Author's Note: So I originally wrote this as a one-shot. I've been wanting to write Ron and Hermione's first kiss for a very, very long time. I got the idea for it one night and typed it all up within a few hours. Then, several days later, I found another old one-shot that I did. It was -gasp- H/Hr! I remember that I recieved a dare to write the one ship I couldn't stand, which is how the H/Hr thing came out. So then I thought, why not do this with a bunch of pairings? So that's what I'm going to do. You guys name the pairing and I'll write that pairing's first kiss (so Harry/Ginny is kinda out seeing as we know how their first kiss is).
By Siriusly Amused
Stop making the eyes at me, I'll stop making the eyes at you
And what it is that surprises me is that I don't really want you to
- 'I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor' Artic Monkeys
Hermione Granger stared down into her bowl of ice cream, watching it melt into a white pool. She could not believe that while the Wizarding World was falling apart at the seams, the Muggle World remained more or less oblivious and happy, carrying on as usual, as if constant 'fog' and freak 'hurricanes' happened everyday.
The Granger dining room was darkening with the approaching dusk, but the atmosphere was relatively light-hearted. The screen door was opened, letting in the smell of freshly cut grass and the sound of laughter from the neighbor children playing in the backyards. Mr. Granger was recounting a joke his secretary had told him earlier that day and Mrs. Granger laughed jovially at it while scooping a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.
Hermione, it seemed, was the only dispirited one in the whole town. She sat at the table, sulking, and felt immensely restless. At Dumbledore's funeral, when they had planned to search for the Horcruxes, Hermione had been filled with an eagerness to get started; so when Harry told her and Ron that he wanted them to spend a few days with their families before joining him at the Dursley's, Hermione's excitement had deflated into an irritable impatience.
Her parents were now discussing the latest advances in dentistry, pretending to be oblivious to their daughter's downtrodden state. Unable to continue the charade, Hermione stood from the table and took her bowl of ice cream to the kitchen, setting it by the sink before going to the stairs and heading toward her room.
She closed the door and leaned against it, sighing with relief. She loved her parents, but they made her nervous. She hadn't told them about what was happening in the Wizarding World--her world. She was sure that if she did, they would do everything in their power to take her away; and even if she managed to escape, which would have been easy seeing as she could Apparate, she would have to live with the added guilt of knowing that her parents were worried sick about her. It was best to keep them in the dark, but that only added to her anticipation.
The sooner she got out of that house and joined her two best friends, the better.
Needing something to take her mind off of things, Hermione turned on a lamp and headed over to her immensely messy closet. Over the years, she had thrown the stuff that she accumulated into boxes and stored them in her closet.
Resolving to get rid of the things that she either didn't need or want, Hermione grabbed the first box and dumped its contents out onto the floor. She sat down cross-legged in front of the pile, tucked her hair behind her ears, and got to work.
The first thing she picked up was a friendship bracelet that an eleven-year-old Ginny had made for her. The pink, green, and magenta threads were woven securely together, representing the strong bond between the two girls. Hermione smiled as memories flooded her subconscious.
Like Harry, Hermione had first thought that Ginny was a mute, seeing as the tiny red-headed girl would speak only a few words around them and would typically run off, blushing furiously, after knocking over a glass of pumpkin juice. Then one day Hermione stormed into the girl's bathroom on the third floor after Transfiguration, muttering angrily about something stupid Ron had said or done. Ginny had emerged from a stall, smiling widely as she exclaimed that Ron was nothing more than a big prat. The two girls then launched into a very long conversation that involved a lot of jabs at Ron and a lot of giggling. They've been friends ever since.
Feeling as though an immense weight had been lifted from her chest, Hermione tied the bracelet around her left wrist and reached into the pile once more, pulling out the sapphire earrings her mother had sent her in her fourth year to wear at the Yule Ball. More memories surfaced.
She remembered dancing in a group with Viktor, Ginny, Neville, the twins and their respective dates as the Weird Sisters played 'This is the Night'. Neville and the twins danced hazardously, their appendages flying out at random; but Viktor was a relatively good dancer. He was very fond of taking Hermione's hand and spinning her around. Once he even scooped her up in his arms and twirled her, causing her to giggle blissfully.
Her bliss subsided when he put her down and her eyes found Harry and Ron slouching in their chairs. It was then that it hit her. Both boys looked miserable, but for different reasons. While Harry looked as though he was incredibly bored and contemplating a cup of punch, Ron looked as though he was about to murder someone who was standing behind Hermione.
Turning her head slightly, Hermione saw that it was Viktor who Ron was sending his vindictive glare. Suddenly, a strong feeling of gratification had filled Hermione and she couldn't help but send Ron a smile before turning around and dancing with Ginny and Viktor.
A smug smile crossing her features as she remembered Ron's glare, Hermione fastened the earrings onto her earlobes and reached into the pile in front of her for her next item: a voodoo doll of Ron that Parvati had made the previous year.
A blush splashed across Hermione's cheeks when she remembered the embarrassment she felt when Parvati had empathetically handed her the voodoo doll, explaining that she would have made a Lavender one as well if she didn't feel as though it would be like betraying her friend.
"What is this? My Ron box?" Hermione muttered to herself irritably, throwing the voodoo doll across the room where it bounced off the wall and landed in her trashcan.
Her eyes roamed the rest of the items in the pile and she realized that while the box wasn't purposely dedicated to Ron, everything in it reminded her of him. Even a piece of parchment that had notes scribbled between herself and Harry on it. They had apparently been in History of Magic when they wrote the notes to one another. The notes weren't even about Ron; they were about lunch; yet Hermione was still reminded of Ron because she remembered that he had been asleep next to her on that day, his head on the table, his shoulders rising and falling evenly with each breath he took. Hermione remember that while she waited for Harry's reply, she had rested her own head on her arm, very close to Ron, and had smelled the cheap teenage cologne that Ron wore and could feel his breath on the back of her neck.
Groaning, Hermione crumbled the parchment and tossed it into her trashcan as well, wondering when everything in her life started to revolve around one Ronald Weasley.
She was about to pick another item from the pile when she heard the all too familiar crack of someone Apparating. She turned toward her opened window and eyed it warily, the hairs on the back of her neck rising in fear. For a few moments she neither saw nor heard anything, but then the tree branch just outside her window shook and a 6'2", red-headed seventeen-year-old boy came through her window.
He was wearing a faded Chudley Cannons T-shirt and had a small leaf in his red locks.
For a moment, the two merely stared at one another, neither sure of what to say. Then Hermione, forgetting that her parents were just downstairs, exclaimed 'Ron!' and ran toward him, throwing her arms around his neck and resting her head on his chest. Immediately, his arms wrapped around her, holding her close to him.
Hermione couldn't help but think how strange it felt to be in Ron's arms. Wonderful, of course--but strange; it was always Harry whom she hugged and grabbed a hold of in fright. She and Harry had grown so accustomed to each other that they fit comfortably in one another's arms, as if they were two Legos clicking together.
With Ron, it was different. Until recently, they had touched only when necessary. His embrace wasn't the relaxed, comfortable embrace that was Harry's; Ron's embrace was furtive and held the implications that there was something much more between them. Hermione was acutely aware of how thin his T-shirt was.
She stepped away suddenly. Ron eyed her curiously and Hermione immediately forced herself to scowl at him.
"You…you Apparated without a license!" she admonished.
Ron's face contorted to a look of annoyance at the sound of an approaching fight.
"Mione, the Ministry is so busy that they're not going to notice a little bit of illegal Apparating," Ron reasoned in an almost whiney voice.
Hermione's heart skipped a beat when he used the shortened form of her name.
"You're right," she stated calmly.
Hermione's throat wasn't working properly so she merely nodded, bringing her left hand to take the leaf out of Ron's hair. His hand covered hers as she pulled the leaf out of his red locks. Her skin tingled as he slid his hand downward, stopping to finger the friendship bracelet on her wrist, his eyes questioning.
"Ginny made it for me when we were kids," she explained, all too aware how soft her voice had become.
Ron nodded in understanding and his hand left her wrist as he dropped his arm back to his side. His eyes roamed around her room, taking it in for the first time.
Hermione watched as Ron walked around, eyeing the contents of her dresser and desk interestedly.
'Why is he here? Is he just bored? Fancied a chat with a friend? Is he…finally…going to make a move? Am I just imagining things? Why the bloody hell is he here?' Hermione's mind raged as her eyes followed Ron across her room.
The air around them was thick with tension. Both of them knew that Ron hadn't come as a friend; or rather, he had come as a friend, but had absolutely no intention of leaving as one. If he were just a friend, they would be downstairs at the moment, laughing and making popcorn, not trapped in her bedroom, suffocating in their own lust.
They knew what was going to happen; they were just unsure of whether or not they needed to cover that whole Lavender debacle first.
"Oh, this is silly," Hermione said at last, causing Ron to look up from examining a framed photograph of her and Ginny on her dresser.
"Huh?" he asked, gazing at her inquisitively.
Determination filled her and caused her to stride across the room to him, despite the fact that both of her legs felt as though they might collapse.
She stood very close to him; she could feel his body heat emanating off of him. Shakily, she brought a hand up to caress his cheek. It was the simplest of gestures but it still sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. She watched, almost not believing what she saw, as Ron brought his hand to cover hers once more, and tilted his head so that his lips lightly grazed her palm.
It was all that she needed. She smiled widely and brought her hand down to his shoulder, slowly bringing it down his arm, feeling his skin move along her palm until she finally reached his hand. She watched, transfixed, as their fingers repeatedly interlaced, exploring this newfound territory.
Ron's free hand found her waist. It rested there for a moment before sliding to her lower back and pulling her closer to him. He had lowered his head so that his face was very close to hers.
"Hermione?" Mrs. Granger's voice sounded through the door, followed by a short knock. "Darling, are you alright?"
Hermione quickly took a step back from Ron, her eyes wide with horror.
"Um, yeah, Mum, I'm fine!" she called back, her voice squeaking slightly. She grabbed Ron's wrist and pulled him further away from the door, as if she expected her mother to have X-ray vision. She brought him up against a wall and placed her hand on his chest, demonstrating that she wanted him to stay there.
Her eyes continually jumped from Ron to the door as she debated what to do. Sensing that she might leave him to see what her mother wanted, Ron pulled her closer to him and spun around so that she was pinned between him and the wall.
"Oh my," Hermione said, surprised. Ron merely smiled devilishly at her.
"Hermione, your father and I just opened a bottle of wine. Would you like to come down for a drink?" her mother continued from the other side of the door.
"Ummm," Hermione said, drawing out the word nervously. Ron, with a mischievous glint in his eye, leaned down and began to softly kiss Hermione's neck. His kisses were soft and tentative; Hermione was finding it difficult to concentrate with his body pressed against hers. "No…no I think I'll just stay here," she called back to her mother over Ron's shoulder.
"Well, if you change your mind, come on down," her mother replied, sounding slightly disappointed.
Ron waited until Mrs. Granger's footsteps disappeared before pulling back and smiling down at Hermione.
"Thought she'd never…"
Ron's eyebrows disappeared into his hair at the order, but smiled nonetheless.
"Well, actually, I was going to say go away, but that works too!"
"Ron!" Hermione whined, dragging out his name in agitation.
"Yes?" Ron asked, his devilish smile back in place.
Unable to bare it any longer, Hermione grabbed fistfuls of Ron's shirt, stood on her tip toes and brought her lips to his. She felt his lips move against hers, felt him seeking permission to deepen the kiss, and felt his hand move slightly south of her waist.
Hermione sighed and pulled him closer, running one hand through his hair.
Outside her window, the constant 'fog' lingered. Somewhere on the other side of the country, another freak 'hurricane' was happening. And somewhere in between, the scarred, be-speckled boy who would save them all was doing the dishes.
End Author's Note: Next up is Harry/Hermione, and it's as canon as I can keep it.