Hi every one, this is just a real quick little fic - lette (like a
piglette)
This fic is spawned by my fascination with my names after I have painted them. I like to paint my nails and then type on my white key board.
Any way, hope you enjoys it
DISCLAIMER - I do not own Hermione Granger or Ron Weasley, I do however, own blood red nail polish (which I am wearing now!!!)
*~*~*~*~*~*
Hermione had painted her nails.
It had taken Ron five minutes to realize that her nails were now a deep, rich, blood red, another minute to make some stupid little comment, and then, just one more minute for him to realize that he liked it.
He liked the contrast that the bright red created when he compared it to her soft, warm colored flesh. He liked the way it would look when she would rest her head in her hand, her long, blood red nails pressed lightly to her cheek.
He liked the way that it made her feel. Ron had over heard Hermione telling Ginny that having her nails professionally done in a Muggle shop had been a real treat for her, and that it had made her feel special.
Ron liked it when Hermione felt special. And if red finger nails made her feel special, then he liked the red finger nails.
Ron would watch in amazement as Hermione held her book as she read, the red nails standing out against the white pages. He was mystified by what it looked like for a beautiful red nails to be holding a black quill as Hermione wrote a letter to her mother. He sighed wistfully as he watched her nails, doing all of the usual things, the silly little usual things that he had watched Hermione do so many times over the last five years.
She had caught him looking at her nails and smiled. When they had had some time alone, Ron had begged her to tell him the story of how she got her nails done, he begged her to let him hold her hand in front of his face and examine them closely.
He looked at the intense red, thinking of how symbolic that was of so many things of the world. Thinking of the symbolism and yet thinking of nothing but the intoxicating color.
He examined the cuticle and the quick, which had been manicured and maintained with loving care. He felt the softness of the skin compared to the hardness of the nail. He ran his hands over hers, learning more than just the nails.
And he scared the crap out of both of them when he brought her hand to his cheek, and pressed the painted nails against the skin, felt the sensations that the smooth nail enamel could cause on the soft skin of his face. He even brought her nails to his lips, running the polished nail on his lips, slightly tasting the blood red color.
Hermione had giggled softly at Ron's experimentation. She smiled and blushed, and just let herself feel what Ron was doing to her hands. She had had no idea that letting him have a closer look at his nails could bring out so many thoughts and feelings in her.
She had a sudden urge, and urge which, in a very un-Hermione like fashion, she acted on.
Pulling her hands away from Ron's grasp, she raised them, and ran then through his bright red hair.
The colors clashed, his red orange hair compared to her blood red nails, but it stirred some interesting emotions in her.
It was then that she realized that Ron was blushing.
She ran her nails over the tips of his ears, which were burning bright red. That didn't compare either, the color of the Weasley blush was tomato red, not deep, rich, blood red.
His freckles were a more brown in color, not the red she was looking for.
Hermione has no idea why she was searching for a match some where on Ron's body, but she had a feeling, that without cutting into him, she would never get a match. Nothing could compare to the deep crimson which tipped her fingers.
But she decided to check one last spot.
She stroked his cheeks, coming to rest near his lips. Pale pink, but nothing compared to red. Nothing compared to her red.
Nothing was like Hermione's red.
He kissed her fingertips softly, surprising them both with his forwardness. And it was only a matter of minutes before his lips were on hers.
They didn't know how, they didn't know why, but all they knew was they didn't want it to stop.
They kissed intensely. So intensely that Ron saw red.
Hermione's red
Deep, blood red
This fic is spawned by my fascination with my names after I have painted them. I like to paint my nails and then type on my white key board.
Any way, hope you enjoys it
DISCLAIMER - I do not own Hermione Granger or Ron Weasley, I do however, own blood red nail polish (which I am wearing now!!!)
*~*~*~*~*~*
Hermione had painted her nails.
It had taken Ron five minutes to realize that her nails were now a deep, rich, blood red, another minute to make some stupid little comment, and then, just one more minute for him to realize that he liked it.
He liked the contrast that the bright red created when he compared it to her soft, warm colored flesh. He liked the way it would look when she would rest her head in her hand, her long, blood red nails pressed lightly to her cheek.
He liked the way that it made her feel. Ron had over heard Hermione telling Ginny that having her nails professionally done in a Muggle shop had been a real treat for her, and that it had made her feel special.
Ron liked it when Hermione felt special. And if red finger nails made her feel special, then he liked the red finger nails.
Ron would watch in amazement as Hermione held her book as she read, the red nails standing out against the white pages. He was mystified by what it looked like for a beautiful red nails to be holding a black quill as Hermione wrote a letter to her mother. He sighed wistfully as he watched her nails, doing all of the usual things, the silly little usual things that he had watched Hermione do so many times over the last five years.
She had caught him looking at her nails and smiled. When they had had some time alone, Ron had begged her to tell him the story of how she got her nails done, he begged her to let him hold her hand in front of his face and examine them closely.
He looked at the intense red, thinking of how symbolic that was of so many things of the world. Thinking of the symbolism and yet thinking of nothing but the intoxicating color.
He examined the cuticle and the quick, which had been manicured and maintained with loving care. He felt the softness of the skin compared to the hardness of the nail. He ran his hands over hers, learning more than just the nails.
And he scared the crap out of both of them when he brought her hand to his cheek, and pressed the painted nails against the skin, felt the sensations that the smooth nail enamel could cause on the soft skin of his face. He even brought her nails to his lips, running the polished nail on his lips, slightly tasting the blood red color.
Hermione had giggled softly at Ron's experimentation. She smiled and blushed, and just let herself feel what Ron was doing to her hands. She had had no idea that letting him have a closer look at his nails could bring out so many thoughts and feelings in her.
She had a sudden urge, and urge which, in a very un-Hermione like fashion, she acted on.
Pulling her hands away from Ron's grasp, she raised them, and ran then through his bright red hair.
The colors clashed, his red orange hair compared to her blood red nails, but it stirred some interesting emotions in her.
It was then that she realized that Ron was blushing.
She ran her nails over the tips of his ears, which were burning bright red. That didn't compare either, the color of the Weasley blush was tomato red, not deep, rich, blood red.
His freckles were a more brown in color, not the red she was looking for.
Hermione has no idea why she was searching for a match some where on Ron's body, but she had a feeling, that without cutting into him, she would never get a match. Nothing could compare to the deep crimson which tipped her fingers.
But she decided to check one last spot.
She stroked his cheeks, coming to rest near his lips. Pale pink, but nothing compared to red. Nothing compared to her red.
Nothing was like Hermione's red.
He kissed her fingertips softly, surprising them both with his forwardness. And it was only a matter of minutes before his lips were on hers.
They didn't know how, they didn't know why, but all they knew was they didn't want it to stop.
They kissed intensely. So intensely that Ron saw red.
Hermione's red
Deep, blood red