Authors Note:
A really really quick idea.
Disclaimer: All belongs to JK Rowling (you go sistah!)
Ron/Hermione
~*~
She used to always spread cinnamon sugar on her burnt toast. It wasn't regular lightly toasted toast, it was burnt. Charred. Blackened. She'd spread a thin layer of cinnamon sugar over it, pour herself a glass of orange juice and then eat up. Sometimes, she'd bring the food to her mouth and then miss the opening of her mouth altogether!
She'd been reading, of course.
Hogwarts a History, maybe. Or maybe Goblin Revolts, sometimes 1000 Beasts and Where to Find Them.
Sometimes she'd been writing her name on her finished composition, or adding a few feet to it.
He'd always found it silly that she didn't eat "regular toast like regular people." When asked this she said:
"I can eat my toast however I please."
And she did.
The whole Gryffindor table caught on to this and it became the norm. Come down to breakfast (generally late) and see Hermione Granger already eating her two slices of toast and reading.
"When I eat cinnamon toast," she said loftily. "I always think of you."
He chuckled and was about ready to say 'what are you, stupid?' but merely replied: "Why?"
"See," she said and gestured to the half eaten piece of toast with her pale hand. "I loathe this toast, it doesn't taste good. It's burnt but the sugar tastes good. I'm used to eating it, so it sort of makes it comforting. You know?"
He didn't know.
But he nodded anyway, "Yeah, yeah, I think so."
And she happily went back to her toast.
He had never understood her. Even when she was being plain and simple.
She always understood him, for he was a simple creature. He liked Quidditch, he enjoyed the company of peppermint toads, he hated Malfoy, and he loved her.
Even when he was attempting to be deep, he was easy to fathom.
The days poured on, and their other friend was not so curious. He did not care why the frizzy haired girl preferred burnt toast over lightly toasted, or why she put sugar and melted butter on it. He had bigger fish to fry, so to speak.
Voldemort was all around him, wherever he turned, wherever he looked, when he was sleeping, when he was awake...
-it was beginning to get to him.
So he kept to himself, when he could. And the redhead and the brain were left to their own devices, usually.
"Evil's a lot like this cinnamon toast," she said to the redhead one early, hazy morning.
He would have said 'you're odd' but he merely added, "Why?"
"See, the good is the cinnamon sugar, it's on top. And it's 'ruling' so to speak. But the burnt toast is peeking out-" she pointed to a piece of toast that wasn't covered in sugar. "-so when you eat it, you get this sensation of sugar, but when you get down to the bottom of it, it's still bitter."
He sighed.
Perhaps he'd never understand her.
She, of course, went back to drinking insane amounts of orange juice and flipping through a book.
He asked no more.
It was almost time for N.E.W.T.s and she was getting worked up. She always did. She started studying so very early but was still nervous. He loathed studying. It wasn't fun and it wasn't worth it.
It was the starting day of N.E.W.T.s and she, of course was prepared as she glanced at her notes one last time at the breakfast table.
"What're you thinking about?"
"Facts."
"Like-"
"-like what year was Hogwarts invented, how did the Bloody Barron die-"
"-History of Magic?"
"Yes."
"Good luck," he said as he patted her awkwardly on the back. She looked up from her notes.
"You know," she said, "N.E.W.T.s are kind of like this toast."
He almost rolled his eyes. "How so?"
"The burnt part," she pointed to the edges. "Is all of the studying, you know, the dirty things that you don't like. But then you sprinkle on the cinnamon sugar, and it's the happy sort of thing, the results of all your hard work."
"Sure," he said not so convinced
She was more complex than the pouring rain or then the insolent child. She was Hermione Granger, and she was a whole different creature.
It was the last day of Hogwarts. And, true to form she made her toast and added the melted butter and cinnamon sugar.
She was, to no one's surprise, a creature of habit.
"Ron-" she said as she looked over at her friend who was looking at a Quidditch figurine.
"Yeah?"
"Hogwarts is sort of like this toast, it's hard sometimes, you know. That'd be the burnt part but all of the memories that you've made while you were there are sweet and delicious. You're that memory-"
He kissed her just then. And it had been the only time that he truly had perfect timing
Right in front of all the hall. They stared, but the two didn't notice.
She dropped her large book with a 'thud' on the willow table and the orange juice was jostled slightly.
Her breath smelled of burnt toast...with cinnamon and sugar
~*~
La Fin
A really really quick idea.
Disclaimer: All belongs to JK Rowling (you go sistah!)
Ron/Hermione
~*~
She used to always spread cinnamon sugar on her burnt toast. It wasn't regular lightly toasted toast, it was burnt. Charred. Blackened. She'd spread a thin layer of cinnamon sugar over it, pour herself a glass of orange juice and then eat up. Sometimes, she'd bring the food to her mouth and then miss the opening of her mouth altogether!
She'd been reading, of course.
Hogwarts a History, maybe. Or maybe Goblin Revolts, sometimes 1000 Beasts and Where to Find Them.
Sometimes she'd been writing her name on her finished composition, or adding a few feet to it.
He'd always found it silly that she didn't eat "regular toast like regular people." When asked this she said:
"I can eat my toast however I please."
And she did.
The whole Gryffindor table caught on to this and it became the norm. Come down to breakfast (generally late) and see Hermione Granger already eating her two slices of toast and reading.
"When I eat cinnamon toast," she said loftily. "I always think of you."
He chuckled and was about ready to say 'what are you, stupid?' but merely replied: "Why?"
"See," she said and gestured to the half eaten piece of toast with her pale hand. "I loathe this toast, it doesn't taste good. It's burnt but the sugar tastes good. I'm used to eating it, so it sort of makes it comforting. You know?"
He didn't know.
But he nodded anyway, "Yeah, yeah, I think so."
And she happily went back to her toast.
He had never understood her. Even when she was being plain and simple.
She always understood him, for he was a simple creature. He liked Quidditch, he enjoyed the company of peppermint toads, he hated Malfoy, and he loved her.
Even when he was attempting to be deep, he was easy to fathom.
The days poured on, and their other friend was not so curious. He did not care why the frizzy haired girl preferred burnt toast over lightly toasted, or why she put sugar and melted butter on it. He had bigger fish to fry, so to speak.
Voldemort was all around him, wherever he turned, wherever he looked, when he was sleeping, when he was awake...
-it was beginning to get to him.
So he kept to himself, when he could. And the redhead and the brain were left to their own devices, usually.
"Evil's a lot like this cinnamon toast," she said to the redhead one early, hazy morning.
He would have said 'you're odd' but he merely added, "Why?"
"See, the good is the cinnamon sugar, it's on top. And it's 'ruling' so to speak. But the burnt toast is peeking out-" she pointed to a piece of toast that wasn't covered in sugar. "-so when you eat it, you get this sensation of sugar, but when you get down to the bottom of it, it's still bitter."
He sighed.
Perhaps he'd never understand her.
She, of course, went back to drinking insane amounts of orange juice and flipping through a book.
He asked no more.
It was almost time for N.E.W.T.s and she was getting worked up. She always did. She started studying so very early but was still nervous. He loathed studying. It wasn't fun and it wasn't worth it.
It was the starting day of N.E.W.T.s and she, of course was prepared as she glanced at her notes one last time at the breakfast table.
"What're you thinking about?"
"Facts."
"Like-"
"-like what year was Hogwarts invented, how did the Bloody Barron die-"
"-History of Magic?"
"Yes."
"Good luck," he said as he patted her awkwardly on the back. She looked up from her notes.
"You know," she said, "N.E.W.T.s are kind of like this toast."
He almost rolled his eyes. "How so?"
"The burnt part," she pointed to the edges. "Is all of the studying, you know, the dirty things that you don't like. But then you sprinkle on the cinnamon sugar, and it's the happy sort of thing, the results of all your hard work."
"Sure," he said not so convinced
She was more complex than the pouring rain or then the insolent child. She was Hermione Granger, and she was a whole different creature.
It was the last day of Hogwarts. And, true to form she made her toast and added the melted butter and cinnamon sugar.
She was, to no one's surprise, a creature of habit.
"Ron-" she said as she looked over at her friend who was looking at a Quidditch figurine.
"Yeah?"
"Hogwarts is sort of like this toast, it's hard sometimes, you know. That'd be the burnt part but all of the memories that you've made while you were there are sweet and delicious. You're that memory-"
He kissed her just then. And it had been the only time that he truly had perfect timing
Right in front of all the hall. They stared, but the two didn't notice.
She dropped her large book with a 'thud' on the willow table and the orange juice was jostled slightly.
Her breath smelled of burnt toast...with cinnamon and sugar
~*~
La Fin