Reflections - Christmas 2008 Fic Request
This is for kacie223 . I'm sorry it's late, but I hope you enjoy it.
It was the night after they had escaped Malfoy Manor, the night after they had buried Dobby, and Ron was feeling restless.
He had spent the last hour or so at the kitchen table with Harry, Dean and Bill getting caught up on news and dodging Bill’s attempts to find out where they had been and what had happened to cause them to arrive with Dean, Luna, an injured goblin and an obviously tortured Hermione.
Speaking of which…
He found her in the sitting room. He entered the room and spotted her curled up in the chair by the fire, her freshly washed hair everywhere about her shoulders, her curls making him itch to touch them.
Taking a few steps into the room, he could see her better and then he stopped dead. Suddenly, Ron Weasley felt as though he’d been impaled in the chest with a pole. His breath rushed out from his lungs and his heart raced.
Her head was bent slightly as she read the book in her lap, undoubtedly something she’d found on the shelves in the room. The firelight showed up the color of her hair and her lips were parted beckoning to Ron. He had an overwhelming urge to feel her lips under his.
She shifted slightly as she turned to read the opposite page and the firelight showed up the tiny flowers on the dress she wore, something Fleur had lent her since they had all arrived at Shell Cottage with only the clothes on their backs and the wands. The fabric looked soft and Ron was drawn by it, his gaze trailing down to the way it outlined her shape as she breathed.
And she was breathing. She was safe. He’d come so close to losing her forever and yet there she sat as if nothing had ever happened.
Over the previous hours, Ron had had many mental images of what could have been, of what would have happened had they not escaped. And he’d known for some time now that what he felt for her went beyond mere fancy but now he was clear.
He was deeply in love with Hermione. She sat there, so beautiful, so giving to everyone else and he loved her.
“Ron?” She had glanced up and seen him standing there. “Are you all right?”
As long as she was fine, so was he.
Hermione let the book drop to the floor as she stood and came over to him. He imagined her unbuttoning her dress as she approached, he pictured his hands trailing up her thighs, her dress moving upward. So many time he’d wondered what it would feel like when he -
“Ron?” Hermione’s hand felt his forehead. “What is it?” She looked worried and his bubble of lustful visions burst.
“’M fine. As long as you’re all right, I’m fine.” He reached out and pulled her close, breathing in the scent of her hair and skin, feeling her softness against him. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” she mumbled, her voice muffled against his chest.
He wondered how he could have thought of sex when she had just survived being tortured. He mentally berated himself for being a selfish bastard. Just the same, his fingers worked their way into her hair, feeling it’s softness as the tendrils curled about his fingers. It wasn’t enough; he wanted so much more with her. But she was delicate just now and it would have to be enough. He just hoped to God they survived this thing so he would have the chance to do everything he dreamt of with her.
Hermione pulled back and looked into his face for a long moment before frowning. “You look - odd.”
He grinned, hoping she wouldn’t see too much. “You finally noticed. I was hoping you’d keep mistaking that for rakishly handsome.” She gave him a playful thump on the chest and moved back to her chair as she asked him what all Bill had said. And Ron, feeling hollow as she moved away, began to talk as he followed her across the room to sit on the arm of her chair.
Stupid move, really, he acknowledged seconds later as he tried to think about what Bill had said, desperately trying to forget that his thigh was now very close to her breast.