My....
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine (of course) but belong to J.K. Rowling.
Summary: A short one-shot fic about Ron and Hermione. R/R please!
Ron's POV:
Beautiful girls are supposed to have lots of hair on top of their heads and none anywhere else other than finely tweezed eyebrows and long, sexy black eyelashes. They're supposed to have impossibly small waists and large round hips. They're supposed to have-um, uh... really big- uh...tworoundthingsontop and lots of skin showing. Above all, beautiful girls are supposed to wear lots and lots of makeup.
But I can think of an even prettier picture. The moonlight gleams on the lake and a girl is walking slowly along its edge. This girl is a vision. Her very long, very curly brown hair flows gently behind her and the light breeze catches the skirt of the sundress she's wearing. She gazes at the water, which reflects her calm, happy face. A little smile lingers around her mouth, and her chocolate brown eyes seem to be sighing with contentment. But there's one detail, just on, that I think-no, I know- is my favorite about the way she looks. It's the little daisy behind her ear. That flower is the best part about this girl because I gave it to her. That flower means she's mine. That flower... means...she's mine. My... Hermione.
Hermione's POV:
He's watching me. I can feel it. I know exactly where he is, too. He's sitting on the windowsill by his bed in the boys' dormitory. His legs are in front of him, bent at the knees. And it's strange, but I feel perfectly calm and comfortable even though I know he's looking at me. Actually, I guess it's not that strange. I've been on cloud nine (figuratively speaking) ever since he gave me that daisy. Today was the first day we'd ever spent knowing for sure that each of us liked the other. It was also the day of our first date, and the day I'd been dreaming about since I finally stopped denying to myself that I liked him.
Two years ago, I figured he'd never like me as anything more than a friend (the way I liked him), so I accepted an offer for a date with Victor (yes, Victor Krum). Some of my friends told me my crush was jealous, but as much as I wanted to believe them, I just wouldn't let myself. Later that night, he (the one I liked, not Viktor) and I had a fight. I cried myself to sleep afterwards. I hated crying myself to sleep (even though I seemed to do it a lot). It's so petty and hopeless. I wanted to feel confident, and crying myself to sleep only made me feel worse. Now, though, I can't wait to cry myself to sleep because when I do it'll be in his arms. His arms, which are a place I've only been to today. His arms, which are still so new and exciting to me. His arms, around me, means that we're together. Us. Together. Me...and Ron.