Authors Notes: First I'd like to thank anyone that has come here because they've read my other stories! Thank you so much for the beautiful reviews. As always, they are always welcome. If you just started reading my stories for the first time - I hope you enjoy. Of course, it should go without saying that I do not own anything Jo Rowling has created. I only own these words.
Setting: After Malfoy Manor, before the return to Hogwarts – Shell Cottage
Ron sees Hermione.
He sees her when he wants to and sometimes when he doesn't. Surprising isn't it…that there are times he doesn't want to see her? Often times, it pains him a little to see her because she isn't his. Maybe she'll never be. It bothers him when he sees her talk to Neville. It irks him to see her smile at Cormac McLaggen. He'll probably always remember the bashful look on her face at the Yule Ball with Victor Krum. That night, he wished he never had to see her again. But even if he wanted to, the vision of her would play through his mind perpetually – like an endless film roll.
He sees her when she sits across him during a game of Wizard Chess, biting her lip and playing with a stray curl. He sees the way the fireplace plays tricks on his mind, casting shadows on her chest – making him more curious than he usually is. He notices how her shirt drops a little when she leans forward to tell her piece to move. Her lips wet from her own mouth and Ron aches so badly. He want so badly for them to be wet because he did that to them. They're pink, like her cheeks when it's too warm.
Then there are times he sees things he doesn't want to. Her anger with him when he's done something wrong, they way she furrows her brow and her lips quiver. She clenches her fist and her knuckles go white. He doesn't know how to respond but he still wants to kiss her. When she's angry she looks so cute. He remembers the tears she cried for Buckbeak, the tears she cried in anger at him, the tears she cried in anguish for Dumbledore, but never any tears for herself (he admired that). He would have given anything in the world to never see her cry again, but admittedly…her skin was flushed, her lips were almost a violent shade of red, her eyes were swollen, her hair…disheveled as usual, but she probably never looked more beautiful
Ron curses at himself and at Harry and at Hermione and at the whole world when he sees her laugh with him. He sees her tongue when she laughs loud and he wants to shut her mouth. In his head, it belongs to him anyway. She holds her sides, another hand on her chest…just right over her breast. Damn those wizard robes. Right now, maybe even seeing her laugh with Harry would be better than not seeing her laugh at all. He wasn't that selfish, at least he hoped not.
Yesterday, Ron saw her leave the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head, little curls on the back of her neck still exposed. He sees her neck and wonders why it has been hidden from him this whole time. He thinks about running his finger gently up her neck, would he see her shiver?
He sees her in a summer dress. He sees her in a shirt that rises up to flash the skin of her stomach. He wonders if it's soft. He'll probably never have the satisfaction of knowing that either. He sees her ankles when she's barefoot and her small little toes. Her feet are so small and lady like, quite like her. He sees the inside of her wrist and he looks away.
Tonight and the night before this, and surely the night before that…he sees these things in his mind as well, always more vivid and more to his liking. In his dreams, he sees himself doing something about it instead of gawking and fantasizing. He sees her bottom and he sees her spine; he sees her breasts and he sees everything between her thighs but in these fantasies, he's the only one that sees them. When he wakes up, he remembers that he probably never will.
Tomorrow, Ron sees Hermione's scar from Malfoy Manor again; he hates it. It's the only thing on her body that he'll ever see that he won't want to.