Cappuccino After Eleven
Another great thank you to Ronnie11, merendinoemiliano (thank you! I feel like the dialogue is one of the hardest things to write about them while trying to keep them at least halfway in character), and GidgetteLover (thank you so much! I'm always excited to read what you have to say, it's really motivating:)!)
Chapter Nine
Until The End of The Night
She had spent the rest of the evening with Ron, in the hallway away from the party crowd, – talking softly together until the end of the night.
When she at last went home, way past midnight and under the thick grey clouds and the moon, the fresh breeze had finally swept the faint blush she had worn the entire evening off her face.
Even though she was far from good at reading other people, she had concluded that Ron was a genuine gem in the sea of horrible people she had previously had the pleasure of meeting.
The way they had spoken in soft words, sitting by the wall away from all the overwhelming noises, had only worked as fuel to the flame. She found herself enjoying his presence more and more. He even seemed to whisk away the constant edge of tension that she usually felt when socializing with strangers.
Even though the entire evening had gone honey smooth, there was one thing about their conversation where the tension still remained. The topic stood out from their hours of conversation in the clearest detail. It seemed that when he had mentioned his brothers – the twins – he had been holding back.
Hermione didn't enjoy not knowing. That was part of her reputation back in the US – she were, after all, The Ilvermorny Know-It-All.
But with Ron it seemed different. Like there was a heavy sadness in his eyes so unlike him. Like his vibrant persona dulled, like black clouds would roll over the otherwise clear sky blue.
She hadn't missed the clue that he seemed to have great sadness regarding at twins.
He had been hesitant.
Reluctant even.
Somehow not present, when he told her about them. The lighthearted story he had been telling her somehow gained weight and seemed to lie on him like a heavy burden.
And then the moment had passed, and so had Hermione's wavering doubt about whether or not to ask him about it.
She had felt mean for wanting to pry into the matter – it seemed so private and delicate that she were afraid to destroy it, like she would tear apart the fine silken threads of a spider's web with clumsy lumpy fingers. That's always how she felt about delicate things, never once stopping to wonder if perhaps she herself were one of them too.
She'd let out a loud breath, cutting herself off before the spiraling would gain momentum.
Ron had looked at her with sad eyes too, when she, so well-practiced and carefully, had avoided the subject of her social life in Ilvermorny.
Suddenly, Hermione had looked up and realized that the dancing lights in the ceiling had halted, and people were shuffling out towards the door.
Towards them.
There was a loud murmur in her ears, almost like bees buzzing.
Then, Ron sighed and heaved himself up, and scrunched the empty plastic cup together in his hands.
"I guess the party is over now," he said plainly, suddenly looking tired.
For a moment, he looked around at the people shuffling past, then he stretched out a hand.
Hermione took it, and almost yelped at the strength of his grip. He helped her up, muttering a sheepish "sorry" while reaching awkwardly to scratch the back of his head.
Her arm slipped out of his, tracing the softness of his palm one last time as their fingers slipped away. Her hand suddenly felt cold, and she felt very aware of how empty it was. How empty she felt.
The night was over, and it brought along a heavy coldness, settling in her stomach like solid ice. As if her body had already prepared a promise of loneliness and rejection for her out of habit.
"So," Hermione stuttered out, cringing at herself. She'd had a smooth conversation going for hours, and now she had to ruin it by gobbling up some jaded words.
"So," he smiled, and the light ignited a sparkle in his eyes. The people from the party were mostly gone, and only a few lingered here and there in the dark hallway by the door where they stood.
A guy bumped into her from behind, trying to tie his shoelaces while swaying like a sailor. She stumbled, but Ron caught her arm.
Her breath hitched.
"I hope you had fun tonight," Hermione finally said, "It was a nice party,"
His smile brightened more, one corner of his lips lifting higher than the other.
"I absolutely did! Getting to spend the night with a brilliant girl like you is just an added bonus," he said, then flushed, drowning his freckles in pink, "I hope you had a great time too?"
Hermione felt the warmth spread on her face.
"Absolutely!" she said, feeling her face get warmer by the minute, at the realization that he had never let go of her arm, "I'd love to do this again?"
It came out as more of a question than she had intended, but he just nodded.
"Would you be free sometime next week?" Ron asked.
"I am!" she exclaimed, perhaps a bit too excitedly.
Then, from behind, Hermione heard the sound of fingers tapping on wood, and a loud sigh.
"Are you guys finished?" Lavender said impatiently, inspecting her polished nails from where she was leaning on the doorframe.
"Ehmm," Ron spluttered out behind her.
"What?" Lavender asked innocently, then turned to Hermione, "We're going the same way home,"
"Oh, yes, of course," she said, a bit taken aback by surprise, her face burning with embarrassment.
At Lavender's obviously nice, but slightly predatory, smile, Hermione jumped up to follow her out the door. When she came halfway through, she froze in her steps and turned back to Ron.
She leapt the remaining distance between them, careful to stop a full arm's length away from him as to not invade his private space.
Hermione looked up into his eyes – they looked more grey than blue in the dimness of the room – while noting the curve of his nose and a freckle on his chin on the way there.
His bronze-red hair fell into his face. She had to hold back a sigh.
Channeling all her courage into a small voice, she asked shyly yet boldly, "Goodbye hug?"
He grinned, "Yep,"
And then he embraced her.
The hug was cut short by Lavender's presence, but she still felt how the muscles shifted in his back, the smell of mint, and how his closeness caused joy to bubble up in her throat as laughter.
"See you later, then," she called, not bothering to hide how her heart was racing.
"See you, Hermione," he called back, and then Lavender smacked the door in his face.
Then suddenly, she wasn't looking at her almost-neighbor's pleasant face anymore, but rather looking straight into the back of a heavy wooden door.
Hermione was stunned.
"What?" Lavender said again, grinning mischievously, "You guys would have never gotten it over with if I hadn't intervened,"
She put a petite hand to Hermione's back and gracefully guided her towards the stairway.
"Don't worry, darling," Lavender continued, devilish eyes lit up in the dark, "I'm here to give you the midnight special on how to get to Ronald Weasley 101,"
A/N: If you liked it, please leave a review about what you think so far! It helps me a lot with motivation to write!