A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love
One-shot!
Third Person POV!
The echoing click of the portrait hole slamming behind Harry seemed to act for Hermione and Ron as a call of "Action!" did for a pair of actors.
The part they were playing: star-crossed lovers stuck in a steaming vat of unrequited crushes.
Ron began to tap out a vaguely familiar tune with his quill, his eyes dancing about like a nervous flutterby.
The fire pulsed out of the fireplace, seemingly stronger and hotter than ever before.
It coated Ron somewhat like a chocolate covering spread over a pretzel; it clung to him and the seemingly composed girl next to him. He couldn't possibly know that for every lurch his heart gave, she took a sharp intake of breath.
Ron tapped his quill harder concentrated on figuring out the tune to keep himself from going insane.
The room seemed to grow hotter, until it was almost sticky.
"It's a cauldron full of hot, strong love, isn't it?"
Hermione glanced up quickly. "Excuse me?" She said, her eyes twinkling.
Ron's blush added to the heat his body already felt. "The, um, tune, you see." He tapped out the beat again as evidence.
Hermione got to her feet, took a step closer to him, and leaned down to say softly: "Is that what that's called?"
He fidgeted nervously, while nodding his head.
"Well, maybe it's best just to leave your cauldron on simmer, then. Good night!" She turned her back to him and marched towards the stairs.
"Oh, bugger off." He called to her retreating back, the laugh in his voice ruining the sting of the statement.
On and on he still tapped.