Author's Note: Hello everyone! I know that an immense apology is in need, due to the lack of uploading for almost a year. Life got really hectic, and along with a ridiculously prolonged writer's block, the outcome was this. At least, I hope there are some of you still there and still want to read this story.
Anyways, chapter four is here, and I believe I should warn you about some things. Remember, this is a totally AU story, meaning that OOCs are inevitable. As formerly said, Ron may act differently due to his different upbringing, but still I try to put some more Ron-canon-like characteristics here and there. Moreover, I am quite certain that some of you may find Harry's behaviour weird, but this is an Alternate Universe and characters tend to react differently from canon (also, there's an explanation for his behaviour later on). This may also 'count' for Hermione's various behaviours, as well as both her relationships with Harry and Ron.
A big 'thank you' to ObssessedRHShipper for proofreading this story and for her great suggestions! :)
So... enjoy! :)
The Blue-eyed Spirit
~Birthday Surprises~
"Happy birthday, Hermione!"
The so usual wish stems from every possible angle every few moments, as I'm heading to my first class after a wonderful breakfast… and how could it not be? There was pumpkin juice, fresh toast, butter and strawberry jam, grapes and even some croissants! And, of course, Ron was there, right next to me, just like right now.
Oh, and I'm officially eighteen today, but, frankly, it's only a minor factor in my happiness; there are much greater things to probe and arise such a beloved sentiment, isn't that right? I smile brightly to myself and I can certainly sense Ron's curious eyeing and small, humorous smile shouting that little question that his voice doesn't pronounce. I glance at him from the corner of my eye and shrug a bit before mumbling innocently that I'm just gleeful; at that, he shakes his head and chuckles, all the while entrapping with two of his long fingers one of mine, for just a second, so it could be so easily mistaken as a tiny accident during side-by-side walking… even if I know better than that.
"You're insufferable, Mr. Weasley," I murmur with false annoyance as I feel my heart skipping a beat, my lungs being momentarily thirstier for some cool air and my skin hungrier for some more of his gentle touches. The redhead just breathes an almost mute laughter before thanking me, almost teasingly, for such complimentary words.
Oh, the little… he can be so teasing at times, that I want to whack the back of his head so hard, it-
Oh, who am I kidding? I love that little, Welsh git with all my heart! And especially now, now that I can observe more aspects of him, other, different sides that were never shown to me till now, during that tangible presence…
"Hermione, please, hurry up; I want to be in class on time!" His voice, more teasing deep-down in the vibes of seriousness, probes me too much to ignore; I glare at him before quickening my pace to reach him.
"Oh, you'll get it bad, Mr. Weasley!"
…
"I'll get these up to the dormitory and whenever you want, just come so we can start with the essay- is that ok?"
I startle horribly and gasp, abruptly being taken out of my focus on a volume about advanced Transfiguration by his smooth words; I look up to him with still wide eyes full of surprise, breathing deeply in meager hopes of evening my crazy heartbeats. Ron chuckles good-naturedly to me for a millisecond.
"Alright there?" he asks gently, watching me with his almost round eyes, and I start feeling my heart pound slower, calmer. "Didn't scare you much, did I?" At this, I chuckle to myself.
"You scare me? Oh, not at all," I tell him quite playfully, smiling brightly up to him, even though I believe wholeheartedly every word I spell out- the mere notion of associating Ron with fear is just absurd. "Just too focused on the book, that's all." He smiles to me understandingly.
"Of course," he whispers lightly, letting out a short-lived, muted laughter while staring at me. "Always these beloved, precious books of yours…" he continues as his hand, big and warm, cups my cheek lovingly; I have to put some great effort as to not close my eyes and drown in the sensations.
"Jealous much?" I whisper back to him after a second, trying to ignore as much his soothing touch in order to look teasing- he deserves it, after all, being so teasing himself.
"Oh, not at all… I just wouldn't dare to put myself in the way between you and books; it would be a suicide mission, more or less," he answers quickly, his eyes gleaming more and more with childish mischief I've never expected to witness in there, if I want to be honest (although, I have to also admit that I don't mind it one bit).
"Who are you and what've you done with Ron Weasley?" I ask him humorously, trying quite hard to swallow my oncoming fit of laughter, all the while looking up to him from between thick, dark eyelashes; his smile gets wider and brighter, if possible.
"It's the very same person; I've just thought I should hide some sides of mine so I can always surprise you." I cannot help the giggle here.
"Just say you wanted to make a good first impression, mister." He smiles even more dazzlingly to me, to the point I feel my knees all weak and wobbly.
"But that wouldn't seem to boost my image now, would it?" he keeps on his light teasing, but before I have a chance to respond, he keeps talking, this time his voice silkier and less joking. "Just finish with your reading and when ready, come upstairs, okay? I'll be waiting."
"Alright," I say, even though the whisper is shaking so much… I feel Ron stepping even closer to me, his body almost touching mine, his hand still covering my cheek and making my skin tingling with pure delight… His head is leaning closer to my own, his crystal blue eyes never stop staring deep into my own, and I wonder if… if I'm just about to taste…
With a weird sense of bittersweet, I feel his lips lingering on my forehead, just above my left eyebrow. It's not that I don't cherish these flawless actions of respect and affection; they always manage to warm my chest and get my logic and heart drunk, always lulling me into pleasantness… It's just… I yearn so much for the knowledge of his taste, of how his lips, all warm and soft and gentle would feel against mine, of how they would behave in another act of tangible adoration…
Suddenly, I hear a quite discreet cough from somewhere near us and I turn my head around, just along with Ron, to see who it is. A very small blush of embarrassment comes to rest on my cheeks as I see Harry before us, looking at the pair of us carefully, a quite unreadable expression on his face and in his emerald eyes.
"Harry!" I greet him immediately, taking a few steps towards him as I give him a true smile. He eyes me for a second before his eyes travel to rest behind me, to watch Ron even more observantly.
"Hello Harry," I hear Ron's kind voice, friendly and calm in one of the very few verbal greetings- maybe even the first one- towards my best friend. With the corner of my eye I see Ron smiling a bit to Harry, as he gathers the armful of books and takes a few steps towards us in his usually slow pace; in return, Harry just grunts something incomprehensible, a thing that shocks me so much, that I stare with wide eyes at him. I believe I would stare at my friend for a whole eternity, trying to figure out his suddenly inexplicable behaviour, if it wasn't for the sound of Ron's voice filling the air once more.
"Don't worry about me, Hermione; just take your time, yes?" I snap my eyes to him, watching for a moment before eventually managing to turn back to my more relaxed state and giving him a tiny smile before replying.
"Alright, I'll see you later!" At that, he smiles once again, nods to the pair of us and exits the library, leaving me with a quiet, still slightly watchful Harry. I have to admit that this behaviour of his is quite new to me, but I try to shrug it off for now, and instead I smile to him brilliantly, taking more steps closer to him. "Harry, how are you?" At my words, he seems to snap out of his deep thinking and then attempts a smile of his own.
"Happy birthday, Hermione," he wishes, and I am very glad to hear the so known, desired warmth in his voice, as well as see it in the black depths of his eyes. My smile gets wider and I rush to him for a big hug.
"Oh, thank you so much, Harry!" I say lowly, reminding to myself that we're still in library, thus no loud, or even normal talking allowed. "Let's get out of the library so we can talk more freely." Harry certainly seems to have no problem with this, so I take my bag and we head towards the exit, but not before I throw a look full of longing back to the table, where that Transfiguration book is lying… Ah, I guess I'll have to read it with another opportunity…
Harry must have seen that stolen look, because, first chance out of the library, he starts laughing heartily.
"You and your love for books! Oh, dear, you're impossible!" he exclaims as we keep walking down the corridor, destination still unknown. I throw him a false glare and, fortunately for him, he stops with his laughter.
"I don't see anything wrong with some light reading," I say nonchalantly and I can definitely sense his eye-roll at that. For a moment afterwards, we just walk in comfortable silence, just enjoying the familiar presence of each other nearby; then, Harry halts all of a sudden, a small, slightly sly smile on his lips.
"What is it, Harry?" I furrow my eyebrow as his smile brightens amazingly at my confusion.
"You're so naïve at times…" I hear him mutter sweetly, shaking his head with gleeful disbelief; I feel quite irritated and even more confused at this, and I take another step closer to him, opening my mouth to say a few things to him, but he is quicker than I am, and reaches for something from his bag.
"Do you honestly think that I wouldn't give you a birthday present?" he laughs, all the while his hand emerges from his bag, revealing a paper bag along with it. I gasp slightly and I stare at it for a couple of seconds, then look up to his sparking, emerald eyes.
"Dear, I didn't… when… how…?" Well, I'm certainly speechless and Harry chuckles at that.
"Oh, stop with the interrogation and come and get it already!" he exclaims with mock annoyance, even though he does nothing to hide that big, boyish smile of his. I laugh at him and run straight into his arms, hugging him tightly.
"Oh, Harry… thank you so much! There was certainly no—"
"No need to buy you a present?" he ends my sentence so right. He pulls slightly away from our hug so he can peer at my face, and when he sees my weak, shy nod, he shakes his head. "Please, Hermione, of course I need to give you a present! Now just stop talking nonsense already and take it!" he continues as he sees that I'm about to protest once again. At his last words though, all I can feel and think of is his warmth, as well as the immense luck of having him as my best friend. Cherishing him with a huge smile that I hope shouts all my feelings for him, I slowly pull myself away from his arms, so I can take the bag from his hand. I observe it for a moment, then glance back at Harry, who instantly nods at me to open it already, surely slightly anxious about my oncoming reaction. I eventually open the bag and take out the material, which appears to be somewhat thick and woolen; then, as it is out and in my visibility range, I take a good look of it and a gasp is inevitable.
"Oh, dear Circe... that's... how did you-?" Once again, I feel quite disappointed due to my inability to articulate, but, honestly, this beautiful, grey jacket...
"Come on, Hermione!" Harry exclaims with false impatience, yet I can very clearly see the beam on his face. "I saw how you were almost drooling over that jacket at our last Hogsmeade visit, and I knew it would be a quite decent birthday present-"
"'Quite decent'? Are you joking, Harry? This is such a great present... Thank you so very much, Harry..." At this, Harry smiles to me even more brightly and comes to me for another, bear hug.
"It's really nothing, sis; you absolutely deserve it, as so much more."
And this is the rare occasion when Harry says something like that, so deep and sensitive and certainly sincere, and upon hearing it, I can get exceptionally sentimental... more or less, like right now...
"Oh, Harry... you're turning me into a mush of sentimentalism right now..." At this, we both start laughing like mad, and let me tell you, it is quite difficult to stop, even after a whole minute passing.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake…" Harry declares breathlessly, one hand clutching to his stomach as he's taking huge inhales in order to even out his breathing and eventually subside his laughter; doubled over with my own giggles, I try to copy his antics. "That was a good laugh, Hermione! What do you say we go out, by the lake or something, and have some fun? We haven't had a good talk or whatever for some time now and the weather is really great!" His words hold a warm feeling in my heart, and, at first, I'm ready to exclaim my acceptance, but then I remember that Ron is waiting for me upstairs. Even though he said that I could take my time, I think it is definitely rude to keep him waiting without knowing how long a time it would be- most probably the entire afternoon! But then, an excellent idea pops into my mind- yes, of course!
"I'm sorry, Harry; your idea is great, but I promised earlier to Ron that we will study together. How about you come and join us in the Heads' dormitories? That way, we can all spend time together, and we can forget about homework for today! I'm sure that Ron won't mind and that is the perfect opportunity for you and—"
I know that I fell into my rambling mode because of my new-found excitement- just imagine though, how much of a great time Harry, Ron and I will have together- but suddenly, Harry's sour expression and furrowed eyebrows make me stop, looking up to him with pure confusion.
"'Ron'?!" Harry repeats the name, however his tone is unlike mine; he is dressing the syllable with a bitter attire full of disbelief that makes my eyebrows shoot up in my forehead. "I see that you are fairly accustomed to his company, aren't you, Hermione?" The slight accusation in his tone makes me even more perplexed, and frankly, I start to feel a little bit upset, as well.
"W-What is that supposed to mean, Harry? He is the Head Boy, is in our year and is a Gryffindor, and he is certainly a very good person, so why are you behaving like this? I don't see anything wrong with spending time with him!"
Harry lets out an outrageous laugh. "You're out of your mind, Hermione, aren't you? He is a weird one, that is for sure! He barely speaks to anyone, he is always so slow and he looks around and peers at everyone with those big eyes and that eerie, little smile of his, like he's… like he's on something!" Listening to all of these, I just stand there, eyes wide with shock, both to Harry's tone and words- especially his words! I feel my anger start to rise up and some sense of injustice is starting to graze my neck, slowly making its handle tighter and tighter, to the point of strangling me.
"You're- You're being positively ridiculous, Harry! I don't understand what your problem is- where the heck did all these absurd things you've just spelled out come from! You- You don't even know the boy and you start making assumptions; that… that is completely out of character, Harry!"
"But it is not only me, Hermione- everyone believes so! Everyone who has eyes can see that he is odd; he has some problem!"
"Oh, yeah, like having big eyes and looking around is weird! Maybe we should take his eyes out so he can go back to normal! Seriously; thinking that he is on something…! I cannot believe you, Harry!"
"Yeah, well, maybe you should start! Just- Just watch his behaviour! He is creepy!"
"Or, maybe, he is just shy! But, of course, why should anyone think of such a ridiculous possibility! There's a new lad at school- surely he is hiding a dark past or something!" I shout at my best friend, unable to just wholly comprehend what is being spoken at the moment. How- How can they not see? Accusing Ron of being creepy… it's- it's outlandish! Harry just scoffs at my words.
"Oh, Hermione, you're just being you right now; naïve and always giving people chances even though the truth is clear and glaring!" Harry almost shouts and his words hit me more than I would ever imagine. And that little word… naïve… this time, I know, it is not meant to be funny or complimentary.
"Naïve?! Y-You're calling me naïve because I keep company with another student! Since when is it prohibited to have other company besides yours, Harry?"
Harry stares at me with eyes all wide, most probably from shock due to my own words. "I never forbid you from having your own friendships, but listen to yourself! He's brainwashed you already!" Now, it is my time to look all wide-eyed to him, to a point which I can feel my eyes almost out of their sockets. I take a very deep breath, then another one, so I won't take out my wand and do something I'll wholeheartedly regret in a couple of hours.
"Harry, I believe that you are behaving out of character right now," I speak slowly and as composed as I can be at the precise moment. "I think it's best if we part our ways for today and speak again when you are more composed and are thinking more clearly; I need to be more collected and less tired to handle properly such… such arguments of yours…"
Harry just stands there for a moment, observing me with his emerald eyes very closely, and most probably for the very first time in my entire life, I feel quite uncomfortable under his stare. "You're going to him, aren't you? Don't want him to wait too long, heh?" His voice is slow and collected, but I can clearly sense the upset underneath; I exhale loudly in return, suddenly feeling very worn out.
"Harry, just… please, don't be like this…" He must sense my exhaustion, or must see at least, something, because he just lets a lungful of air out and nods once numbly, before muttering some words.
"Don't think that this is over, though, Hermione." Fortunately or not, I know Harry too well, and I know that he means these words. I decide not to respond to that, because I know that I don't have much more mental strength to keep up with this. I glance up to him and then I feel the need to get out of his sight, as the whirl of his echoing words and accusations is making my head slightly dizzy, the back of my eyes stingier, my throat a tad tighter…
"Thanks for the gift, Harry," I whisper, raising a bit the paper bag as a further indication of my frail statement. "I'll see you. Goodnight."
And before he has the chance to say anything more, I turn around and start walking quite fast, letting my shoes make as much noise as possible against the ancient stone, in a desperate hope that the echoes of such a sound would disturb my mind and take away the so sudden, so unexpected and slightly frightening thoughts that cruelly made their way into my head.
He is creepy! He's brainwashed you already!
The shouts of Harry's words are being enhanced in my head, echoing deeply and still buzzing in my ears hurtfully. This is not Harry; this cannot be Harry. He was never like this before, except with people that really deserve it- namely, Draco Malfoy- but something like this… I still cannot comprehend his tone, his…
He is a weird one, that is for sure! He's on something!
A sob is escaping my mouth and unconsciously, my pace gets faster and faster, 'til I am running towards the Head Prefects' dormitories without truly realizing it. My breathing is all erratic and loud and my chest is aching much, but I don't think all the blame can be put on my running…
Ron, that sweet, sweet creature, one so selfless and gentle and giving and beautiful… How- How can anyone possibly think such… such indescribable things of him, when he hasn't annoyed or done something wrong or bad to anyone? How…?
The tears are burning now my eyes, screaming a permission from my part to let them spring and run down my face, burn me much more than they already do; I blink furiously, just in a so frail attempt to push them away, but the hot, salty droplets are just faster, already grazing ungracefully my cheekbones, heading inevitably towards the stony ground...
Another sob, as I turn unconsciously to a corner, and suddenly I come almost face to face with the portrait of Anna and Howard, who are now watching me with faces full of concern.
"Hermione, is something wrong? Why are you crying?" I hear Howard asking quickly, his posture one that resembles an impossible leaning towards me. I try to breathe deeper and fuller, so I can feebly compose myself, but I think I have no strength to reassure them both that I'm alright, that everything is ok… besides, that wouldn't be entirely true, would it?
"S-Spiritual… Magic," I only whisper, taking more mouthfuls of breath so I can assure a frail self-control. The painted Prefects seem not at all satisfied with my answer, but they let it go by simply allowing my entrance to a safe, secluded place; my pace is hurried and somewhat desperate, matching the one of my heart.
I take the few steps in the semi-dark corridor towards the common room with heavy, quick steps, and breaths all too noisy and unsatisfying to my hyperactive system. Before realizing, I am already in the warmly lit room, facing almost wildly around without comprehending the sights or the sweet balm of the atmosphere, and I blink furiously my watery eyes, trying to adjust them to the light of a well-stocked fire and a couple of oil lamps.
"Hermione?"
The voice startles me a bit, and as a reaction to that, I jump a little out of my skin, whipping my head towards the seeming source of such a smooth, low sound. There, sitting on the floor by the coffee table is Ron, looking up at me with eyes wider that usual and a frozen pose. I certainly had not realized his presence in the room upon entering it and I feel a bit of embarrassment for that, mostly because, even through my wild, unexpected state, I did not wish for him to see me like this.
My lack of response must worry him even more, because he instantly is up on his feet, taking a few very long and hurried strides 'til he is just a couple of steps away from me, stretching his arm towards me either with the intention of touching my arm or in silent indication for me to step into his embrace. However nice and comfortable both of these gestures would surely be to my upset spirits, I just stay rooted to the ground, only capable of facing him with wide eyes full of tears. His face spasms a bit with growing concern and his eyes grow duller and slightly darker with the current facts.
"Hermione, are you alright? Please, talk to me…" he whispers ever so gently, his voice so soft and careful, like he is worried all of a sudden that I'm going to break even with the slightest disturbance. My heart beats a bit smoother now, as, ever so slowly, the calming sight of him, as well as the echoes of his kind, so familiar voice, get settled into my system, reminding me of the serenity and the wonderful still I have experienced with him before. How he always manages to shoo away any troubling thoughts or upsetting feelings… yet, the image of him so very concerned makes that little organ spasm a bit inside my chest, so, I guess, I have to try to calm down and explain a bit, for both of our sakes.
"I'm," I try to start, but I suddenly realize that my throat is a lot tighter and my voice a lot hoarser than I have imagined. "I'm okay, I—"
"You do not seem okay at all," he cuts me off the instant I pronounce the little word, his eyebrows furrowing a bit as his head slightly leans towards me, like he wants to give the moment more privacy and importance, or something. "Please…" he sighs and exhales a huge lungful of air, this time his fingers making contact with me, barely grazing my elbow, his eyes for a moment downcast before coming to rest on mine again, all serious and desperate, "Just please, tell me what is wrong?"
I have to gasp a little, as his semi-masked despair is entrapped inside my lungs, flowing in my veins and settling into every cell of my system with an easiness so dreadful and startling… Ron is always so calm and composed, capable of coping with every single, distressing thing, and now… he just seems so helpless, and I feel such guilt sprout inside me, for putting him in such a position… I- I need to get him out of this, he shouldn't ever be like this, especially if the cause of it is me.
During that little decisive wandering of mind, I must have composed a bit myself, as I can't feel the making of tears in my eyes, and my breathing seems a tad more even. Ron himself must have sensed these changes, because the harsh wrinkle in between his eyebrows is now less apparent and his eyes show less stress than before. Coincidentally, both exhale a huge mouthful of air at the very second, both half-opening our mouths with the intentions of speaking; the little motion makes both of us, fortunately and unexpectedly, more relaxed, as well as the atmosphere around less tense. I offer him a small smile, one that also pronounces an apology, and Ron gives a tiny one in return, silently answering to me that there is no need of an apology, just an explanation. And that's what 'm going to give him.
"It is nothing, really," I say to him with as much casualness as I can gather in my voice. "J-Just a little… disagreement with Harry, that's all."
Yes, I know that this statement is a distortion of the truth to the degree of felony, and that the casualness used in my voice is even worse, but doing that, I do not try to mock myself with the idea that this… argument with Harry meant nothing. No, I know that it will tease the pit of my stomach and corners of my mind for quite a long time, but on the other hand, I don't want to upset Ron with this. He is new here; he is still quite reluctant around school and other students- especially after almost two centuries of nothingness- and even though he doesn't want me to know this, I'm more than certain that he is a bit nervous about this renewed situation; actually, a completely new one, as he never attended a school before.
Ron looks at me quite cautiously, his big, blue eyes observing mine very carefully. He seems quite hesitant at first, opening ever so slightly his mouth just to close it again, and I give him a silent look back, in hopes of soothing his soul and his presence around me once again; I simply cannot stand seeing him like this, even if such a reaction of his is so… human. I guess I still haven't got used to him being a normal, human being.
"A disagreement?" he asks slowly, his voice slightly careful and concerned in its depth. "What happened… Is everything alright?" I sigh lightly, trying to shoo away the bits of ache and confusion inside my heart, protesting to my mind's demands on trying to figure out right now what is going on with Harry, saying everything to Ron right away so he could give me his opinion, maybe help me with such a matter. No, Ron cannot know about this, especially not now, when he is just so hopeful and eager to explore the world again, make new friends and share experiences… not now, when he always talks with such kind words and admiration about Harry and his dear friendship to me…
Just not now…
"Nothing much… just a bit of disagreement, you know, a little argument that's going to be forgotten by tomorrow… nothing to worry about…" I say as much casually as I can under his soft stare, and I give him a small, reassuring smile for great measure.
"But are you sure, my flower?" Ron asks softly, his hand running up and down to my arm a bit in a warming motion, his round eyes looking at me a bit worriedly and innocently, to the point of skipping a heartbeat in the heartbreakingly beautiful sight. "Y-You seemed so upset when you came…"
"It's nothing really," I immediately fill the silence of his trailing off, trying desperately to kill the hints of apprehension that still stain his now far-away-looking eyes. I stare at him, attempting to make him look me back again, and when he does, I continue. "We just said things… I just overreacted, that's all. I was quite tired already, and I didn't have much patience with him, honestly…"
Silence falls once again between us after our words. I don't think that I should add anything more to my little pile of white lies and all I care about right now is his reaction. I manage to steal a glimpse of him from behind thick eyelashes; his expression is still mildly concerned and hesitant, maybe even a bit unsure of what is going on or what should be done. But then, in almost in a flash, this expression is gone, giving its place to a tiny, sweet smile and eyes brighter than the darkened oceans of the previous minutes.
"If you say so, then I trust you, Hermione," he tells me after a second, stretching his full lips to a wider smile just to prove his gentle words. Frankly, his words, the honest meaning behind them is provoking a small sting in my heart, just because I know that this trust may be mistaken; I've just lied to him, kept a truth away from him, something I remember of never having done before… I just pray that my purpose is enough to be excused. "And for the record, if you have felt tired back then, you really should have some rest right now; the essay can wait."
Almost completely forgetting the worries of the last few minutes, I smile widely at his kindest notions. His own beam, in response, is a relief greater than imaginable, as well the warmth of his huge, slightly calloused hand covering mine, pulling it gently towards him, guiding us slowly towards the couch, his eyes, crystal blue and sparking, never abandoning mine in a bond arising too many sentiments to name. It is always so refreshing, wanted and so appreciated, especially when it has the ability to erase all the existent distress and worry. We sit on the sofa and the feeling of balmy coziness is all so apparent in an instant, not only due to the warmth provided by the dancing flames in the fireplace or the softness of the cushions, but mostly because of Ron sitting so close to me, his thigh in contact with mine, his head so close to my own, the short distance letting me feel his hot breath on the side of my neck, raising goose bumps all over my skin. I swallow hard, trying to wet my suddenly so dry mouth, and I lick my lips before taking a mouthful of air within before raising my eyes to meet his own, which are unexpectedly close, and so, so dark all of a sudden, like the skies during new moon. I shiver involuntarily as I keep staring deep into his eyes and I can feel my heart's increasingly fast beating, the way my blood, all hot and impatient, runs in my arteries and veins, trying crazily to keep up with the pace my lungs demand on oxygen, my mind demands on some sort of tangible relief… His midnight blue eyes stare into mine for eternity, then quickly shift downwards, pupils dilated, to capture in vision my lips; my breathing quickens, just as his does, his own, luscious lips now slightly parted in possible need to entrap more air within the burning body… at least that is how I feel right now, a captor of my own body and its vivid reactions, and by the almost mirroring reactions of Ron's I can only guess…
My next inhalation is an almost gasp and I cannot help it… I have to lean closer, captured deep within his so familiar scent, of earth and apples and I need, I need to feel his taste; I must gain that so precious knowledge…
Ron takes a deep breath in and then he averts his eyes from my mouth, just to look up to my eyes again. The almost tangible tension in them is now gone, like it never was there to vivify them even more; they were, once again, tranquil and dazzling, and in a moment of slight daze and overreaction, I wonder if it was all my imagination, a moment of weakness when I fantasized about how it would be for Ron to feel such passion for me, how it would be if Ron was ruled by feelings unreasonable or spontaneous and—
"I have something for you," Ron's voice interrupts my wild, dizzying thoughts, and I have to take another mouthful within before managing to react sensibly, giving him a small smile along with a curious look.
"What is it?" I ask immediately, feeling rather childishly nosy at the moment. Ron smiles wider, shakes his head almost imperceptibly before standing up and heading towards the table below a window at the far side of the room, taking something in his hands and quickly returning back to me, making me mourn only a bit for the lack of such a wondrous connection and proximity. He sits just as close as before and he slightly turns his torso towards me in an attempt to have a better view of me. I can see clearly his smile, all small and sweet and even a bit coy, his cheeks freckly and a bit rosy now, his eyes dark and alluring, half-covered by strands of ginger hair that carelessly fall into every possible place. I must be so utterly mesmerized by his facial beauty, that I do not immediately realize that his full hands are slowly heading towards me, till they almost rest on my lap, in a silent indication that I should take whatever lies within. Ron, with that amazing intuition of his, most probably understands my current, little weakness, as his smile becomes momentarily more mischievous and then he parts his lips, so he can utter a so soft: "Happy birthday, Hermione."
My eyes are glued on his for some more seconds, unable to look away from all the meanings and the sayings that lie somewhere deep within, only asking to seize them and own them; it is shivering and overwhelming, because, despite Ron's always expressive eyes, this thing is all new, the intensity and the softness intertwined so unexplainably…
"Take it," he whispers, urging me yet again to get the little thing in his huge palms. The eager smile, at long last, makes my eyes avert from his face so I can take a look downwards, at his hands, where lies a tiny little pouch in the colour of wine red, tied at its end with a small, brown rope. I eye it curiously, trying to guess without touching what can be in that small pouch, but my wonderings cease at the sound of Ron's voice; "It's really not that much, just a little thing I've been making myself all this time; I just hope… I just hope you'll like it…"
He seems all coy and unsure and, all of a sudden, his cheeks become even a tad redder right now. I smile reassuring up to him and cover the side of his one hand with my own, squeezing it in silent comfort that I will certainly adore it, only because it's from him and it is made by him. My heart skips a beat, then another, just from the simple thought of it.
"Thank you," I breathe in a warm tone, eventually taking in my hands the small present. The pouch is made of velvet, and despite my mild dislike of the particular kind of fabric, this is surprisingly soft under my fingertips, like it is a coat of feathers, rather that velvet. Unconsciously, I rub my fingertips a bit more on the material, till they reach the rougher substance of the little rope, and, unable to wait a second longer, I pull on the one end so the tie is loosened and the pouch opened. I glance up to Ron, catching his gleaming eyes and hopeful expression and then I turn the tiny bag upside down, so its content will fall on my awaiting palm; a moment later, I feel the slight weight, the range of substances and textures: leather and warm wood and… and I feel my heart sinking in balm and absolute gratefulness and admiration… this is simply beautiful and heart-warming.
In my palm, innocently resting, is a hand-made necklace, a little wonder for my eyes to see. The string is one of leather and at its centre there is a smallish piece of smooth wood of oval shape, on the surface of which is carved a so beautiful rose. After that, this little wood is surrounded almost wholly by some sort of vines with some leaves and even some tiny blossoms- but the greatness of it all is not that the wood is encircled by some sort of plant, because it is not one; the vines, the little leaves and the blossoms are all made of wood, as well, a concrete piece of the whole wooden creation, a certain wonder to make with hands, especially so perfectly and realistically… and how the smallest of colour tones overlying that parts of dark wood- lighter and darker tints of green, light pinks and almost whites, even some very hesitant reds appearing every now and then in a blossom- make, in a way, the whole creation a little marvel in my hand, to the point my breathing is slightly more uneven and my heart's beating a tad wilder, as a vast wave of warmth and gratitude and immense love rushes inside me, conquering oh so easily everything that ever dared to go against so pure and invincible feelings.
I swiftly look up to his face, trying to catch his expression as fast as feasible, and only then I realize that my eyes are somewhat wet with the sprouting of emotions and sensations. I stare at Ron, capturing his loving appearance, his radiant eyes, his lips, all full and stretched into an equally bright and breathtaking beam. My heart starts skipping beats, acting all wild and rebellious, unable to be tamed during a moment so gentle, yet so stimulating like this particular one.
"So, you like it then?" Ron asks me finally, a shier tone interlacing his deep voice, his eyes watching me with a naively hopeful look that makes my pulse more alive and naughtier. I beam at him widely and respond immediately, even though I think that any kind of verbal confirmation is more or less pointless.
"Do I like it? Oh, Ron, this is a little perfection, and- and you made this yourself?"
He nods gently once before answering; "It's nothing, really; just a small thing… If I had a bit more of time, I would be able to—"
"No need to say any more," I interrupt him quite firmly, though, as he looks up to me with round, curious eyes, I give him a tiny, reassuring smile. "This is more than a great gift, Ron, and I really appreciate all the work you've done for this- for me… Thank you so much, I adore it!" I exclaim and without thinking, I fall into his arms, hugging him tight with my arms around his lower back, my face temporarily snuggled into the warmth of his chest. He hugs me back, not as tightly, but certainly with the same amount of love radiating from his body and action, as his palms, huge and with fingers widely spread, caresses my back soothingly, showing wordlessly his responsive happiness to my own. For a minute, we stay like this, silent and embraced by each other, by emotions light, by an atmosphere lulling and sweet, till, in my balmy, cozy state, a thought pops into my mind and I almost hum; "Will you put it on for me?"
Ron chuckles gently for a second before humming himself a velvety "Sure" and leaning away from my embrace so he can take the wooden jewel from my hand. He untangles slowly the leather rope and stretches it to its full length, making the jewel slide to the middle of it before shifting his body a bit closer to mine, still facing one another. His hands come closer to me until they almost encircle my neck and come to very gently rest on the back of it, carefully tying both ends to a secure, little knot. "All done, my lady," he whispers and leans slightly away, starting to take his hands away, all the while his fingertips, every now and then, unconsciously graze on my skin, making it so easily rise in response, desperately crying out for more of his touches, of anything he can possibly give. I smile widely, joyful to be able to feel the warmth of the wood on my skin, a distant part of his presence near my heart, and I'm about to thank him for his assistance, but as I lie my eyes properly on him and open my mouth, I stop. My heart jumps a bit and then suddenly slows dramatically its pace, my lungs, too, stay stiff and still. The only things that seem to work right now are my eyes, pupils surely dilating rapidly in the sight of—
I gasp inaudibly, taking in some oxygen so I won't faint, yet my eyes stay still, watching Ron as he is also frozen, too close to me, breathing the very same air I do, exhaling quickly and a bit noisily almost in my too dry mouth, his own lips slightly parted and moistened, all red and luscious, never seemed more inviting and… delicious. I need to breathe deeper, otherwise I'll become extremely dizzy, and I must not, not when he is so close, his nose almost touching my own, his eyes… his eyes so dark and attractive, pupils huge, giving their entire attention to… to my lips, never leaving their sight. My breaths, unconsciously, become more erratic, and my heart, from its previous immobility, starts to beat too harshly in my ribcage, trying to escape the pitiful bounds of the body… An almost crazy heat spreads from my chest to my entire body, tingling in my fingertips, making my hairs rise from their roots and my toes curl in wild expectancy for something grand to occur… I can feel and hear his breaths, also erratic and quite shallow, coming in and out from his mouth and I need to swallow to wet my mouth and throat, but, Merlin, I can't; all I can do is stare at him, at his almost black eyes, then at his addictive lips, back to his eyes—
"May I…" Ron suddenly breathes, killing the intense silence between us, almost making me jump; yet, he also manages, somehow, to make me feel more desperate for air, for him. He gulps down almost forcefully, like his own throat is all dry and closed, before he averts his eyes from my mouth, snapping them up to my own, a weird, unseen-before expression deep on them. "May I do something?"
His question makes my skin tingle all over, my heart pounding harder and faster than ever before in my young life, but these reactions, even though so vivid, mean almost nothing to me. I try miserably to spell out some words, but my mouth, even though slightly open, is all glued and in current disuse, so, while in a daze, my only response is in the form of a numb nod. He nods himself once and, ever so slowly, he starts leaning in to my face, his breaths, a tad calmer, showering warmly my face, and I cannot stand this anymore, as my sensations are maddeningly haywire, making my head almost spin out of control… I close my eyes as I feel Ron closer and closer, some parts of his tight, heated skin touching mine, making me gasp softly in reaction, but also in anticipation of what is to come…
I feel it; his lips, full and half-parted and hot on my forehead, just above my eyebrow. I sigh in contentment, in tangible relief, as some of the tight knots in my stomach are slightly releasing, yet, that bare, almost hesitant touch is barely enough. My breathing calms down just a bit, and I feel ready to speak to him, break the silence and ask him to kiss me, full on the mouth, because I don't know how much more of this constant, physical and mental torture I can endure; however, as I part my lips a bit more, his lips move, so they can kiss, ever so lightly and lovingly, my left eyelid, then the right one, then the cheekbones, the sides of my nose and the tip of it, the whole expanse of my cheeks, my jaw-line, behind my left ear and my cheek again, showering my entire face with slow pressures of his half-open lips. During this whole procedure, the tangible show of affection, my heart calms down more and more, my breaths become more even and deeper, thus quenching equally well my lung's thirst. And as I feel Ron's lips travelling carefully around my face, they ever so slowly head towards my pulsing lips, the part that desperately needs the most of his attention. While I feel his breaths, now even and still warm, on my cheek, Ron, ever so reluctantly, kisses the little bridge between my nose and upper lip; the skin tingles so much, to an almost point of numbing, and I gasp softly in the sudden urge to have more air within my body, evening out the wild, rebellious reactions of my insides. I wait patiently for his next move, but for a very long moment Ron stays simply still, breathing and with lips barely touching the already praised skin, most probably thinking, wondering about his next, possible move. I want to speak, to tell him that I need this, I need him this way, but I can barely think of the words needed to be spelled out; my mind is fuzzy, almost intoxicated by his entire presence, his lovely, earthy scent, the warmth radiating from within him...
As my desperation reaches a level higher than ever imagined, his lips move slightly, just to rest on the corner of my mouth, still and shy, not daring for a while to make another move. A few very long seconds must have passed before he eventually kisses in a small, coy kiss that little part of skin, one so amazingly, yet unbearably close to my burning mouth. The pulse is palpable there, I can feel it, as well as I can hear it in my eardrums, growing a bit faster and more urgent. The torture gets fierier and fierier, my entire body is tingling and humming in expectancy of a relief appropriate, yet still not coming. I open my eyes ever so slightly, just to take a look at Ron, but I don't expect to find him looking back at me, his eyes so wide and dark, yet so bright as well. I lose myself in this breathtaking look for a couple of seconds, till I manage to escape from my heavy daze and recognize the quality of his look; he seems so weak, vulnerable, maybe a lit bit crazed by it as well. It is worrying and I feel a little pang in my heart. I need to find out what is wrong, what makes him feel like this, so down; I need to comfort him and take away the weakness and the vulnerability and the slight uneasiness, but then, just another second more of staring into his eyes, I understand it all, every little, unreasonable sentiment being displayed in his so beautiful eyes. I say nothing; I just reassure him with my own eyes, giving him a response clearer than one's words could ever define so perfectly. His eyes widen more, and his pupils, if possible, expand as well, but it matters little any more, as I close my eyes again and I only feel; I feel his breaths even closer to my skin, his arms snaking around my waist and back slowly and tightly, bringing me inescapably closer to him body, my chest pressing into his, as his lips move insignificantly, so they can cover mine…
Suddenly, I'm in the middle of so many crucial, yet completely trivial needs, like breathing; I can feel some need to breathe, but I cannot comprehend it wholly, I'm not able to make it a priority, it's impossible. All I can possibly care about is that otherworldly connection between Ron and me, the way his lips move, carefully and lovingly, on mine, how his hands spread on my back and waist, how his arms bring me closer and closer, how, ever so smoothly, he deepens our very first kiss, making it a slow, gentle, yet quite heated and passionate act of worship, lips playing with each other with love and passionate respect, taking everything away from me, taking everything away from him, so there won't be an 'I' or a 'he' anymore- there will be an eternal, powerful 'we,' one that blends the two people into one, without crushing the importance of the two identities, just making them stronger, almost invincible in the course of a tight, wanted bond. At the complexity of such a brilliant, grand thought, I feel more alive than ever, and my need for him becomes vaster, so it is me, this time, who makes our kiss deeper, though, after a moment, he breaks away from the bond slowly, thus obligating both of our bodies to take huge breaths within, eventually giving in to matters that mean little to a growing heart.
Both of our eyes are slightly opened, through heavy eyelashes looking at parts of each other's face, eyes, mouth, pale, glowing skin, everything. I sense Ron lightly pressing his lips to my cheek and side of my nose in a million of butterfly kisses; I feel elated and free- I feel whole in a way never known before.
"I- I love you," he breathes almost breathlessly, his lips mouthing the words on my skin, and I gasp lightly on the feeling combined by both words and actions. My heart flutters in my chest and a so faint laugh is quite inevitable.
"I love you, too," I whisper back, blissful to feel such taste on my lips; his smile is apparent on his face, pressed on my cheek.
"I always wanted to do that," he confesses after a second, his tone much softer and sweeter, having an instant effect on my heart's beating. "…kiss you…" My laughter is louder this time, but only a bit, yet still soft and almost dreamy, and I dare to lean back a bit, so I can look properly into his dazzling eyes.
"So, why did you stop?" I tease him lightly, giving him a wholeheartedly playful, little smile; his reaction is immediate, with his own, little smirk attached on his face, his eyes brighter than usual.
"I didn't want you to faint again in my arms," he responds lightheartedly as his palms are rubbing on my ribs and sides slowly, gradually bringing me back close to his body, in his embrace, where I feel like I really belong, after all. "My mere presence and a simple embrace managed that, so imagine what can possibly happen to you with my kisses…" he wiggles his eyebrows once, his lips stretching into a wide, so handsome grin, and all I can do is laugh, bringing my arms around his neck, closing the unnecessary distance between us.
"Since when you are such a cocky boy?" I ask him, unable to escape from the current playfulness floating in the atmosphere. Ron chuckles and eventually leans down to me, his lips a breath away from mine.
"Since I realized that I would do anything to see that beautiful smile on your face- and that so far, my attempts are successful…" I smile at that, and I'm happy to see him feel like this as well.
"Just kiss me."
And he willingly obliges to my words, and makes the world fade to inexistence once again.
-So, I really hope that this satisfied you all to some extend. As previously said, Harry's behaviour may seem weird or irrational, but it will be explained further on in the story. Know that I tried to smooth Harry out some, but the plot of the story was formed into my mind a couple of years ago, so it is quite difficult to change such aspects. Still, I try my best, and please, do not throw flames at me for this.
-After that, your reviews are always extra welcome. I'd like to know your opinion about the story.
-Hopefully, next chapter will be up some time next week. I'll try my best to keep uploading on a regular basis like once every week or every two weeks... we'll see... Anyways, take care! :)