fic: take my hand
title: take my hand
rating: pg
wordcount: 530
notes: for mollivanders, from the prompt ''I feel numb beneath your tongue, beneath the curse of these lovers' eyes' and is a little (actually a lot) less angsty than I originally planned.
He finds her in his old bedroom, clutching his Chudley Cannons comforter around her when he goes upstairs to try to find clean socks that don't have holes and aren't maroon, idly swinging his tie back and forth in his hand.
"You're not-- Hermione, we're not supposed to see each other," Ron says stupidly, tripping over the words. "It's bad luck."
"That's idiotic," she says, curling in on herself. She is a sight to see, Ron thinks, brown curls under her mother's antique lace veil arrayed to perfection, white dress and Molly Weasley's necklace contrasting with her creamy skin. Fleur got at her with a makeup brush, he can tell, and-- "Mione, you look gorgeous, you look like some fairytale illustration, but you're supposed to be with Ginny and your mum and my mum, it's tradition--"
"Merlin's bollocks, Ron-- why do you think I came here of all places? I knew you'd find me." Hermione moves over a little, nestling against the pillows and beckoning. "Sit for a moment, why don't you."
He does, slinging an arm over her shoulders and pulling her to his side. Hermione takes the blanket with her, enveloping both of them.
"God, I wish I could've gotten away with this when we were teenagers," Ron jokes. She raises an eyebrow, smiling up at him through the veil. "Well, Mum'll still kill us both."
Hermione places a finger over his lips. "We're getting married in less than an hour," she whispers, "and I feel like a silly teenager, hiding from everyone in a blanket fort."
"It's pretty unbelievable, isn't it," Ron says. "I never thought we'd end up here."
She tucks her head against his shoulder until they're touching at every possible point of contact, hands linked, shoulder to shoulder, no spare space between them. "Never?"
"Almost." His voice is just as quiet as hers, and noise from the yard drifts up, the gathering of wedding guests and running children and faintly, in the distance, the sound of George chucking an escaped garden gnome over the hedge. "I hoped."
"Oh good," Hermione breathes out, shaky. "Me too." There are tears glimmering at the corners of her eyes, and Ron smiles and watches one fall. It's a damp track down her cheek and Hermione swipes at it. Some mascara comes off on her fingers and "oh shit that's supposed to be waterproof--"
"I really want to kiss you right now," Ron says, "seriously, you have no idea how much, but I think Fleur would yell at me for messing up your makeup."
She laughs, a little wet. "That's already shot to hell, Ron."
"True," he agrees, and lifts her veil, wiping away another tear with the pad of his thumb. "I can see you better this way anyways."
Hermione's mouth quirks and she tilts her head to kiss him, smiling against his lips. When he pulls away her eyes are bright and shining. "We're getting married," she says, "and it's sunny and everything is okay, almost everyone is here with us and everything is perfect--"
"I can't wait," Ron says. "You have no idea how much I can't wait."
He kisses her again.
rating: pg
wordcount: 530
notes: for mollivanders, from the prompt ''I feel numb beneath your tongue, beneath the curse of these lovers' eyes' and is a little (actually a lot) less angsty than I originally planned.
He finds her in his old bedroom, clutching his Chudley Cannons comforter around her when he goes upstairs to try to find clean socks that don't have holes and aren't maroon, idly swinging his tie back and forth in his hand.
"You're not-- Hermione, we're not supposed to see each other," Ron says stupidly, tripping over the words. "It's bad luck."
"That's idiotic," she says, curling in on herself. She is a sight to see, Ron thinks, brown curls under her mother's antique lace veil arrayed to perfection, white dress and Molly Weasley's necklace contrasting with her creamy skin. Fleur got at her with a makeup brush, he can tell, and-- "Mione, you look gorgeous, you look like some fairytale illustration, but you're supposed to be with Ginny and your mum and my mum, it's tradition--"
"Merlin's bollocks, Ron-- why do you think I came here of all places? I knew you'd find me." Hermione moves over a little, nestling against the pillows and beckoning. "Sit for a moment, why don't you."
He does, slinging an arm over her shoulders and pulling her to his side. Hermione takes the blanket with her, enveloping both of them.
"God, I wish I could've gotten away with this when we were teenagers," Ron jokes. She raises an eyebrow, smiling up at him through the veil. "Well, Mum'll still kill us both."
Hermione places a finger over his lips. "We're getting married in less than an hour," she whispers, "and I feel like a silly teenager, hiding from everyone in a blanket fort."
"It's pretty unbelievable, isn't it," Ron says. "I never thought we'd end up here."
She tucks her head against his shoulder until they're touching at every possible point of contact, hands linked, shoulder to shoulder, no spare space between them. "Never?"
"Almost." His voice is just as quiet as hers, and noise from the yard drifts up, the gathering of wedding guests and running children and faintly, in the distance, the sound of George chucking an escaped garden gnome over the hedge. "I hoped."
"Oh good," Hermione breathes out, shaky. "Me too." There are tears glimmering at the corners of her eyes, and Ron smiles and watches one fall. It's a damp track down her cheek and Hermione swipes at it. Some mascara comes off on her fingers and "oh shit that's supposed to be waterproof--"
"I really want to kiss you right now," Ron says, "seriously, you have no idea how much, but I think Fleur would yell at me for messing up your makeup."
She laughs, a little wet. "That's already shot to hell, Ron."
"True," he agrees, and lifts her veil, wiping away another tear with the pad of his thumb. "I can see you better this way anyways."
Hermione's mouth quirks and she tilts her head to kiss him, smiling against his lips. When he pulls away her eyes are bright and shining. "We're getting married," she says, "and it's sunny and everything is okay, almost everyone is here with us and everything is perfect--"
"I can't wait," Ron says. "You have no idea how much I can't wait."
He kisses her again.