Hey everyone! This is my first fanfic published on this site - I decided to give making fanfiction a go instead of reading it for once! This is just a quick little piece I was inspired to write this morning. I hope you enjoy it :)
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters (obv), they belong to J.K Rowling, brilliant creator of the Harry Potter series. Yadda yadda.
The air around Hogwarts was frostier than usual, Hermione noticed, when she stepped out of the castle's courtyard. The dead, glossy branches of the Forbidden Forest swayed gloomily in the distance and a streak of thin, silver smoke cut across the landscape from Hagrid's hut. Hermione crossed her arms tightly for warmth and hurried off towards the western part of the school grounds, her book bag dancing by her side.
She trekked up a hill, enjoying each satisfying crunch of frost covered grass beneath her shoes. There was a flicker in the sky and she paused, peering upwards – a lone owl was soaring towards the castle. Even in the distance, Hermione recognized the snowy owl to be Hedwig.
Another letter from Sirius, no doubt, Hermione thought anxiously, and continued climbing the hilltop. She wasn't particularly fond of the idea of Harry sending secret letters to Sirius, especially since Umbridge brought a world of high security measures with her to Hogwarts. Umbridge already had her bulging eyes glued on Harry's trail this early in the year, it was hardly subtle. The thought of Umbridge made her grimace with disgust and she shook the thought from her mind.
Finally making it to the top of the hill, she threw her heavy bag down first before taking a seat on the cold earth. The Quidditch Pitch was splayed before her, deserted and quiet. Beyond that was a sea of dark trees and a violet sky tinged with a soft orange, indicating dawn. Hermione sighed and crossed her feet in front of her – peace, finally. She pulled her potions textbook out of her bag and absorbed herself in it, ignoring the chill.
"Hermione?"
Hermione dropped the book and whipped around, her heart rate accelerating. She blinked up at the figure standing in front of her clutching a broom and sniffed, turning back at the Quidditch Pitch.
"Thanks for interrupting my reading, Ron." she muttered, crossing her feet in front of her again. "You frightened me half to death!"
Ron walked around so he was blocking her view of the pitch. "What in the world are you doing out so early? In the cold?" He asked, a puzzled expression painting his face.
"Research for my report," she replied coolly, avoiding eye contact. She wasn't about to forget him calling her a 'frigid pain' yesterday in the common room. He had to take a hint that she was infuriated.
He glanced at the open potions book. "The report due in two months?"
"The very same."
He burst out laughing but stopped abruptly, coughing awkwardly at her stony expression. Hermione turned away and stared at her potions book, trying hard to start reading again. It proved even harder when Ron decided to sit down next to her, keeping a reasonable distance between them.
She blew out air, exasperated. "Go off and practice then, what're you waiting for?"
"Look at me," he said, ignoring her. "I'm sorry – look at me – I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean what I said, you know that." He looked at her keenly, his blue eyes bright.
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Is that it?"
Ron blinked, running a hand through his hair. "Wh-what else am I supposed to say?"
She ignored this and stared hard at him. He stared back with an impassive expression before glancing away furiously and muttering something that sounded a lot like 'great advice, Harry'.
There was a long moment of silence. "Harry's scar is acting weird again." Ron said bleakly.
Hermione looked up from her book, genuinely interested. "What's happened now?"
Ron sat up, pleased at her attention. "Dunno, exactly. He's been seeing things again." He paused. "You-Know-Who's mind."
"Oh Harry!" she said softly, clasping her hands together. "And Umbridge isn't making things any better for him, or for anyone at this point."
"Umbridge is being a bloody pain," Ron said irritably. "Can't say I don't miss Moody right about now."
"The way she looks at me, I've seen it before. She hates muggle-borns." Hermione sighed and bowed her head. The wind picked up and her hair fluttered forward wildly.
Hermione saw her breath cloud up unevenly in front of her when Ron leaned in and pushed the hair out of her face with a gloved hand. She blushed at the intense concern etched on his face.
"You're more brilliant than any pure-blood I know!" he said fiercely. "Don't let that get to you, especially from the likes of that toad."
Noticing his hand was still on her cheek, he let it drop hastily and glanced away. His freckles disappeared slowly as a deep blush crossed his face.
Hermione smiled weakly. "Oh, Ron."
He cleared his throat and shrugged. "Anyone w-would agree..." he stammered.
"Yes well, it means more coming from a frigid pain like you."
He cocked his head thoughtfully. "Does it?"
Hermione closed the large distance between them and rested her head on his shoulder. She felt him stiffen with surprise, and then relax. She could feel the heat pulsating off his body and appreciated it in the wintry state of that morning.
Before she could answer him, Ron gently draped his arm around her. They stayed silent and marvelled at the beauty of the morning before them.
"I hope this means I'm forgiven." Ron said suddenly.
Hermione looked up at him, amused. A faint grin played on his lips. She rolled her eyes and sighed lightly.
They remained there together, closely knit, her book cast aside, and his broom left forgotten. She let the moment extend, knowing their bickering would blossom again once they got back to the castle for breakfast. Though Hermione may never admit it to him, there was nowhere else she'd rather have been at that moment then in the arms of Ron Weasley.
C'est fini! Hope you liked it, and I'd enjoy some feedback! I hope to write a lot of different stories soon :)