Chapter Text
It was late—far past midnight—and the trio had been up for hours, poring over books and maps, trying to piece together their next move.
Harry had long since nodded off, his head resting on an open copy of Hogwarts: A History, but Ron and Hermione had pressed on, determined to finish their work.
Now, though, even Hermione’s relentless energy had given out. She was curled up in an armchair, a thick blanket draped over her lap, her bushy hair spilling across the cushion. Her quill had slipped from her hand ages ago, and she was fast asleep, her chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths.
Every so often, a tiny, adorable snore escaped her lips—soft and rhythmic, like a little melody only she could make.
Ron sat across from her, his own eyes heavy, but he couldn’t stop watching her. The firelight danced across her face, softening the lines of exhaustion that had settled there after weeks of stress.
She looked peaceful, for once, and it made his chest ache in a way he couldn’t quite explain.“Blimey, Hermione,” he muttered under his breath, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. “Even your snoring’s clever.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and just listened for a moment. The little snorts and sighs were so… her. Precise, even in sleep.
He shook his head, amused, and then, without really thinking about it, he stood up and crossed the short distance between them.Hovering over her, he hesitated. She’d hex him into next week if she woke up and caught him staring like this, but she was out cold, her face relaxed in a way he rarely got to see.
Carefully, he brushed a stray curl off her forehead, his fingers lingering there for a second. Then, feeling bold—or maybe just too tired to care—he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
Her skin was warm against his lips, and he froze for a moment, half-expecting her to jolt awake and lecture him about personal space.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she let out another tiny snore, her nose wrinkling slightly, and Ron couldn’t help but chuckle.
Emboldened, he moved lower, planting a soft kiss on her cheek, then another on the tip of her nose.
Her face scrunched up adorably, and she mumbled something incoherent—probably about SPEW or library fines—before settling back into her slumber.
Ron pulled back, his ears turning pink as he realized what he’d just done. “You’re gonna kill me for that one day,” he whispered, grinning despite himself.
He tugged the blanket up over her shoulders, then sank back into his own chair, watching her sleep a little longer before his own exhaustion finally pulled him under.In the morning, Hermione would wake up none the wiser, but Ron would carry the memory of her cute little snores—and the quiet, stolen moment—for a long time.