I held the long scroll of parchment up to the dim light. Her pristine hand had one held this, each letter, perfectly crafted seamed to dance off the page, each curving into the next with an angelic curl. I could almost breathe in her beauty, it radiated off the page before my eyes, crumpled from its secure home in my breast pocket, where I could feel it folded against my skin, against my heart, where she had touched me once and I have never been able to forget.
Her godly face swarmed behind my closed lids, her sparkling brown eyes, her placid smile that caused dimples on the clear smooth skin of her cheeks. My fingertips tingled. I could feel the warmth, heating my numb fingers, my numb heart the lurched for her to be beside me again.
The darkness loomed around me, suffocating me in its mystery. I could hear only my low shallow breathing, echoing through the deserted room. Hunched over the side of my bed, wand lit in one hand, parchment rolling from my other, past my feet and under the bed, snow fell thick against the fogged window. I pulled yet another blanket across my shoulders and with a flick of my wand, the curtains closed. Shadows flickered with my movement. I shut my eyes.
I could see her again. Her hair fell in ringlets around her face, around her eyes. I twirled the wand in my hand and opened my eyes. The beautiful girl stood in front of me, a little shinny and blurred around the edges. But the figure was the closest I was ever going to get to her, for now.
She stood there as I breathed, a long white gown billowed around her in an imaginary wind, she breathed very slowly, her chest slowly rising and falling, the curls flowed across her shoulders and down her back.
I looked back down at the letter in my hand. I sighed and ran my numb fingers across the dried ink where she had signed her name:
With Love, Hermione
Ron sat on the couch, his thick red hair falling over his eyes as he starred down at the battered old chess set that sat between him and Harry, in the untidy Burrow lounge room. In complete silence they watched the pieces, which were nearly quivering with anticipation, just are Harry and Ron were. Ron's long-fingered hand hovered over the black pieces scatted across the checked board, which were greatly outnumbered by white. His finger tips brushed over the tips of bishops and knights, as he tried to decipher the next move Harry might make. His eyes darted up and for a second, blue met green.
'Come on' Harry said in a low voice, watching the pieces closely. Ron, straining, tried to laugh as he pushed a pawn weakly forward and grimaced when Harry easily took his last Knight.
Ashamed, Ron looked away from the game and starred out the window, blackened tree tops silhouetted against the glorious red and gold sky. Behind them, a clock chinned and Harry and Ron's eyes snapped up to door leading into the darkened kitchen. After six seemingly endless chimes they heard distant talking and the kitchen door squeak open.
Harry leaped from the chair, scattering chess pieces across the carpet, they waved angry wooden fists up at him, before returning to their still forms. Harry almost vaulted over the
coffee table and swung the door open, grinning broadly. There was a shriek, a gasp and muffled laughter as Harry attempted to sweep an unexpected Mrs. Weasley off her feet.
Harry gave a shaky laugh, rubbing the back of his neck and looking hastily over his shoulder at Ron, who had doubled over in silent fits of laughter. Ron swooped past Harry and his mother and into the kitchen.
Ginny stood at the table, watching her mother and Harry exchange an irritably awkward silence. She and Ron laughed quietly at Harry's discomfort.
'Should I do something?' Ginny asked, looking sideways at Ron, who shook his head, but Ginny sighed and turned to leave the room.
'Gin, where's Hermione?' he asked quietly looking around the otherwise empty kitchen. The scrubbed table was piled high with a goods months worth of food, along with a large pile of dry cleaning, a new pair of robes, something that claimed to "magically turned back years" and other items with Ron merely glanced over, which ever all clear evidence that Ginny, Hermione and Mrs. Weasley had been severely distracted while out food shopping.
'Don't worry,' Ginny sighed, 'She's coming,' she muttered something under her breath and quickly walked from the room.
Ron hovered between the window and the slowly emptying platter of scones. As the great fiery orb set behind the trees, there was a very faint crack and a pin-prick of wand light was seen in the darkened garden. The light grew and made the long shadows dance around the figure of Hermione.
Stuffing the last scone in his large mouth, Ron walked out to greet her. A pale blue cloak flowed down her shoulders, her arms filled with her own shopping- Ron sighed quietly to himself, the packages mostly looked like thick books, Hermione was no fun when she was reading- but nonetheless took the packages from her and with his other arm wrapped around her waist they walked back the warm light of the Burrow.
Mrs. Weasley had begun cooking dinner, knives chopped vegetables at their own accord and a thick stew bubbled on the stove. Mrs. Weasley surveyed the work as she unpacked the shopping. Ron tried to sneak out of the kitchen, but with a stern word from his mother he went to collect cutlery from the draw. Hermione unloaded her shopping into a far corner and with a wave of her wand the knives and forks flew from Ron's hand to hers. Ron grinned slightly and sat down on the edge of the table.
He and Hermione took turns to quietly outline their days; Ron had lazed around playing chess while she had completely all her months shopping and had found two jobs she was considering applying for, Ron watched Hermione work and several times she glanced up and stole a smile from him.
Dinner cooked steadily and Mrs. Weasley began to collect the rest of the shopping to re-locate to their proper place. She hummed quietly under her breath, a tune that reminded Ron of a summer from his childhood, which had involved the Weasley clan staying in a rundown shack on the side of an empty beach, the long warm days, the sticky nights and terrible sunburn that nearly all of the fair-skinned family had grained. After the last of the eight places had been set, Hermione lent beside Ron's leg, listening to his mother work. Ron's fingers began to run through Hermione's curls, but when Mrs. Weasley turned to face them his hand returned to the neutral position of the scrubbed table beside him.
Ron and Hermione had yet to find the right moment to announce their relationship to Mrs. Weasley. Nearly everybody else knew about it, or knew that there was something going on, but Hermione had sternly said that it was best kept between those who didn't shriek too shrilly at the mention of a relationship her youngest son was having and that one day she will see and there would be no need for an awkward conversation. So in under Mrs. Wesley's careful eye they kept their hands to themselves, to where a watching mother wouldn't see.
Eventually, there was nothing left to be put way, so Mrs. Weasley took the dried washing from a clothes-horse by the kitchen fire and moved them into the lounge to fold then.
Before the door had swung shut, Ron had swept Hermione's hair into one hand and nuzzled his nose towards her ear, kissing her neck softly. He could smell her aroma; it was a peculiar smell that only Hermione ever smelt like. His fingers moved from her neck to her cheek. His huge warm hand could cup one side of her face perfectly; she was able to feel each crease and crevice against her skin. She wrapped one arm around his broad shoulders and lifted herself onto the table beside him, she looked down at him and she ran her fingers through his hair and kissed the top of his head. She worked her way down from kissing her head and forehead to kissing his cheek, then the side of his jaw. Ron kissed her back and let his hand wander down her back.
Suddenly, the door banged open and Percy stepped into the kitchen. Instantly, his ears burned red which spread quickly down his face Hermione slipped down from the table, she tucked her hair behind her ears, smoothed out her shirt and walked calmly out of the kitchen. Ron glanced up at Percy and tried to grin; Percy shot a smirk worthy of either of the twins and walked back out of the kitchen.