It was cold. So cold.
The blistering night wind pierced Hermione Grangers face as she hurried through the darkness, the pale moon light guiding her through a clearing in the forbidden forest.
Her hands were beneath her robes, clutching her wand defensively. She feared some unknown beast would spring from the trees at any moment, but the eerie silence that surrounded her was slightly comforting.
Somewhere in the darkness, an owl was watching her bushy head of hair hurry along the forest floor. It slightly resembled something of a feathery tennis ball, with massive eyes. It shifted restlessly before swooping down clumsily, following the girl.
Finally, Hermione slowed her pace, panting heavily. A voice emanated from a nearby tree, making her jump.
"That you, Hermione?"
"Of course it's me, who else could it be?" She snapped back, clutching her chest.
"Dunno," the voice answered, and a tall, awkward looking redheaded teen stepped slowly out of the darkness. His dark eyes met hers, and the two flung themselves into each others arms.
"Why on earth do we have to meet here, Ron?" Hermione breathed into his neck. "It's terrible, trying to find you on my own in the middle of the night. It makes me feel like we're going behind Harry's back."
"We are going behind his back. That's the whole point. I don't want him knowing yet." Ron's voice was firm, but reassuring. He rubbed her shoulders. "You're shivering like mad, here, come on. The tent's just over here. It's nice and warm."
Taking her hand gently, Ron led Hermione through to the other side of the clearing, where a small tent was pitched.
"Is this your idea of romance?" Hermione demanded. "I'm practically frostbitten. Why do we have to come here?"
"There's an air of mystery." Said Ron simply. Hermione glared at him. "Well we couldn't ruddy well meet on the grounds, could we? Come on then, you still look cold. I'll make us some tea."
The two pulled aside the entrance flap, and for the umpteenth time, Hermione marveled at the interior of the place. It was warm and inviting, Ron seemed to have lit a few candles, which she viewed as an adorable attempt to set the mood. Hermione softened as she removed her robes, hanging them on a magically suspended hook.
Ron hurried past into the little kitchen and put the kettle on. He seemed tense. Nervous, even. They had never met like this before. However, it was all his idea.
He had removed his cloak as well, and suddenly the awkward teen that he had once represented melted away. Ron had grown into his lean body, it seemed as though he had been working out. Hermione felt her cheeks grow pink as she eyed him. He had let a little stubble grow in, which she found rather endearing, as well as his hair. It hadn't been trimmed in a while, giving him a rather attractive, unkempt look. His broad shoulders tensed with each movement, and his backside... well, Hermione blushed as she marveled at that particular area.
Hermione suddenly realized that she had been watching him for minutes without moving. "Something wrong?" Ron asked, looking at her oddly. She flushed, attempting to cover her face.
"Nothing, just a bit cold still," She said hurriedly. It was then that she realized that Ron, too seemed to be inspecting her. She had indeed applied make – up for the occasion, something she rarely did, and a neat little charm she had learned in her fourth year came in handy with her hair, which flowed over her shoulders in well groomed waves. Her attire was however modest as usual, and her face remained pink. Ron walked over slowly with a steaming mug of tea and handed it to her carefully.
"C'mon," he murmured gently, "let's sit by the fire. You'll be warm there. I have some blankets too, just in case." Hermione nodded slowly, unable to read his face.
After the two had settled in front of the wood stove fire, Ron placed his arm carefully around Hermione's shoulder. To show she approved, she squirmed a little closer to him, inhaling heavily, taking every inch of him in. His embrace was warm and comfortable, and she fit in the crook of his arm perfectly. A sudden wave of relaxation and comfort washed over her as she suddenly realized she was finally receiving exactly what she had wanted all along. She looked up at Ron's relaxed face with longing in her eyes.
He suddenly spoke to her slowly, every word releasing a little tension in his chest.
"So… you know I.." He stammered only slightly.
"Yes."
"And you…"
"Of course." Hermione was aware that not much else needed to be said. She wanted Ron, more than she ever wanted anything in her whole life. Of course she had abandoned earlier feelings for him in their desperate journey to aid Harry on his many adventures, but the thoughts of him she had never ceased. The jealousy that burned inside her every time he flirted with another Gryffindor seemed to re-kindle the flame she had thought she snuffed years ago.
It was only three days before that Ron himself had yanked her suddenly into a dark corridor and expressed to her rather uncomfortably the feelings he returned. His ears burning red, the way he shuffled his feet, and how he could never match her gaze for more than a few moments threw Hermione into a flurry of sudden, instinctive movements, mainly grabbing him round the neck and kissing him furiously.
They had parted awkwardly with a plan, a plan to meet somewhere more secluded. They had also decided that Harry could not know. At least not yet. They had to sort out their own feelings before they could confront their best friend with them.
And so, Hermione gazed up at him, want in her chestnut eyes. Ron hadn't quite noticed, he was busy contemplating her one word answers.
"How long?" He asked suddenly. Hermione was taken aback.
"… A long time." was her answer. Ron seemed satisfied. He fell silent, and Hermione pressed her head against his chest, her eyes drifting shut at the rhythmic pounding of his sacred heart. It was after a few moments that Hermione realized she wished to indulge in this new feeling. She wanted to kiss him, to hold him, to be with him always. She looked up at him, and almost as though he had read her thoughts, Ron tilted her chin upward gently and leaned in.
It was wonderful; warm, welcome and intoxicating. His hand brushed her cheek and she grasped it firmly, returning his enthusiasm by adding pressure and force into the deep kiss. She was being lifted then, and their eyes were level as she realized he had enclosed her into his arms, her back pressed against the sofa as well as his arm. They were lying together then, hands aflame, caressing every piece they could reach, pressing their bodies tightly together.
The tea Ron had brewed for them was forgotten on the coffee table before them, slowly steaming side by side.
It was then that they knew that they could never be apart again; it was then that they realized how much they needed each other. And as the tea became cold, and the candles burned down, a silent agreement had been made. Hermione would never snuff this feeling. Never again.