Hermione watched as the rain hit the window, distorting the outside world. She longed to reach for her cup of tea just beyond her reach, but she was too damn comfortable curled up next to Ron, who was dozing. They were both sprawled out on the floor on a blanket and a long pillow, which Ron was hogging. Hermione looked around Ron's room and made a face to herself. Books and pictures had been swept off of shelves onto the floor, which Ron claimed was step one of cleaning his room. Step one seemed to be lasting the whole summer.
Instead of coveting her cooling cup of tea, she decided to focus on the sound of the rain and Ron's face.
She didn't like to admit it, but she loved his face. Whenever she was eating a meal with him, she watched his jaw smoothly work under his pale skin. Once, she had been so tuned out watching him, that she didn't notice him talking to her and asking her why she was staring at him. Well, maybe that happened more than once.
Another thing she didn't care to admit, was that her love for Ron was most likely painfully obvious to everyone. She could see the knowing look in Harry's eyes whenever he caught her staring at Ron. And in the way Ginny was always dropping none-too subtle hints.
But Hermione didn't want to think about any of this. . .
She wanted her tea.
But she supposed she didn't want to think about that, either.
She closed her eyes instead, and listened to Ron's even breathing and the steady pattering of the rain all around her.
Hermione decided she could die here, and know that she would have died happy.
She didn't have that longing love that she had had with other boys before, where it felt like a hook was in her lower gut pulling her forcefully towards the the boy. Instead she felt like the love was familiar, like a worn cozy shirt.
She loved the feeling of Ron's body next to hers. He was so warm and soft. He reminded her of fresh baked bead.
Once, Hermione and Ron had attempted to make bread without magic. More than one dish had been broken, more flower had gotten on them than in the bread, (probably due to their flower throwing war.) and for an unfathomable reason the bread had refused to rise, and had remained flat.
Hermione's stomach growled. And growled again.
She opened her eyes, and decided she couldn't cope with both hunger and the desire for tea. She very gently pulled herself up and softly walked to the door. Hermione went down the stars to the kitchen and saw it was deserted. The Weasley's and Harry had decided to take a trip to the near by village to shop.
Hermione shivered and pulled her sweater closer to her. Arms encircled her from behind, and Hermione gasped and spun around to see Ron's laughing face.
"You looked cold," Ron said, putting his arms back around her.
"I am. Why is your house so damn cold? And I'm sorry for waking you, I tried to be quiet."
"I'm not sure why its cold, I guess its just old and drafty. And you were quiet, but I noticed the absence of heat." Ron closed his eyes and his stomach growled.
"I guess you're hungry too. Want me to get you something?" Hermione didn't want to pull away from Ron.
"No, I'm good for now," Ron smiled down at her. She smiled up at him. She leaned up without thinking and kissed those smiling lips. And he kissed her back.
For just a moment, instead of fireworks, Hermione was aware of every sense. She could feel each stroke the fabric of her shirt made, she could see the sharp colors in Ron's eyes, she could smell the rain, which was thundering in her ears.
And in that moment, she forgot about food, and her tea.
