I Hope You Don't Mind

A/N: I know I haven't posted in forever, so here's a small Romione fic! It's slightly AU, and I got the idea from the song "Your Song" by Elton John. Please don't judge! Thanks for reading!

"Granger! Whistle bell!"

Young Hermione Granger, her hair matted and wearing dirty old robe, sighed. It was 11 'o clock at the Stringer Freak Circus. Housing at least 20 others like her, they made cheap attractions for the public's money. Course, they never got paid. Hermione has asked Mr. Stringer for a new robe at least once a month, and all she had was a small moldy suitcase, her robe, and a small potions kit.

She was taken from her home when she was four years old, when her parents found her mumbling spells and the shrubs swallowing her and the wagon. They willingly gave her to Mr. Stringer, who at the time, was posing as a kindly father who'd visit the Grangers at least twice a month. Then, they gave her over, as they made the deal. Over 1000 pounds for the precious little witch. And she's been working with the circus ever since she was 6. It took two years to train her, and then she was posing as a potioneer, and as a gypsy. Young and old alike visited her so she may scam them for their money unwillingly. She hated her job, but there was only one thing keeping her here.

As she was thrown roughly into the large cage they kept all the attractions in, she heard him whisper her name. Her considerably dirty face brightened as she turned around to see a long legged tall ginger boy her age. She crawled over to him, and quietly wrapped her arms around him. Ignoring the piercing eyes that was directed to them, she cuddled her face into his neck.

"Hey there, Hermione." Ron whispered as he wrapped his arms around her and kept her close. It was no picnic here at Mr. Stringer's circus, but she was the only thing that kept him here. He had given himself so his siblings wouldn't starve to death, as Mr. Stringer was only interested in his height and his amazing attachment to his rat. "The Amazing Rat Boy" was his title, as he would pretend to be obsessed with his rat, and then at the end of the day, there was a rumor he would receive diseases from holding the rat too close. "How're you?"

"Fine, I guess" she sighed, as she leaned on him and stared out at the land beyond the cages. It was in a dark meadow, with shady trees overlapping their branches, creating a never ending line of dark branches. The moon shined above the trees, and small fires dotted the landscape, surrounded by hungry or starving people. Hermione looked at the people as they exited the travelling circus, wondering if they knew how they were treated. "Could have been better."

Ron smiled and gently smiled, and kissed her cheek. "You know, you're the only reason I stay here. We both know I could escape easily. I know how to pick locks." He smirked slightly. "And we both know you're a witch. You could escape as fast as Mr. Stringer can scam a customer."

She nodded, and looked into his eyes, her own eyes being reflected into his "But you know I won't leave you. We're both freaks, but we're together."

"I really hope you don't mind." Ron says, and kisses her forehead gently. He placed a hand on the back of her head, and another on the small of her back. He rocked her back and forth softly, and Hermione found herself drifting slowly to sleep, her back softening and her eyes closing.

"I hope you don't mind…I put down these words…" Ron said quietly, and then tilted her head upwards to look at him "How wonderful life is…when you're in my world."

He kissed her forehead, and took one of the straw blankets and wrapped it around them both. "We may be trapped in this terrible life, Hermione. We're both freaks and both nearly starve each night. But we're together."

"And I hope you don't mind that this is our song" she responded quietly, before she felt her head lying on his chest and the steady heartbeat of his chest. "It's so simple…but it's nearly done."
Boom. Boom. Boom…it was the sound of these wonderful beats, which reminded her she was loved, before she drifted into a dreamless sleep, the love of her life holding her tight. It was all she'll ever need. And all she'll ever want.

If I was a sculptor, but then again, no
Or a man who makes potions in a travelling show
I know it's not much, but it's the best I can do
My gift is my song, and this one's for you