Umbrella

A/N: This was my first ever fan fiction, written just over a year ago and not edited since so please be kind )

There weren't many people in Hogsmeade. It was pouring with rain, and few people felt safe outside of their homes nowadays anyway; not until Voldemort was defeated would people feel safe.

Harry had left Ron and Hermione with a list of things to get for the next leg of their journey, so they were braving the elements in not so sunny Hogsmeade. Harry himself was off making other preparations for the upcoming journey. Hermione had taken some persuading to leave him by himself but it had been Ron who convinced her, for not entirely unselfish reasons.

Ron and Hermione hadn't talked about Dumbledore's funeral. They had been of great comfort to each other, but it had been a natural thing. Each one believing it was just the grief, each one believing the other just consoling a friend.

They stood now, looking out from under the canopy above the Three Broomsticks door. Rosmerta had loaned them an umbrella, but only one. As they gazed out at the storm, Hermione broke the silence.

"You take the umbrella Ron, I'll make a dash for it."

"Don't be ridiculous, here." Ron replied putting up the blue silks and linking her arm through his, forcing himself to avoid her eye as he did.

"It's big enough for the both of if we stay close. Ahem. Besides it's a way to run in those shoes." He looked down at her and laughed.

At once Ron new he'd made a mistake. He stopped in mid-chuckle. Hermione was in such close proximity that he could not only see her breath, rising like smoke in spirals around her, he could feel it; tickling his cheek, warming his face. Ron blushed a little and was lucky the cold winter air disguised his embarrassment. But after his insistence on sharing the umbrella he could hardly pull away. He could feel the heat on his arm where her delicate hand lay. As they began to walk her thigh grazed against his. Electricity coursed through his veins, emanating from the point of contact. He stiffened slightly and walked faster.

"Are you alright, Ron?" she asked him, concern flooded her beautiful face.

"Yes," Ron replied in a voice one octave too high.

"Yes" he repeated, trying to sound normal. "I'm fine."

Pull yourself together man! he chastised himself. Stop being such a bloody idiot.

They continued walking, but try as he might Ron could think of nothing but how close Hermione was

to him. He could smell her, a sweet scent, an intoxicating scent. Ron swallowed. Hard.

Suddenly Ron realised Hermione was talking to him.

"So that's everything on the list then, I think. Oh I do hope Harry is okay by himself."

She looked up at him, expectant. Ron was confused.

She wants you to say something, stupid!

But Ron had not been paying attention to what was coming out of her lips. He had been lost in dreams where Hermione was his and he could kiss those perfect, round, pink lips.

"I…I'm sure his fine," he stammered and from the look on her face it seemed the right thing to have said - for once.

Then it happened again- her leg brushed up against his. He was glad of the breeze that chilled his face; it cooled his hot, flushed skin.

Ron found himself very aware of his body, and the girl next to him. He picked up the pace again, wanting to get the torture she was causing over with. He made a poor excuse about cold weather to the inquisitive face that looked up at him, but didn't wait for a reply before disappearing back inside his thoughts…

…Her hand on his, the feel of her soft skin. Her soft sigh, the caress of her leg.

Caress- what a fantastic word. Oh what would it feel like to caress the woman of his dreams? Standing so close to him yet so unreachable. But to caress her figure, her soft, silky hair.

Stop it. Stop it now! said the rational half of his brain. She's your best friend!

After an age- or so it seemed to Ron- they arrived at their destination. Ron collapsed the umbrella and they sat together under the bus shelter, not too far outside the village, but not too close either.

"Why Harry insists we catch a Muggle bus I don't know."

Hermione shrugged, Ron knew she knew he was just grumbling. He understood.

Hermione shivered and Ron instinctively put his arm around her petite shoulders. She looked up at him, an undistinguishable look in her eyes, Ron suddenly realised what he had done and quickly withdrew his arm. Standing, he took a hasty step backwards, out into the rain. He was drenched instantaneously.

"I… I'm so sorry, you… you were shivering and… and… I'm SO sorry."

But then the most wonderful thing happened. Hermione smiled- that amazing smile- at him! She patted the seat beside her and Ron sheepishly returned. His hands at his sides. She took his hand and wrapped his arm back around her shoulders. She nuzzled into his chest and whispered, "Don't be sorry" before lifting her face to his and giving him a quick kiss on the lips. She gave him a coy, shy smile, and returned to his immediately doubled warmth.

But that was all the encouragement he needed. He pulled her back again, lengthening and deepening the perfect first kiss, with the woman he loved.

Ron felt he was going to explode. He picked her up and spun her around and around, kissing her as they moved. He placed her gently on the ground and caressed her cheek; looking deep into her eyes he confessed his love for her.

She kissed him, her hands fisted in his hair. They held each other as if they would never let go. No longer caring for the rain that soaked them to the skin. Steam rose from their hot bodies, shrouding them in mist, clouding them from view.

The bus came and went, but neither Hermione or Ron noticed it. They only had eyes for each other…