And Both Shall Roam
A brief note from the Spork: One of my rare serious fics. Lack of sugar does that to you sometimes. I think maybe I'm branching out. *giggles as she imagines herself growing branches* Okay, so maybe not a complete lack of sugar, but still. Enjoy!
The rain fell. Hermione leaned her head against the windowpane, wondering how the Gryffindor Quidditch team could stand to practice in this weather. She glanced at the moon, or lack of moon, as it had just slipped behind one of the clouds that were dripping rain down the dormitory window. Hermione thought that just maybe, the drops were thinning… or was it just her eyes seeing suddenly in a different way? She focused on the patterns the drops made as they hit the glass and splattered out in different directions. It looked just like freckles.
Freckles…
The girl's thoughts turned abruptly to a certain freckle-faced person. A certain tall, freckle-faced, flame-haired, brown-eyed person. She thought briefly of the last time she had looked into those eyes. When had it been? One week? Two? A month, perhaps? Hermione shook herself mentally. She hadn't thought herself to be the romantic sort. But still… those eyes… She ran a hand through her hair, swearing softly as she discovered that it had frizzed up again. "Damn the humidity!" she muttered to herself as she walked over to her bed in hopes of locating a brush.
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Elsewhere, in the Gryffindor common room…
Ron stared at the chessboard until the slumbering pieces began to slide out of focus. He tilted his head to rest on the back of the armchair, staring up at the dark ceiling. The fire had gone out ages ago- he couldn't remember when. Everyone had either gone up to bed or down to the Quidditch pitch- the absence of Quidditch the previous year had meant that, even with Voldemort gaining power steadily, the game had become increasingly more important. Ron got up, bored of racking his brain for a strategy (Natalie McDonald, a second year, was quite a good chess player), and walked slowly to the window. It was still raining. He shook his head, feeling quite sorry for the Quidditch team, who were still out at practice. Closing his eyes, he listened to the sounds of the rain hitting the glass. It sounded strangely musical. Ron hummed softly as a song he had heard years before started to come back to him.
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Hermione abandoned her search for a hairbrush and flopped backwards onto her four-poster bed. Snatches of a tune drifted up the stairs from the common. Was that Ron singing softly? She certainly hoped so. He had such a nice voice. You're hopeless, Hermione, she told herself. Even so, she stood up and headed downstairs.
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"The water is deep, I cannot get o'er,
Nor do I have swift wings to fly…
Build me a boat that can carry two,
And both shall roam, my love and I."
Ron opened his eyes again as the last words of the old song faded into the air. What love had it been written about? He felt it might have been composed by a Seer, looking at his, Ron's, life at the current moment. How could he tell Hermione? How could he ever put into words how he felt? Love's funny like that, he thought. It waits the longest time to surface, and when it does, it hits you hard. Ron jumped as a faint noise came from the bottom of the stairs. He turned to see Hermione sitting on the bottom step, looking a bit pink in the face.
"Oh- hello, Ron," she said, seeing him turn, becoming slightly more pink. "I didn't know you could sing!"
"Neither did I," he replied. "Er- Hermione?"
"Hm?"
"I have to tell you something…"
~~~fini~~~
Disclaimer in the form of a neat li'l poem:
Roses are red, violets are blue,
The song in this fic is real, it's true.
Ron is a wizard, Hermione's a witch,
I don't own them, or else I'd be rich!