Thinking about Ron.
A very, very short ficlet about the impending romance of my favourite characters- Ron and Hermione. And remember- non of the characters belong to me!
Yours,
Hermione Double
PS, I didn't mean to make Hermione sound like a stalker Ginny! And to anyone else- SORRY!
My head rested on my hands as my eyes ran down the page of an ancient book about the history of Arithmancy I had acquired from the library. I was so tired that my eyes watered, and I struggled to keep them open. I checked my watch by wandlight and decided to go to sleep. But it was not as easy as that. My brain was still awake- unorganised waves of thoughts were swimming about my head, stoppering the dreams in their path. And they were thoughts I did not approve of. Thoughts of my best friend. Thoughts about Ron.
For he was no longer a friend. Well, he was a friend, but not when I looked at him. He was a lot more. There was just this unexplainable something building up inside of me, threatening to spill out at any moment. Something that I was not allowed to feel. He was my best friend, after all. I so wished I never felt the surge of jealousy forcing itself irresistibly through my veins every time he so much as looked at another girl, but wishing wouldn't work. Nothing would.
For I loved him. Now, you may think that I was some naïve little girl, feeling the "usual pangs of adolescence," and it is probable you are correct. But at that moment, it felt real.
He was the only thing I could think about, the only thing I wanted to hear, to see, to be with. He was only rooms away, but it seemed like miles. I just wanted to be by his side, and it hurt that I was not. I knew it was pathetic, that I can't have been in love, but it seemed real. I didn't "fancy" him as such, for it was not his looks that attracted me to him, nor his personality, for we both clashed and he was a total prat sometimes. But I didn't care- it was something deeper than that-a kind of mad excitement that exploded with glee every time I looked at him.
I turned over. Crookshanks' huge furry mass was comforting in the moonlit room, but sleep was still far away, and my mind still buzzing. I was going to see him in a few hours. I was to hear his mad ramblings about something stupid. And I knew it was stupid that I wanted to even look at him, but it was all that I longed for. For I think I really did love him.
A/n: full of sap, and hugely short, I know. And I apologise if it's not up to my usual standard, 'coz I just felt like writing something and this was the first thing that popped into my head, but it was actually the easiest thing I have ever written, and I can't think why. Well, it certainly has nothing to do with I, myself being a lovesick teen, that's for sure!
Yours, Hermione Double.
PS, please make my day and review!
A very, very short ficlet about the impending romance of my favourite characters- Ron and Hermione. And remember- non of the characters belong to me!
Yours,
Hermione Double
PS, I didn't mean to make Hermione sound like a stalker Ginny! And to anyone else- SORRY!
My head rested on my hands as my eyes ran down the page of an ancient book about the history of Arithmancy I had acquired from the library. I was so tired that my eyes watered, and I struggled to keep them open. I checked my watch by wandlight and decided to go to sleep. But it was not as easy as that. My brain was still awake- unorganised waves of thoughts were swimming about my head, stoppering the dreams in their path. And they were thoughts I did not approve of. Thoughts of my best friend. Thoughts about Ron.
For he was no longer a friend. Well, he was a friend, but not when I looked at him. He was a lot more. There was just this unexplainable something building up inside of me, threatening to spill out at any moment. Something that I was not allowed to feel. He was my best friend, after all. I so wished I never felt the surge of jealousy forcing itself irresistibly through my veins every time he so much as looked at another girl, but wishing wouldn't work. Nothing would.
For I loved him. Now, you may think that I was some naïve little girl, feeling the "usual pangs of adolescence," and it is probable you are correct. But at that moment, it felt real.
He was the only thing I could think about, the only thing I wanted to hear, to see, to be with. He was only rooms away, but it seemed like miles. I just wanted to be by his side, and it hurt that I was not. I knew it was pathetic, that I can't have been in love, but it seemed real. I didn't "fancy" him as such, for it was not his looks that attracted me to him, nor his personality, for we both clashed and he was a total prat sometimes. But I didn't care- it was something deeper than that-a kind of mad excitement that exploded with glee every time I looked at him.
I turned over. Crookshanks' huge furry mass was comforting in the moonlit room, but sleep was still far away, and my mind still buzzing. I was going to see him in a few hours. I was to hear his mad ramblings about something stupid. And I knew it was stupid that I wanted to even look at him, but it was all that I longed for. For I think I really did love him.
A/n: full of sap, and hugely short, I know. And I apologise if it's not up to my usual standard, 'coz I just felt like writing something and this was the first thing that popped into my head, but it was actually the easiest thing I have ever written, and I can't think why. Well, it certainly has nothing to do with I, myself being a lovesick teen, that's for sure!
Yours, Hermione Double.
PS, please make my day and review!
