Disclaimer: I could say I was, but would any of you really believe me?
"Ron, don't," Hermione said waving his hand away.
"The fly is mocking me, Hermione!" he said. "I wouldn't be a man if I didn't teach it a lesson!"
"You're not acting like a man your acting like a little boy and it's making it very heard to read when you keep batting at my hair!" she said holding her book over her head as if to ward him off.
It was large and old, with a dusty red cover decorated with golden letters in a fat but elegant script. It put him in mind of obese ladies singing opera in an old and dusty theater.
"It's not my fault the fly likes your hair!" he said banishing the image to continue pursuit of the winged menace. "He probably thinks that in something that big there has to be a place to hide."
He could tell right away that this was not the right thing to say.
"Excuse me?" she said through clenched teeth, bringing her book down sharply.
Somehow Ron felt as if she'd removed his protection rather then hers.
"Not that that's a bad thing!" he said, quickly. "I like your big hair!"
She glared at him. If looks could kill a thousand Horcruxes wouldn't have been able to save him now.
"Really!" he said, desperately. "It's all soft and thick and I just want to run my hands through it and—" he stopped suddenly, turning bright red at what he let slip.
She didn't laugh in his face, though, like he thought she might, in fact she looked indignant.
"So you want to play with my hair, is that it?" she said. "It's such a complete oddity that it fascinates you, or something?"
"No!" he said. "That's not what I mean—"
"Then what do you mean?" she said dangerously.
"I just…I only meant that…what I was trying to say was…I didn't mean for that to come out at all—"
"Of course not," she said. "Don't want to hurt my feelings, is that it? I know my hair is 'big' Ron, I've only had it all my life, and here I thought you were starting to get a clue and learn the meaning of tact—"
"Bloody hell, Hermione!" Ron said. "It was a compliment! You're hair is beautiful, just like the rest of your body and you're personality and your mind and everything else about you!"
He realized what he'd said and felt heat spreading from the tips of his ears onward to the rest of his face like the plague.
"You really think so?" she said.
He nodded and made an affirmative sort of strangled grunt, not looking at her.
"Ron?" he said.
"Hmm?" he said, still sounding rather strangled.
"The fly's gone," she said.
"What?" he said.
"The fly, it's gone," she said.
"Oh, that's…good," he said.
"Yes, but, I just heard it buzz by my ear a second ago, I really hope it isn't in my hair—"
"I wasn't serious, Hermione—"
"—could you check?" she finished.
"What?" he said, "I—er—okay."
He reached out tentatively and ran his fingers through her hair, once…twice…and by the third stroke his embarrassment was forgotten, his attention raptly focused on how soft Hermione's hair was and how he could push it into the sunlight and watch all the highlights become illuminated until it bounced back into shadow, and just the way it bounced…he noticed her watching him and, ears pink, scrambled to look like he was searching for the fly rather then just playing with her hair. He leaned in closer as if he were looking through it, and brought his other hand up and entwined it in her hair as well. He could do this all day. His eyes eventually darted back to Hermione's face to find her eyes closed and her expression one of complete serenity. He froze. Her eyes fluttered open to look at him questioningly and he noticed just what kind-of position they were in. Their faces were hardly four inches apart and his hands were holding her head, fingers weaved through her hair. He heard her breath hitch and felt himself being drawn closer.
It was much gentler and slower then the kisses with Lavender had been, and Hermione's lips were warm and responsive and as soft as her hair, but in a very different way, and her taste wasn't sweet but nonetheless he knew instantly he was addicted to it, and the whole time his stomach was jumping from nervousness and exhilaration and joy.
He pulled away slowly and reluctantly, stopping inches from her face.
Her eyes opened slowly and looked up at him. They weren't questioning his actions, nor were they indignant or angry or anything of the things he'd half expected them to be.
"Hermione…" he said but was cut off by her lips.
This was just as well, really, since he had no idea what he was going to say.
The second kiss was more heated; passion and pent-up desires entering the mix. It quickly grew more hungry and frantic before they were stopped by a loud buzzing and a tickling in their ears.
The broke apart, breathing heavily, just in time to see a black dot dart out of sight.
"I'm going to kill that fly," Ron growled, and went off in the direction the insect had disappeared.
Hermione sighed, rolled her eyes and went back to her book, a small smile playing on her lips.
AN: First fic, I was bored and instead of reading fanfiction like I usually do when I'm bored I thought I'd try my hand at writing it. It's true that there's no real plot but it's got something resembling fluff in there, doesn't it? Feel free to flame or anything else, the lines are now open.