Haiku Love Song.
A Harry Potter fanfiction by ranathalion.
A/N: I own you.
It was a warm, windy, blustering, summer's evening at Hogwarts. The trees were singing, the birds were rustling gently in the breeze, and the clouds rolled merrily by overhead. Ron Weasley, the crimson-haired, chocolate-eyed sidekick of the scarred brooding teenager known only as Harry Potter, stepped out into the Quidditch field. His throbbing heart was throbbing away wildly in his throbbing chest, for earlier that day he had asked the light of his life, the fire of his loins, Hermione Granger, out on a lover's tryst in the very field in which he now stood.
Surprisingly, even shockingly, she had agreed, blushing shyly in the rather interesting way only girls below the age of eighteen can blush. That blush now burned brightly in our scarlet-haired hero's heart, as he awaited the arrival of the aforementioned Hermione Granger.
In fact, he could see her now, making her away across the field like E. coli across a warm agar plate.
"Hermione!" he called, like Oberon to Titiania. The sound of his voice was carried by the summer breeze to Hermione's rather soft, nibbleable ears. Bemused, Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron. Ron picked them up and enthusiastically rolled them back.
They came together then, in the middle of that Quidditch Field in the middle of Hogwarts in the middle of England, underneath the dusky evening skies of grey and blue, and made hot sweaty love on the cold, cold grass. When they were done, they lay beside one another and stared at sprawling night sky.
In a moment of passion, Ron nuzzled Hermione's ear softly, gently, tenderly.
"Your love to me is like a beautiful Japanese haiku:
The salmon swim at night.
Towards your room.
The sun and the moon."
"That was never a haiku," replied Hermione, staring at Ron from between her tousled tendrils of hair.
"Why?"
"Haikus have a five-seven-five syllable structure and must include a season word," recited Hermione, who was knowledgeable about such things. "You just destroyed a haiku. How am I supposed to love a boy who destroys haikus?"
Every harsh word slammed into our ruby-haired hero like Tommy Lee into Pamela Anderson.
He collapsed on the ground, forgotten, alone. How could this happen to him? He made his mistakes; had nowhere to run. It wasn't fair. How could this happen to him?
"Well," he said, throat dry and full of bitterness. "I guess this is the end."
Hermione got up without speaking, her robes flowing in the wind like so much dust in the breeze, and began walking towards the castle. And then she turned around and smiled at him.
Hermione had always told him that he was the only one who could make her smile. It was only after she was gone that he realized her smile had always been a sad one.