Viv

Outpatient 2 (Fred and George)

2006-02-03T20:52:39Z

Author's Note: As with the Neville fic, this all-age cookie was prompted by the word 'Outpatient' - I actually thought of the concept halfway through writing about Neville, although I'm happy with both concepts, I'm not sure the actual pieces are effective. But see what you think ...

Once again, Fred and George Weasley had found themselves in the Hospital Wing, being treated by Madam Pomfrey. She had given up on scolding them now; they were in there so often that she had run out of things to say to them. She would merely sigh and raise an eyebrow when they appeared, asking them what they had managed to do to themselves this time. Because it always seemed to be their own fault. Whether they were reckless, idiotic or just refusing to get others into trouble, she did not know, although she suspected it was a combination of all three.

Lee Jordan would be there almost as frequently, although he tended to stick to the role of visitor rather than patient. He joked that the twins were there so frequently they should really be known as outpatients. Madam Pomfrey would always sniff disapprovingly if she happened to overhear this and say that she wouldn’t be sorry if they missed an appointment.

It was burns this time, nothing serious. She never asked what had happened, but they always told her anyway. Apparently they had been to visit Hagrid’s Blast-Ended Skrewts, to find out what would happen if two Skrewts were fed fireworks simultaneously. Fred and Lee guffawed loudly as George explained the results to Madam Pomfrey. The Skrewts had gone crazy, blasting off loudly (and colourfully) which had disturbed the Skrewts around them, and Hagrid, who had come
charging out of his hut to see what was happening. The twins were out of sight by the time Hagrid reached his beloved charges.

Madam Pomfrey tutted loudly, but secretly, she wondered if it might not have been better if the twins had managed to destroy the Skrewts in the process. She had had victims up here almost every week since Hagrid had introduced them to the school.

Outpatient 1 (Neville)

2006-02-03T20:48:09Z

Author's Note: I'm not presenting this as a full fic because it's really a tiny all-age cookie about Neville which I wrote for a friend's challenge. The prompt word was 'Outpatient' and this is what came out of it ...

Neville Longbottom wandered through St Mungo’s Hospital. He was not lost; he had spent too much time in the building to ever feel lost. He was just wandering, passing the time until his grandmother summoned him again. She always sent him away when she talked to the nurses or doctors.

It would have been alright if she’d only let him spend the time with his parents, but that never seemed to be an option.

“You’ll only upset yourself,” she’d snap, waspishly, “and them. And someone would end up getting hurt. Maybe if you were more like your father used to be I’d trust you, but as it is …”

She’d always leave the sentence unfinished and stalk away, adjusting her bonnet, leaving Neville alone in the corridor outside the Closed Ward.

So he’d wander until she sent a nurse to find him again. All the nurses knew him now, and were kind to him. When he’d been younger, they’d given him sweets, porters had given him rides on beds and trolleys, but he was too old for that now. All he got now was sympathetic smiles as he passed. His mother was the only one who still tried to give him treats.

At the other end of the corridor was the Outpatients Department. Most wizards and witches would have their problems solved on their first visit or be given a bed in order to receive ingoing treatment, it was rare that they would be required to return to the hospital. In fact, an Outpatient was more likely to be someone who visited the hospital regularly enough to qualify for fast-tracking, or those who required a higher level of confidentiality than most. Neville often wandered down here when he was left on his own, it could be more interesting than the rest of the hospital and it meant he wasn’t far from the Closed Ward. Just in case.

But this afternoon, nothing seemed to be happening in the Outpatients Department. Neville suspected George Heatherforge would be in at some point that evening, he had not been seen for over a week. And Klarissa Dekenoak had sent an owl to the Hospital that morning warning them of her plans for the day, so that they could be prepared. But apart from that it was quiet.

Neville sank into a chair. He pictured all the faces he had seen come through this waiting room, the regulars, the rich, the famous. But images of his parents kept appearing among the others.

Blinking his eyes hard he focused on the green floor. He cleared his mind and forced it to wander elsewhere.

viviannetta @ 2006-02-02T23:17:00

2006-02-02T23:18:00Z

I'm not having the best of times at the moment so I haven't really written any fic for a while. Just a couple of brief moments for a friend's challenge which I'm not too sure about posting because they were very spur of the moment and felt quite forced - this is why I'm not a huge fan of challenges, but I suppose some people might find them interesting so I might look over them quickly and post in a day or two.

viviannetta @ 2005-12-25T18:35:00

2005-12-25T18:35:43Z

HAPPY CHRISTMAS!!!

viviannetta @ 2005-12-23T18:28:00

2005-12-23T18:28:28Z

Title: New Year's Eve
Author: Viv (viviannetta)
Pairing: Ron/Hermione, although he might not be the only one that's interested
Rating: All ages
Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling, I just wish there were more Harry Potter books
Note: Because it's that time of year

It was New Year’s Eve and 12 Grimmauld Place had come alive again. The New Year’s Party had been going on for a couple of hours and at almost any other time in history it could have been said to be in full swing. But nothing ever got so lively, or light-hearted these days.

Harry Potter had returned for the celebrations, so the house was unusually full with his accompaniment of Aurors. They had arrived two days ago and had spent most of the time locked in the cellars reviewing the war they had fought so far and planning strategy for the war they would fight in the new year. Since Dumbledore’s death, Harry had been a natural rallying point for those who opposed Voldemort, despite his youth. Some people had been reluctant, yes the boy had stood up to Voldemort and lived more than most but they had been isolated incidents, could he really deal with a war, which would last longer and be more terrible than any before? Only Hermione, Ron and Ginny had really seen Harry’s response to his newfound responsibility. He himself had known that he would have to fight Voldemort but the wizarding community’s attitude to him had not always been friendly, he had never expected to see so many people looking to him for guidance.

But he had risen to the challenge. Gathering older, wiser heads around him, he had listened to them. Past experience had taught him the importance of unity. Challenging Professor Quirrell in his first year at Hogwarts had shown him that he would sometimes have to rely on others for qualities and abilities he lacked. But he had become skilled in recognising people’s strengths and weaknesses and drawing on those he needed. The Boy who Lived had become a young man, leading his own supporters in a desperate battle against the Dark Forces.

And none of this could be forgotten tonight. Even though it was New Year’s Eve. Nobody had celebrated Christmas, Arthur Weasley had dressed as Father Christmas to entertain the few young children staying in the house, and he had been almost as excited as them at the Muggle tradition. But for everyone else the day had passed in a blur. A small group of Aurors had clashed with Death Eaters who were trying to invade a village Christmas nativity in Kent. There were no real casualties, this time. But it had still prevented much celebration.

Even tonight there were people missing from the house, they would be there later, but others would have left to take their place. A small group of Aurors would be keeping an eye on the area all through the night, on the look out for trouble.

But inside Molly Weasley was trying desperately to make sure everybody had a good time. She had hastily thrown some Christmas decorations up at the last minute and had enlisted her anyone she could find to help with food. If somebody took a photo, it would look like any other party, any other year. Christmas tree in the corner, paper chains around the walls, a long table with plenty of food and drinks, and a sprig of mistletoe over the door.

But it wasn’t any other year. The volume was definitely muted. People’s smiles were a little too wide, showing slightly too many teeth.

Hermione Granger had run up to the bedroom she shared with Ginny, and Tonks when she was around. Taking a few deep breaths, she tried to calm herself down. She walked to the window and leaned her forehead against the cool glass, looking out across London. Yet again, she found herself wishing that the letter from Hogwarts had been the practical joke that she had initially thought it was, wishing that magic didn’t exist. Since it had been confirmed that Voldemort really had returned, there had been a constant ache inside her. She knew her parents were safely in hiding but unlike Harry and the Weasleys, there were many other Muggles that she cared deeply about.

She looked at her watch, it was half-past 11, she needed to return to the party. Picking up her hairbrush, she smoothed her hair in swift, decisive strokes. There was no point in worrying about things, there was nothing she could do; there was not enough safe space for the whole Muggle world.

Taking a final breath she left the room and went back downstairs. She did not go straight back to join the others but went first to the kitchen to get a couple of bottles of pumpkin juice, hoping they would cover her absence; she didn’t want Harry to know she was still worried. He had offered many times to try and get her to her old neighbourhood, to see it again. But she was worried it would do more harm than good, maybe if they ignored it, the Death Eaters would too.

She crossed the hallway to the large room, full of people. The hallway was in darkness apart from a square of light stretching out from the party. As Hermione stepped into this square there was a slight shift in the room in front of her and she hesitated. It looked as though more than one of the Weasley boys had made as if to move towards the door.

But only one was still moving.

Ron reached the doorway and smiled at her. His back was to the light so his face was in shadow but she could just see the edges of his eyes crinkling. He reached his arms towards her, with one hand he took a bottle of pumpkin juice from hers, the other reached around to the small of her back and drew her towards him.

“Ron –” she began, but he cut her off.

“Look up,” he said softly.

Hermione obeyed.

Hanging from the door frame above them was a small sprig of mistletoe. Her lips parted in a soft “oh” and then Ron’s lips met hers.

Bedtime (P/Hr)

2005-12-18T00:11:07Z

Title: Bedtime
Author: Viv (viviannetta)
Rating: All Ages
Pairing: Percy/Hermione
Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. These are not my characters. I make no money from this. But it's fun.
Notes: Was actually inspired by my icon, weird as that sounds.

Hermione stood by Ginny’s bedroom window. For the past week it had been her bedroom window; Ginny had been staying with a friend but she would be returning tomorrow and Hermione would have to relinquish her solitude.

Not that she didn’t want Ginny to come back; it was just that bedtime wouldn’t be quite the same.

As she reached up to pull off her jumper, she glanced at her watch. Five to ten. They’d agreed on ten o’clock, as they had done every night for the past week. Hermione’s heart missed a beat as she remembered how they’d left things the night before. Tonight she had been promised double the usual amount because it would be the last time.

Quickly, she undressed and put on a pair of clean pyjamas, enjoying their fresh smell and the softness against her skin. Moving to the mirror she paused for a second to assess her reflection. Considering she was ready for bed and wearing blue, penguin-patterned pyjamas, she could have looked worse. And she knew that he wouldn’t care what she looked like, just so long as he could carry on where they had left off.

Sinking to the floor she crossed her legs and reached for her hairbrush. As she slowly brushed her hair she realised she had already started planning new places for their meetings. They would not be able to do it in Ginny’s room once she was back but the Burrow was full of sheltered corners where they could be together undisturbed and revel in their shared interest.

Hermione and Ginny got on well and had many shared interests of their own, but there was something missing. Ginny shared hair colour, eye colour and freckles with her brother but she couldn’t make Hermione’s heart race in the same way. Hermione never forgot to breathe when Ginny was around.

The past week had been a revelation to Hermione. She had never imagined sharing such an intense experience with someone, never imagined that someone would be able to …

There was a knock at the door.

Fastening her plait with a scrap of ribbon, she moved to sit on her bed, and wrapped the blanket round her.

“Come in,” she called.

Percy stuck his head round the door, Hogwarts, A History under his arm.

“Up for a bit of bedtime reading?” he asked, grinning shyly.

Grinning back, Hermione nodded and reached for her own copy.

“Now, where were we?” Percy’s brow furrowed slightly as he searched for the page. “Aha, chapter 7.”

Hermione leant back against the pillows and smiled.

Reading was normally such a solitary experience.

Endnote: This idea kind of floated into my head when I found this icon (it's by writish_icons and I found it about an hour ago). I really liked the idea but I couldn't really make it work on paper so I'd like to know what other people think. At the same time, if people feel they can improve upon my attempt please feel free to take the concept as a bunny.

A Free Afternoon

2005-12-05T00:00:10Z

Title: A Free Afternoon
Author: Viv (viviannetta)
Pairing: Ron/Hermione, implied Harry/Ginny
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, but I'm very grateful to JKR for creating them so the rest of us can play with them!
Rating: General/all ages
Author's Note: This is for everyone who enjoyed In the Firelight. Thanks for all the positive feedback, I was overwhelmed, I hope this satisfies those of you who wanted to see more of the armchair :) As before, constructive criticism is always appreciated.

Hermione was sitting in the shade under a tree in the Hogwarts’ grounds. Her skirt would be crumpled when she got up but she didn’t care. Kicking off her flip-flops she leant back and gazed up at the small scraps of blue sky that she could see through the leaves.

It was sunny and she didn’t have to worry; Voldemort was gone. In a few weeks the restored Hogwarts buildings would be in use once again but for now its only inhabitants were a handful of old students who had helped rebuild it and weren’t quite ready to leave. Even the remaining staff had left them to it, preferring to enjoy their last few weeks of holiday elsewhere in the world.

A splash from the lake caught her attention and she watched a soaking Ron drag Harry down beside him. They were both laughing uncontrollably. It had been a long time since they’d been able to behave like that.

Sitting up she reached for her bag and drew out a roll of parchment, a quill and a heavy, leather-bound book entitled Hogwarts, A History. Turning over onto her stomach she charmed the parchment flat in front of her, gave the quill a little shake and opened the book.

It fell open at Appendix A: Defence of the Castle and Surrounding Grounds. For a year this had been the only section she had read. For night after night she had pored over it, searching for ideas to protect the Hogwarts students and others fighting against Voldemort and hoping against hope that she would spot any possible flaws in the defences before Voldemort or his allies found them out.

But now, she was consulting the book for another purpose. Propping it open at the first page she began to skim the familiar pages, pausing every now and then to jot a note on her parchment.

The sun was warm. The shade had shifted so that her bare legs were in the sun, she’d have to move soon or she’d burn.

Reaching the end of the first chapter she paused. Laying her head on her arm she began to think about her own chapters that were going to be included in a new edition of the book, detailing the recent occurrences at Hogwarts both before and during the war, as well as a new appendix on House Elves. Closing her eyes, she began to compose her opening lines.

Half an hour later, when Harry and Ron came up to join her; she was fast asleep.

Since their mutual soaking they had been sunbathing with the Giant Squid and a couple of mermaids who had swum up from the depths of the lake. They had begun to dry off but were both still slightly damp.

The boys grinned at each other. Hermione had become notorious for napping mid-afternoon and then reading into the small hours of the morning. Ron crouched down near her head to see what she had been writing but the charm on the parchment had worn off and it had rolled itself up. He did, however, recognise the book. Rolling his eyes he pointed it out to Harry, who grimaced.

“Is there anyway we can … not wake her?” he asked.

Ron grimaced too. If Hermione had been reading Hogwarts, A History, she would almost certainly have fallen asleep thinking about her own sections and would wake up fired with new ideas and enthusiasm, of which whoever woke her would get an earful!

“Can we leave her here?” Harry had been regaled with a minute description of the current entrance requirements and procedures for Hogwarts earlier in the day. But even as he said it, he glanced uneasily over his shoulder. Ron knew Harry was thinking that the war was too recently over for them to leave anyone, let alone Hermione, alone, asleep, and in the open. His ears went pink.

“I could carry her up to the Common Room,” he said. “Then we could leave her on one of the sofas or something.”

Harry raised his eyebrows and grinned.

“Are you sure Ron?” he said seriously. “I mean, she may be quite heavy and I think we’ve both mastered a simple levitation and transportation charm by now.”

Ron’s ears, neck and cheeks were on fire but he ignored Harry. Carefully, he slid his arms under Hermione and lifted her gently. Feeling very conscious of her bare skin against his, he nodded at Harry to bring Hermione’s bag and set off towards the Castle.

Hermione wasn’t heavy at all, she was surprisingly light, but she felt so alive. Ron suddenly realised how much he was jolting her about as he walked and tried to take smoother steps. He heard a stifled snort from Harry but he didn’t care.

They didn’t pass anyone on their way to the Common Room, which was just as well as Ron didn’t think he could have coped with any more snide comments. But when they entered the Common Room they found Fred and George playing Exploding Snap in front of the fire. Very noisily.

Harry immediately went to join Ginny, who was lying on a sofa with Crookshanks, watching Fred and George.

Ron looked around. Fred and George hadn’t noticed him carrying Hermione yet, and hopefully he could lay her down safely before they had a chance to tease him. But where should he put her? Ginny was lying on the nearest sofa and to reach the other one he would have no choice but to pass Fred and George.

On his side of the Common Room there was only one option – a small armchair tucked into an alcove, next to a window. Ron reached it and turned around, he was out of sight of the twins, and Harry and Ginny were now totally absorbed in each other.

Hermione was still fast asleep; he’d forgotten what a deep sleeper she was. He went to lay her down in the armchair but he couldn’t quite get the angle right so that she’d be comfortable, so he held onto her.
He glanced back again at the fireplace. The cards had just exploded in Fred’s face and George was laughing at his brother’s charred eyelashes.

Gingerly, Hermione still in his arms, Ron sat down in the armchair. It was very comfortable.

Hermione gave a small moan and shifted slightly in her sleep, her head tossed slightly, as if she were trying to shake an unpleasant image from it. Ron held his breath, willing her to calm but she just seemed to become more agitated.

Cautiously, he moved one of his hands out from underneath her and began to gently stroke her hair. Gradually she relaxed, then she sighed slightly and shifted so that she was nestled more firmly against his chest.

Ron was content to stay there, stroking her hair, soothing her gently, until his own eyes drifted shut.

viviannetta @ 2005-11-22T23:45:00

2005-11-22T23:46:08Z

This is just for my reference so I can keep track of what I'd like to write. Probably won't manage any of them.

1. In the Armchair - where Ron and Hermione are in the armchair, to go with In the Firelight
2. Something to do with Hermione and Percy writing section of H,AH together
3. Ginny's weakness is her writing, loves look of her handwriting, will write anything. Not necessarily CoS, but ominous in context of it
4. New Ron/Hermione - not sure what.

Molly

2005-11-16T22:39:35Z

Fic written for the Autumn Alphabet Challenge at books_freckles (x-posted to there, obviously)

Title: Molly
Disclaimer: I have nothing to do with JK Rowling and I am not pretending to, these characters do not belong to me, I just like playing with them
Ship: Hermione/Weasley family
Rating: All ages

Molly stood at the kitchen window, around her dinner for ten was preparing itself. The clink of knives and the slop of stirring spoons had lulled her into a sort of trance. In a second the kitchen clock would let her know that the potatoes needed turning but for now she was free to watch her family on the lawn.

Molly watched the lone brunette head bobbing among the six red ones. Hermione had taught them all a Muggle children’s game, Stuck in the Mud, which seemed to involve nothing more than alternately running and standing still. Fred and George had begged to be allowed to spice things up using their wands but Hermione had insisted on all wands being left to one side.

Fred and George appeared to be chasing the others. They had managed to back Hermione into the corner by the chestnut tree. She was panting slightly as her eyes darted from one twin to the other. Suddenly she made a dash for the small gap behind the tree, but George moved faster and encircled her from behind, catching her close to him. Hermione looked up at him, laughing and he grinned down at her before following Fred after his other siblings.

Molly’s heart jumped; quickly she counted the red heads. It was taking all the attention of the twins to pin Ginny to the ground, Ron was running towards Hermione and Bill and Charlie were taking a moment to catch their breath a few metres from the window. Percy wasn’t there.

The relationship between Percy and his parents had been strained throughout the war. Tempers had been wearing thin and there had been no real chance to rebuild the ties, which had been torn following the re-birth of Lord Voldemort. But a mother’s love remains strong and Molly could not bear to think of Percy being gone just when they thought they were finally safe and could at last think about re-establishing the bond.

But he was there, seated on the old swing, hanging from the apple tree. He wasn’t swinging, he never had, he was just sitting there reading a book, it looked like Hogwarts: A History, it had always been his favourite, and Hermione’s. They’d been talking together recently about contacting the publishers, about writing a new chapter in Hogwart’s history, re-telling their own experiences.

The kitchen clock cleared its throat and reminded her that the potatoes needed roasting not toasting, flicking her wand in their general direction she watched them turn themselves over. Then she looked around to see how the rest of the meal was getting on. The spoons had stopped, so had the knives. Muttering to herself in annoyance, Molly flicked her wand around and vegetables started jumping into dishes and spinning to the stove. Water poured to join the vegetables and a further flick set it boiling.

The meal would be ready soon. She really should call the boys in to help, but she couldn’t bear to break up the scene in the garden. They all looked so happy and carefree, acting like the children they should have had a chance to be for once.

Smiling, Molly started gathering cutlery and crockery from around the kitchen, piling it neatly on the worktop, ready to be taken to the table in the garden. She glanced at the kitchen clock, feeling the familiar jolt of relief when she saw her husband’s hand pointing to Work. Just two months ago the hand would have been stuck on Mortal Peril, now the clock was happy to inform her of physical whereabouts and nothing more, causing no more worry than whether Arthur would be home for dinner or not. He had promised to be home on time today, bringing Harry with him. They wouldn’t miss Hermione’s birthday dinner.

Hermione.

Molly’s eyes drifted involuntarily to the window again. Hermione had grown into a beautiful young woman. If she was happy, as she was now, it was impossible to keep your eyes off her. She had become an integral part of the Weasley family, a member in everything but name, and one of Molly’s deepest desires was that Hermione would accept the name as well in the future. Hermione as her daughter-in-law was one of Molly’s fondest daydreams, although she had never been quite clear which of her sons Hermione would marry. Ron was the obvious choice, of course, with their long-standing friendship. But Hermione and Percy seemed so well-suited at times, they had so much in common. And she knew that Hermione had always had a soft spot for both twins, despite frequent mutual exasperation. Bill and Charlie were perhaps slightly too old, but then Hermione was very mature for her age.

“Mum?” Percy had appeared in the doorway. His freckled nose had a hint of pink about it, reminding Molly that they would need some sort of shade by the table.

“Do you need any help?” Percy’s clipped, precise tone drew her swiftly back to the kitchen. Looking around she saw that it was time to start dishing up, regardless of her husband’s absence. She knew he wouldn’t be long.

Percy had already left with the tablecloths and a second later a flushed and radiant Hermione appeared in the door, followed by Ginny to collect the plates and cutlery. The other boys were following slowly but now the game had been broken up Molly had no qualms about shouting at them to hurry up.

A minute later when first Harry and then Arthur arrived in the fireplace the kitchen was a hive of activity. Fred and George each had a pan of potatoes that they were mashing with gusto, Bill was slicing a huge chicken pie, and Charlie was carving a large joint of roast beef. Percy was arranging vegetables in dishes for Ron to carry out to the garden where Ginny and Hermione were arranging the table.

Molly broke off from tossing a large bowl of green salad to kiss her husband and hug Harry.

“Just wash your hands quickly before dinner,” she told them. “There’s no time for anything else. No problems?”

But she wasn’t really listening for an answer, she was just glad they were all back together safely. Soon she was shooing them all out into the garden and to the table, only Arthur was allowed a detour – to the shed, to get a pair of Muggle sunshades. She paused in the doorway of the kitchen, checking that nothing had been forgotten, then turned outside to join her family.

In the Firelight

2005-11-13T19:21:20Z

Title: In the Firelight
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, but I'm very grateful to JKR for creating them so the rest of us can play with them!
Pairing: Ron/Hermione
Rating: all ages (I don't know US ratings, sorry!)
Summary: Hermione and Ron are both working late
Author's Notes: Just a silly little thing I wrote this afternoon and decided to post on the spur of the moment.

Hermione Granger arched her back and stretched her arms before leaning back over her book. Two seconds later, she huffed in annoyance as her hair swung forwards in front of her eyes. Tucking it back behind her ears, she reached for a quill and jotted down some notes from the book she was reading.

Ron was doodling at the other end of the table where Hermione was sitting. His quill was moving steadily in squiggling lines across the parchment, but he hadn’t looked at the pattern for some time. He smiled as Hermione reached for a book and her hair got in the way again. He contemplated commenting on the similarities between her hair and Crookshanks, but decided it was safer not to. At this time of year, disturbing Hermione’s work was liable to result in an explosion of some sort. Professor McGonagall had already had to talk to her about some first year girls who Hermione had reduced to tears for falling rather than tiptoeing into the Gryffindor Common Room.

Hermione looked up and Ron looked swiftly back his parchment. His small squiggle had somehow scrawled itself right across his piece of parchment. Luckily, he had not yet started his essay on Centaur Riots in Southern Scotland but he had still managed to waste a good five inches of parchment.

He glanced across at Hermione who was now feverishly turning the pages of a second book before dropping it back on the table and snatching up a third. She probably knew a million charms for cleaning ink from parchment but he didn’t dare ask her. He didn’t quite have the courage to try anything himself, either, he’d probably set fire to the table and then Hermione would be furious with him anyway. Much safer to tear that bit off, maybe Hermione would like it as a bookmark.

Leaning back in his chair he watched Hermione finally lose patience with her hair and tie it back with a spare bit of ribbon that she normally used to tie parchment rolls. Her eyes hardly left the page.

She was so unconsciously beautiful when she was working. Ron had lost count of the number of nights he had watched her like this but he just couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Each night the Common Room emptied around them, Harry had gone to bed an hour ago, ready for an early Quidditch practice. Now the two of them were alone, peacefully for once.

Months of swallowed feelings were welling up in his throat. How could he even begin to explain? It wasn’t just the way she looked when she was working, it was how she looked when she was yelling at him too, or when she was trying to persuade Harry that everything was going to be ok, or when she had fallen asleep in front of the fire, exhausted from working too hard.

She was always working too hard. Ron wanted to tell her that she should stop working. That she already knew enough to get full marks in everything. That all she needed to do now was smile at him and he would sit in an armchair and she could curl up in it with him and forget about everything but the two of them. That they could be safe together.

“Ron?”
She was looking at him; Ron’s mind was still in the armchair, with her nestled against his neck, soft and warm.

“Ron?”

But Hermione was not in his arms; she was looking at him, half quizzical, half exasperated, from the other end of the table. A stray strand of her hair was glinting in the light of the dying fire. He blinked hard and focused; “What?”

“You should go to bed,” she was smiling fondly at him now. “Harry will probably wake you on his way out in the morning, and you don’t seem to be managing anything constructive now.”

She was right, of course she was right. But he didn’t want to leave her.

“What about you?”

“I’m just going to finish this chapter. Nobody in my dormitory plays Quidditch, thankfully.”

She’d thought of him. That must mean something. Most people she ignored unless they’d given her a reason to bite their heads off. She’d noticed him. She cared about him getting enough sleep.

She was still looking at him.

“Ok,” he gathered his parchment and quill and the two books he’d been pretending to read before he started doodling.

Hermione was reading again, he had to pass her on his way to the stairs. The hand nearest her was free, he knew that he didn’t want to leave, he wanted to be in the armchair, but he didn’t know how to get there.

The firelight and the loose strand of hair were winking at him. The hair was going to get in her eyes again. He reached out to tuck it back behind her ear, out of the way.

Her hand caught his, snapping out of nowhere, her eyes still on her book, finishing the paragraph before she looked up. Her voice was telling him, firmly to leave her hair alone but all Ron cared about was her hand in his.

She looked up and the familiar annoyance was back in her eyes, but it softened a little as she met his gaze. They looked at each other and then Ron laughed uneasily and drew his hand back.

“Night, Hermione.”

“Night,” and she went back to her reading.

Ron moved towards the stairs, resisting the urge to check that his free hand was completely clean. At the foot of the stairs, he looked back at Hermione, deep in her book, seemingly oblivious of him already. Grinning to himself he made his way up the stairs and into his dormitory, knowing full well that she would still be there when he came down next morning, fast asleep in a Common Room full of quiet Gryffindors, because nobody else would have the courage to wake her up.