A/N: My daily dose of fluff. I actually wrote this a few days ago, but I totally forgot about it because I finished my old notebook and began a new one. Anyway, here's the latest in my Hermione/Ron 'oneshot wonders' as I call them... Oh yes, and the couplet belongs to my friend because she has much more poetic talent than I.
Disclaimer: I own nothing... especially not Harry Potter.
Kiss and Run
Hermione was good at so many things. Arithmetic, essays, writing, charms, arithmacy, aincient runes, you name it. She could do everything except for one thing (minus the 'Art of Divination'), and it was poetry.
This was ironic, seeing as she was struggling to write a poem at the Burrow one summer's day.
Hermione sat at the scrubbed kitchen table, her head in her hands as she stared angrily down at her paper in frustration. She was supposed to be writing an original poem of her own. And she was not succeeding.
"What are you doing?"
Hermione looked up and saw Ron standing before her, wearing his famous lopsided grin and a Chudley Cannons shirt that clashed magnificently with his hair. Hermione sighed.
"My mother signed me up for a college course," She said, "she wants me to do poetry – my mother loves poetry. Not to mention she thinks I'm stressed out and that poetry will make it better."
"If you weren't stressed, you wouldn't be Hermione," Ron said in reply with a quiet laugh.
Hermione sighed and held her head in her hands again.
"Even so, she had to pick the one thing I'm terrible at."
"Besides Divination," Ron mused, "And poetry is easy anyway."
Hermione looked up at Ron and held out her pen. He took the pen and rolled it in his fingers, obviously amazed.
"What is this?" He asked in awe.
Hermione, who had forgotten a moment where Ron had come from, laughed and held up the paper. He took it and Hermione couldn't hold back her smile back when she saw the look of astonishment on his face.
"This is what Muggles use to write," Hermione said, "They don't use quills or parchment or anything like that."
Hermione showed Ron how the pen worked and he marveled at how it spread the ink so evenly over the paper and never dripped. After her explanation, she realized that she'd better get back to work.
"It's been fun, Ron, but I really need to finish this." Hermione said, turning back to her paper. "Or start, actually."
Ron watched her as she struggled, and then added his own suggestion.
"Maybe you need some inspiration."
"Inspiration?" Hermione repeated in a dull question.
Ron sat down in a chair next to Hermione and looked around the room.
"Yeah, this place doesn't inspire much other than hunger."
Hermione thought differently, but nevertheless let him continue with his thought.
"Come on; let's go somewhere more… inspiring." Ron said, and turned the slightest shade of green.
Hermione, who had become suspicious of something, followed suit as Ron got up and headed outside. She followed him out the back door and into the backyard, past the tree and onto the dock that jutted over the lake. Hermione watched Ron walk in his rolled-up jeans, with bare feet that could handle the rocky lakeside. He sat down on the edge of the dock and let his feet splash into the water. Hermione kicked off her sandals, not bothering to worry about her sock-tan, and put her feet into the water once she had sat down beside Ron. Hermione conjured a clipboard out of nowhere and clipped her blank paper and pencil to it. Ron motioned to the scenery around them.
"Now how's that for inspiring?"
Hermione looked around her; the Burrow indeed had a beautiful scenery, with many trees and the occasional chicken darting about.
"Better. Now if only I could put together a poem."
Ron appeared thoughtful.
"Well," he said slowly, "What's it supposed to be about?"
"Oh. Well, what about…"
Both looked around. They shared a quizzical glance before they sighed.
"Oh bloody hell, I don't know." Ron said gloomily.
"It's alright, Ron," Hermione said with a sigh, staring at her paper, "It's not your project."
Ron moved his feet up and down in the water slowly, apparently deep in thought. He ran a hand though his fiery hair and let out a deep breath slowly.
"Sorry, I've got nothing," Ron said, then added with a smirk, "I'm not much good at poetry anyway, seeing as I've got 'the emotional range of a teaspoon'."
Hermione blushed profusely in embarrassment.
"Sorry, I didn't mean it, you know…"
Hermione cut off when Ron grinned at her.
"I knew what I wanted, but it wasn't coming true,
I wanted you to take my hand and let me walk with you…"
"Did you just do that off the top of your head?"
Ron seemed more impressed and amazed with himself than Hermione was.
"Yeah, I guess so," he said, looking at her sheepishly.
"Wow," Hermione said, taken aback, "I didn't know you could do that; you've really got to teach me."
Ron shrugged and looked back down at his feet. Hermione and Ron's moving feet touched in the water for a moment and Ron scooted away an inch, his ears reddening.
"I didn't know I could, either. Th-there's nothing to teach," Ron stuttered, "You just have to say what you feel."
"You mean, you feel that way about someone?"
Hermione stared at Ron with the piercing glare she usually reserved for when Ron and Harry cheated on their homework. Ron cowered slightly, though he was much taller than she.
Hermione placed her clipboard on the dock gingerly, pondering this latest statement from Ron. Her mind drifted to the funeral, and even though she knew she should have been terribly sad, she remembered feeling, well, kind of good. Comforted. Even loved, perhaps? Ron had obviously shown interest then, but then again Ron was a coward and she knew he wouldn't say anything. Hermione looked back up at Ron and saw that he was staring at her, appearing to be having a mental argument with himself. And then, without warning, he swooped down and kissed her. Hermione was so shocked that she gave a startled gasp and tumbled off the dock to land in the water with a splash. Hermione resurfaced, shaking water out of her hair, and saw Ron staring down at her with his hands covering his open mouth.
"Oh! I'm sorry, I couldn't help it!" Ron exclaimed, then turned and dashed off towards the house.
Grinning in spite of herself, Hermione swam up to the edge of the dock and heaved herself half onto it, her lower half still dangling in the water. Ron was the type to kiss and run, and she knew that well enough. With a smile on her face, Hermione began to write – she had finally found her inspiration.
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