Hermione turned the page of the enormous book that lay on her lap. She
might as well have been lost to the world.
Ron couldn't help but stare at her from across the Gryffindor common room. She sat curled up on the puffy armchair closest to the lit fireplace, lost in the word-covered pages of the tome that seemed nearly as big as she was. Her cheeks flushed an appealing shade of red, courtesy of the heat that emanated from the fireplace. The golden glow brought out the natural red highlights in her cinnamon coloured hair. She was easily the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
"Your turn Ron," said Harry, quickly hiding the smile that had played across his lips when, for the umpteenth time, he caught his best friend staring at their other best friend.
"Huh?" asked Ron as he finally tore his eyes away from Hermione.
"Wizarding chess? The game we've been playing for the last couple of hours?" prompted Harry, really struggling not to laugh now.
"Oh yeah, sorry Harry, I must have drifted off," said Ron, blushing his trademark red that clashed horribly with his bright orange hair.
"Yeah, I noticed," this time he couldn't keep a smirk away from his face. Thankfully Ron didn't seem to notice as he bent over the chessboard examining the pieces.
The three of them were the only people in the Gryffindor common room, seeing as almost everyone else had gone home for the Christmas holidays. Ever since the rise of Voldemort, the Order had been afraid for the trio's safety. The trio, and especially Harry, had been targeted by, and bested, the Dark Lord in the past. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Voldemort would soon seek his revenge against the three teenagers. The Weasleys, who would have otherwise taken Hermione and Harry in for the holidays, were busy with the Order, and so, everyone had concluded that the safest place for them to be, was of course, Hogwarts.
It took Ron less than a minute to make his move, whereas it had taken Harry more than a quarter of an hour. When he was finished he looked up from the chessboard and grinned triumphantly at Harry.
"Checkmate!" he announced gleefully.
Harry's expression was one of shock and dismay as he too, bent down to examine the pieces. Ron had indeed won the game. Harry groaned audibly. Even distracted by Hermione's proximity Ron still won!
"Lose again, Harry?" asked Hermione, finally looking up from her book. His groan must have alerted her.
"I don't know how he does it!" admitted an exasperated Harry.
"By superior intelligence, of course," beamed Ron.
Harry glared at him and Hermione chuckled softly. As Harry looked at his two best friends smiling at him, he couldn't help but smile with them. It was Christmas Eve after all!
"Look!" said Hermione suddenly, pointing at the window delightedly. "It's snowing!"
Before any of the two boys had managed to stop her, the petite, but feisty, brunette, dropped her book on the chair and run to the window. She flung it open in a burst of excitement, letting the cold wind rush into the, previously, warm and cozy room. The wind carried with it dozens of snowflakes and Hermione stood in the midst of them, loving every single one.
"Hermione, what are you doing!" called Ron, "you're going to catch your death of a cold!"
"Leave her, Ron, it's a only a little snow."
Harry looked at the two people who were the only family he had ever known, and thought that it was about time he a made a hasty retreat. Who knows, maybe Ron would grow a backbone and finally tell Hermione how he really felt about her. Wouldn't that be a great Christmas present! Harry thought.
"I don't know about you, but I'm tired," he said, "I'm going off to bed. See you tomorrow guys!"
"'Night, Harry," called Hermione, "Merry Christmas!"
"'Night Harry! I'll be up in a while too, mate."
Neither of his two friends saw the mischievous smile that played on his lips, or the twinkle in his eyes that rivaled Dumbledor's own, as he climbed up to the boys' dormitories.
"Hermione! Didn't you hear what I said? Close that damn window!" called an exasperated Ron.
"No!" called Hermione obstinately, and then stuck her tongue out at him in complete un-Hermione-like fashion.
The icy wind pulled at her robes and hair playfully, and her cheeks were once again flushed, but this time from the cold. Her eyes sparkled at him and Ron felt a lump rising in his throat. She took his breath away.
"For Merlin's sake!" he said and moved past her to close the open window.
But as Ron turned round, he found his face very close to Hermione's. Too close for comfort, he thought.
There was only the tiniest space between them and Ron couldn't help but think what it would be like to cross that space, and claim her red lips with his own.
Their eyes locked, and Ron found himself drowning in the infinite depths of the liquid brown eyes that seemed to look into his own with the same intense fascination. Then her eyes left his own and he almost groaned out loud with the sense of loss that seemed to flood through him. Yet the moment wasn't quite lost.
"Mistletoe," breathed Hermione as she looked at the small, green branch that hang above the window and over Ron's head.
Was that hope Ron detected in her voice?
All thought and sense flew out of his mind as he leaned in to kiss the girl he had fallen in love with at first sight nearly six years ago.
She felt her melting against him as she passionately responded to his kiss. She smelt of the of vanilla, her favourite shampoo, with the tiniest hint of smoke from the fireplace, she had been sitting next to mere moments ago. The smell was more than pleasant, he decided. It was intoxicating.
When he finally opened his eyes, he feared what he might see in hers. They had been friends, Hermione, Harry and him, for what seemed like forever sometimes. Would their kiss affect their friendship? That had always been his greatest fear. He steeled himself for an uncomfortable situation and, at last looked at her, albeit guardedly.
He needn't have worried. Hermione beamed at him. Her eyes sparkled and her lips were slightly swollen from the passionate kiss they had just shared.
"You have snowflakes in your hair Hermione," he whispered hoarsely.
His hand moved to her hair as if to brush them away, but changed it's mind when it came in contact with the silky, cinnamon, tangled mess that framed her beautiful face.
She laughed throatily at the expression on his face.
"Merry Christmas Ron," he heard her whisper against his lips as she leaned in for another kiss.
Ron couldn't help but stare at her from across the Gryffindor common room. She sat curled up on the puffy armchair closest to the lit fireplace, lost in the word-covered pages of the tome that seemed nearly as big as she was. Her cheeks flushed an appealing shade of red, courtesy of the heat that emanated from the fireplace. The golden glow brought out the natural red highlights in her cinnamon coloured hair. She was easily the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
"Your turn Ron," said Harry, quickly hiding the smile that had played across his lips when, for the umpteenth time, he caught his best friend staring at their other best friend.
"Huh?" asked Ron as he finally tore his eyes away from Hermione.
"Wizarding chess? The game we've been playing for the last couple of hours?" prompted Harry, really struggling not to laugh now.
"Oh yeah, sorry Harry, I must have drifted off," said Ron, blushing his trademark red that clashed horribly with his bright orange hair.
"Yeah, I noticed," this time he couldn't keep a smirk away from his face. Thankfully Ron didn't seem to notice as he bent over the chessboard examining the pieces.
The three of them were the only people in the Gryffindor common room, seeing as almost everyone else had gone home for the Christmas holidays. Ever since the rise of Voldemort, the Order had been afraid for the trio's safety. The trio, and especially Harry, had been targeted by, and bested, the Dark Lord in the past. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Voldemort would soon seek his revenge against the three teenagers. The Weasleys, who would have otherwise taken Hermione and Harry in for the holidays, were busy with the Order, and so, everyone had concluded that the safest place for them to be, was of course, Hogwarts.
It took Ron less than a minute to make his move, whereas it had taken Harry more than a quarter of an hour. When he was finished he looked up from the chessboard and grinned triumphantly at Harry.
"Checkmate!" he announced gleefully.
Harry's expression was one of shock and dismay as he too, bent down to examine the pieces. Ron had indeed won the game. Harry groaned audibly. Even distracted by Hermione's proximity Ron still won!
"Lose again, Harry?" asked Hermione, finally looking up from her book. His groan must have alerted her.
"I don't know how he does it!" admitted an exasperated Harry.
"By superior intelligence, of course," beamed Ron.
Harry glared at him and Hermione chuckled softly. As Harry looked at his two best friends smiling at him, he couldn't help but smile with them. It was Christmas Eve after all!
"Look!" said Hermione suddenly, pointing at the window delightedly. "It's snowing!"
Before any of the two boys had managed to stop her, the petite, but feisty, brunette, dropped her book on the chair and run to the window. She flung it open in a burst of excitement, letting the cold wind rush into the, previously, warm and cozy room. The wind carried with it dozens of snowflakes and Hermione stood in the midst of them, loving every single one.
"Hermione, what are you doing!" called Ron, "you're going to catch your death of a cold!"
"Leave her, Ron, it's a only a little snow."
Harry looked at the two people who were the only family he had ever known, and thought that it was about time he a made a hasty retreat. Who knows, maybe Ron would grow a backbone and finally tell Hermione how he really felt about her. Wouldn't that be a great Christmas present! Harry thought.
"I don't know about you, but I'm tired," he said, "I'm going off to bed. See you tomorrow guys!"
"'Night, Harry," called Hermione, "Merry Christmas!"
"'Night Harry! I'll be up in a while too, mate."
Neither of his two friends saw the mischievous smile that played on his lips, or the twinkle in his eyes that rivaled Dumbledor's own, as he climbed up to the boys' dormitories.
"Hermione! Didn't you hear what I said? Close that damn window!" called an exasperated Ron.
"No!" called Hermione obstinately, and then stuck her tongue out at him in complete un-Hermione-like fashion.
The icy wind pulled at her robes and hair playfully, and her cheeks were once again flushed, but this time from the cold. Her eyes sparkled at him and Ron felt a lump rising in his throat. She took his breath away.
"For Merlin's sake!" he said and moved past her to close the open window.
But as Ron turned round, he found his face very close to Hermione's. Too close for comfort, he thought.
There was only the tiniest space between them and Ron couldn't help but think what it would be like to cross that space, and claim her red lips with his own.
Their eyes locked, and Ron found himself drowning in the infinite depths of the liquid brown eyes that seemed to look into his own with the same intense fascination. Then her eyes left his own and he almost groaned out loud with the sense of loss that seemed to flood through him. Yet the moment wasn't quite lost.
"Mistletoe," breathed Hermione as she looked at the small, green branch that hang above the window and over Ron's head.
Was that hope Ron detected in her voice?
All thought and sense flew out of his mind as he leaned in to kiss the girl he had fallen in love with at first sight nearly six years ago.
She felt her melting against him as she passionately responded to his kiss. She smelt of the of vanilla, her favourite shampoo, with the tiniest hint of smoke from the fireplace, she had been sitting next to mere moments ago. The smell was more than pleasant, he decided. It was intoxicating.
When he finally opened his eyes, he feared what he might see in hers. They had been friends, Hermione, Harry and him, for what seemed like forever sometimes. Would their kiss affect their friendship? That had always been his greatest fear. He steeled himself for an uncomfortable situation and, at last looked at her, albeit guardedly.
He needn't have worried. Hermione beamed at him. Her eyes sparkled and her lips were slightly swollen from the passionate kiss they had just shared.
"You have snowflakes in your hair Hermione," he whispered hoarsely.
His hand moved to her hair as if to brush them away, but changed it's mind when it came in contact with the silky, cinnamon, tangled mess that framed her beautiful face.
She laughed throatily at the expression on his face.
"Merry Christmas Ron," he heard her whisper against his lips as she leaned in for another kiss.