Tears of Blood
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A boy cries for his love of a girl that could never be his. He cries for the unfairness of life, of his destiny, and for the beautiful girl that never would know that he was more than he had appeared that one night. One-shot.
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Professor Spout smiled grimly at the class, her dark eyes glittering, "And with that slightly…violent note, our lesson ends. For homework, write two feet of parchment on the Bellator plant, describing the benefits and downfalls of growing it. I will not tolerate any deliberately large writing," She glared at Seamus Finnigan who grinned sheepishly, "and this essay will be due tomorrow on my desk."
Neatly placing her books in her bag, Hermione thoughtfully remarked, "It's a rather interesting plant, isn't it? I mean, it does put up a bit of a fight, but it has remarkable healing qualities."
"Think what you will; I'd rather have an unsightly bruise on my arm than not having an arm at all." Ron replied, shoving his books into his bag without much care.
"Hurry up, you lot, I want to get out of here." Harry said irritably, his bright green eyes scanning the students milling outside.
A smirk grew on Hermione's face, "Why? So you can see you darling Ginny?"
Harry glared at her and she hastily said, "Not that there's anything wrong about it, Harry. I mean, I find it sweet that you're dying to see your girlfriend. Those two hours must have been awfully long."
Snickering, Ron slapped Harry's back, "Cool down, mate. I'll come with you. I need to see Fred about that last letter he sent Mum. Even after he left school, he's been keeping tabs on me. Apparently, he told her I was failing Transfiguration. Blimey, because of that prat, Mum is considering getting me a tutor." Ron made a revolted face, showing his clear dislike for the idea.
Laughing, Hermione chided, "I don't know how you can get low marks in that class, Ron. McGonagall is a brilliant teacher."
Ron shrugged, "Not everyone's as smart as you."
"I'm not that smart." Hermione protested feebly, struggling to stop herself from blushing.
Harry raised an eyebrow, and Hermione made a face at him, glad he had forgotten his previous annoyance with her. Then again, Harry was a dear, he never really held grudges. Except for the one with Snape, but that was an entirely different matter.
"Alright, I'll catch up to you two. I'm going to ask Sprout for some more details on the Bellator plant…I'm not really clear whether it's the paste of the leaves or the stem that heals bruises…" Hermione trailed off, frowning.
Ron and Harry left, Harry walking distinctly faster than usual.
Turning, Hermione paused with surprise as she realized Professor Sprout had somehow slipped out of the room. The room, save for Hermione, was empty.
Sighing, she hoisted her heavy bag and walked out of the greenhouse, casting a glowering look at the plant. It was a nasty bugger…it had given her a fierce smack on the arm earlier.
"Psst, Hermione!"
Turning, she saw Ron gesturing her to come over where he was crouched in the bushes. Smiling curiously, she went over and kneeled down in front of him, "I thought you were going to go look for Fred."
A puzzled look appeared on his face, and then he shrugged, "I'll look for him later. I need to talk to you."
She nodded, wondering what was so secret that they were hiding in the bloody bushes.
"Will you go out with me tonight?" Ron stammered, looking positively red. His glowing cheeks matched his hair to a T.
"Oh…that's so…sudden…" Hermione faltered, staring at the missing button on his robes, refusing to look any higher. She was sure that her cheeks were just as red as his, judging by the warmth.
"I know." Ron simply said.
Blushing furiously, Hermione responded, "I'd love to."
"Meet me at the library tonight, at seven. And Hermione? Please don't mention this to anyone, please. I'm really embarrassed about the whole thing and I know Po…Harry will make a fuss."
"Alright." Hermione agreed. Although she couldn't imagine Harry making a fuss about them dating (on the contrary, he would be rather pleased), she was just as embarrassed. It wasn't Ron, Merlin; she had been waiting for ages for him to realize she liked him. It was just that she wanted to keep a secret.
"Great." Ron said, obviously relieved. His eyes darted around, checking for anyone who might be looking, and then leaned over to chastely kiss her on the cheek.
Ron hurried off, leaving a very confused Hermione behind.
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Impatiently jiggling her foot, Hermione wondered when Ron would finally come. She had managed to escape from Harry after dinner, making an excuse about forgetting her book in the library, and casting a secretive glance Ron's way. He had missed it, and had merely shovelled more pie in his mouth, muttering vaguely about castrating Fred.
Deciding that Ron was acting very strange for a boy who had just asked her out and kissed her, Hermione had left the table crossly.
"Hermione?" Ron stopped in front of her, grinning sheepishly, "Sorry about being late. I got held up."
Shrugging, Hermione stood up, "It's fine, Ron. Where are we going?"
"I thought we might visit the Room of Requirement, actually."
Surprised, Hermione said, "I thought you would take me to Hogsmeade." Secretly, she was pleased by the idea of going to the Room of Requirement. It was more private than the bustling streets of Hogsmeade.
"It's not a Hogsmeade weekend though." Ron confusedly said.
Rolling her eyes, Hermione snorted, "Like that's ever stopped us from using the secret passageway."
Ron stared at her, and grinned, "Well, let's go!"
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"Oh, that was wonderful, Ron. I loved the lemon meringue pie." Hermione beamed at Ron, who merely smiled, modestly accepting her compliment.
"This whole night was…spectacular, utterly amazing, and completely perfect, Ron. I had such a brilliant time tonight." Hermione sighed in bliss, capturing his hand and squeezing it fondly. For a moment, his hand stiffened, but he relaxed, squeezing her hand back.
"I didn't tell you earlier, Hermione, but you look beautiful." Ron told her, gently caressing her cheek. Her wide eyes stared at him, taken aback at his un-Ron-ish behaviour, but a sweet smile formed on her lips.
"Thank you."
Bending his head, Ron kissed her. It was a tender kiss, not a sloppy one like Victor, but a kiss that was the type that made your toes curl and made your stomach do ecstatic flips. His lips were soft and tasted faintly of cinnamon, and she pressed closer. His body was more…muscular than she thought, and his hair longer and softer, but she was too delirious to think any further.
He pulled back, and she kept her eyes closed. She wanted to remember this kiss- this moment- forever.
As she started opening her eyes, Ron covered them up again, "Wait. Promise me that you won't ever talk about tonight with anyone. I want to keep it a secret, just between the two of us."
"Alright." Hermione whispered.
"And even if you talk to me about it, I'll just deny it. Tonight never happened."
Surprised, Hermione nodded, "Okay."
"And I just want to let you know that I love you. I love you, Hermione Granger." Ron pressed a sweet kiss to her lips, and pulled away. Hermione opened her eyes.
And found herself alone for the second time that day.
Shrugging, she practically skipped back to the Tower, elated. Ron loved her. Everything was brilliant.
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Stumbling back to where the door to the Room of Requirement was, Draco Malfoy allowed himself a few tears for what he had gotten that night…and what he had lost. The sour taste of the Polyjuice Potion reminded him that he could never let Hermione know that he, a Deatheater, was in love with her, a Mudblood.
No, never a Mudblood. She was too pure, too beautiful to be tainted by such a foul word.
Then he stepped back into the Room of Requirement, planning his attack on Hogwarts and the assassination of Dumbledore.
Throughout the night, he kept crying tears of blood.
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Just a little plot-bunny that jumped into my mind the other day while I was reading some works her at ffnet. This story is based on one on Severus/Lily, but I don't remember the name or author. But I congratulate him/her on such a beautiful idea and ask for forgiveness for taking the idea without his/her consent.
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