Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
Author's Note: I didn't create the "hug" scene either, just borrowing it.
Touch
When Buckbeak died. Ron Weasley was fairly certain that was the first time Hermione Granger had hugged him. He had been envisioning the axe coming down, murdering an innocent creature. A squeal from Buckbeak made his imaginings reality. Hermione had promptly gasped, tears slipping down her cheeks. The trio stood, looking down upon Hagrid's hut, a sickly feeling growing in their stomachs. She threw her arms around Ron's neck, letting her tears drench his shoulder. Ron was shocked, though pleased. Hesitantly, unsure of what to do, he let his arm wrap around her, rubbing her back comfortingly. Hermione was young and thought nothing of it.
Despite the situation, Ron was happy. He was hugging Hermione. She was his best friend; he shouldn't have felt that way. Best friends just don't think of each other like that. He often scolded himself for it. What would Harry think if he told him that he fancied Hermione? Hell, what would Hermione say? You weren't mean to fancy your friend. It just wasn't done. Ron quickly shook the dreadful thought of actually telling her from his mind, and instead focused on her hair, that was grazing across his cheek. Her brown hair was bushy, and he would have been lying if he had said he was comfortable, as occasionally a strand or two would escape into his mouth. Because of this, he gave the occasional cough, though he did try to hold it in, not wanting Hermione to let go.
Harry had patted Hermione's shoulder sadly too. He couldn't help the sinking feeling in his stomach telling him that Buckbeak's death was his fault. If only he wasn't on such bad terms with Malfoy. Then Malfoy wouldn't have wanted to show him up so badly. Harry stepped back for a moment, watching as his two friends held something that could be called on embrace. He felt like laughing. Ron looked so surprised; Harry didn't suppose he realized that his mouth was hanging wide open.
All too soon, Hermione pushed away from Ron, a firm and determined look forming on her face. She was furious with herself. What in the world had possessed her to hug him? Imagine if he got the wrong idea, hell would break loose. She had enjoyed herself though, once she saw through her tears. Hugging Ron had felt natural, perhaps more natural than it really should have. Hermione shook her head, trying to stop herself. She couldn't fall for Ronald Weasley. Remember the times he had teased her mercilessly? The times he had sent her to her dormitory crying herself to sleep. No, she couldn't like him, not as any more than a friend, at any rate. Hermione wondered if Ron had realized that his hand was still on her back. She didn't tell him, to be honest, she rather liked it. She turned her head slightly, and was reminded of Harry's presence. She caught the direction of his eyesight, which was directed at her back. She sighed inwardly, before removing herself from the hug she had enjoyed so much.