Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his merry little folk-not mine. "Fly Me to the Moon" is by Frank Sinatra (why is it that I kept insisting on spelling it 'Sinistra'?).
Summary: Ron searches for sugar quills and comes across something a bit better—Hermione.
A/N: Weird little plot bunny that attacked me after watching Amelie, which is a fabulous movie, by the way.
On another note, Billy Boyd has the loveliest voice. Sigh.
~-~
Home is behind
The world ahead
and there are many paths to tread
Through shadow to the edge of night
until the stars are all alight
Mist and shadow
Cloud and shade
away shall fade
away shall fade
-The Steward of Gondor, the Return of the King
~-~
Ron stepped tentatively down the stairs of 12 Grimmauld Place. While Kreacher had given away many secrets, the Order was still the safest here. After all, Albus Dumbledore was their secret keeper. The dwelling did bring back bittersweet memories of the last occupant of the house. How the current residents missed him so. Especially a resident that should have been there, but unfortunately wasn't. Harry was miserable at the Dursley's once more, though Ron had a feeling that Dumbledore would make sure that Harry was being treated a bit more decently. His other best friend, Hermione, had just come that day. She wasn't safe now in the muggle world. Her parents sent her off that morning, and Ron remembered many unshed tears as her parents resigned that their little girl was no longer innocent in the strange world they weren't a part of. Despite the serious events of the day, Ron had something else entirely on his mind.
He couldn't help his addiction to sugar quills. He had to have at least three a day or else he became quite irritable. In an effort to curb his addiction, he hid them downstairs inside a crook in the cabinet under the sink. The plan didn't really work, but at least he was going on two a day rather than seven. Didn't Muggles have programs for this kind of thing? Ron opened the lid of the small, bright orange box and found nothing but crumbs on the bottom.
Damn! He must have eaten the last sugar quill last night, or Ginny had found his stash. Ron was pondering whether he might have another box in his room when he heard a small noise that sounded like sniffling.
Curiously, he tiptoed to the wall opposite of the living room, and peered around the corner. On the couch, he saw a large bundle of blanket, a bulky book on the coffee table with the Muggle lamp turned on, and a mass of bushy brown hair. Hermione.
"H-Hermione? What's wrong?" he asked, sitting hesitantly at the end of the sofa.
She swerved around and looked at Ron. Her brown eyes were large and shiny, and he could see the tears all over her face glinting in the small amount of light.
"I-I-it's just that I never see my parents, and they're in more danger than I am...and, oh! Danger, it just seems to stick to Harry, you know? Poor Harry, what, with his godfather dying...I miss Sirius so much, if only for the sake of Harry's happiness! A-a-and, I'm j-just so worried, and I don't know what to do, and I never not know what to do, and it's so very frustrating!" she exclaimed with a hasty wipe to her face.
"Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry, I just...is there I can do?" Ron asked.
He was quite surprised when she bounded into his arms.
~-~
Ron was terrified. The (not) object of his (oh, never!) affections was currently sobbing on his chest. He awkwardly patted her head. It felt oddly like...what was the word? Veja du?
When Ron would cry to his mother, she would always sing softly to him while she rocked him back and forth. Oh, and she would also make this bloody good tea, but he didn't think that he could get up in order to make some. Thus, he went with the former option. He thought of a Muggle song that he heard on a Muggle radio his dad had tinkered with.
"Fly me to the moon, let me sing among the stars...let me see what spring in like on Jupiter and Mars," he sang quietly, patting Hermione's hair.
Her tear streaked face looked up at him. She started sobbing...no, wait, was she giggling?
"Ronald Weasley, you have a terrible singing voice. But you are very kind," she said, her eyes crinkling with mirth.
"Gee, thanks, Hermy," he replied with an upturn to his mouth. He had made her stop crying. Ron Weasley, knight in shining armor extraordinaire.
~-~
Hermione observed that it was getting rather late. One could tell by the fact that you could hear George snoring. She was rather tired herself, but she didn't want to leave. It was so comfortable there.
Ron's fingers treaded softly on her arm. In no sort of a pattern, of course, but that was just Ron. The one thing consistent was with each touch, he burned her skin. Hermione closed her eyes and leaned even more against him. He could do this forever, and she really wouldn't mind.
She peeked through her eyelashes. He turned toward her and placed his hand tenderly on her cheek.
"G-goodnight, Hermione," Ron said with a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. He paused and lingered there, as Hermione let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. The air felt on fire, and soon she would be ash.
He left abruptly, walking slowly upstairs as if he couldn't believe himself, and occasionally sneaked glances to the couch. Finally opening her eyes, Hermione sunk into the couch, and placed her fingertips on her mouth where he kissed her.
He kissed her.
Ron was definitely fire, but Hermione wasn't sure whether she was ice or gasoline at that particular moment.