A/N: Well, I was bored, felt like writing. Got writer's block trying to finish the fourth chapter for "Surviving with Ron.." so I came up with this. Stuff off the top of my head. Hope you like! ..Oh, PS. UPDATE! I have finally become un-lazy and have edited it, yay me!
The night was starry and the moon shone brightly in the Gryffindor common room. The fire crackled with a certain delight, as the cold snowy, winter air blew silently into the room, which quickly melted into warm delight. In Hermione Granger's view, the perfect time to curl up in her favorite arm chair by the fire and read a book, while she sat cozily basking in the warmth of the embers.
It was here that Hermione found herself at peace these days. In her sixth year, she found time to herself hard to come by. But when it did, she did what she loved doing. Though Ron, or Harry might've found Quidditch, or taking a nap to be the best thing to do in spare time, it was reading that Hermione got away from her problems. Including one big problem with red hair.
Ron wasn't necessarily considered to be the most pleasant to talk to about Elf Liberation, or to have a casual talk about a book with. Ron was particularly lazy when it came to school work, and had been notorious for copying Hermione's homework, last minute.
He played Quidditch, and though he had gotten better than he had from the previous year, he still came in grumpy after practices.
Hermione had grown quite fond of always giving him a hot cup of tea when he entered in from the snowy Quidditch Pitch in a mock outrage.
"That bloody quaffle must hate me!"
Or, Hermione's personal favorite,
"I give up, I'm resigning from the team next practice!"
But each Friday afternoon, Ron would come in after nine, to see Hermione waiting for him in the empty common room, with a hot cup of tea, and some warm robes for him to change into.
The no-longer bushy haired sixth year found it tradition now, to stay up on Friday night, just to hear the red-haired Keeper, complain that he was no good Keeper at all. And of course, she always reassured him that he had certainly improved. And she certainly was not telling a lie.
Ronald Weasley had to be getting close to being as good as Oliver Wood, though he never saw it himself.
Hermione shook her head to release the image of the one thing she had longed to get off her mind. She stared glassy-eyed at her book for a moment, and then coming back to reality, she began to read again.
Nearly an hour had passed, and Hermione, against her will, began to doze off by the fire, the book she was so entranced in, slowly slipping from her hands. Her eyes began to close, and she could feel the fire provoking her to sleep. The warm draft from the wind blowing the fire, hitting her face, causing her whole body to tingle.
"Hermione?"
That voice, she thought.
"'Mione.." the voice pleaded again as a strong hand, shook her shoulder gently.
Reluctant to open her weary eyes, she did so with a prolonging to close them again, but then her eyes laid upon a red-haired teenager, who was tall, cute, and was as pale as snow.
"Ron?"
"Quidditch practice was good tonight.."
"..Was good..?"
Hermione, in a bit of shock that Ron had not stormed in the common room swearing up and down to Merlin and all of the other great wizards of the world, that Quidditch was a complete waste that night, and confirming that he would put in his two-weeks notice to the Quidditch Captain, sat up slowly in her favorite arm chair by the fire, and looked sleepily at Ron.
"Well, that's great Ron," she smiled sweetly and handed him his cup of tea, and placed a steaming charm on it, causing it to heat up quickly again.
"Sorry that I woke you, but, I just figured you'd want to hear how it went. I'll let you get back to your nap."
Ron felt like a blundering git. He wasn't quite sure why he had woken Hermione, but he was for sure that it wasn't to just tell her how Quidditch practice had gone. Surely she didn't care?
"No, no. I'm quite fine, I got about a good hours rest,' she lied gingerly as she smiled sheepishly at Ron, who was now occupying himself with trying to dry out the bottoms of his Quidditch robes.
"Oh here," she sprang up, as she grabbed a warm robe, and worked on taking of his wet one. Ron stood there, now only in his Quidditch gear.
Hermione stood behind him, getting ready to put on the warm robe, and after a minutes gazing at him, and him pleading that she put it on because he was getting chilly, she finally threw it over him, and then returned to her arm chair.
"Thanks Hermione. You're the greatest. I really don't know what I'd do without you."
Hermione's cheeks turned a couple of shades of red, and she smiled softly up at him from her comfortable seat. "It's nothing Ron, we are best friends afterall. Aren't we?"
"Of course, 'Mione!"
That name. It simply melted her, seeing him in his Quidditch outfit, calling her 'Mione. Though she wasn't sure why. They were friends. Nothing more.
Nothing more, Hermione. After a prolonged silence, Ron plopped down lazily on the couch, and looked over at Hermione, who had begun to read again, The History of Godric Gryffindor, and The Other Three Founders of Hogwarts.
"Honestly, do you ever stop reading?" Ron groaned, as though he wanted her to talk to him, instead of sticking her nose in a book.
"Should I be doing something else?" she protested, but couldn't help but smile slightly at Ron's useless attempt to stop her from reading.
"You could ask me why preactice went so well tonight. That might be a start."
"So you're wanting to talk? You should've just said something."
"I am saying something."
Hermione giggled some, and after a minute she finally gave in and spoke softly, "Okay, okay…Why did practice go so well tonight?"
A triumphant grin played across Ron's face, "Well, at first it was ruddy. Quaffles going in all the hoops. I didn't have my mind right. S'pose I was thinking about other things, but then I started thinking about our game against Slytherin, the one we're playing in a month, and I started thinking about Malfoy trying to get those quaffles in the hoops. So, I started to block them better, started paying more attention to the game. It was bloody brilliant I tell you, and I thought of it."
Ron finished with that same triumphant grin splattered across his face, and Hermione smiled, "I knew you could do it Ron!"
She stood from her chair, and made her way over to the empty seat on the couch beside Ron.
Ron watched her, and when she finally sat down he spoke again, "If it wasn't for you, I don't think I could've done it."
Hermione had been a bit caught off guard by his comment and she looked instantly up at him. "For-..for me? But what have I done? I've simply waited for you to come up, so you could have a bit of hot tea, and a warm robe. That's all."
She stared at him, as if he were going to unlock some great mystery. And maybe, that's exactly what he would do.
Ron continued to look down at her, though in silence. It took him a minute to respond, as if he were thinking of an answer, but when he replied, it seemed so complex, so well thought out, that even Hermione was impressed.
"Hermione, that hot tea, those warm robes, every Friday night, you've stayed up, just for me. You didn't care what mood I was in, you still stayed up, and waited for me. You take care of me, wish me good luck, offer advice, though most of the time I seem like I don't use it. But 'Mione-" That name again, she thought eagerly, "If you hadn't done all those things, I would've been in a right-state. No one else would do that for me. But you've always believed in me I suppose. You've always cared about what I was doing."
For some reason, Hermione seemed to think this had to do with a little more than Quidditch practice. She always got onto him about doing his homework, and paying attention in class, taking notes, and caring about his markings.
A slight pang of guilt ran through her at the thought of sounding more like a mother figure to him, than a friend. But she stopped in her thoughts abruptly as he spoke again.
"Only a really good friend would care about you that much. I guess, what I'm trying to say is, thanks 'Mione."
Hermione was lost in his eyes. She had never seen Ron this open about his feelings, ever. She was almost in tears. It was a feeling she couldn't explain, like a giddiness that wouldn't go away, that Ron had actually openly admitted his feelings. She wanted to hug him tightly, and tell him it was no big deal. But she knew it was.
That feeling was surronding her body again, that steady warmth hitting her face gently, just as the fire's draft had done, but this time it was not a sleepiness taking over her body, nor was it the warmth from the fire. Hermione found herself leaning in slowly towards Ron.
She wasn't sure what she was doing, or why, but she saw Ron looking nervously down at her, yet his eyes filled with that look that only he gave her. That look of love. She was made to lean in a bit more, only inches away from his face now, which he had moved down some.
She felt his hand, slowly reaching up, and cupping her cheek ever so gently, as if he were holding something valuable and fragile.
Closer. Only a bit closer, she thought, as she moved in only a little more, and in the instant she had stopped moving in, her lips had found his. They were soft and gentle, and Hermione noted warmer than they appeared when he had first entered the common room.
His hand was slightly rough, but warmer than usual from the hot cup of tea he had once been holding, and it felt nice against her face, it felt right, being there. His lips too. It all felt right, and for once, being in such close, intimate contact with Ronald Weasley was better than reading a book.
She pulled away gently, and opened her eyes, which had voluntarily shut, right before they kissed, looking at him with a look that Ron had never seen. She looked happier than he had ever seen her. She looked truly at peace.
Hermione sat back and sighed contently, listning to silence that had gathered after the wonderful kiss they had shared. Hermione closed her eyes once more, and she had scooted meekly into Ron's warm, inviting arms. Yes, she thought as she began to drift off to sleep, this certainly is better than reading a book.
A/N: RR! I wrote this off the top of my head, and I wrote it pretty fast, so, please don't shoot me if you don't like it! But I would to get RR's with critiques.. please be gentle!