Okey dokey, time for chapter 9. Tell me if you find their behaviour in this chapter far-fetched, but I honestly don't think so. And regardless, I sure enjoyed writing it :) Please review!
Ron stared at Hermione Granger. He couldn't think of much he'd rather do. Even throwing his arm around her shoulders which, admittedly, was pleasant, generally needed a good enough excuse, like her crying, which was a definite downer.
No, admiring her from his perch on the bed would have to do for now. She amazed him, and not only because of her insane amount of intelligence. He thought about the conversation they'd been having in the last few minutes.
"I've been packing for days,so we'll be ready to leave at a moment's notice – Modified my parents' memories – I've been researching that -"
The girl was more prepared than he was, certainly, and probably Harry as well. Ron used to think females were too emotional, but he was starting to realize that their astounding ability – Hermione's, anyway, to conceal and move beyond their emotions, made them infinitely more admirable.
He felt an inexplicable anger at the things she'd already had to do for those bloody horcruxes.
"...it's a horrible book, really awful, full of evil magic – Wendall and Monica Wilkins don't know that they've got a daughter ..."
He hated that she'd gone through all of that, been exposed to books like that, and all he wanted to do was force her to stay home with his mom and Ginny, or send her to Australia to be safe with her parents. Of course, he'd no sooner suggest that then provoke a centaur. Any implication of her inferiority, no matter what he actually meant by it, was sure to set off Hermione's wrathful indignation. He should know.
He wanted to say something though, anything to give her somewhat of an idea of how sorry he was for it all, or how incredible he thought she was. And then his door flew open, his livid Mum glaring at them, and for the moment, thoughts of Hermione were forcefully driven from his mind.
When he and Harry arrived in Mrs. Weasley's room minutes later, where the intimidatingly large pile of presents was stashed, it seemed they would be the only two doing the gift sorting. Then, seeming to appear out of thin air, Ginny's fiery head of hair and Hermione's curly one bobbed from behind the mound.
"Come to join the party?" Ginny asked sardonically, and made her way over to sit next to Harry. Ron, pressing himself against the wall to avoid collision with an assuredly expensive wedding gift, shuffled to the other side, where Hermione already had a list started of guests that would need thank-you notes.
"Would you mind grabbing that gold package up there?" she asked immediately, as though he'd been there the whole time. Smiling to himself, he complied, and passed the box down to a cross-legged Hermione.
"This one has no name attached," she sighed a moment later. "Already that's seven guests who will either have to be tracked down by other means, or simply never be thanked."
"And those seven guests waiting anxiously by their windows for the owls that will never come will have to occupy their thoughts with the more trivial things of the world, like staying alive in the midst of a wizarding war." He shook his head regretfully.
Hermione scowled back at him for only a little while before huffing a resigned sigh. She dropped the list. "You're right," she admitted, "This is pointless."
"Nah," Ron grinned, I love the list. And Mum wants one too. C'mon," he beckoned her forward, "Have you already written down Antoinette Delacour?"
Coming to sit next to him, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall behind them. "I'm tired of sorting things, and thinking of details about events that I'd rather forget about right now," she told him, her eyes never opening.
"You've done enough," Ron replied, hurriedly, "You've done more than anyone, Hermione. You deserve a break."
Her eyes fluttered open, and crinkled; she was smiling at him. Their shoulders were touching, and her hair was spilling over his arm. It smelled like fruit, like she always did, but it was wafting into his face, and those eyes were beaming at him. Her nose, he noticed, had the usual six freckles, but there were four additional ones smattered across her cheeks.
Her smile faltered for a moment, and she started chewing on her bottom lip. So she was nervous – something about that made his heart start pumping even faster than it already was. Her eyes weren't crinkled anymore, but they weren't breaking contact with his either. Her eyelashes were dark, black even. She must have that paste stuff off – macksara, or whatever she called it. He didn't mind it though – her eyes always looked nice.
She was still chewing away at her lip, and Ron couldn't help but glance down at them. He loved her lips, embarrassingly enough to admit. They were never chapped, like his always were, and so pink. He liked how sometimes, like right now, the color matched her cheeks.
He wanted to kiss her, he realized. Not that he hadn't wanted to for a long time before that moment, because he bloody well had, a good deal of times. However, it had always been a far off wish, or, more accurately, dream. Many dreams. And now, behind a suddenly blessed mountain of presents, there was no doubt in his mind that he was about to.
"A break would be nice," Hermione was murmuring now. This confused him, until he remembered that they had indeed been mentioning breaks of some sort. He would have answered her, but her eyes were getting wider and wider, and closer and closer, and oh they were so warm and brown. He couldn't breathe, nor did he have much interest in it. All he could think about was how her cheeks were so pink, and his hand was moving up to cover one of them, and her lips were so pink, and so close.
Then, an avalanche of boxes was suddenly tumbling on top of and around them.
They jerked apart, Hermione screamed, and Ginny swore from somewhere above them and beyond the now chaotic mass of gifts. In one hand, she was holding an ivory parcel with a large, pink bow. Ron changed his mind – he hated pink.
"Oops," she shrugged, "I guess next time I'll stick with the top of the pile."
Harry started to laugh, saying something like, "Good one, Gin."
Hermione started chuckling next, and Ron noticed that her face was still flushed. Then Ginny, and so Ron, reluctantly, joined in. Honestly though, he didn't find it all that amusing.
