anything she did. He was content to wait, anyway, just to make sure she was okay - Fleur had offered to help her take a bath but Hermione, ever modest and nothing if not independent, had declined. And so Ron was waiting, patiently for once, just so he could lay eyes on her again and remind himself that she was alive, and she was okay, and even if he'd felt completely useless down there in that cellar, in the end he had been able to at least do something to ensure her safety.
He'd have been willing to help her take the bath too, of course, but seeing as he was just grateful she was on friendly terms with him again… he'd thought he'd better not suggest it, not even in jest.
Sliding down the wall opposite the bathroom door, he rested his forearms on his knees and twirled Wormtail's wand, which felt dirty and tainted, between his fingers. The rushing of water through pipes had abated long ago, and now all he heard was the occasional light splashing sound. Desperately, attempting to be a gentleman, he tried not to picture what was going on behind that door. He was sitting here because she was his best friend and she'd nearly just died and he wanted to be there for her in whatever way he could. This was no time to be picturing soap bubbles on her skin-
"Hi," said a small voice from across the hall. Hermione stood before him, her bare feet sinking into the well-worn carpet, once again wearing the dressing gown that Fleur lent to her. Her hair, still damp, hung in thick, heavy ringlets on her shoulders.
"Hey," Ron replied, scrambling to his feet. "Everything okay?"
"Yes," she said firmly back, though a weak smile played on her lips. "You didn't have to wait for me, I'm all right."
"Well, I just-" And then he noticed it, the small swatch of orange cotton covering her collarbone, peeking out between the crimson satin of the gown. "Is that my shirt?"
"Oh - well…" Hermione's face flushed, blotches of pink staining her cheeks. "Yes."
"You're wearing a Cannons shirt?" Ron asked before he could help himself, his eyes shining as he gazed at her.
"Yes," Hermione admitted, shy and sheepish. Her fingers, still bearing scrapes and bruises from the recent ordeal, shifted the gown away to reveal two interlocking black Cs on the front of the shirt. "It's just - it was the first clean thing I could find in my bag and - and I can change if you want, it's just really soft and-"
"No, no, don't," he rushed to tell her. "Keep it if you want, it's yours, it's fine."
Her teeth sank into the inside of her lower lip as they regarded each other. Ron felt he might implode at any moment. She was wearing his clothes for Merlin's sake, like they were a real couple, like they'd woken up together on a weekend morning and were about to fix breakfast. Of course, the reality they were living was horribly different than the silly little fantasy he had just invented… but maybe someday, if this war ever ended, they could have it.
"Okay," she relented, that little grin still on her lips as she hitched the dressing gown back into place. "Thanks."
"Yeah." Ron gave her a smile of his own. "Anything for you."
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