Author's Note: This story goes after 'A Nap and a Goodbye,' but you don't really need to read it first. The song is 'Hands Down' by Dashboard Confessional.
Breathe in for luck, breathe in so deep, this air is blessed, you share with me
Looking into the mirror, Ron ran a comb through his hair. All summer he'd been planning. He'd didn't think he could wait another day. But that was okay because he wouldn't have to. What an idiot he'd been for not acting sooner.
Ginny walked into the room. "Is that a comb in your hand? Boy, you must either have an extreme case of cabin fever or important plans for today."
Ron flushed until his neck was as red as his hair. "Bugger off. Aren't you supposed to be conducting a test on some of Fred and George's new products?"
"Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to be a test subject for fever fudge, but I can see that you're otherwise occupied primping." Giggling she walked out of the room, she left him redder than ever, scowling at the comb.
Ron began to rehearse what he planned to say. Every time he practiced the words came out different, each successively more pathetic as the one before. Oh well, what he said didn't really matter; he needed to make the right moves.
Not five minutes after Ginny left his room, he heard, "ICKLE RONNYKINS! IF YOU DON'T GET DOWN HERE IN THE NEXT FIVE SECONDS YOU'LL NEVER SEE YOUR FRIEND AGAIN!"
Bounding down the stairs, Ron bellowed, "And why the hell would that be George?"
"'Cause sometime in the recent past your bookworm got bloody hot."
"Are you saying I was ugly before?"
Ron's heart skipped a beat at the sound of Hermione's voice and then another at the sound of her soft feminine laughter in reply to Fred's "Yup."
Entering the kitchen, Ron realized George was right. Hermione looked gorgeous. Not that she hadn't always looked adorable. Adorable he could handle, gorgeous he wasn't so sure about. As he took in Hermione, clad in shorts and a tank top that showed off her lovely curves, he tightened all over. Now was his chance, the moment he'd been waiting for all summer. George said something. Maybe it was Fred. It didn't matter. As Hermione's laughter rippled through him all his thoughts centered around her.
"Don't you want to give Hermione something?" Ginny appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
"OOOOOOOO Ickle Ronnykins! What?"
He glanced down avoiding Hermione's curious gaze. He found himself staring at a creamy expanse of feminine leg. When had her legs gotten so long? "I was just ermmmm wondering if ermmmmmm you." He pictured them wrapped around him, long and smooth, like silk. " if you shave your legs."
Fred, George and Ginny burst into laughter. Hermione blushed, but not as deeply as Ron. Shooting an embarrassed glare at the laughing trio, Hermione murmured, "Actually I wax them."
Not quite looking at any of them, Ron stammered, "Of of course."
As began to ascend the stairs Hermione called out, "Hey wait, there was something I wanted to ask you also." Without waiting for Ron to reply, she continued, "Why are you holding a comb?" Pretending not to hear her, Ron finished his climb and ran into his room wishing he had taken Ginny up on her offer of fever fudge.
This night is wild, so calm and dull, these hearts they race from self-control
Ron walked in the kitchen, sweaty from an afternoon of quidditch, to see Hermione and Ginny deep in conversation. His mum was standing at the counter, her back to the chatting girls, preparing for dinner. Hermione was talking excitedly, her eyes glowing as Ginny nodded frowning. "You mean, they'll be giving MORE homework this year?" the younger girl asked incredulously.
Hermione laughed. Ron shivered. "Of course. But it's really not that bad. I mean, in charms you'll be learning a whole bunch of really cool stuff like..."
"Hermione, not everyone shares your passion for learning trillions of spells!" George said, as entered the room behind Ron, Fred close on his tail.
Hermione gave George an icy stare and then caught Ron's gaze. "Did you have fun playing Quidditch?" She sounded disapproving. Not sure what he'd done wrong, Ron shrugged and moved to sit down next to her. She stopped him, rising.
"Actually I was just going to fetch my things and begin unpacking. Do you want to come help me?" It was not a question, that much Ron understood. He nodded, "Yeah, it'll give us a chance to catch up. Ginny, you should come help us. You know, show her where she can put her things in your room."
"Actually, Ginny, I think we can manage. Ron and I have some private things to discuss." At that, Ginny snorted, earning her what Ron hoped was his most malevolent glare.
Neither Ron nor Hermione spoke as they retrieved her bags and dragged them to Ginny's room.
Hermione closed the door, set her luggage on far bed, and began to take out her belongings. "I had a very nice chat with your mother and sister. I assume you and your brothers had a nice time playing outside?" Another question Ron was certain wasn't a question. Instead, he commented, "Sounds like you were about to give Ginny another run through of what she'll be learning this year. I thought you did that in the last three owls you sent. She showed me the recommended reading list you sent her."
"Yeah, well, I wanted to talk to you. Or rather be with you."
He cut in, not sure he liked the way her tone was rising, "Yeah, I've missed you a lot this..."
Hermione sent him a withering glance, and continued as if he hadn't opened his mouth, "But you ran off as soon as I got here. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought you were avoiding me. Or perhaps being alone with me."
"That's not true." He knew his statement lacked conviction. He had been avoiding spending time with her alone. Not because he didn't want to be with her. He did. Very much. Too much. She turned back to her unpacking.
Her voice was soft, hurt almost, when she spoke, "It's just that we've been apart all summer and the moment I arrive you scuttle away like I'm the last person you want to see." She was silent, but Ron could tell she wanted to say more. He was about to reassure her, tell her how she looked so tanned and sophisticated, so bloody beautiful that he wasn't sure what to say or do. He wanted to kiss her. But before he could say any of that, she began again in that sweet, injured tone.
"We were supposed to be boyfriend and girlfriend, right? It's been almost three months now, since that night?" Ron nodded.
Your legs are smooth, as they graze mine, we're doing fine, we're doing nothing at all
Ron hoped she wasn't going to cry. He turned her to face him. She looked tired, like she'd had long day.
"I'm sorry, 'Mione. I thought about you all day."
"You're nervous." She whispered this, stepping closer. He glanced down at her lips. They parted temptingly.
"Why would I be nervous?" He choked and looked away. Laughing helplessly, she turned back to the bed.
"You're nervous. And pathetic."
"I don't know what you're going on about." Suddenly, he really wanted to touch her. Her tank top left the back of her shoulders bare. He wondered if they felt as smooth as they looked. "Would you like a back rub?"
"Sure. Let me put up my hair." She pulled a hair band off her wrist, and in a few swift movements all her hair was on top of her head, exposing the delicate curve of her nape.
Tentatively, he ran his fingertips across her back, from one shoulder blade to the other, testing the smoothness of her skin. She tensed. "Erm, sorry."
"No, Ron. That felt good."
Something about the way her breath caught as she said it made his own shoulders tense. He swallowed and placed his hands firmly. Rhythmically, he squeezed. "Is that enough pressure?" He questioned softly, leaning close to her ear.
"Mmhmm. Perfect. Ron, you have wonderful hands."
"Thanks, but I haven't really done this before." He moved his hands down to knead her back. "My mum used to give us back rubs when we were small, but that was a long time ago." He dropped his hands and turned her around so she was standing in his arms.
Their eyes met. Ron's pulse began to race. This was what he'd been planning for, right now, this moment. His gaze fell to Hermione's lips. He watched as her small pink tongue darted out, nervously, to wet them. He leaned forward, his eyes never leaving her lips, until he could taste her breath. "Hermione," he murmured as he leaned in to close the gap between their lips.
"DINNER!"
The door to Ginny's room flew open and Ron sprang away from Hermione. Fred glanced from Ron, who had turned beet red with embarrassment to Hermione who was smiling languidly and then back to Ron questioningly.
"O…ok. We'll be down in a second." Ron stuttered.
Fred chuckled knowingly as he exited the room, "Sure you will, Ronnikins."
"Sorry, 'Mione. We will. I swear."
"I know." She was running her fingertips across her lips, her lips which he had been just about to feel against his own. Damn Fred. "It's fine, Ron."
My
hopes are so high, that your kiss might kill me.
So won't you kill
me, so I die happy?
My heart is yours to fill or burst, to break or
bury,
Or wear as jewelry, which ever you prefer.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, and subsequently his fabulous friends, well, none of it belongs to me. Lo siento. Also 'Hands Down,' that belongs to Dashboard Confessional.
Author's Note: I was thinking of writing the next part (yes, there will be a next part; the song's not over!) from Hermione's point of view (not first person, still third, just Hermione instead of Ron). What do you think?
