This is not just your average Romione fanfiction. I mean, it might be, but it also might be better. Read to find out! Anyway, this is basically a continous storyline, some before the war and some after.
Hermione snuggled into the plushiest armchair in the Gryffindor common room. The fire blazed in the fireplace, and she stretched out her feet, which were covered in thick, warm, socks, knitted by Mrs. Weasley. She threw a red and gold checkered quilt over her, and watched the snow fall outside the window. Hermione sighed happily, and thought that it might be one of the most peaceful moments in her life. She picked up A History of Magic, one of her favorite books, and opened it, partly just to hear the spine crack pleasingly. Hermione loved the sound and smell and look of books. She smiled, and started to read the first few familiar words. Then, Ronald Weasley sat down next to her. Almost on top of her, really.
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"Whatcha readin', Mione?" Ron asked. Hermione smiled inwardly at the nickname. She loved when Ron called her that, and he knew it. He used it to his advantage.
"None of your business, Bilius." Hermione replied. Ron hated his middle name. It was like her....anti-nickname for him, or something.
"Ouch. That one hurt, Mione. You woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning!" Ron reached over and grabbed her book.
"A History of Magic? Again?" Ron said disgustedly.
Hermione smiled. Did he keep track of what she read? Usually she did all her reading while he and Harry were off doing something, or in her bed or at the library (which Ron had only stepped in twice). It was quite observant of him, really. Hermione felt a familiar tingle inside her chest. She had liked Ron since first year. Now, in 4th year, it was bordering on something more. Dare she say.....love? No. Hermione brushed away the thought. Besides, even if she did--love--him, would he return the feeling? She didn't think so. And how humiliating would that be....Hermione decided to, again, keep liking him inside of her head.
"Of course! It's one of my favorites. I was just about to read it for the--let's see--16th? time, before you so rudely interrupted me."
Ron nudged her shoulder. "I'm doing you a favor, really. You could stand to read less, Bibliophile." Ron said haughtily.
"You know that word?" Hermione replied, equally so.
"Always the tone of surprise." Ron grumbled. Hermione just laughed and socked him on the leg.
"Now, what do you want?" she asked, down to business.
"What do you mean, what do I want?"
"You know what I mean."
"I just want to talk to you." Ron said sappily, making kissy faces and laughing loudly. Hermione forced a laugh, but felt that tingly feeling again.
Just then, Fred and George walked by. "Aww, ickle Ronnikins is in LOOVVVEEE!!"
"Lurve, Ronnikins! How does it feel to be in LURVE!?"
"Can't wait til we tell Mum. She's already planned your wedding, you know!"
"You're supposed to be at Quidditch practice!" Ron yelled furiously, while Hermione blushed and tried to cover herself up with her book. Fred and George just walked away, laughing and singing 'A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love'.
Ron turned back to Hermione, the tips of his ears pink.
"Well, Harry's at Quidditch practice, like Fred and George are SUPPOSED to be...." at this, Ron threw another glare at them, "and I just thought we might like to--have a butterbeer or something."
"Sure, I'd love to." Hermione said, a bit confused. Yes, she was close to Ron, but he hadn't done anything like this before. She decided not to question it, but was even more puzzled when Ron breathed out a big sigh of relief. He pulled two butterbeers from the Three Broomsticks out of his cloak, and Hermione adjusted the blanket so it covered both of them. They squished together so that both of them fit in the chair. When their legs touched, Hermione bit down a scream. Ron looked at her, concerned.
"Something wrong, Mione?"
"Nothing!" she said, a bit too quickly. She could feel a blush rising to her cheeks, and took her butterbeer and gulped a huge mouthful to avoid saying anything else.
Half an hour later, both their butterbeers were gone, but Ron and Hermione were still talking happily. Ron had pulled out a box of Bertie Botts and was eating them by the handful, grimacing whenever he got a particularly nasty combination. But beforehand, he had picked out all of the fruity flavored ones and given them to Hermione. Usually she hated Bertie Botts, but she did like the lemon, green apple, watermelon, and strawberry beans, along with all the other fruity ones. Hermione didn't know how Ron knew that, but apparently he did. So she munched on her handful while Ron chatted away about whatever struck his fancy. At the moment it was Quidditch.
"Gorgovitch just got the record for the most quaffle drops in a season--I know, it's crazy--"
Hermione gave an involuntary yawn as an answer. It was late, and most everyone had retreated to the dorms already. Ron stopped.
"Sorry, Mione, am I boring you?"
"No...it's okay. I'm just tired..."
Ron resumed talking as Hermione slowly fell asleep. With a burst of courage, she slightly adjusted and laid her head down on Ron's shoulder, trying to make it seem like she had just fallen asleep like that.
Ron trailed off in the middle of his sentence. He pulled the blanket around Hermione's shoulders. Then, on a sudden impulse, he pecked the top of her head. Hermione was not asleep, however. Her eyes flew open, and she very cautiously lifted her head. Did that just happen.....??
Hermione, almost petrified, placed a kiss on Ron's cheek, then hurriedly slid down underneath the blanket again. There, she fell asleep almost immediately, and did not see Ron's face turn red and did not feel him take her hand.
Author's Note
Hello, fellow bibliophiles! I see you've made it through the first chapter--good job. I have a question: who is your OTP from Harry Potter? I can't decide. Mine is either Ron and Hermione or Fred and me. I'm serious (but not sirius, sorry): I cried when I realized that I actually could not marry Fred Weasley.
