Two Tickets to Rome
Summary: Two strangers. One train. A ten-hour journey. Who said magic can't happen on a train ride to Rome? A new take on the first meeting between our favourite Witch and Wizard. RomioneAU
A/N: You are a wonderful crowd to have with me on this adventure! Now, you may lean back in your seats, relax and enjoy – here is chapter eight!
Capitolo otto: Blood and Sunsets
The drive from Naples to Rome would take four hours. They had only driven for half an hour when Hermione stopped the car for some fresh air.
The compliment that Ron had given her had created a strange atmosphere in the car. All the way, her pulse had beat as if she was running the distance between the two cities instead of driving it. The following conversation had felt forced and unnatural. She couldn't quite get rid of the tension in her shoulders.
Naturally, that meant it was time for a break.
Especially when the scenery was so magnificent.
Hermione closed the door of the car softly. She took a few steps away from the car to admire the view.
She had taken a narrow road off the main highway. It was crooked and the asphalt full of cracks, going through a landscape dominated by bushes and small green trees, growing up from a reddening sand. The sun was setting behind them, and neither knew what met them around the next turn.
Then, by the battered road, a stone building arose. It resembled a small church. The path in front of it was paved with grey stone. There were carved four holes in the front wall around the wooden door. In those holes, a brilliant artist had placed four porcelain pale stone figurines.
"Wow," Hermione breathed. She had always liked beautiful architecture.
She heard Ron's steps behind her. She turned around, still trapped in a dreamy daze.
"Look at the sunset," Ron's voice was swallowed by the vastness of it all.
The sun was barely peeking up behind the treetops. A few houses were bathing in the magnificent sunlight. It painted the sky yellow and red. The clouds stood out like golden wools, each dyed a different combination of orange and pink. The blue creeped in on the edges, painting it all in a purple light.
"It is beautiful," she said.
At some point, they had crept closer to each other. She could feel the warmth from his skin on hers, even if they were not touching. She feared that if she turned, she might have kissed him on the cheek.
The sun was swallowed by the horizon, then they were suddenly engulfed in cold.
Ron shuddered, "We should probably get back to the car. We'd want to get back on the road before it gets too dark,"
Hermione almost yelped when he removed his arm, drawing away all his warmth. It took all her willpower to agree with him.
"Do you have a driver's licence?" she suddenly asked.
He smiled in the settling darkness. The lights from the surrounding houses were dim behind him, "Yes," he laughed, "I almost lost it once, but if you dare, I'll drive,"
They got back in the car, only now Hermione was sitting in the passenger seat. Before Ron adjusted the seat, she let out a laugh at how his legs almost didn't fit.
"Now, I want to hear about how you almost lost your license," she chuckled lightly.
With a glint in his eye, he started his story of how he and his brothers – Fred and George – had missed the Hogwarts Express. In fear of their mother finding out, they had taken the family's flying car and flown to Hogwarts. They had parked by the castle, sent the flying car back, then snuck into the Great Hall for the yearly welcome feast. Although it had worked quite seamlessly, it had not been problem free. As it turned out, the teachers had reported the incident back to the family soon after.
"–and then Mom sent a Howler! I had never been so embarrassed in my life," he finished.
"I don't think that's an adventure you'll ever forget," she replied. Hermione had not missed the way his brows furrowed every time he mentioned Fred. His deceased brother seemed to bring him great sorrow.
The car's headlights were weak and barely lit up the road in front of them. The horizon still held a small belt of light blue, just above the tree tops.
She fingered with the radio. Suddenly, music boomed from the loudspeakers.
Hermione turned the volume down to a comfortable level. With a scoff, she turned to Ron, "It wasn't broken, you dork,"
The banter was beyond friendly. It felt intimate. Driving in the darkness with the radio playing only boosted the romantic mood.
She wanted to yell 'to hell with this' and love him even if the position was already taken by the Lavender girl.
Ron chuckled. The sound rolled in the back of his throat like gentle rain pouring on a roof. Her eyes were drawn to his face and she couldn't break them away. She watched his smile fade as he watched the road. With sadness, she reminded herself that he'd never be hers. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, "Don't blame me, at least I have a reason for being technologically inept,"
The comfortable warmth inside her flickered briefly. She had suspected that he was not Muggle-born, from the absence of technology, to the confusion he'd shown at the main station in Naples. He had a phone, however, but it did not seem like he knew how to use it properly.
"Are you a pureblood?" she asked quietly, the music humming in the background.
"Yes," he answered, almost ashamed. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
"I'm Muggle-born," she said, thinking of all the times they had called her Mudblood.
He answered with such interest that she almost felt flattered, "That's actually really cool. How did it feel when you received your Hogwarts letter?"
She answered him, telling him about all the strange incidents she'd had growing up. From balloons popping when she was angry, to faucets turning on unexpectedly when she was sad. It had been a relief to know she was a witch, and not insane.
"I'm sorry about how people treat Muggle-borns," he said abruptly, "I don't think you deserve it,"
Hermione smiled sadly, "It is much better now that the war is over,"
"I'm glad to hear,"
"What about purebloods? Are people having grudges for you now, because of Voldemort and all?" her interest piqued up. He cringed.
"Nah, not really. We were blood traitors anyway, so I think we're good," Ron spat the word 'blood traitors', just like she did 'Mudblood'.
There had only been a handful wizarding families who hadn't joined the Dark Lord and his followers during the war. In a way, it delighted her that he was one of those.
"I admire that," she admitted, "But even so, what does it matter now that the war is over. People tend to judge anyway,"
He looked at her with wide eyes. He opened his mouth to ask but came no longer. He had sensed that there was more to Hermione Granger than most assumed.
A/N: What do you think about this new development?