A/N: This is just some happy fluffiness! I usually do things in first person, so this was hard for me, and I actually accidentally switched from third person to first person in my first draft! Silly me! But now I've edited it, and I think it's alright now. If you see any more errors like that, PLEASE let me know! Thanks!
The dying embers in the common room gave the atmosphere a sleepy, almost eerie feel. The rich, brown color of Hermione's bushy hair glowed a pale gold under the dim lighting, the pitch blackness outside the window not aiding as a source of light. Ron's red hair looked nearly brown in such bad lighting. He leaned back in the armchair in which he sat, rubbing his sleep-deprived eyes. The enclosing darkness cast deep shadows on the curves of his simple face as he yawned, and folded his arms across his chest in defeat.
"Just face it, Hermione: I can't get it," he breathed.
She gave him a consoling look, and looked him straight in the eye as she said, "Yes, you can. You can do anything, Ron; you just don't have any confidence!" She flipped to another page in their potions book, and highlighting an entire paragraph for him.
Ron closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the largeness of his seat, wanting to fall asleep right then and there, consumed by the warm comfort of the soft armchair. "Can't we just give it up for a night, Hermione?" He opened his eyes again to look at her.
"Why? The exam is tomorrow, and you've barely prepared for it! I don't want you to fail!" She pleaded in a quiet voice, trying to comfort and convince him at the same time.
"Oh, for crying out loud, it's dark out already! We've been studying all night, and all the lights have been put out." Ron looked exasperated.
Hermione put her quill down on the pages of the book, and pulled out her wand. "Well if it's the dark that's bothering you, I can always conjure some more lights, you know…"
"No!" he said quickly, and closed his eyes again, rubbing his temples. "Light will only make my headache worse…"
"Oh, Ron," she suddenly looked concerned. "You have a headache?" Hermione shut her book, and left it and her quill to lie upon the table, forgotten, as she turned in her chair to him. She scooted her weight so that she was on the edge of the cushioned seat, and leaned forward to feel his forehead. "Well you don't have a fever, but if you've got a headache, we can stop anyway," she said, looking sympathetic.
He nodded wearily, eyes still resting gently. She noticed how calm he looked, like he was about to fall asleep. He must have really been exhausted. She watched his breathing grow heavy and thick as he began to drift into a deep sleep. Hermione could barely help but smile at how funny he looked with his mouth half open, his head lolling on his shoulder. His face was darkened by the looming blackness of their surroundings. His freckles were barely visible, but she knew they were there, and couldn't help thinking how they stood out dramatically when they could be seen, contrasting adorably with his pale white skin. Watching Ron look so peaceful made her feel comfortable, as though she were wrapped in a warm blanket. It made her drowsy, and with a stifled yawn, she stood up as quietly as she could so as not to wake the sleeping Ron.
Hermione turned to go, when suddenly a rather cold, sweaty palm wrapped itself around her wrist. She started, but knew, even before she turned around, who was holding her. Who else could it have been, anyway? No one else was in the room. Facing him again, she found he was still fast asleep, but his hand seemed to have a particularly strong grasp on her. She was rather surprised by this unexpected strength in his arm. Not minding the feel of his touch there, but wanting to go up to bed, she tried to pry his fingers from her own arm, but they only tightened themselves around her, beginning to cut off her circulation. Giving up the losing battle against his grip, she sat on the arm of his chair. Sitting on the other empty seat would have yanked him off his own chair, and woken him up. Hermione didn't want to wake Ron up at all, though; he needed his sleep, and he had looked so exhausted and weak before he'd at last fallen asleep. She wanted him to be able to sleep on, without being disturbed.
Ron suddenly pulled her down so that she was squeezed into the seat with him, her hips feeling unusually compressed. Her heart began to flutter violently in excitement of simply being that close to him. Feeling the side of his body against hers was giving her chills, and she could barely take it anymore; she let out a soft sigh.
Ron finally let go of her wrist then, and instead curled his arms around her middle, and lay his head on her slender shoulder.
"Oh, for goodness sake…" she let out under her breath, rolling her eyes. But she was not about to deny that the feel of him on her like that was giving her an ecstasy she knew could only come from touching Ron. A smile began to play across her lips as she let herself get comfortable, and she slowly sank into the inviting, warm, surrounding cushions of the chair, next to Ron. As her eyelids began to droop, and her vision faded slowly, her bones growing heavy and weak, she heard him say something.
"Hermione…" he muttered, in a daze.
She didn't know whether or not to reply. Was he asleep, or still half-awake?
She went for it. "Hm?" was all she decided to say. She waited, to see if he'd answer. After several long moments, he hadn't, and she began to drift off into that promising darkness that seemed only inches away. She just had to reach out a little bit more, and she'd fall into that wonderful blissful calm that is sleep. And then…
"I love you, Hermione."
Suddenly quite alert, she looked at him. Ron was, indeed, soundly asleep on her shoulder, his hands still wrapped around her as though hugging a stuffed animal as a safety net. The feel of his arms against her stomach made her so lightheaded…
She needed to sleep. She had to. It was so inviting, so generous looking, right there, ahead of her…
And then, at last, after deciding silently to herself that she would ask Ron about this tomorrow, she gave in to the overpowering pressure of sleep, and fell into a deep state.