Disclaimer: Harry Potter + J.K. Rowling = she owns it. Yay. :D Corrs=owners of the spiffy song
Opened my eyes today
Ron Weasley woke up to the sounds of a birthday tune being played rather badly on an instrument he couldn't quite identify through just listening.
"Whass goin' on?" he mumbled, rolling over and rubbing his eyes with one hand and yanking the heavy bed curtain open with the other.
"Happy birthday, Ron!" The voices were hushed.
He was so surprised he fell off his bed, one hand still clutching the curtain. Giggles and snickers filled the room.
"What the bloody hell did you guys think you were doing?" Ron got up, steadfastly ignoring his aching rump and injured pride. "And what are you doing here, prefect?" He jabbed a teasing finger at Hermione, who giggled again and thrust a present into his hands. He noticed her wand was out. Maybe that was what was playing the tunes.
"Snuck out," she replied promptly, "thought even a prefect like me should—er—bend the rules sometimes, 'specially for a best friend's birthday."
"Bend?" Ron mumbled, placing the present down on his bed. "More like took it from both ends and snapped it in bloody half. If McGonagall catches you up here in our room she's going chop all our heads off."
Harry grinned. "Long as we keep quiet no one will know. Everyone's asleep anyway." He paused and looked around the room. "'Cept for the six of us."
"Yeah," Dean agreed, scratching his dreadlocks as he tossed Ron a tiny package. "Happy sixteenth."
Ron caught it between fingers that had become deft from months of Quidditch practice. "Thanks."
Seamus and Neville followed suit, each one flinging tiny packages at him with customary, quiet birthday greetings.
"What time is it anyway?" Ron asked as Harry handed him a rather large, flat gift-wrapped package.
"Around one or two in the morning, I reckon." Hermione answered as she sat down on his bed, wrapping her wooly robe around her more tightly.
And I knew there's something
Saw you in a brand new way
Like the clouds had somehow lifted
Ron turned to Hermione and grinned. "Kinda late for you to be out, isn't it?"
Hermione's lips curled into a small smile. "I know," she answered, "never talk of this again after today." Her smile grew. "Now open up the gifts!"
Ron nodded and turned away from Hermione…if he didn't, he might have been tempted to just keep on looking at her, to just drink her in…
Oy, he told himself, first opening Dean's gift, stop thinking that way about Hermione. It's not…normal.
"Hey, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans!" Ron opened it and popped one into his mouth. Eegh. Carrot flavor. "Thanks."
He next opened Seamus' gift (a quaffle that had 'Official Gryffindor Seeker' on it), then Neville's (a tiny model of the Firebolt II, Ron's current dream broom).
And if yesterday I heard
Myself saying these words
I would swear it was a lie
He next opened Harry's present, which turned out to be a large poster of the Chudley Canons, except in place of the normal Keeper, it was him flying around instead!
"Wow," He murmured, holding it up before him, "how'd you do this?"
"Magical manipulation," Harry answered, grinning. "You like it?"
"It's totally wicked, Harry!" Ron put it down on the bed, next to Hermione. "Thanks a lot."
"Here's my gift, Ron." Hermione once again thrust her present into his hands. She seemed indubitably excited about it. "Open it!"
Ron obediently sat down beside her and began to open it, carefully undoing the wrapper; he knew Hermione hated it when people ripped apart the covering of a present.
"Open it!" she cried softly, prodding him with her finger.
"What do you think am I doing?" He said quietly, finally managing to get it undone. "Wow," he murmured. It was a book called Casey Canterbault: Chudley Canons Keeper.
"Open it on the first page!" she continued excitedly.
Ron dutifully opened it, looked at the left side. There, in Hermione's neat, spider writing, it said:
Happy sixteenth, Ron! I hope you have fun on your birthday, and I hope you have fun with my gift. Thanks for…well, everything. You mean a lot to me.
Unable to help himself, he smiled. He was starting to plunge into a wonderfully happy dream about him and Hermione together when a "Hi Ron! Happy Birthday!" from the next page caught his attention. His attention moved to the right page, and his jaw dropped.
He picked up the picture and held it up to the light. "Mione, this—this is—"
"Casey Canterbault," she replied proudly, glowing with positive delight.
"H-how did you—"
"I knew you loved the guy," she told him, a faint pink staining her cheeks as everyone in the room crowded around Ron and her to see the picture. "And so I kind of—uh, tried to track him down. Took a bloody long time."
Ron looked up. "You did that for me?"
Hermione's blush deepened. "Well—yeah. Anyway, it was pretty funny, since he only lived about fifteen minutes away from my parent's summer house on foot, in a nicely hidden house. So I went over there and told him about you and asked him to take that picture. I used the new camera, where voices can be recorded too. He's quite nice, really—"
Ron's smile grew, and he handed the picture to Harry as he threw his arms around Hermione in a quick hug. "Thanks," he said, "I really, really, really appreciate it."
"Yeah, well…" Hermione patted him on the back, reveling in the feel of Ron being so close to her—her was quite warm…felt kind of nice, really.
They all stayed up for a few more minutes, talking in happily hushed voices, till Hermione got up.
"Well, I'd better go, before someone catches me in here and catches you guys still up," she whispered, gathering her wooly nightgown around her. "Good ni—"
"I'll go with you," Ron volunteered, getting up. "You know, because it's sort of dangerous and—"
"Why would it be dangerous?" Hermione looked sort of befuddled, "It's just the Hogwarts common room I'm passing through."
Ron turned a slight crimson. "Uh—well, s-someone could catch you there, you know."
Hermione arched one eyebrow, ran a hand through her thick dark hair. "Uuuuh-huh. I'm sure. Well, then…let's go."
Ron grinned, ignored Harry muffled snickers. Harry was the only person in Hogwarts who knew of his—partiality to Hermione. "Right." He waved lightly at the four remaining in the room. "See you guys in a while."
I'll make a wish this day
And I'll send it to the heavens
That we will always stay
Entwined like this forever
And though the world may change
'Cause nothing stays the same
I know we will survive
The walk down to the common room was quiet, absolutely soundless. Even the wind had ceased its blowing, the fire's roars had died down to a hushed crackling, the Fat Lady's snores outside were muffled. It was as if everything was waiting, impatient to see what would occur between the two walking stealthily in the midst of it all.
The serene, placid silence was shattered by Ron's surprised "Oh—" and the mild clatter of a rather heavy thing falling on thick, lush carpeting and Hermione's amused giggles.
"Do you need help getting up?" she whispered, leaning over the couch he had tripped over and reaching out a hand.
"I'm fine, thanks." Nevertheless, Ron reached out and used Hermione's hand as a support as he got up. "You know…I meant to do that," he mumbled after a moment.
Framed in the pale, silver moonbeams that filtered through the common room's window, Ron could see her perfectly as she turned to him and smiled in hilarity. "I'm sure," she whispered in reply, her fingers tightening around his hand, leaning against him as she collapsed into helpless giggles.
"Quiet," he whispered, all the while wishing she'd just stay this close to him for the rest of eternity, "you'll wake someone up."
"Sorry," she snickered, straightening herself up—there goes his wish—and flashing him another smile. "You're just too funny to not laugh at."
"Thanks, I think." Ron muttered, shaking his head as they both climbed up the stairs leading to the girl's dorm. "You know, this is the first time I'm gonna be up here."
"I know," Hermione whispered back, pulling him along. "So just be quiet and be careful not to wake anyone up."
"Who was making all the noise a second ago, hypocrite?" Ron teased.
"You were," she answered, "clambering around the whole bloody place like a chimpanzee on a Hyperactivity Spell."
I don't know why
But suddenly I'm falling
Ron looked up, saw her dark eyes glittering mischievously in the silvery moonlight as she thanked him, and his heart ached suddenly. His hand instinctively tightened around hers as she led him up the stairs.
When had he started to feel this way about her? Did it happen so slowly that he never even noticed it? Was it when she and Krum broke up that he began to see her as something more than a friend?
I was so blind…
I was loving you all the time
And as they reached the top of the stairs and as she turned around to smile at him, that same, fond, subdued smile she had always worn even when she was only eleven, he knew.
He had always loved her, as a friend and as something more. The only difference between then and now was that he was mature enough to admit it.
And now I'm
Of course, ever since he had opened up to the possibility of him liking Hermione, he hadn't actually been able to stop thinking of her. She was like an intoxicating drug, getting you more and more addicted the more and more you were with her, the more and more you thought about her.
He couldn't help it. The more and more he knew her, the more and more he loved her.
"Well, here's my room," Hermione gestured to a large oak door with her free hand—neither one had let go of the other yet. "So…good night. Be careful not to trip over anything." She slowly, reluctantly began to let go.
She looked up at him in surprise as she realized he wasn't letting go; nor did it look like he was planning to do so.
"Ron," she whispered. "What—"
"Listen," he interrupted, pressing a finger against his lips in a gesture for silence, "there's something I gotta tell you before I go mad."
His grasp around her hand loosened; his fingers began to move up and down her arm in a lazy, involuntary caress.
"Wh-what is it?" Hermione shivered, her eyes alight with hopeful expectance and ardent warmth.
"Oy," he muttered, scratching the back of his neck, "this is harder than I thought." He paused again. "Mione, you—you know I'm not good with words."
"Apparently so," Hermione smiled.
"So—er, if you promise not to slap me or induce any physical harm I could just…uh, show it to you. I guess."
She slowly nodded. "I promise not to slap you or induce any physical harm on you if you show it to me."
Ron smiled at her, his eyes glimmered rather roguishly in the dim light before he stepped closer to her, obliterating all distance between them.
He was warm against her; his skin was electrifying every time it came in contact with her own; whether it was his hand gently cupping her cheek, his fingers threading through the coarse satin of her hair, or his forefinger gently resting on her chin and tilting her head back.
"Remember," he whispered, his lips scant inches away from hers, "you promised."
She nodded shakily, she instinctively reached across and rested her arms on his shoulders. "Yeah," she answered quietly, "I remember." Then she closed her eyes and waited for what she knew was coming.
The kiss was warm, like a soft fire had finally been ignited within the chambers of her heart. It was searching, like a soft zephyr caressing her skin and her lips. It was intense, just like Ron himself. And it was deeply satisfying, just like how she'd imagined a kiss with him to be.
He pulled back, only slightly. "Still planning to keep that promise?" he asked.
Hermione giggled, nodded. "Oh, yes." She feigned seriousness. "But only because it's your birthday, Mr. Weasley."
He grinned. "I should take advantage of it, then." With that, he leaned forward for another kiss.
Naturally we acted.
*end*Author's Notes: Indeed, a strange Songfic. Oh well. Just please tell me what you think! :D