AN ~ dedicated to Jen. ("The Other Best Friend" is such precious work. ;-) WAFFy to a "T." kudos!) this fic takes place the summer after fourth year. enjoy ;-)
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In The Moonlight
-dutchtulips-
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If it hadn't already been dead, Ron Weasley would've strangled that bloody ghoul with his bare hands.
It was nearly two in the morning, and the ghoul in the attic was at it again. Right above Ron's bedroom, he was clattering the pipes and creating a racket as if trying to purposely awake Ron from his restless sleep. It had been quiet up until now, when the tossing and turning fourteen-year-old had at last been just drifting off to dream world, and that stupid ghost had chosen that moment to start rattling at the plumbing.
Scowling and drowsy, Ron pummeled at his pillow and sat up in bed, frustrated as it was possible to be. He swore up at the ceiling, but alas, it did no good. The ghoul just kept right on with his business. The redhead sighed and glanced over at his best friend in the camp bed across the room, bemused.
Cripes, Harry must be out like a light to sleep through this bloody noise, Ron thought hastily. Though probably the rest of the house is, too. Just my luck I'm at the very top, where I'm practically the most bothered by that stupid git.
Admitting defeat, all chances of getting to sleep lost, Ron threw his Chudley Cannons bedspread off of himself, got out of bed, and crossed over to the other side of his bedroom, in search of Which Broomstick. The upcoming autumn at Hogwarts would mean Quidditch season would be coming, and he really wanted to try out for the Gryffindor team this year. And if he wanted to do that, Ron would have to be getting himself a respectable broom. If it took all of his summer pocket money, he didn't care; if Ron made the team, it would certainly be worth it.
Wide awake now, he picked the catalogue up off his cluttered desk and went back to his bed to sit down and look through at the selection of broomsticks by the moonlight. Just as Ron had gotten himself comfortable again with Which Broomstick, sitting comfortably atop his bedclothes, the ghoul in the attack abruptly stopped its noise-making, and the house was pin-quiet once more.
Ron cursed under his breath. Of course, he thought bitterly. Insomnia keeps me up for two whole hours, then I finally start to fall asleep, and the damn ghoul starts up. So just when I feel myself good and awake again, he shuts up. Rubbish.
Nevertheless, the redhead flicked open the catalogue, holding it up to the dim light streaming in through the window, to view the vividly pictured broomsticks, all zooming across the page. Ron knew there was no way in the universe he could snag himself a Firebolt, which was skating across the very middle of all the other minute brooms. No doubt he'd have to rob Gringotts to be able to buy it. But sleek, attractive Neptune seemed to be exceptionally good, and for a favorable price, with a handle made of walnut and yew twigs making up the tail. . .
But at that moment, before Ron could read anymore about the description, the beam of moonlight he was using as his source of illumination grew obscured. Merely shrugging however, he got up and went over to the window, holding the book close to the glass to allow more light, as dim as it was, to shed across it.
And that was when Ron saw her.
She was sitting down by the garden in the backyard, atop one of the tables they had eaten dinner at much earlier ago, in her nightdress and bathrobe. She had her arms wrapped awkwardly round herself, as if she were cold, and staring down at the grass. Then, a sudden, short breeze ruffled her bushy brown hair, and she glanced up from the ground.
Ron's brow furrowed for a short moment, but he was more intrigued though, than confused, or any other feeling for that matter. Without even thinking, Ron put the catalogue down on the sill, reached for his bathrobe and, pulling it on over his maroon paisley pajamas, brushed quickly out of his bedroom and downstairs, out the back door.
The air was thick with the sweet smell of honeysuckle as the redhead slowly began to approach her, but stopped momentarily, finding himself staring at her. He couldn't help it; in some way, she seemed so angelic sitting there, though she was with such simplicity. After a moment, Ron blinked back to reality, and forced his feet forward and towards her.
"Hermione?"
Her neck shot in his direction. "Ron? What are you doing out here so late?"
He smiled involuntarily. "I could ask you the same question." Slowly he climbed up on the table and dropped down next to her.
"Couldn't sleep," she said shortly.
"Me neither," he replied. "I, er, I was. . ." For some reason, Ron felt uncomfortable to say he'd been up with insomnia all night long, so instead he mumbled, "Bloody ghoul woke me up."
Hermione looked over at him, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. He returned her glance with a confused one of his own, saying, "What?"
"Oh, oh, nothing." She averted her eyes back to the grass, while Ron just sort of looked all around. After a few more moments of this, Hermione said softly, "It's nice out here at night."
"Summer's best at night," Ron heard himself reply. "It's not too hot or too cool, it's peaceful, and you've got the most fantastic view right above your head."
Hermione glanced up, smiling as she saw the thousands of stars twinkle back down at her. "Yeah, yeah, you're right. It is. Summer is really beautiful at nighttime." She looked from the sky and back at him again.
"I'm actually looking a little bit forward to getting back to school this year," he said, trying to start a new conversation. "How about you?"
"Of course," Hermione said simply, grinning. "Why for you?"
"Quidditch team tryouts," Ron told her, listening to the crickets chirrup in his ears. "I've been practicing a lot, out in the orchard, and looking through Which Broomstick for a good broom and all, well, that is, if I make the team, by some miracle."
At that moment she reached out an put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Don't think like that, Ron. Have a little more faith in yourself. If you just believe that you can do something, then you will." She paused tentatively. "After all, I believe in you." Her eyes flashed back into his.
"Thanks," he whispered.
It was a heady moment as the two of them exchanged a long stare, as if they hadn't either else place to look. At last Ron broke the silence saying, without averting his eyes, "You know, Hermione, there's been something I've been wanting to ask you about since you got here, but I sort of was, er. . ." He ran a quick hand through his hair. ". . .Waiting 'til we were alone."
She nodded, perhaps a bit more vigorously than she needed to. "Okay."
He looked away at that moment, trying to smooth out the awkwardness. Ron rested his elbows on his knees as he pondered how to word what he wanted to say. "Well, er. . .I was. . .well, you see. . .Hermione. . ." He glanced back up at her, giving her a watery look.
"You what?" She delicately prompted.
"You surprised me, is all! You really did!" The redhead exclaimed, even laughing a little bit. "I didn't think. . .that is to say, I never would've thought. . ." He paused. ". . .that I'd see you back at the Burrow this summer." Ron turned his attention to a very interesting rock on the ground.
"Rather than in Bulgaria with Viktor, you mean," Hermione said poignantly.
He shot his eyes quickly back up at her; she was smiling. He was taken aback with her for a moment, but then rolled his eyes to himself. She always had a way with getting right to the point, he thought, and then stammered quietly in response "Y-yeah."
Silence engulfed them again for a few moments. Hermione, who had been fiddling with the hem of her nightdress, suddenly let it drop and said to him, "Answer me something, Ron."
"Sure, anything," he replied quickly.
"Tell me - tell me why you wanted me here. . .this summer." Hermione shifted her brown eyes back at him once more, holding his inside of hers.
"Well, I. . .you're my best friend, Hermione," Ron said. "Why wouldn't I?"
She shook her head, her nutmeg tresses swinging outwards. "No. You particularly wanted me here this year. I could tell, Ron, it was the way you'd asked me in your letters."
"It was?" He said, his tone weak.
"Yes. It was. So tell me now," Hermione replied, her gentle voice dropping to a whisper, "why did you want me here?"
For a long moment it didn't see as if Ron was going to answer, or even make any sort of sound at all. Finally, though, he sighed and said softly, "Forgive me, Hermione."
"Whatever for?" She asked, looking puzzled.
"I didn't want you there." Ron straightened, rubbing his palm against his knee and uneasily locking his eyes back into hers. "In Bulgaria. With Krum. I didn't - I just didn't want you there." He paused, then in a rueful tone, "But as if I had any say in that. It's not up to me. I was just being stupid old Ron, thinking I could make your decisions for you."
He was somewhat astounded to watch a smile form across Hermione's face. "And Ron - why didn't you want me there with Viktor?"
Silence filled the moment for a minute or two, and Ron's eyes shifted slightly, to Hermione's hands resting gently on her lap. Slowly he extended his hand, sliding it sweetly inside of hers. Meeting her eyes again - which he noticed were beginning to glisten - he said softly, "Because I - I wanted you here, with me." And then the redhead swallowed hard, barely able to get the words out, "Because I. . .love you."
Hermione beamed, which became a sort of grimace as she sniffled, managing to squeak, before she started to cry, "Oh, Ron. . ."
He winced. Great, now I've upset her. Me and my big pratty mouth. "Hermione, I - I didn't mean to. . .just forget what I said, okay? I'm sorry that I -"
However, before Ron could finish his apology, he felt Hermione's mouth pressed warmly and tenderly up against his, the tears down her cheeks brushing up against his, dampening his face. Her wrist was also drawing round his neck, pulling him closer, and so he gently rested his hand at her waist.
After several minutes they finally broke apart, she beaming at him while tears continued to pool in her eyes. "I was really, really hoping you'd say that."
And then Ron could only grin. "Oh? Why's that?"
She wiped her face with the cuff of her bathrobe sleeve, grinning back through her tears and sniffles. "Because - because I love you too, you silly git!" Hermione swatted his arm playfully.
He gently latched onto it as she started to withdraw it, taking her hand and intertwining their fingers, and Hermione smiled and gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. Ron smiled back, wrapping his other arm around her shoulders as they leaned back together to watch the glittering stars and let the warm zephyr wrap them tenderly together in the night.
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el fin