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Hermione awoke to the sound of tapping against her window.
Weakley, she opened her eyes, the room partially illuminated by the street lamp just outside their home. Looking over to the clock on her bedside table, Hermione squinted. It was barely four in the morning.
After pulling her blanket over her head, the tapping came again with even more force than before. As long as it continued, she wouldn’t have been able to get another wink of sleep that night.
Letting out a frustrated groan, Hermione stormed out of bed towards her window, expecting to find an owl with an ill-timed letter in its beak.
The source of the tapping was definitely not an owl.
“Ron?” Hermione said in disbelief, opening her window. Ron was sitting on the tree branch with a bag slung over his shoulder. Ron had his wand in one hand and a broomstick in his other, sporting a goofy grin on his thin freckled face. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing here?!”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked, even though it clearly wasn’t. “I’m looking for a new flat, heard this tree was an up-and-coming neighbourhood.”
Hermione rolled her eyes at this, but ushered him inside. After he successfully tossed his broomstick into her room and placed his wand back in his pocket, she grabbed him by the arm began to help pull him. As soon as Ron was through, he fell to the floor with a thud.
“Be quiet!” Hermione hissed. “My parents are asleep!”
“Sorry, sorry.”
Ron got back on his feet, towering over her. It appeared that, once again, he had grown several inches over the break, and in such little time. Although they’d kept in touch. Hermione hadn’t seen him for just over a month.
His eyes met her own, and for a moment, they stood in silence, just staring.
Hermione could see Ron’s smile return, feeling her face flush, and so she quickly looked anywhere else.
“What are you doing here, really?” she repeated, shutting her curtains and turning on her lamp. “You weren’t supposed to get here until next Sunday.”
As per usual, Hermione would be spending the last couple weeks of the break at the Burrow with Ron, with Harry to join later on. He couldn’t have mixed things up; but here he was, standing in her bedroom a week early.
“Dad thought it was better this way.” Ron said, now walking around her room, examining the dozens upon dozens of books scattered about. “People have been disappearing for weeks now; figured we should come early in case the owls were intercepted.”
Ron kept picking up books, reading the title and putting them back in their place. Each one was heavier than the other, and Hermione became aware that he had become much bigger during their time apart – not just in stature.
“Oh.”
‘He’s just got himself a bit of muscles’, Hermione tried to remind herself. They seemed to be staring her down through his shirt… ‘no reason they should be pleasing to look at.’
But they were, and they only added more fuel to the fire that was her crush on Ron Weasley.
Hermione had been aware of her feelings toward him since the end of their third year. She always knew her friendship with Ron was far different than her friendship with Harry, but the whole Scabbers/Crookshanks disagreement made her realize how much she missed him when he wasn’t around.
Defending her all those times from Malfoy didn’t help minimize her crush either, and now he had to get all… taller and bigger… shame on him.
It was only then that Hermione realized that she had kept staring at him, and he now noticed this.
Heat flooded her cheeks once again. Hermione clenched her jaw and swallowed, offering him a place to sit on her bed.
‘You can just ignore it.’ she told herself, keeping her gaze fixed on her walls as she sat next to him.
This just proved to be a delusion. No matter how hard Hermione tried to concentrate on something else – anything else – the only thing her brain kept screaming at her was the fact that Ron Weasley was sitting beside her, in her bedroom of all places.
Hermione’s eyes darted to the broomstick on her floor, providing her with the perfect opportunity to change the subject.
“You weren’t seen, were you?”
“Of course not.” Ron said reassuringly. “I stayed up in the clouds – made sure I picked a night with good cover.”
“And what’s your brilliant plan for getting us back to the Burrow?”
Ron was completely aware of her aversion to flying. If he thought she would be getting on that, he was sorely mistaking. Not to mention it would have been unsafe. Hermione heard on the news yesterday it was supposed to be a day with clear skies.
“Dad’s taken care of that. He’s got a Portkey set up; seven o’clock, one-way trip home.” He finally took his bag off, setting it on his lap and pulling out a busted cuckoo clock. “I told him to leave enough time for you to say ‘goodbye’ to your parents.”
The last thing she wanted to do was wake up her mum and dad at four in the morning and spring all this on them. Might as well give them a good night sleep first.
“They usually wake up at six.”
Ron looked down at his watch and said “Got any ways to kill two hours?”
‘Stuck in a room with Ron Weasley alone for two hours.’ Hermione reminded herself. ‘No, no, no, no, no, no. You practically spend every second of every day with him. This is nothing new.’
“You’re the guest. You can decide… within reason.” she added.
“Muggle chess?” he proposed after spotting a board in the corner.
Hermione had been practicing since she got home from their first year at Hogwarts, but even after all that, she was never able to beat Ron at his own game. That was expected; he defeated Professor McGonagall’s charmed board at the age of twelve.
Still, she assumed she would at least come close, just one time.
But, nope. Ron crushed her every time the played, and she got the sense he was holding back to spare some of her ego.
Add that to the long list of reasons she liked him.
“As long as you go easy on me.” Hermione got up from her bed and quickly returned with the chess set in hand. They sat on opposite ends of the bed, placing the board between them.
“Is this different than wizard chess, or…”
“Same rules. Only difference is you have to moves the pieces with your hand instead of telling them what to do.”
Ron looked astonished. He picked up the king, holding it close to his face and saying ‘hello.’ Whenever Ron was introduced to Muggle objects he turned into a complete child – not in a bad sense. She actually found it quite charming.
Hermione took a deep breath, not taking her eyes off of Ron as he set up the board.
There were too many things she loved about him. She couldn’t be in the same room with him – not like this.
“Hermione. What are -”
And then her lips were against his.
Realizing what she had done, Hemione jerked away before he could kiss her back or push her away. She didn’t think any of it through; she simply acted on instinct.
Both were silent, wide eyed with their mouths hanging open. She was just about to apologize when he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her again. Hermione closed her eyes, sighing.
Ron fell back on the bed, and Hermione went with him. With the way he was holding her she couldn’t move, nor did she want to. Her hands cupped his face, heat coming off of them.
Eventually, they broke it off, pressing their foreheads together, gasping for air. Still, neither one spoke. Nothing needed to be said to know what the other was thinking; they waited too long to get to this point, there was a war going on, and they didn’t want to spend any more time apart.
Hermione went for the hem of Ron’s shirt, bunching it up in her hands. She waited until he nodded, pulling it over his head and tossing it across the room.
Tracing her hands along the scars on his arms, Hermione pressed small, brief kisses to his neck, causing him to snigger. Ron, meanwhile, grabbed her by the ass and squeezed. It was a foreign feeling, but one she welcomed, letting out an excited squeal.
Hermione didn’t want the moment to end; the feeling of his lips against hers, how warm he felt in her hands. Nothing other than Ron could get her attention – not the sound of the chess board getting knocked to the ground, not the hallway light switching on, not even her bedroom door swinging open.
“Hermione!” her father shouted, causing them to jump apart. Seconds later, her mother came in to the sight of her daughter sitting in bed with a half-naked Ron Weasley.
“Oh… hello.” Ron said innocently, his ears turning red as he retrieved his shirt from the floor. “Mr. and Mrs. Granger, lovely to see you again.”
Hermione was looking down at her lap, but she knew what her parent’s faces were like. Ron, unfortunately, didn’t help the situation, and decided it was a brilliant idea to keep talking.
“How did I end up here? That’s weird.” he opened the window and picked him his broomstick. “I’d best be off then, let me get out of your hair, then. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you later, and I hope you all sleep well.”
“Sit down.” Mr. Granger commanded, and Ron immediately obeyed.
He should have left when he had the chance, because Hermione was in no mood to have this conversation.