A/N: Hello, all. It's me. I come baring a fic that I've been sitting on for a while, but never got around to uploading it. I wasn't sure where I was trying to go with it, but it's here all the same. It's a light fluffy piece. I guess it's could be termed a feel-good fic.
I might decide to add to it, but I'm not making any promises.
Enjoy and please review!
Brown Eyed Girl
Hermione woke up to a room illuminated by early morning sunlight pouring through the open window. She stretched and swung her legs over the side of the bed, feet not quite reaching the floor. She hopped down, padded across the wooden floor, and peered out the window to the beach. The smell of the ocean wafted to her nose.
She glanced back into the room- Ginny was already gone. "Figures," she mumbled. Hermione wandered out the door and heard the faint sound of music.
"Sometimes I'm overcome thinking 'bout making love in the green grass…"
Curious, she cautiously began tiptoeing down the stairs, making as little noise as possible.
"Behind the stadium with you, my brown eyed girl," she heard as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Someone was singing along to the radio. Still generating hardly any noise, she made to the kitchen.
"You my brown eyed girl!" sang Ron, leaning over the stove, before spinning around, eyes closed, over to the toaster to pull out two freshly toasted slices of bread. "Do you remember when we used to sing," he said before spinning towards where Hermione was standing, eyes still closed, singing into a spatula. "Sha la la la la la la la- bloody hel1!" screamed Ron as the spatula clattered to the floor, and his eyes connected with those of a very amused looking Hermione.
"I didn't know you could sing," said Hermione, still smirking, as she walked over to the cabinet to get a glass.
His face turned bright red and leaned over to retrieve the spatula from the floor. "Don't do that!" he said, ignoring her comment.
"Do what?" Hermione asked while removing a carton of orange juice out of the refrigerator and pouring it into her glass.
"That sneaky-uppy thing where you don't make a sound and then you just… pounce out of the darkness!"
She cocked an eyebrow. "That sneaky-uppy thing?"
He gave her a glare as she walked over to the kitchen table.
Hermione sniffed the air curiously, as she sat down. "Is something burning?"
Ron's eyes bulged as he hurried back over to the stove. "Oh… bugger!" he mumbled as he poked whatever was in the pan with his spatula.
"What is it?"
Ron frowned into the pan. "I was making breakfast and I've just burned the eggs."
Hermione cocked her eyebrow and then started laughing.
"What?" he asked, incredulously.
She came down from her fit of giggles. "You should see your face- you look so disappointed."
Ron scowled. "Well I'm glad you take pleasure from my pain," he said as he shoveled the eggs from the pan into the trash.
"Oh come on, Ron. I was just messing with you."
Ron sniffled overdramatically. "Yeah…"
She rolled her eyes. "You're such a baby," she said as she got up and looked into the dustbin at the charred mess. "Who were you trying to impress?"
"No one." Ron walked to the sink and began to scrub the pan. "I was just hungry, okay?"
"Okay," said Hermione, taken a bit aback.
The only sound for a while was the sound of the sponge scouring away its burned-on contents, the waves washing across the shore, and the soft hum of the radio. Hermione looked out the window at Harry and Ginny chasing each other through the knee-high surf.
Hermione smiled a bittersweet smile at the couple as they played. She knew she should be happy for her friends- which she was. She was thrilled that they had gotten back together. But, in a way, Hermione envied them for their relationship.
She looked cautiously at Ron as he used his fingernail to pick off a particularly stubborn piece of char and sighed. Why couldn't he just take a hint?
"Hey, Ron?" she asked as she swirled her finger around the rim of the glass.
"Yup?" He was still trying to take away that one clump with his fingernail, tongue stuck out in concentration. He looked like a little boy.
"It was really sweet of you to make breakfast."
Ron was quiet for a moment, and if his back hadn't been to Hermione, she would have caught sight of the deep flush that had suddenly come to his face. "Gotta get this off…" he murmured.
"Ron."
"Yup?"
"You have a wand for a reason…"
He looked at the pan and drew his tongue back into his mouth. "Oh yeah…" Ron pulled out his wand from the back pocket of his faded denim shorts and muttered a quiet "Scourgify!" He lifted the pan up to his face to inspect it before setting it onto the counter.
He walked over to the plate holding four pieces of toast, looked at it for a moment, and set it somewhat harshly onto the table. "You want some jam?" he asked, wiping his hand on his shirt.
Hermione grinned a bit. "Yes, please."
Ron walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out some strawberry jam, which Hermione knew to be his favorite. He reached over to the utensil drawer, pulled out a knife, and glanced out the window to see his best mate and his sister laughing happily in the sand.
Ron set the jam, knife lying across it, onto the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down. "They're getting filthy," he said as he reached for a slice of toast and smeared some jam on it.
Hermione looked out the window once more. "Sand washes off," she said matter-of-factly as she, too reached for some toast and jam.
"Yeah, but it itches." Ron took a bite of the bread in his hand. "Getstuck in you' swimmin' trunks," he said in between chews.
Hermione giggled and shook her as she spread the jam across the crispy ridges of the toast.
A/N: So what'd you think? Review!