Chapter 4
As Ron led her through the crowd, Hermione savored the warm tingling that had unexpectedly spread throughout her tiny frame from the point where their hands met. The sensation frightened her a bit at first, but she decided somehow to roll with it. If she had been more in possession of her faculties, she would have noticed, as they threaded their way through the gathering, that nearly the entire pub had turned to watch the two of them approaching the dance floor. But she was too absorbed by the glimmer of Ron's copper-hued hair in the lantern light, not to mention the way his back tapered from his broad shoulders to his narrow hips, to spare a moment's thought for much of anything else.
Ron, for his part, felt somehow as if he had swallowed Gillyweed and was moving through murky waters, so numbed were his senses to everything but the feel of her warm, soft and tiny hand in his. As he turned to face her on the dance floor, however, his pulse quickened at the sight of her, looking up at him so expectantly.
A new song replaced the one previous, and thankfully it seemed to be a ballad with a smooth, slow rhythm. Ron didn't recognize it except to know that it must have been one of the many muggle recordings that Aberforth had recently added to the Hoghead's playlist in order to liven the place up a bit, though Hermione knew the song's organ-infused opening notes instantly.
No, woman, no cry
No, woman, no cry
Here little darling, don't shed no tears
No, woman, no cry
The rhythm was irresistible despite Ron's unfamiliarity with the song itself, and as he settled a slightly shaking hand on Hermione's lower back, he blessed whatever bloke had invented dancing — for he was quite certain it must have been a bloke. Who else but a bloke would have dreamt up a socially acceptable excuse to approach a woman — even a a total stranger, as the lovely Hermione Granger was — and hold her in his arms? As the music pulled the two of them into a slow and steady swaying motion, his gaze sank into hers and they were simultaneously quite lost to the world, exploring the depths of one another's eyes. He kept a respectable distance between their bodies despite his desire to pull her flush up against him and never let go. Not a word was spoken for the entire length of the song, though neither of them could be counted on to know that a full five minutes had passed in complete and not at all uncomfortable silence. Both were too busy studying the other's face to be conscious of anything else.
Little sister, don't shed no tears
No, woman, no cry
The final notes of the song died out over their heads, and Ron begrudgingly shook himself from his stupor. As the sound of the next song rolled out over the crowd — My love must be a kind of blind love … I can't see anyone but you — it finally occurred to Ron that he ought to say something, though he was damned if he knew what that might be.
For lack of any better ideas, he finally sputtered the first lucid thought that had entered his head since he'd set eyes on her. "So, I'm, uh … I'm glad to see you again," he said, and he felt his ears heat up immediately upon hearing himself blabber such gibberish. Why had he said that? Pixie crap on toast!
Hermione, meanwhile, had just then been taking a few deep breaths in an effort to quell the blush that she knew must surely be creeping up from her chest and staining her cheeks an embarrassing red. All through the previous song, she'd been lost in this complete stranger's eyes — the bluest, she decided, that she had ever beheld — and it wasn't until the song ended that she realized her mesmerized behavior might have struck him as quite odd indeed. And yet, when the second song started up, she thanked the heavens that it was another slow tune and therefore he didn't seem the least bit inclined to release her from his arms.
Even so, she'd been trying to calm herself and regain some sense of propriety, knowing that she couldn't very well spend the whole evening gaping at him in mute distraction. She'd never felt so discomposed by a man before. What was the matter with her?
She was so lost in these thoughts that she nearly didn't hear Ron's statement — did he say, "I'm glad to see you again?" — and her brow furrowed in confusion as she struggled to catch up.
Ron interpreted her expression as disapproval of some sort, because he started back-pedaling then, hoping to better explain what was bound to be an awkward set of circumstances.
Cursing himself inwardly, he sputtered, "Well, um, you see, it's not like we've actually met, mind. It's just that…"
As his voice trailed off, Hermione stepped in to help him. "I suppose you mean that my friend Dean told you about me at some point, yes?" she said in that honeyed tone that made Ron's heart flip again.
"Erm, wait, you're Dean's friend?" Ron replied. "I mean, I knew he had a friend back home, and he's talked about, uh, about bringing her up to Hogsmeade sometime, but … wait … is that you?"
Hermione smiled and let out an embarrassed little laugh. "I imagine so, yes."
"Oh, I reckon that makes sense," Ron said, tightening his grip on her hand slightly in relief before catching himself and easing up a bit. "It's just that, well, you see, Dean never mentioned your name — at least not to me — just always said he had a buddy back home that he wanted us all to meet."
"I see."
Their conversation dissolved as the music swelled around them, and Ron took a few experimental steps to turn and steer them closer to the darkest corner of the dance floor, unconsciously maneuvering so that their joined hands were resting gently against his chest.
You are here
And so am I
Maybe millions of people go by
But they all disappear from view
'Cause I only have eyes for you
Ron's gaze had intensified to the point where Hermione finally had to tear her eyes away from his and focus on something else, settling on the sight of his hand wrapped around hers, entirely encasing it in his firm grip. But she could still feel the warmth of his eyes upon her — she couldn't have known, of course, how thoroughly charmed he was by her blushes — and she peered up at him through her lashes now and then, a fluttery feeling overtaking her each time she looked to find that his gaze had never wavered. He was regarding her as if he had sighted a rare bird that might alight and fly away at a moment's notice.
Despite her pounding heart and racing thoughts, the questions percolating at the back of Hermione's mind eventually resurfaced again, and she found the nerve to ask one of them.
"You said you were glad to see me again," she said with a shy smile. "But … but we've never met."
Bugger. Ron had been hoping she'd let that particular slip-up pass. He'd been debating with himself about whether — or even how — to come clean about the tea shop and the park bench and all that without sounding like some sort of deranged stalker. What was the matter with him? He'd never been this nervous with a girl before — at least not since his Hogwarts days. Before he had a chance to really think it through, his nerves got the better of him and he found himself talking despite his better judgment.
"This might sound a bit mental," he began with a gulp, "but, you see, I'm an Auror," he said, tipping his head to the side to see if she was following him. He was glad to see her smile and nod in recognition of what that meant. "Anyway, sometimes Aurors have to track down bad guys, and sometimes that means we have to do what we call stakeouts, which sounds cooler than it really is, because a stakeout involves mostly just sitting around on your duff and waiting for the bad guys to show up."
Hermione bit her lip and chuckled at this, and Ron felt his insides quiver again as they had been doing ever since he'd laid eyes on her that night.
They continued to sway gently as the music shifted again — unforgettable, that's what you are … unforgettable though near or far — and Ron pressed on, cautiously optimistic about her response thus far.
"Well, a few weeks ago I had a case that took me to a certain park bench across from a certain tea shop in Sevenoaks," he continued, watching her eyebrows rise in recognition, her eyes raking over his face. "Spent many an hour sitting in that very spot, biding my time, waiting for a smuggler my team had been tracking to show himself. He finally did, but not before I'd come to depend on seeing a certain curly-haired girl at precisely 7 o'clock every morning."
He smiled as her mouth dropped open slightly in amazement, and he drew her just a bit closer as the music seemed to envelop them.
Unforgettable in every way
And forever more, that's how you'll stay
"I'd noticed her that very first day. Any bloke would, mind," he said, the grin he'd been trying to suppress finally breaking through and causing Hermione's cheeks to flush even redder. "So imagine my delight when she showed up again the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that," he added. "For two long weeks, 7 o'clock was the highlight of my day. And then, on Tuesday, we took that smuggler down, and suddenly I realized I might never see that girl again — that is, 'til tonight."
oooOOOooo
A/N — If you're wondering, the songs in my head as I wrote this were:
"No Woman, No Cry," Bob Marley & The Wailers (live version is best!)
"I Only Have Eyes for You," The Flamingoes
"Unforgettable," Nat King Cole
Please review!
Cheers,
Holly.
