There for you
A series of Romione one shots about the times in their lives when they've been there for each other.
AN :Hi! I'm Michaela, and I'm new to writing fanfiction, in fact this is my first ever fanfiction! Please don't shy away from my story though because of my new found love for fanfiction! I'd like some feedback and thoughts on how to improve, so please give it a read! I've had this idea for a long time now, and it's about my ultimate favourite HP ship, Romione. I think they're just so perfect for each other, and so cute that there should be more stories about them. So here we are, and I hope you enjoy!
-brownpaperpackages
I just don't think its home yet
First year
Ice shrouded the tall wispy turrets of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Inside every common room a fire was crackling, flames dancing high, performing magic of their own. Students were curled up on threadbare couches, watching the flames and talking about their days, writing essays, or partaking (like Ron's more enthusiastic brothers, Fred and George, were) in spirited singing and the youthful joy which makes you remember how great it is to be young.
It was the kind of homely feel, that indescribable one, but one of the best things to feel when it does happen to you. That rush of happiness mixed with elation, the feeling that you're loved, accepted. The one that slid into your heart like a warm golden nugget, tasted of your favourite food, smelt like wool and log at least, it should have felt like that. But for Hermione Jean Granger, first year witch, sitting in the Gryffindor common room with her legs crossed and her eyes focused on the blank parchment in front of her, quill scratching on the paper to get something – anything –down, it just didn't feel like that.
She sniffled and straightened up her back. She didn't know why she was feeling like this – so homesick and so new to Hogwarts that it wasn't home for her and she wasn't used to it. Hadn't she told herself with valour, on the train, exactly four months ago now, to be strong and to be brave? Hadn't she reassured herself that her parents would send letters, and she would keep in touch with them, and she could enjoy the wonderful feasts that Hogwarts served, the huge classrooms and all the new knowledge her head was just bursting with? And just when she was thinking about it all and the thoughts crossed her mind in quick succession to each other, her two new best friends, Ron and Harry, came racing through the portrait hole, snow on their hair and smiles on their faces. The snow had partially melted off Harry's hair, making his green eyes prominent in the glow of the common room, and Ron's smile was so warm and sweet that for a moment Hermione forgot about her troubles.
They were talking, the two boys, about pranks they could pull on that spiteful Malfoy boy. And apparently, where Hermione met the conversation they had gotten altogether much more impossible. Could two first year boys, and one first year girl no doubt, if they managed to get Hermione to come (which she realised, they probably would) with hardly any magical expertise really trawl the bottom of the dark, freezing lake, with a giant squid, apparently, flapping his huge tentacles hither and thither, and bring all of the lakeweed to Malfoy's common room, where they would proceed to put all of the murky weed into the Slytherin First Years bathroom's showerhead?
Hermione didn't think so.
''Hey Hermione!'' said Harry, walking over to the table she was sitting at, and grinning warmly at her. That was another thing, she realised with a pang, she had friends here now. So why did it just not feel like…home? ''Ron's coming, he's just a bit frozen from our snowball fight out there.'' Hermione nodded, and grabbed the edge of the textbook closest to her. She began trawling its pages for information on the properties of wolfsbane in potion making. Over the words twisting around the page, she reprimanded Harry.
''It's already eight o' clock Harry, and you and Ron were out there throwing snowballs at each other? When you've got exams soon, and this potions essay due on Tuesday?''
''Yes, we were,'' came Ron's voice from behind them. He had donned jumpers with the letter R on them, and his trackpants looked warm and dry. The only thing that still looked wet with the congealed ice outside was his hair.
''And you can't really talk, since that Potions essay you're writing has about six words on it.''
Hermione felt the blush spread across her cheeks like forest fire. Quickly stuffing the near empty piece of parchment into her textbook she turned to glare at the redheaded boy looking sceptically up at her.
''Oh, and you can talk, Ronald, because just last night you were asking me what wolfsbane was, even though we've only been studying it in class for about a term –''
Harry, sensing that another argument between his two friends was about to spring up, quickly gave them both a look and began to slope up to the stairs to the boys dormitories.
''We really should stop arguing, you know'' said Hermione, watching Harry's profile disappear up the stairs. Ron looked like he was trying very hard to bite back a cold retort but he managed to restrain himself and nod. Silence fell between them and Hermione stared at the dancing flames.
''Why haven't you done your essay, Hermione?'' Ron asked suddenly, and quickly added ''it's unlike you not do your essay straightaway.''
He was looking at her sceptically, and she was trying so hard not to let her guard down and let her mind slip into dangerous thought territory again, but it was too late, and she could feel the tears brimming in her eyes, and she hastily wiped them away with a trembling hand.
''Woah, er..um..Hermione? Are you er…crying?'' Ron asked cautiously, and looked over at her. She looked at him with misty eyes and shook her head, but she couldn't fool him. He slowly let his had reach over to her shoulder and quickly gave the shoulder of her Hogwarts robe a little pat before withdrawing his hand back to his lap. ''Do you want to..er..talk about it?'' and Hermione almost smiled. He clearly had no idea how to comfort an upset 12 year old girl.
Hermione looked at him, and he looked, however awkwardly, back at her.
''It's just…'' she said slowly, ''It's just Hogwarts is so big and there are so, so many people and I just..sometimes I miss home and mum and dad and my cat Athena, and I just..Hogwarts dosen't feel like home to me yet…and I know it should, but it just doesn't.''
Ron had patiently waited for her to finish, and was knotting his fingers through one another while determinedly looking at her as she wiped away a few stray tears that had fallen during her spiel to him. Once he did not hear another quiet sniffle or a tear being pulled away by a tissue he looked back at her and spoke.
''I don't think it has to feel like home. I mean, maybe later on, but its your first year here Hermione. It's all - - bloody- new, and that can be scary for a lot of people. You left your life back home to come here, and so of course you are going to think about it and miss it. I – I miss the Burrow sometimes too, and sometimes I – miss mum asking me how my day was and stuff – ''
He had stopped abruptly at this point, his ears turning a deep shade of crimson, but Hermione smiled. So Ron, brave Gryffindor Ron, with 5 brothers having either attended or still attending this place, sometimes didn't feel like this place was home either.
Apparently he had dropped the subject as he smirked slyly at Hermione, writing down the definition of wolfsbane from her textbook on a spare bit of parchment, but she didn't miss the way his hand, ever so briefly, pulled itself across her shoulder and patted it briefly again, before leaning back down to his parchment to write his name in big bold capitals.
RONALD WEASLEY
And she watched that mop of redheaded hair and those blue eyes stare blankly at the piece of parchment and the pleading eyes as he moved the quill and parchment over to her side of the table, and as she smiled and shook her head she watched his comical features turn into a grin.
And that- she thought- was about when she started to feel at home.
