Romione❤️ one-shots

Night

Hi so I couldn't update because I went on a cruise and there wasn't any time for me to have a chance to update but here's one

Flat on her back, eyes shut tight, and not a breath of sleep in sight, she heard it: the first rain drop hitting the shutters outside of Ginny's window; the light tap of water falling from high above, making Hermione wonder and calculate with no real reason, the distance in which it had to fall.

A distant rumbling warned of an oncoming storm. Hermione guessed it would reach them sooner rather than later. She sighed and turned onto her side, facing into the room. She could just make out Ginny's silhouette, and the rise and fall of the younger girl's chest, deep in sleep. It made Hermione ridiculously jealous, that Ginny could sleep so soundly, through anything really, while she, Hermione, had been restless for at least an hour... for weeks, really.

She turned away from Ginny's soft snores to face the wall, huffing quietly and muttering to herself to stop thinking about everything and just go to sleep. But nothing worked. She sat up, kicking the tangled covers off of her legs, and stood with her bare feet on the cool, unpolished wooden floors.

Hermione grabbed her wand and padded across the room, then slipped out into the hallway. She closed the door quietly before tip-toeing down the slatted stairs. Some of them creaked, and she jumped once when thunder sounded closer than the one before. As she made her way across the living room, and into the kitchen, she could hear the pitter-patter of raindrops increase in rhythm on the sides of the house and roof. She found the noise comforting as it filled in the silence between the house settling; And the sounds of war, screaming, and death, that have filled her ears each night.

Even after seven whole days of peace, she still had none.

And apparently, neither did Ron, for he was sat at the table, his elbows propped on the solid wooden table top, hands wrapped around a mug. He had on a holey blue t-shirt and boxer shorts, presumably foregoing pajamas, thinking he wouldn't come across anyone else downstairs, at this late hour.

"Would you like me to reheat that for you?" Hermione said softly when he didn't look up at her when she entered.

But when she spoke he peered up at her through his long fringe and smiled, and although she knew he meant to make it warm and welcoming, it wasn't; it was full of such sadness and grief that she stuttered in her breathing.

"Yeah, thanks," he said.

She performed a quick warming charm on his mug and the smell of sweet hot cocoa filled her nose, and she remembered she had given the Weasleys some as a gift last Christmas. It seemed so long ago now...

She sat in the chair next to him, sliding in closer until their shoulders touched. He sighed.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked quietly and placed her hand on his forearm.

He gave a short laugh and shook his head before taking a sip of the hot cocoa.

"Talking is just about the last thing I wanna do, Hermione."

"Would you prefer to be alone?"

His head turned to her so suddenly she flinched. "No!... Sorry. I mean, please don't go."

She nodded, speechless under his intense gaze. A flash of lighting lit up the kitchen, followed by a clap of thunder. Hermione jumped in her seat and her hand tightened on Ron's arm.

"Bloody storm," she said under her breath and heard Ron chuckle next to her. The sound was so foreign in that house, over the past week, that it startled her, and made her smile to see him grinning at her. "What is so funny?"

"Just... you. I dunno, hearing you swear."

"I've sworn before," Hermione said primly.

He chuckled again. "Yeah, I suppose you have."

They sat in silence as his hand covered hers still on his arm, and stroked his thumb over her knuckles. The storm was over them, pounding rain, and the wind was pushing on the already slightly swaying house.

"What are you doing up?" Ron asked.

"I haven't slept properly for days," she said, then rolled her eyes. "For months really."

"Yeah. Same here," Ron sighed again and drank another sip of cocoa, then set it down gently, his fingers tapping against the chipped ceramic. "Nothing will ever go back to how it was, will it?"

Hermione paused and watched as he bit the corner of his bottom lip and his eyes found hers, and it was like he was asking a different question entirely.

"Do you," Hermione started and took a deeper breath, trying again, "Do you want things to go back? How they used to be?"

She mentally slapped herself because of course, he would want to go back to before he lost a brother; to before his family was ripped to shreds, George especially, who has since refused to leave his bedroom. Of course, he'd want to go back to when everyone was still whole and intact. They all wanted that. How could she be so... insensitive?

But that wasn't what she had meant; the real question she was wanting to ask, but never felt it was an appropriate time between funerals, and crying, and angry outbursts, was just beneath the surface.

"In some ways, yeah," he said with difficulty, nodding, as he continued to hold her stare. "But then, in other ways... no, not really."

"In what other ways?" Hermione asked quickly, not wanting the moment to pass- this connection they were sharing, she was hoping he felt it, too, and that they were on the same level, finally.

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"In any way that meant you still kissed me," he said, looking steadily into her eyes. "And that this," he brought her hand to his lips and pressed them to her knuckles. She smiled, relaxing her shoulders as he looked back up at her. "This, you and me, together, I'd never want to change that for anything."

"Neither would I," she said, her voice a whisper, her throat dry from holding her breath. "Can I have a sip?"

He blinked, and smiled, then nodded, pushing his mug of hot chocolate towards her. With her eyes still on his Hermione brought the mug to her lips and took a tentative sip, careful in case the chocolate was still too hot to swallow in one gulp. But then she closed her eyes as the sweet deep taste of chocolate and milk, and something else she couldn't quite place - cinnamon maybe? - rolled down her throat, the perfect temperature in which to taste every drop without scalding her taste buds.

"Good, yeah?" Ron said, his voice hoarse. And when Hermione opened her eyes and lowered the mug onto the table, she licked her lips and heard Ron make a low, growling, throat-clearing sound.

"It's brilliant," she said, holding his gaze. "Cinnamon?"

"And cream," he said, sliding to the edge of his seat, closer to her so that their knees knocked together. He placed one hand on her leg, and she turned, moving that much closer so that their legs were now stacked between the others.

The silence between them, what used to be awkward and full of unresolved tension, was now expected, comfortable, and necessary as they stared at one another, communicating what they wanted without speaking.

And without another word their hands reached out simultaneously, reaching behind necks and pulling the other to meet in the middle. Their lips crashed, and their hearts unite.

( Relax, I didn't write smut. I don't feel comfortable writing it)