*AN*/ Yeah, yeah, so it's sorta sappy and out of character. I just had to write it 'cause well, it's sweet. And it rules. And it's fluffy. Anyway. It's set during OotP Oh yeah, and as far as points here I wanted to convey a sense of awkwardness and 'being at home' all in one. So there you have it.
Disclaimer: All JK's (brilliant, brilliant mind)
Luther Whitney: You're the only family I have.
Kate Whitney: Luther, you don't have me.
~Absolute Power
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Right after the Quidditch game he stormed into the bleachers, finding his last companion. She was occupied, busy sipping warm tea and taking small bites of lemon tart.
"Hermione!" He yelled as he thrust a fist into the air. "Hermione!"
She laughed and smiled up at him, then patted a seat next to him. He sat down and smiled from ear to ear, still dressed in Quidditch garb, his face ruddy.
"Ron!" She yelled back. "Ron!" For the sake of mimicking.
"We won!" He said, helping himself to a lemon tart.
The crowd was beginning to drag their feet back to the common rooms and Harry was speaking quietly to Alicia, still on the field.
It was about to rain.
"I saw you," she said, "I know you won! Great game, too. Hey, listen, we better get back--History of Magic exam--Monday--"
"There's a party!" He said as he raked a hand through his red hair. "A party! And you're...you're coming too!"
"Oh yeah," she muttered sarcastically, "like I have time for that."
"Well, we'll just have to make time I s'pose?" He laughed. "Slytherin! We beat bloody Slytherin!"
"Where's Harry?"
Ron rolled his eyes. "Somewhere--I dunno."
She smiled and offered Ron a sip of her tea, he accepted but insisted: 'I wish it were butterbeer.' She glared at him and crossed her ankles. Then she bit her tongue and clung to her scarf.
"Cold, are you?" He asked, entertained.
"Just slightly. Looks as though it's about to rain."
"You're cold!" He said, amused. "You're cold! Here, want my sweater? I've got one in my bag."
She looked at him and then quickly looked way, out in the spray of mist. "It says 'R' on it!" She laughed. "I can't--I can't--wear it."
Girls like Parvati and Lavender wore boys' sweaters' not girls like Hermione. And certainly not sweaters' from boys like Ronald Weasley. Certainly not! She'd rather die of cold.
"Why not?"
"I'm not yours Ronald Weasley," she said stiffly and then with an air similar to a Princess she stood up from the chilly bleacher and looked up at him. "I'm going to go study."
"Because that's all you're good for," he added.
"Yes," she said walking way, "because that's all I'm good for." Her voice sounded sour, like an acid pop.
She began to walk away from him, her messy hair flying into her eyes. Her book bag was slung over one shoulder and she walked quickly, head up. He began walking after her, down the steps, Harry looking up at the two--confused.
She headed towards the glazy windows--Hogwarts--and finally, on the steps of the old castle he caught up to her and turned her 'round to face him.
"I saw you when I was flying."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, remember how we used to always wonder if Harry could see us cheering for him? Well, I could see you. I was looking for you. Didn't have to look long." He looked away and she smiled a shaky smile, her tongue yellow from the tarts.
"I guess that's it then," she said, finally, "You really can see people from that far up, flying that fast."
"I don't know" he said sheepishly, "I just wanted to see you. No one else mattered."
The girl reddened slightly and bit on her short nail. "Bye, Ron."
"You wanna know something funny?" He asked.
"Sure," she said, "but make it quick, History of Magic!"
He smiled and leaned on his broom. "Dad always said that when you love someone they could be in a crowd of thousands of people and you could pick them out just by scanning it quickly. He said that was love. Well, I saw you Hermione..."
"...yeah, well," she said as though searching for words, "maybe that is love, Ron."
"Maybe. Bye, Hermione."
"Bye, Ron."
*