Mars Est Lumineux Ce Soir
The stars twinkled malevolently as if cackling at her plight. Oh, just shut up, the winsome girl glared daggers at the foggy window into the dusky sky. When she realized that she was talking to herself she smothered her pale face with a limp pillow in disgust. Inhaling deep she threw the pillow to the floor and sat up, laughing at herself with icy ruthlessness. This was nothing. A meager crush. Harry had been inches away from death, destruction, and catastrophe, and he had beared it. He hadn't wept into his covers and yelled at stars. And here she was, a girl who had everything, upset because she found herself unlovable. Her slender shoulders, cloaked by locks of unruly curls, shook with revulsion. Hermione Granger was worried about love when all she should really be concerned about was the future and Lord Voldemort.
And they say I'm intelligent, she hissed in her head. As she settled down for an empty sleep, a tapping sounded from the dusty paned window. Just the branches of a tree, Hermione convinced herself, it's nothing else. She gently closed her eyelids and cleared her mind, but the tapping persisted. Nothing, nothing, nothing, she hummed softly. What in Azkaban was she worried about? Why did she care if there was anything at her window? Hermione hadn't the foggiest clue.
She furrowed her brow and squeezed her eyelids tighter, her lashes nearly tickling her cheeks. Attempting to shove the flurry of thoughts and images swirling in her head (like I'm going mental) and ignore the crescendo of taps on the window, she tried to think of "happy thoughts." But she couldn't think of any that were devoid of the subject she was avoiding. As time passed like the falling of footsteps in the snow, the crease in Hermione's brow smoothed and her tense muscles eased and relaxed. Soon the song of sleep was too irresistible and she followed it.
He had made a choice and he would follow through, it was too late now. The time to turn back was too long ago and he had passed it by. His mop of rusty hair twisted and danced in a gust of bitter wind, he shivered in the winter air and at the prospect of what lied ahead. He was going to knock on the blinking window until his hand froze off. And after that, he'd use his head.
Band, bang, bang! Hermione jumped up so fast that her vision clouded and her head spun. Throwing off her blankets and clenching her fists in raw fury, she stalked to the window and threw it open.
"Bloody hell, Hermy, I thought you'd never come. Or anyone for that matter…" the freckled wizard trailed off, unsure where to go next.
"Ron! I–er–" Hermione's voice was a rush of surprise, joy, anger, confusion, annoyance at being called "Hermy," and about a thousand other emotions. It was so baffling her head spun. She drew a shaking hand to her forehead, "Er… hello?"
"Hello. Listen–"
But before he could continue, Hermione came to her senses. "Ron! Wait a minute! What are you doing here? You'll be expelled! How did you–?" Spying his broom only strengthened her tirade. She grabbed his bare arm and squeezing it so tight that hair came out, Ron grimaced. "Oh my god, Ron…" tears were staining her flushed cheeks.
"Hermione, why…" Ron felt an intense urge to wipe away her tears, but restrained himself.
Hermione didn't know why she had gone all weepy at this point. She suspected it could have been the onrush of emotions. Seeing a friendly face, especially his, had sparked thoughts of the future. The unrevealed, frigid future. The one she was so afraid of. She didn't want to think about it. About what could happen. She had kept herself busy, fearing herself at night when her mind was susceptible to those thoughts. And now, caught off guard, she was crying her eyes out in front of the boy who she loved so much it hurt. Cool fingers grazed her damp cheeks, a touch that was rough and gentle at the same time and made her shiver. She looked up into the eyes staring intensely at her. Their tranquil blue melted her sorrow and she gave a raw laugh.
"I'm so…ugh" she spat.
"No you're not," he said in an unfamiliar voice. "Come here," he gestured to his broom, and she hesitantly clambered on. Another blow of wind passed and Ron wrapped his long arms around her. Settling his chin on her shoulder, he whispered "Hold on."
What was this? Hermione's heart raced from both fear and the closeness of Ron's lips her hers. This wasn't bumbling pink-eared Ron, or sarcastic, stubborn Ron. What had possessed him to do this? Who had possessed him? Was it Voldemort's evil plot to get close to Harry? Her shoulders shook with laughter, nearly strangling Ron. These were not bitter laughs; they were the pearly laughs of fairy-tales, and summer lemonade by the pool. Ron looked flummoxed.
"No, it's… just…" She was having trouble talking between her curious giggles, "I was thinking… never mind…" Grinning, she turned around and buried her face, burning from the cold.
"You're barmy, you are." He returned her grin. Inside he was burning up, and screaming with confusion and an odd sort of happiness. His body moved mechanically as he pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, his lashes tickling her brow.
"Ron! Look where you're flying!" Hermione yelled. Ron looked up and saw they were steadily spiraling downward. He made an effort to regain control of the broom, but he was no Viktor Krum. His chest burned at the thought. At last they hit a beech tree, slid down its branches, and thudded to the grassy ground.
A considerable amount of leaves had fallen with them and the pair were torn and disheveled. It was a genuinely absurd situation. They exploded with laughter and rolled on the dew soaked grass until their faces were fractions of an inch apart and tawny curls blended with strands of ginger. Then, only the blaring sound of a silent night filled the gaps.
"Why did you come to my window, Ron?" Hermione whispered, blinking away dew.
" I–I wanted to see you." Ron's voice was equally hushed and his cheeks were scarlet.
Hermione raised her eyebrows, "Do you fly up to everyone's window when you want to see them?"
"Er…" He was at a loss for words.
" Its alright. You don't have to answer." She saved Ron from himself. Am I expecting something that's not there? She was talking to herself again. Silence enveloped them and sealed Hermione's chapped lips. Hours or seconds passed.
"No. No one else."
Hermione's heart leaped. What was this? She was speechless. She fumbled for words, and settled on a squeaky, "Only for me?"
Ron didn't reply, instead he gazed into her eyes, amber in the moonlight. Suddenly, Hermione noticed it wasn't chilly anymore. A warm haze blanketed them from the icy wind. A soft hum filled Hermione's ears. Ron's lips were a hair's breadth away from hers, closer than before. They closed the gap between them, and inhaled their reverie.
Fin