A/N: This fic is a product of my current post-Potter depression and pre-Pottermore anticipation state of mind. I'm FlameHeart189 by the way, if anyone's curious. What about you? 8D

Anyway, I've always wanted to write something about Ron and Hermione being their usual adorable selves and well, here it is. Thanks once again to the lovely 4cherryblossoms (MoonMagic173) for beta-ing!

After the harrowing events of the previous weeks and, as though nature itself had been sharing its sympathy, the heavy downpour that marked those weeks, the sunlight streaming through the window was more than a welcoming sight. Ron and Hermione were in Ron's bedroom talking about the broken prophecy yet again when the owner of the room started beaming like he had been the victim of a stray Cheering Charm, bringing their conversation to an abrupt close.

"Look Hermione, it's a welkin!"

"A what?"

"You know, a welkin." He sounded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Frowning, Hermione followed Ron's gaze, which was directed towards the window. "You mean a rainbow." She turned back to Ron, who she thought must have looked as confused as she did moments before. "I was raised by Muggles, remember?"

"Right, right. I forgot." Ron leaned his head on the bedpost and smiled. "Mum used to tell us that if a welkin appears in the sky, it means that a baby dragon had just breathed its first flame. Charlie says it's true, he saw it happen himself once and-"

Ron paused as he noticed that Hermione was wearing her familiar 'Merlin's-beard-you-did-not-just-say-that' kind of look as he had fondly called it. He didn't like it one bit.

"Oh, Ron. Rainbows are formed when sunlight is refracted into the visible spectrum by raindrops suspended in midair which act like prisms of sorts," she explained to him matter-of-factly, glad that she still remembered things from her old science classes which seemed to have taken place ages ago.

"You don't say?" Ron had not understood a word she had said, as always. He did not allow her the opportunity of commenting on his lack of listening skill by putting an end to what experience had told him would become a full-blown argument before it even began."It sure is beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes. Yes, it is."

This was not the response Ron had been expecting and it showed. Lucky for him, Hermione had not seen the pleasantly surprised expression his features had taken as she had turned her attention back outside, where the rainbow still hung amidst the clouds.

"In the Muggle world, rainbows, err, I mean welkins are seen as a sign of good luck - or bad luck, depending on who you ask."

"Which is it for you?" Ron had somehow managed to recover a semblance of composure. He thought he might lose it again, however, as Hermione turned back to him with a look which told him all too clearly that he had just asked the wrong question.

"Do I look like a person who would attribute what happens to me to the appearance of a multi-coloured arc in the sky?"

Ron shrugged. "Muggles aren't exactly big believers in magic, are they?"

For a moment, Hermione said nothing, which for Ron was strange because she usually came up with some logical retort to his arguments in a heartbeat.

"I don't know," Hermione finally spoke after a while, much to Ron's relief. "I'd like to think of them as good luck, I guess. I mean, it'd be pretty stupid if someone would rather think of rainbows— welkins—whatever—as a bad omen when they can see it as a positive one instead. "

"Me too. The good luck part, I mean." Ron smiled, and the gesture was returned promptly. His mouth then went from resembling the letter 'U' to 'O' as realization hit him like a bludger. "Hold on, did we just agree on something just now?"

Hermione grinned and shook her head. "Always that tone of surprise."

The two laughed, then laughed some more, until their sides hurt and their cheeks felt numb. For the first time in weeks, the idea of a looming war did not seem as heavy as it actually was.

When dawn broke the next day, everyone in the Burrow woke up to find that Harry had finally arrived and, as Mrs. Weasley had told everyone excitedly as she prepared breakfast, was asleep in Fred and George's room. Of course upon hearing the news, Ron and Hermione got to the said room as fast as they could. As they stood at the doorway and saw the prone figure wrapped in a blanket and the carelessly placed glasses on top of the bedside drawer, Hermione could not help but think about rainbows, welkins, and luck.

For the briefest of moments, the idea that not everything can be reduced to facts and figures did not seem that too far-fetched after all to her.

Review s'il vous plait?