Instinct [Harry Potter fic]
Scribbled out during a meeting. No beta, so all mistakes are my own.
Think of this as a small missing scene from Harry's summer at The Burrow, before HBP.
Instinct
Series: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry/Hermione
Rating: G
Word Count: 549
Summary:
He could just as easily repair it himself, but as he squints down at the blurry outline of his oft-absued glasses, it is instinct that has him turning in place. He finds her almost instantly in a room dominated by ginger-haired Weasleys. Tucked into the bay window seat and barefooted, Hermione has her knees up to brace the book she is concentrated on.
The sight of her is as predictable as the colour of his eyes, and yet... he smiles as he makes his way over to her. Passed a snoring Ron on the couch and Ginny, who is waxing the handle of her broom with an up and down motion too slow to do much of anything.
He is barely finished sitting before Hermione is bookmarking her place with a finger and tilting her head to the side.
“Hey,” she greets. Her voice is quiet, lazy like the afternoon sun warming the space they are in, and he finds himself pitching his voice lower to match.
“Hermione,” he begins but trails off. Instead, he lifts his hand to chin level and watches her eyes drop to the twisted, broken metal in his palm.
Her shoulders move with her sigh. “Oh, Harry, “ she breathes but the affection in her tone far outweighs any exasperation she might have. She abandons her book altogether to cup his hand with one of her own while the other picks up her wand from its place at her side. A quick forward flick of her wand, a whispered Oculus Reparo, and his glasses are whole once again.
“Brilliant.”
He is half way through his thank you when Harry slips his glasses back on and Hermione’s face comes sharply into focus. The you dies, slips into his exhale as he takes in a look he has seen her wear many times. Her expression is quietly satisfied at her handiwork, a lopsided grin curling one corner of her mouth up. The pupils of her eyes are contracted from the sunlight, allowing the colour of her irises to be much more than just the brown he has always thought...
Harry leans forward before catching himself. He knows he must be staring a bit stupidly at her, but she either does not notice or does not care because she is reaching out and touching the endpiece at his right temple. A quick press down and she nods.
“It was a bit crooked.” Her fingers slide at his temple before falling away.
“Thanks,” he manages and decides that he really needs to do something before she notices him. It. Whatever weird thing that is making him so awkward. But too late, he thinks, because her eyebrows push up.
“Harr-”
“-ry?” another voice calls.
Ginny. He is not sure if he is more thankful or annoyed at the interruption. He makes his decision when Hermione looks away first.
“Up for some two-a-side Quidditch?” Ginny asks, thumping the couch and startling Ron awake. She runs her hand slowly down her broom again. “How about it?”
Quidditch. Yes. He knows this. Harry thinks for a moment before nodding.
“Yeah but...” he touches his fingers to his glasses and slants a quick look to the side; he hits her knees and cannot go higher.
“But what?”
“Hermione’s on my team.”
x-posted to harryhermione
This entry was originally posted at http://blackestfaery.dreamwidth.org/77320.html. Feel free to comment at either site.
Think of this as a small missing scene from Harry's summer at The Burrow, before HBP.
Instinct
Series: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry/Hermione
Rating: G
Word Count: 549
Summary:
He could just as easily repair it himself, but as he squints down at the blurry outline of his oft-absued glasses, it is instinct that has him turning in place. He finds her almost instantly in a room dominated by ginger-haired Weasleys. Tucked into the bay window seat and barefooted, Hermione has her knees up to brace the book she is concentrated on.
The sight of her is as predictable as the colour of his eyes, and yet... he smiles as he makes his way over to her. Passed a snoring Ron on the couch and Ginny, who is waxing the handle of her broom with an up and down motion too slow to do much of anything.
He is barely finished sitting before Hermione is bookmarking her place with a finger and tilting her head to the side.
“Hey,” she greets. Her voice is quiet, lazy like the afternoon sun warming the space they are in, and he finds himself pitching his voice lower to match.
“Hermione,” he begins but trails off. Instead, he lifts his hand to chin level and watches her eyes drop to the twisted, broken metal in his palm.
Her shoulders move with her sigh. “Oh, Harry, “ she breathes but the affection in her tone far outweighs any exasperation she might have. She abandons her book altogether to cup his hand with one of her own while the other picks up her wand from its place at her side. A quick forward flick of her wand, a whispered Oculus Reparo, and his glasses are whole once again.
“Brilliant.”
He is half way through his thank you when Harry slips his glasses back on and Hermione’s face comes sharply into focus. The you dies, slips into his exhale as he takes in a look he has seen her wear many times. Her expression is quietly satisfied at her handiwork, a lopsided grin curling one corner of her mouth up. The pupils of her eyes are contracted from the sunlight, allowing the colour of her irises to be much more than just the brown he has always thought...
Harry leans forward before catching himself. He knows he must be staring a bit stupidly at her, but she either does not notice or does not care because she is reaching out and touching the endpiece at his right temple. A quick press down and she nods.
“It was a bit crooked.” Her fingers slide at his temple before falling away.
“Thanks,” he manages and decides that he really needs to do something before she notices him. It. Whatever weird thing that is making him so awkward. But too late, he thinks, because her eyebrows push up.
“Harr-”
“-ry?” another voice calls.
Ginny. He is not sure if he is more thankful or annoyed at the interruption. He makes his decision when Hermione looks away first.
“Up for some two-a-side Quidditch?” Ginny asks, thumping the couch and startling Ron awake. She runs her hand slowly down her broom again. “How about it?”
Quidditch. Yes. He knows this. Harry thinks for a moment before nodding.
“Yeah but...” he touches his fingers to his glasses and slants a quick look to the side; he hits her knees and cannot go higher.
“But what?”
“Hermione’s on my team.”
x-posted to harryhermione
This entry was originally posted at http://blackestfaery.dreamwidth.org/77320.html. Feel free to comment at either site.