Disclaimer: I don't own any of it.
Author's Note: Since you seem to want longer chapters this story is going to have a switch of POV in the middle. Enjoy!
Chapter 5: Wake Up Call The next morning Hermione's the sun shined brightly into her window slamming her back into reality. Her clock read seven but that couldn't be possible. She felt like she'd only slept an hour that night, her eyes were heavy and her head ached slightly. Then, last night's event slid back into her mind. She smiled when she remembered who was at this moment no more than twenty yards from her, probably still asleep.
She eased her way out of bed and over to the small desk where her mirror was. Her hair had decided to go its own way, small tufts stood up in the middle of her head. She laughed quietly to herself, grabbed her towel, and walked into the bathroom.
She emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, still wet, and changed into her clothes. Her hair, a perennial problem fixed only lately with a spell she'd picked up in Romania, soaked into her robes. She sighed, and muttered Sleekus Coiffus. Her hair dried immediately and turned from big and bushy into smooth and sleek, flowing nicely over her shoulders and down her back.
She surveyed her appearance in the mirror once more. The robes she wore now where quite different from the ones of her school years. She was taller now and more defined. The curve of her hips, which she'd been afraid to show at school, was more pronounced in this set of robes. She'd gotten them from her boyfriend Ryan, who she'd met in America. The day she left America, he'd smiled at her and given her these. "You're too beautiful to be always wearing those old things," he'd breathed into her ear just before she'd Apparated away from him and that life.
When she'd gotten home, she'd taken out the robes and laid them in her drawer, feeling much too modest to ever where them. Then she'd found Krum and he made her see that she really was beautiful. The first time she wore the robes for him he pulled her close and didn't let her go that whole night. The night they broke up she'd put them away and hadn't touched them until this year.
Something in her stomach threw her out of place. She hadn't worn these robes since her days with Krum, the only reason she had them on yesterday was because her dirty clothes had piled up and she didn't feel like washing them. But today she'd moved straight for her drawer, past all the clean, perfectly respectable clothes and pulled out these.
She stood at her desk trying to figure out why she wanted to look good, why she even cared that she was wearing these when a thought popped into her head. Ron's warm face flowed through her mind and she drew in a quick intake of breath. Ron, she thought as her mind finally clicked into place.
* Ron snapped awake, sat up, and groaned. He stared at his clock only to realize it wasn't ten or eleven as he hoped, it was six forty-five. He lay back down and pulled the blanket over himself again. He gazed at the ceiling for a few minutes, but he didn't feel tired at all.
His mind was fuzzy. The last time he'd woken up this early was two years ago when Wood had demanded they have an eight in the morning practice because they'd lost 200-20. But unlike that morning when his brain had stayed fuzzy, the fuzziness began to drift off as her remembered where he was.
He was at Hogwarts. Across the hall through his open door, he could hear Harry snoring lightly. Resigning the idea that he was going to get any more sleep he got out of bed and threw on a shirt.
He made his way through the office into the small kitchen. Pulling open the fridge, he grabbed the milk and began fixing himself a pot of tea. Not wanting to wake up Harry, he closed the door. Five minutes later, he was sitting on the small couch sipping a piping hot cup of tea and reading the latest Quidditch Weekly.
He flipped mindlessly along, not bothering to pay attention. Something caught his interest on page 26 though. A flash of orange had jumped off the page and now he saw what. There was a huge feature of the new Cannons Keeper, Avery Thomas—his replacement. And there in a small inset was a picture of Ron in the hospital, pitifully trying to cover his face.
As he stared at magazine, he winced a little, okay, a lot. He missed Quidditch. Yes, it was rough, and people did get hurt often (obviously), but it was one of the few things he was good at. He didn't think he'd be good at this job. He could teach flying easy enough, but being a referee was hard. When Harry had proposed this job to him, he'd accepted. What he hadn't known was that he had to take a referee accreditation course. The last month back in London had been spent in classrooms, on Quidditch pitches, and in front of a book.
He gulped down the rest of his tea, returned the milk to the fridge, and went back to his room. His bed looked so warm and comforting, he decided he wanted to sleep some more. Fully intending to sleep the afternoon away, Ron eased himself back into bed but two minutes he was sitting bolt upright unable to move. Through the wall, he could hear a shower running and someone singing softly to themselves.
Ron jumped out of bed and realized that he was listening to Hermione shower. A million things rushed through his head at once. He didn't know what to do. He felt wrong listening but at the same time, he wanted too. He stood for what must have been ten minutes trying to figure out what to do, lingering in his room.
Finally, he made his way out of the room and sat firmly down at his desk, like a little puppy. He wasn't going to move until she was done. Twenty minutes later a knock came at his door.
Forgetting his rather insufficient attire, he strode over to the door and opened it with a flourish. Hermione gawked up at him and smiled. He looked down at his clothes and then at his hers. "Come in," he croaked. She nodded and walked past him into his room.
Author's Note: Since you seem to want longer chapters this story is going to have a switch of POV in the middle. Enjoy!
Chapter 5: Wake Up Call The next morning Hermione's the sun shined brightly into her window slamming her back into reality. Her clock read seven but that couldn't be possible. She felt like she'd only slept an hour that night, her eyes were heavy and her head ached slightly. Then, last night's event slid back into her mind. She smiled when she remembered who was at this moment no more than twenty yards from her, probably still asleep.
She eased her way out of bed and over to the small desk where her mirror was. Her hair had decided to go its own way, small tufts stood up in the middle of her head. She laughed quietly to herself, grabbed her towel, and walked into the bathroom.
She emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, still wet, and changed into her clothes. Her hair, a perennial problem fixed only lately with a spell she'd picked up in Romania, soaked into her robes. She sighed, and muttered Sleekus Coiffus. Her hair dried immediately and turned from big and bushy into smooth and sleek, flowing nicely over her shoulders and down her back.
She surveyed her appearance in the mirror once more. The robes she wore now where quite different from the ones of her school years. She was taller now and more defined. The curve of her hips, which she'd been afraid to show at school, was more pronounced in this set of robes. She'd gotten them from her boyfriend Ryan, who she'd met in America. The day she left America, he'd smiled at her and given her these. "You're too beautiful to be always wearing those old things," he'd breathed into her ear just before she'd Apparated away from him and that life.
When she'd gotten home, she'd taken out the robes and laid them in her drawer, feeling much too modest to ever where them. Then she'd found Krum and he made her see that she really was beautiful. The first time she wore the robes for him he pulled her close and didn't let her go that whole night. The night they broke up she'd put them away and hadn't touched them until this year.
Something in her stomach threw her out of place. She hadn't worn these robes since her days with Krum, the only reason she had them on yesterday was because her dirty clothes had piled up and she didn't feel like washing them. But today she'd moved straight for her drawer, past all the clean, perfectly respectable clothes and pulled out these.
She stood at her desk trying to figure out why she wanted to look good, why she even cared that she was wearing these when a thought popped into her head. Ron's warm face flowed through her mind and she drew in a quick intake of breath. Ron, she thought as her mind finally clicked into place.
* Ron snapped awake, sat up, and groaned. He stared at his clock only to realize it wasn't ten or eleven as he hoped, it was six forty-five. He lay back down and pulled the blanket over himself again. He gazed at the ceiling for a few minutes, but he didn't feel tired at all.
His mind was fuzzy. The last time he'd woken up this early was two years ago when Wood had demanded they have an eight in the morning practice because they'd lost 200-20. But unlike that morning when his brain had stayed fuzzy, the fuzziness began to drift off as her remembered where he was.
He was at Hogwarts. Across the hall through his open door, he could hear Harry snoring lightly. Resigning the idea that he was going to get any more sleep he got out of bed and threw on a shirt.
He made his way through the office into the small kitchen. Pulling open the fridge, he grabbed the milk and began fixing himself a pot of tea. Not wanting to wake up Harry, he closed the door. Five minutes later, he was sitting on the small couch sipping a piping hot cup of tea and reading the latest Quidditch Weekly.
He flipped mindlessly along, not bothering to pay attention. Something caught his interest on page 26 though. A flash of orange had jumped off the page and now he saw what. There was a huge feature of the new Cannons Keeper, Avery Thomas—his replacement. And there in a small inset was a picture of Ron in the hospital, pitifully trying to cover his face.
As he stared at magazine, he winced a little, okay, a lot. He missed Quidditch. Yes, it was rough, and people did get hurt often (obviously), but it was one of the few things he was good at. He didn't think he'd be good at this job. He could teach flying easy enough, but being a referee was hard. When Harry had proposed this job to him, he'd accepted. What he hadn't known was that he had to take a referee accreditation course. The last month back in London had been spent in classrooms, on Quidditch pitches, and in front of a book.
He gulped down the rest of his tea, returned the milk to the fridge, and went back to his room. His bed looked so warm and comforting, he decided he wanted to sleep some more. Fully intending to sleep the afternoon away, Ron eased himself back into bed but two minutes he was sitting bolt upright unable to move. Through the wall, he could hear a shower running and someone singing softly to themselves.
Ron jumped out of bed and realized that he was listening to Hermione shower. A million things rushed through his head at once. He didn't know what to do. He felt wrong listening but at the same time, he wanted too. He stood for what must have been ten minutes trying to figure out what to do, lingering in his room.
Finally, he made his way out of the room and sat firmly down at his desk, like a little puppy. He wasn't going to move until she was done. Twenty minutes later a knock came at his door.
Forgetting his rather insufficient attire, he strode over to the door and opened it with a flourish. Hermione gawked up at him and smiled. He looked down at his clothes and then at his hers. "Come in," he croaked. She nodded and walked past him into his room.
