A/N: Yesterday was tlpursuit's birthday, and I wrote these words to go with her amazing art. FFN won't let me post the link to it here, but if you Google "tlpursuit Train Home for Christmas," you should be able to find it. Thank you for sharing your amazing art with the world, TLP! Hope your day was beautiful. xx
Hermione had always prided herself on her meticulously crafted set of skills. She had come to acknowledge that these included, but were not limited to, perseverance, organisational facility, and the obvious inclusion of highly proficient book smarts.
Patience, however, was not currently one of them.
She had spent the first half of the ride home for the Christmas holiday pacing up and down the train corridor, in a mixture of legitimate Prefect duties and restlessness. Now, she was sitting by the window, having goaded her single co-passenger into sliding quietly out of their formerly shared compartment to find seating elsewhere. Moments earlier, Hermione had, for the fourth time, asked abruptly to view her neighbour's watch, sighed with discontent at the hour, and flung open the compartment door, gusting cold air through as she stomped off.
Ginny had also been sharing Hermione's compartment an hour or so prior, but she had since wandered off to spend some entirely too even-tempered time playing games of snap in a bordering compartment, much to the disgruntlement of Hermione's nervous system. She jumped halfway off her seat every time a card spontaneously exploded, closing her eyes and actually cursing under her breath on several occasions.
It was evident that a choice selection of Ron's most interesting curse words had worked their way into her subconscious. Perhaps it was her slightly mad habit of rehearsing all of their privately shared conversations from the past summer, whenever she was feeling lonely. Which was just about every bloody night, she would admit…
Which was why, at present, she felt as if she herself was ready to spontaneously explode… if the ruddy train didn't speed the hell along and deposit her next to him…
She closed her eyes and sighed, managing a smile as she thought of seeing his face, his cheeks pink from cold, waiting for her on the platform. She imagined what he would be wearing… likely a Weasley Christmas jumper or something equally warm and cozy. She could faintly smell him in memory if she concentrated hard, the earthy warmth that surrounded him, buried deep in the pores of his skin.
In her mind, she ran her hands along his scarred arms, watching with delight as he broke into shivering goose flesh from her touch. She could picture a glowing fire, later that night at the Burrow, wrapped in one of his jumpers herself, his arm around her as he leaned against the back sofa cushions, smiling contentedly and drifting off to sleep.
She imagined his bed at Grimmauld place, sheets tangling around her bare legs…
Blushing, her eyes popped open, recalling that she was actually quite alone, inside her chilly compartment. Apparently, embarrassment didn't need company.
And that's when the train began to slow, her heartbeat racing before she could comprehend what it meant. Gasping, she leaned against the cold glass of the window to her right, wide eyes landing on the distant platform, so far away yet that it might not have been there at all. But she knew that it was. She had taken this trip enough times to know exactly the moment…
Her breath fogged the window as she stared out expectantly. Though the platform would be very crowded today, she felt irrationally certain that she would be able to spot him, immediately. But, at last, as the masses of parents and siblings lining the platform came into full view, her eyes began to dart, breath caught in her throat. Where was he? She had a perfect view of everyone from where she sat, she'd thought.
The train had nearly come to a stop…
It had to be any moment now… any mo-
A large palm slapped against her window, and she jumped back, alarmed. But then, moving with the slow roll of the train, a ginger head popped into her line of vision as well, and she grinned with pleasure.
His wool hat was pushing his hair out at the front, spikes of overgrowth above his freckled forehead. And he hadn't shaved in days, she guessed, stomach flipping with happiness at the sight.
One time. She had told him one time how much she enjoyed the scruffiness of his bristly, copper stubble. But, evidently, he had remembered.
Or, he had simply been too lazy to bother shaving it off.
She laughed as he grinned joyfully up at her, relief in his sparkling eyes as his right hand moved up to the glass to join his left. Sighing with contentment, she pressed her left palm to his right, through the glass, staring back into his eyes, her own going a bit watery as she heard him laugh as well, a distant, muffled sound through the window.
"Oi!" came a voice, all too familiar, from somewhere out of sight…
Or was he out of sight?
She blinked, and Harry swam into focus, a mere half metre to Ron's right now, arm slung around a smiling Ginny.
"Gonna stay on the train all day, staring at him?" Harry teased, and it was only then that she realised that half of Hogwarts had already disembarked, hugging their families outside.
"Oh!"
With a teary glance back at Ron, who was now blushing a pleasing shade of light pink, she jumped out of her seat and levitated her trunk, rushing out of the compartment ahead of it and skidding to a stop at the end of the corridor, laughing when she saw him already using the vertical bars at the open door to swing himself up onto the first step.
"Hey," he said, voice scratchy and deep and gorgeous.
She squealed. Yes, she actually squealed, much to her embarrassment later. But at the moment, she didn't give a damn.
She flung her arms around him, nearly on level with him now from a step above. Closing her eyes tight, she pressed her face to the side of his neck, his skin a bit frosty, tips of his hair damp from snow. His right hand flattened to her back, left hand still tightly clutching the bar at the doorway to keep them upright.
He ducked his head and breathed a sigh against the top her shoulder. His jumper was just as cozy as she had imagined. And she never wanted to move from this position. Ever.
"Oh, honestly?" Ginny's teasing voice rang out from somewhere behind Ron now. "You've still not made it off the bloody train!"
In a swift motion, Ron let Hermione go, jumped down to the platform, and waited, a few paces back from the door, raising an eyebrow expectantly.
She had never seen a more wonderful sight in all her life. Climbing off the train, she stepped up to him, much slower this time, taking in her vision of him… every detail.
At last, she was no longer that insufficient half of herself that she had been for the last four months. Having discovered what she had been missing in her life during the previous summer, the gaping hole now left by his absence, these past months, had been staggeringly more noticeable.
Now, instead of shy glances and the need to look away, she found herself caught in a stare that she could not break… never wanted to, anyway.
Finally, she was home. She sighed, lips parting.
"Hey."