Romione❤️ one-shots

Hershey kisses

Hershey Kisses

Hermione sat in the Weasley's kitchen, reading House Elf Liberation. She sipped the freshly made tea, and smiled as the warm liquid ran down her throat.

Ron, on the other hand, was not quite as... peaceful as Hermione was. He was stuffing his face with Hershey Kisses that she had brought over. She didn't really like Hershey Kisses, and since her Aunt Beatrice had given them to her (bloody Aunt never listened to her complaining about how terrible that candy was), she figured she might as well give them to Ron, who ate almost anything.

"Ron," Hermione said with disgust, "why on earth would you find those delicious?"

"Bcos tey're gud."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Try swallowing first."

Ron glared at her, the tips of his ears red. He swallowed the Kisses and pushed aside the bag.

"Enjoying them?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows as she turned the page.

"Why don't you like them, Hermione?" Ron asked.

"They're disgusting."

"You wouldn't think that if you tried one!"

"What would you know? You eat everything."

"Do not!"

"Last night Ginny dared you to bite off a bit of your shoe, and you did. And you said it tasted alright. Like steak."

"That's because they were leather!"

"Ronald, leather doesn't taste like steak."

"But steak is cow! And leather's cow!"

"I'm aware that they both come from a cow."

"Racist!"

"Excuse me?"

"You're racist! Against leather!"

"That's preposterous. How dare you accuse me of racism. You're the racist, if anything, because you discriminate against House Elves."

"Well, we're better than them."

"Hah! You are racist!"

"Am not."

"You know what?"

"What?"

"It was a rhetorical question, you weren't supposed to answer it."

"Oh."

"I think I'm going to go read my book in peace."

Hermione slammed her book shot and got up, heading towards the stairs. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail as she walked up the stairs, and for a moment she heard the bag of Hershey Kisses being shaken.

How the heck did we get to talking about racism? she asked herself as she sat on Ginny's bed, opening her book up.

She shifted around on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position, but they're just wasn't one. Ginny's bed felt like a hard lump of coal. She walked over to the window and conjured a chair. She shifted around in the chair, for once allowing herself to slump instead of sitting upright as usual.

As she tried to read her book, she found she couldn't. She ended up staring out at the morning sun, casting rays of it's glorious light along the messy lawn of the Burrow.

"A bit too early to be eating candy," she whispered, smiling to herself.

She propped her arm up against the side of the chair, a smile playing on her lips. The door opened, and she assumed it was Ginny, back from swimming in the pond with Harry.