#aloemilkdrabbles

[aloemilk]

Bodyguard

I wrote this drabble the other day bc I was feeling angsty. Today I wrote this as the same moment from Hermione’s POV bc @remedial-potions inspired me to. She made me do it and I’m glad for it. Also thank you for reading through it!

Don't look at him. Don't give him the satisfaction. Don't do this to yourself.

The words were a mantra in her mind, and yet she had to bite her lips not to give in and look up. She knew, of course she knew he was sitting across the room, limbs long and sprawling over the sofa, a book he was certainly not really reading on his lap. She knew him well, she was sure he wasn't really studying.

So what was he doing? Why was he there--

She felt it. She felt his eyes on her, the weight of them on the crown of her bent head. Along with it she felt the rage that he dared seek her out. She basked in it, in the way it guarded her heart from the hurt; perhaps then she could show how much she despised him right this minute. When she was sure she could, she looked up. He looked down. She had to bend her head down again, to hide the truth: she was angry, but she couldn't despise him. She would still like him to think she could.

She felt him looking up at her again. How could she be so certain of it, she didn't know. Realizing she hoped it was because, underneath it all, despite the mess they were in, they were still connected-- in thinking this she couldn't muster the rage again, so she did not look back. A second later she felt him give up, too.

Why was he looking at her? What was he trying to do? What did he want her to do?

What do you want his looks to mean?

He must be playing with her. He must be looking for signs he had achieved what he wanted… breaking her heart. His uncaring, unloyal heart had hurt her. As rage surged through her again, she let herself return his look this time, hoping her anger would hide how much it mattered, what had happened between them. What never happened between them.

Feeling the loss of what never was opened her eyes to the sorrow on his face. She knew him so well; she knew he felt the loss, too. And because she knew him; because she knew he was caring and that he was loyal, the answer was only one.

I did this to us.

She had to have done something. Why had he changed? Why had he tried to hurt her?

She felt the tears well in her eyes. And she hated herself for failing, for ruining what they could have had together. And she wanted to hate him but couldn't, and hated herself for it.

But she was proud, too. She could never let him know the depth of her feelings.

So this time she gathered all the anger she felt for herself and let it show, so that it would serve like a bodyguard to her heart. So that he would see wrath and indignation, and would never know that she could never despise him.

She broke. She broke the connection and gathered her things. She needed to leave before she became transparent to him. She knew he knew her well, like that.

[aloemilk]

Stuck in Luck

Felix Felicis. Hermione had worked harder than she ever had in Potions to get some of it-- and that was saying a lot. But hearing that she could make an ordinary day extraordinary had been tempting, and she had had to try. Work her hardest.

Maybe it was because she had just noticed the smell of Ron’s hair in the Amortentia, but the idea of that potion had awakened a flash of fantasy, a vision of what could be, an image that held such longing and craving that, Merlin, she had had to try to get that little bottle of luck. 

But she hadn’t gotten it. 

So she dug the knuckles of her fingers over her heart, trying to massage away the dull pain lodged there, left behind as those images dissolved. She lifted her eyes to look at Ron, sitting close to her at the library. He was so blissfully unaware of her feelings that she knew there was no point to it. She had tried many times before, to no avail. Instead, she let her hand fall onto the desk where they were working and, slowly, hesitantly, she let her hand move the tiniest bit closer to his; the movement was surely imperceptible to anyone else, but to her it felt like a feat.

She let herself imagine as if she had been brave enough to reach out and interlock her fingers with his. She let herself hold that image for a moment before she forced herself to let it go. She had to curl her fingers over the old plank of wood, her nails softly scratching the surface, until her hand folded into a frustrated fist.

It was about time she accepted she was stuck. And that there was no potion to get her out of this situation her foolish heart had put her in. Accepted only she could do something about her feelings and her hope and her pining for her best friend. 

Accepted only she could do something to change her luck.

[aloemilk]

“An Award”, Kisses Drabbles #5

Based on the prompt “Mysterious Kisses” requested by @trademarkblue , and inspired by listening to the audiobooks and getting the feels when Dumbledore told Ron he would be getting an award <3

Dear Mum,

Just a quick letter to say how wicked it was to see Dad's award for Special Services to the school. Rose just showed it to me, but didn't want to tell me what he did to get it-- she said I should ask you, because she thinks you would tell the story much better than she would. So please tell me! I am dying to know!

Love,

Hugo

Ps: Tell Dad he’s brilliant!

 Hermione folded the short letter Hugo had just sent home, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She gave food to the school owl that had delivered it and instructed for it to wait.

She was about to sit down to write her son a response letter when she changed her mind. Following an impulse prompted by the tingling warmth in her heart, she left parchment and quill on the table and went to the kitchen, where Ron was in the middle of cooking early dinner for the two of them.

Without saying a word, she went to him, balanced herself on the balls of her feet, and curled her fingers around his chin. She then turned his face to hers, giving him a soft peck on the lips. She saw the surprise and pleasure on his eyes, and gave him a smile as she caressed his face once. She then left the kitchen, still in silence.

She was sitting at the table to write back to Hugo when, from the corner of her eye, she saw Ron leaning against the kitchen's doorway.

"Not that I'm complaining," he began, a wooden cooking spoon in one hand and his wand in the other, "but what was that for?"

"Your children are proud of you," she said simply. "And so am I."

[aloemilk]

“Vulture”, Kisses Drabbles #4

As requested by awesome @jenahid , with the prompt:

Do you remember that one afternoon in crazy excess I saw you jealous imagining offenses, I held you in my arms… a kiss vibrated, and what did you see after…? Blood on my lips. I taught you to kiss: the cold kisses of impassible heart of rock, I taught you to kiss with my kisses invented by me, for your lips.

I couldn’t do this prompt justice with a drabble, so you get a 1700+ word fic instead :)

Hermione liked to think she wasn't the jealous type, but it was times like these that reminded her she wasn't above such base feelings. More than that, times like this reminded her that love and insecurity couldn't be swayed away by logic alone.

Damn the Auror Department. Damn the officers that thought an inter-departmental luncheon would further unify the ministry. Damn that beautiful brunette that looked at Ron with scarlet-laden eyes and, above all, damn the ginger man she loved that wasn't doing enough to keep her at bay.

The first time Hermione had seen those greedy eyes set on Ron she hadn't thought much about it. Ron had grown up to be a handsome man and, objectively, she could understand any woman who stared at him a tad too long. But soon she had realised that the woman was often around them, circling them like a vulture. Ron appeared blissfully unaware. Hermione, on the other hand…

Hermione had gotten more and more hyperalert, keeping tabs on her and her advances. At one point, she had casually waved at them, and the way he raised his eyebrows in recognition, smiled, and waved back told her they knew each other. All in all, she had managed to find Ron by himself three times in as many hours. When Ron had offered to go get drinks for them, Hermione knew there would be a fourth time.

One red and one brown head made their way to where Hermione stood, laughter booming between them. Hermione turned in their direction, observing them getting closer. She could feel her blood simmering in her veins.

Her eyes found Hermione first, her smile faltering with shame. Hermione and her glass face had evidently broadcast her derision at that little spectacle, readily available for her to take notice. She recognized Hermione's glare and straightened up in challenge, slight contempt now in her features. Can you blame me? Her demeanor appeared to ask. And yet she laid a hand on his arm, said something softly to him, and left to disappear among the people partying under the enchanted tent.

Ron's eyes found Hermione then. The change in his features was different from hers: his smile widened first then faltered; his eyebrows furrowed next. He crossed the distance between them, balancing the two glasses he had originally set out for.

"What happened? Are you alright?" He asked.

She reached for one of the glasses he was holding with more force than intended, the liquid sloshing out of its rim.

"I don't know," she said, her voice shrill despite her best effort. She moved the glass to her free hand, harshly shaking the now-wet hand in an effort to get it dry. "Why don't you tell me?"

"Huh?" the confusion on his face was soothing to her, but not enough to fully erase her displeasure.

Hermione scoffed, mostly at herself but also at him and his blindness. "Hmmph. I suppose I shouldn't— that is, obviously it must be nice— never mind," she finished, flustered but scathing, her lips pursing into a thin line.

"What are you on about?" He demanded, signs of heat beginning to flare.

Damn his temper. Damn her challenging heart and the way it made her chin lift in defiance. Damn the pull she felt to kiss him and make a spectacle of it, to mark her territory against her and all others, like a bloody, possessive Neanderthal.

"What is her name?" she commanded through stiff lips. "If we are going to have this conversation now, I would at least like to know what to call her," she added with a vague hand gesture to the path they had come from.

Ron turned in the direction she indicated, connecting the dots. He turned quickly back to her and rolled his eyes; he sighed in resignation. His free hand shot forward and wrapped around her elbow, pulling her away from the festive group. She willingly went with him, happy to have the opportunity to let out some of the steam she had been holding for hours.

He lead her out of the tent and around a bend, finding a secluded spot behind a  decorative garden tapestry. There were big pots with bushes shaped into magical animals lining the edge of the tent wall, and they settled between two of these. Ron took his wand and executed a simple spell: furtimus. They wouldn't be seen or heard, as long as they stayed in this place.

"Well?" She said.

"Amy? Are you serious?"

Her brain, past the point of any rational thought, only offered disgust that she would of course have such a normal, friendly name.

"Amy has been following you around all afternoon. She's practically stalking you!" she hissed.

"You're barmy!"

"Oh, am I, now? She has approached you a few times already when you were by yourself, hasn't she? That is not simple chance, I'll have you know."

"You've drunk too much. You have heatstroke."

"How insulting!"

"Insulting is that you think that because someone is being friendly they want in my pants!"

"Friendly she is not!" Hermione spat. "She likes you and not platonically!"

"She doesn't!"

"Yes, she does! She glowered at me before escaping and hiding among other people!"

"You're imagining things. She doesn't—"

Hermione practically growled in frustration and shame. She was being irrational and could do nothing to stop herself. Perhaps she had drunk a bit too much, but that would never justify her behaviour. Ron had done nothing to reciprocate Amy's attempts, after all. And yet…

"She does, Ron. She does."

That not only silenced Ron, but shocked him into a confused grimace. His face slowly shifted from that to understanding as he considered her words. Hermione left her drink on the edge of one of the pots, vanished it, and crossed her arms with a huff. It was clear he had connected the same dots she had, and now agreed with her.

She looked down at the ground, shuffling her foot in discomfort. Now that she had convinced him to see things her way she wished she hadn't; wished he would have convinced her that she was indeed imagining things, and that there was nothing she should worry about. Even if it was impossible, because she knew she was right. It didn't change the fact she wished she was wrong.

"You don't have to worry, love," he said, breaking her thoughts, his voice soft and conciliatory, his words an echo of those in her mind. "Even if true, what's that to you? First, I didn't even notice and, second… hey," he interrupted. He stepped closer to her, holding her from the waist and pulling her to him. She couldn't meet his eyes, so she stared at the point where his clavicles met. He kissed her forehead before continuing. "Second, I love you. I'm not looking around. You don't doubt that, do you?"

She finally lifted her eyes to him as he surrounded her with his arms. "I don't," she whispered, and leaned forward for a kiss… but he retreated. Her eyes shot for his, squinting her eyes in question.

"That didn't sound all that convincing," he said, leaning forward until his lips were a breath away from hers. "Do you know that I love you?"

"Yes!" she insisted, locking her fingers around the back of his head and pulling him for a swift kiss. "Yes," she repeated and kissed him again with force. She pushed against his lips, as if claiming them for herself forever… but it wasn't enough; she needed roughness, so she bit his bottom lip lightly.

"Ow!" he exclaimed. Okay, maybe not as lightly as she thought. She sniggered at his complaint— and all of her own this afternoon, finally able to laugh at herself and her silly reactions.

Ron put two fingers up to his mouth, checking for the tender spot. When he took them away to inspect them, Hermione noticed the stain of blood left behind.

"Oh no! I'm so sorry!" She exclaimed, surprised at how hard she had actually bit him. "I didn't realize— I just—"

She interrupted herself, concentrating on reaching for her wand to heal the minor cut and bruise. Before she could perform the spell, she distracted herself by trying to justify her transgression. "I know I was being irrational. I'm so sorry! You are not to blame for Amy's behavior. I know that. I got territorial and I'm so ashamed! I really—"

"You got territorial, huh?" Ron interrupted with a smirk. "Hermione, listen. It's flattering to have someone interested in me, but I don't really want to deal with that attention, either. It's been years since I was enough of a git to fall for that and, you know, I have grown. And we're together now. If someone believes I'm not committed to our relationship after all these years, then it's their problem. Especially because, as you saw tonight, I don't even notice."

She gave him a small, thankful smile.

"My kisses are all for you," he continued. "The old ones and the new ones and all the rest of me, too. It’s been like that for ages, and it’ll stay like that…" he began, but she knew it wasn't only a declaration of how he felt for her—there was more. It was confirmed as he said, "even if you bite me for it."

She shook her head in disapproval even as she chuckled. As if reminded of what she had done, she tried to heal the small wound on his lip, but he stopped her.

"No, don't heal that."

"But everyone will know I did that! You'll get teased!"

"I'm fine with that because, well… everyone will know you did it." Then he winked at her, a show of rare cockiness she had learned to find endearing.

More than okay with her being territorial, it seemed he was happy for it. Like he was okay with showing the world who owned his mouth... and his heart.

He lifted a hand to invite her out of their hiding place, with a smile that split his lip open again—obviously painful. But the conspiratorial glint in his eyes told her it had been planned. He simply licked the wound to clean it, leaving it otherwise visible.

She took his hand with a big grin of her own. He had convinced her there was nothing to worry about, after all.

[aloemilk]

To Have Him

Prompt: Weddings Title: To Have Him Rating: M/Explicit

Beta: amazeballs @jenahid

Originally written for @callieskye and @wildegreenlight 's Romione Quickiefest on Tumblr. And won for its category ^^

Read at FFN, Read at AO3

The romantic glow from hundreds of candles around them was a stark contrast to Ron's grimace. Hermione stole what must have been the hundredth glance at him, sitting next to her among the wedding guests.

His fingers were tapping anxiously on his thighs. His eyes were focused on the ceiling, like he couldn't stand to look at the couple standing at the front, like he was trying to ignore the vows the bride and groom were sharing.

Hermione's eyes fell down to her own hands, her eyebrows furrowed with worry as she tried to decipher what might be wrong with her boyf-- her fiancé. She stared at the shiny new ring on her finger, not two months old, as a scattering of stray thoughts spread through her consciousness.

Maybe seeing what getting married looks like is making him panic.

Maybe he's thinking what so many are thinking, that we're still too young for this.

Maybe he's decided he wants to call off the engagement.

As the ceremony ended and they made their way to the reception hall, his silence and constant fidgeting only convinced her further of his intentions. She began to prepare for what he'd say, wondering if she could convince him to stay together even if they decided to cancel their wedding plans. She was in the middle of forming a detailed argument list when he took her hand and began pulling her through the throngs of people towards a big set of French doors. They crossed it and walked on, passing hedges and a big fountain, not stopping until they found a secluded place behind a decorative wall. She stood against it; he stood close, facing her.

She gathered her courage, took a controlled breath, and stilled herself to what he had to say.

He looked just as serious.

"You know that I love you, right?" He asked.

She nodded her head in answer.

"Good," he said, and proceeded to bend down, attack her neck from all sides, and pull the fabric of her dress up until he could grab a handful of flesh. He pulled her against him.

"R--Ron?" She stuttered in surprise. Then, as he nibbled on a specially sensitive spot, she added in a much breathier way, "Ron."

She could feel his hardness pushing through his trousers. She didn't know how this connected to his previous restlessness… and she didn't care. She needed to feel him close; she needed to feel him wanting her, in whichever way he did.

That's why she didn't protest when he lifted one of her legs around his waist, grinding against her as he kissed her deeply. That's why she began undoing his belt, button and zipper, and reached inside with her hand to rub against him over his pants.

"Hell, Hermione, I need you," he hissed, his fingers traveling under her knickers and curling around her pubic bone, exploring her folds with learned precision.

"Yes," she said, in both agreement and permission, and pulled his underwear down and out of the way, freeing him.

"Fuck," he exhaled.

He pulled her up, both her legs around his waist, pinning her against the wall and holding her with his hands around her arse. She reached between them, deftly moving her knickers out of the way and guiding him to her. Her flesh accommodated him, welcoming him, and he began to move to tease her, to please her. She gasped, he sighed.

"Touch yourself," he begged in a harsh breath, "I need you to come with me."

In absolute abandonment, she did. She bit her lips to contain her moans, and it wasn't too long until she was falling off an edge, his grunts muffled against her hair.

One, two, ten seconds later, he let her legs fall down back to the ground; her knees buckled, but he held her up by grabbing her waist and pulling her to him once more. She looked up to him in thanks, in longing, knowing that she didn't care how he wanted to be with her, as long as she still had him. The look of adoration in his eyes was the first sign that he felt the same and that she had been utterly wrong.

"I can't fucking wait to marry you," he whispered.

[aloemilk]

There are prohibited kisses, true ones: Charm

Drabble #3 in the Kisses Drabble series, part of the OTP Day celebration. Prompt requested by @otterandterrier: There are prohibited kisses, true ones, based on this prompt/poem list.

Happy OTP Day! 

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Hermione said, nervousness and excitement showing up as a fast heartbeat and a knot on her stomach. She wrung her hands together as he discarded his traveling cloak in a swift motion, careless as it fell to the ground into a heap.

"To be honest," Ron laughed as he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him, "neither can I."

She put her hands on the top of his arms, right on the curve of his shoulders, squeezing them to release more of the jittery energy quivering through her fingers. She rested the weight of her body against him, the contact comforting enough to entice a soft smile on her lips. She stretched up to reach for a quick kiss, the contact helping dissipate most of her reservations. Most.

"I should not be doing this," she insisted, more out of a sense of righteousness now than true objection, to then kiss him again. "There are rules against it."

"You know what they say about rules," he argued, proceeding to kiss her jaw and the line of her neck. "Head Girls can break them."

"That is not… Head Girls… Ron!" she complained, her eyes closing as the sensations awakened by his lips became too distracting to keep her argument straight. "McGonagall would expel me if she found out!"

He pulled back to sternly look at her face, his eyebrows creased and his lips set in a smirk. "She would not. She loves you," he stated as if he were explaining to a five year old. "Hell, why do you think she told you which spells she used to close off the Room of Requirement? No way that was just a slip. She planned it so that you could research them and break them. She knows only you would be able to do that. She knows you wouldn't tell anyone. She knows that you'd keep me in check and not let me sneak in the castle enough to actually affect your performance. Why do you think she didn't seal the painting's passage? Besides, she knows how busy I am, too."

"Please. You're making it sound like she wants us to sneak in these moments together. I assure you she does not!"

"She so does," he laughed again, and she could see the glint in his eyes telling her he was not as much convinced of this as enjoying that he could wind her up.

"Absolutely not. This is prohibited, Ron!"

"And yet, here we are."

"I still don't know how you convinced me to do this."

"Oh, but you forget," he continued, resuming his light kisses. "You were the one doing all the planning. You were the one to suggest it, even."

She chuckled then, exasperation and memories and love diffusing her resistance. "Cursed be your charm," she joked, her fingers relaxing now and traveling up his neck to thread through his hair.

"You love it," he whispered against her temple, his arms squeezing her closer to him. He bent to kiss the corner of her lips, to then look to her again. "You love me. You would not have suggested this if you didn't."

"I do love you," she admitted, her eyes locked on his. "And that's the truth of it."

[aloemilk]

A Silent, Noble Kiss: Bend The Rules

Drabble #2 in the Kisses Drabble series, part of the OTP Day celebration. Prompt requested by @diva-gonzo: Silent, Noble Kiss, based on this prompt/poem list.

She eventually surrendered to sleep, limp against him and surrounded by his arms. It took her a long time to let go and keep her eyes closed, but he understood. Who can sleep after being tortured like that? Hell, he couldn't sleep and it hadn't been him who had to fight to stay alive as searing pain gripped every one of his cells. No, he had been helpless and terrified, but he had been spared the pain. Maybe it was fair, then, that he was the one trying to close his eyes, attempting to convince himself it was okay, she would be fine, and she wouldn't dissolve and disappear from his side as he dreamt of better times.

Oh, but how he wished it had been him, that he could have taken the pain from her. They weren't at risk anymore, and yet he still wanted to beg to be the one cursed to oblivion. Me, take me, spare her, kept invading his mind as if he could somehow change the past. While she was awake, he had managed to put all those thoughts away from his mind, focused as he was in trying to assure her she was safe now, that she was brave and strong and that everything would be fine, she would survive this too. She had hesitantly believed him; now he had only to convince himself.

He squirmed a bit on the many pillows behind his back, uncomfortable, trying to ease the tension left behind by their escape from Malfoy Manor but determined to stay there. He couldn't care less about the knots clenching his neck and shoulders, not when her torso rested against his, her head right on the centre of his chest, his arms around her. He kept on cradling her, allowing himself the slightest tension in his arms to feel her just a tiny bit closer. He tried to use the feeling of her as an anchor, as definitive proof she was all right, and she was with him. Because, as selfish as it made him, he had no idea what he would do if anything happened to her. Where would their future be, if she was not there? How could he tell himself that it was okay, that it was noble to wait, if he had no certainty she'd be there to choose to be with him? Where would all the kisses he had imagined himself giving her go, if she was not there to receive them anymore?

A shaky sigh left him, fleeting memories of those times he had clung to as the fight had worsened; sudden, missed opportunities for kisses that would have told her of his feelings, kisses that he held back because he had to, because telling her he loved her in the middle of war didn't seem like a promise of anything good. It was a constant battle inside of him, the push and pull of wanting to kiss her, to love her, to be with her, when he was afraid for her safety, when he wasn't sure she reciprocated. But he kept on holding on to the dream, even when it could so quickly become a nightmare if anything happened to her. So yeah, he would still hold back the next morning… but tonight…

Tonight, with her safe in his arms for a few hours, he would allow himself to bend the rules. In the silence filling the room, he lowered his head, taking a deep breath filled with the smell of her hair. How could he convince himself it would be all right for them, that there was a future for them? Because, nobility aside, he was weak, and he needed something tonight.

He did all he could think of, only for the sake of what he liked to think was their promised future. He let his head fall further, his lips softly pressing against her hair, as chaste a kiss as he could make it. Because he had to believe they'd have that future. Nothing else would suffice.

[aloemilk]

Perfumed Kisses: Blossoming

As requested by anonymous, based on this post and poem.

Spring came swiftly, time flying by on the rising winds of the changing season. They had kept busy to survive the distance, their minds immersed in work, essays, and training. Free weekends were treasured in their scarcity, time rushed and short and shared beyond the boundaries of each other. Their family and friends wanted to be with them, too, after all.

Two hours for themselves on a Saturday evening was escape; it was refuge. They were somewhere in The Burrow's grounds, far enough away from the house to relish in their privacy. He lay on new grass, his hands behind his head for support, legs crossed at the ankles. Hermione's head rested on his torso, one of her arms trapped between their bodies and the other wrapped around his torso. He let out a contented sigh, the rise and fall of his chest taking her with it. She joined him, adding a good squeeze of his body for emphasis.

"Everything has blossomed," she said, looking at each of the hundreds of flowers covering the grass beneath them, as if she had all the time in the world to attend to their beauty, one at a time. She then closed her eyes to try to catch their scent, sweet and subtle in the twilight air.

"Yeah," he agreed after a moment, his hand coming to wrap the back of her head, prompting her to look up to him. "Everything."

His smile slowly stretched on his face, knowingly, as he pulled on her head, inviting her to reach for him. She did, a smile of her own appearing on her face. She kissed him softly among the spring flowers, their perfume now forever etched within her.

[aloemilk]

Can I be greedy and also claim 34 (before we jump) for the “I love you” prompts?? ❤️

Thanks for the prompt @wildegreenlight for the quick read and suggestions :) I hope you like cheese because this is one fluffy drabble! 

“Ready?” Ron asked.

“It’s a big jump,” Hermione replied.

“We’ve done the math at least a million times: we can do it.”

“I know. But what if there’s something better out there?”

“I’m sure there is something better. A place with a finished attic for an office-slash-library. A place where the electrical has been updated for the Muggle things you want to buy, and where the pipes for sure have no lead in them. But that place will be more expensive, and who knows when we’d find such a house.”

Hermione took a few steps in the empty sitting room, her shoes making an echo on the old wooden planks. She slowly looked around, giving the place yet another appraisal… one that tried to hide her excitement. Composing herself into seriousness, she turned to look at Ron from where she stood, midways between him and the fireplace behind her.

He tapped two fingers on the folder he held to his side.

“C'mon, love. I know you like the place. I saw your face when we first stepped inside. It’s our third visit, and I’m sure someone else will make an offer soon if we don’t.”

“It’s still a lot of money and a big decision, but… we would only need to clear the patio of stray greenery and it would look lovely,” she conceded as she pointed out through the glass doors to her left, overlooking the backyard. “The kitchen has enough room for a breakfast nook,” she continued, now pointing to the doorway to the kitchen opening. “And, of course, we’d have to change the electrical, the pipes, and probably have the roof inspected.”

“That’s why it’s so cheap, considering,” he countered, walking to her. “Hermione, I know you can see what I can see. This place has the potential to be everything we want it to be. It even has three spare bedrooms. We’ve been talking about kids for ages–”

“–for months–”

“And after we’re done with the reno, we’re set. We can start trying for a baby.”

She could feel her face softening into a smile.

“I know,” she said.

He smiled back. He opened the folder and balanced it in front of them, producing a pen from his pocket and holding it between his fingers.

“Let’s do it,” he said, putting pen to paper. He looked at her once more, before signing on the line with his name. “Let’s jump,” he insisted, now offering the pen for her to sign.

“I love you,” she said, signing on her appointed line, opening up their future before them. “Let’s jump.”

[aloemilk]

Git

I was feeling angsty at work and decided paperwork could wait, so here you go. A short drabble about one of my favourite gingers and a mistake he made. Thanks to @callieskye for the quick read!

Ron did not enjoy feeling like he was at odds with himself. He was someone who was lead by his guts, by his heart. So why were they both saying he had made a horrible mistake?

He was sitting on the sofa in the common room, pretending to be working on homework. He couldn't concentrate; his attention kept going back to the ache in his heart. Every time he let himself pay attention to it he regretted it, because there was an immediate answer he was not ready to face. Hermione.

He lifted his eyes, surreptitiously stealing a glance at her. She was sitting on a table by a window across the room. He picked at a few of the remaining scabs he still had on his arms, absentminded, as he let his eyes roam over her. The cuts left by her birds should have healed by now but, by a mixture of magic and his incessant scratching, a few were still very raw. He only stopped when he felt his skin slick with blood, and he swore he'd get a salve or potion or something to deal with it like any good wizard would. Then again, he had been promising that for days and he hadn't done it, yet. 

Hermione looked up at him, contempt in her eyes. He quickly looked away, pretending to go back to his books.

"Shit," he whispered to himself. He did not want her to catch him looking at her and yet he couldn't help himself... he looked at her again. She didn't look back.

 He forced himself to go back to his books once more.

He had thought he'd gotten what he wanted. He thought that kissing someone was all he needed to prove to himself and to the world that he was desirable, too, and could be casual about it; that he could also kiss someone else than the girl he was pining for and... and...

"Shit," he repeated. 

He looked at Hermione again, unaware that the sudden sorrow he felt was clear on his face. This time she looked back, rage and hurt contorting her features. He didn't look away and she held his gaze for a moment. After a few seconds, her face softened and, even at this distance, he saw the tears well on her eyes. The light shone perfectly on her, that way.

She was the one to finally break the contact. She grabbed her things in a hurry, her face again that mix of anger and pain. She left in a flutter of robes. "Fuck," Ron said this time, letting his head drop to the back of the sofa. He closed his eyes. I cocked up. 

[aloemilk]

“Harvest”, Romione Drabble

"Don't you feel guilty for leaving Harry behind?"

Ron looked back to the general direction of The Burrow, now completely out of view, blocked by the lush greenery of the orchard. He then looked at Hermione, walking in a slow pace by his side, her head turned to look at him. "Nah," he replied, "it won't kill him to puff the pillows alone, or whatever else my mum put him to do this time."

She chuckled. "I suppose. But I do feel a bit bad to be out here, doing nothing, when your mum is desperately trying to get everything just perfect for the wedding."

"Relax, Hermione. We are doing something, remember?" Without breaking his step, Ron reached up and pulled one dark, juicy-looking plum out of a branch. "We're harvesting some fruit for dessert, yes? These are delicious this time of the year."

Ron bit into the fruit, savoring the sweetness with pleasure. Belatedly, he remembered to offer some to Hermione. It was one of the many little details The Book suggested. He stopped and reached up again, chose another nice-looking plum, and offered it to her. "Want some?" he asked, half expecting her to reject it as they were so close to dinner time.

"Sure, thanks," she said next to him, reaching for the purple fruit in his hand. He didn't let go of the plum right away, though, and her fingers stayed touching his for a tiny second. She looked up at him, trying to guess what he was up to, but he let her take the fruit just as she opened her mouth to ask what was going on.

"You're welcome," he responded, locking his eyes with hers.

Ding! a bell rang in his head, signaling as it had many times of late that this could be it, a moment where with some work, he could get things right to finally kiss Hermione.

Looking right back at him, she dropped the hand that was holding the plum, and lifted the other one to his mouth.

DING DING DING DING DING!

There was no more air around him; he felt like all oxygen had disappeared forever. His ears felt so hot that he vaguely wondered if he had burnt them somehow. The rest of him was frozen to the spot, desperately trying to stop himself from moving one millimeter and spoiling whatever she was doing to him.

Her fingers wrapped around his face, and her thumb rested on the corner of his mouth. It softly moved in an arch away from his lips, and far too soon for his liking, her hand lifted from his skin.

"You had some plum juice there," she finally said, a smirk slowly appearing on her face.

Ron's body relaxed all of a sudden, to the point he could have dropped to the floor as all tension left him and was replaced by disappointment. "That's Weasley charm for you," he commented self-deprecatingly.

She laughed and bit her plum, and blushing slightly reached for his hand. She pulled at him to go back in the direction of the house. "Come, we'll tell them they weren't ripe enough yet," she said.

"Yeah, not quite ripe yet," he agreed, trying to content himself with just holding her hand.

Tagging diva-gonzo, thanks for providing the prompt! (Let’s pretend you never added the “fall” part to it, alright? thanks :))

I didn’t have this betaed so sorry for any mistakes!

[aloemilk]

25 - adoration! :)

Sometimes, Harry thought that he had known that his two best friends liked each other even before they did. He had had suspicions at the end of their 5th year, but he had had no doubts after some of the things he had seen in 6th year. As time went by, he had been privy to many things that had convinced him they loved each other. He distinctly remembered a few times when they looked at each other in such a way that Harry had immediately wanted to evaporate into the next room- no need to reach for his wand, no noise, no attention on him, no awkward witnessing of those intimate interactions. 

Many of those times, they had looked at each other with open veneration. But there had never been such bright, loving, shining adoration for each other as Harry could see now. The way they were looking at each other as Hermione came down the aisle in her dress, the smile on Ron’s face… they were the centre of attention, yet were totally unaware of everything and anything but each other. Harry, standing next to Ron as his Best Mate, felt no awkwardness this time. Instead he smiled, truly understanding for the first time why people wanted to celebrate after a wedding. When you witnessed something like that, you felt the need to honor it. He would have to talk to Ginny. Suddenly, he felt the need for traditions as well…

***

There you go, fluffy Romione with a hint of Hinny as well :)

Sorry for the mistakes, yadda yadda

[aloemilk]

Cocoon

Hermione: I don't need you to be my saviour. But I love it when you're my cocoon.

Ron: Cocoon? When have I been your cocoon? I'm not even sure I like that word at all. Reminds me of insects and ugh, that alone makes me shiver.

Hermione: Give me your hand. Do you feel this scar on my neck? This is one of many times you've been my cocoon, you silly man. Now kiss me, so that I forget you ruined the moment with your dislike of one of my favourite words for you.

[aloemilk]

The Bet (Or Why Ron Can't Wait For The Cannons To Win)

Ron: This season is going to be different, you'll see! We got a new Seeker, and the new twin Beaters we got last year are finally finding their rhythm!

Hermione: If you say so...

Ron: No, listen, this time it's true. We're going to at least make it to Quarter Finals, I'm sure!

Hermione: You promised the team was getting better two years ago, when it got sold to that rich Wizard--

Ron: --Henbeddestr Johnson.

Hermione: Henbeddestr, yes, and also last year when the twins got signed in--

Ron: Alright, alright, I get your point. As long as your promise stands...

Hermione: "When the Cannons make it to the Finals, I'll sign my name in the Cannons Fanclub List, I will let you hang a poster of the team next to the radio for a whole Quidditch Season, I'll wear Cannons PJs for a whole month, and we will role play your Top Three Cannons Sexual Fantasies." I haven't forgotten, don't worry.

Ron: I had never had so much faith in my team, Hermione, I'm telling you...

Hermione: And I've never been so certain I'm winning a bet!

[aloemilk]

Hugo: Daddy! Daddy! I got your card again!

Ron: Again?!

Hermione: Why do you get so upset when they get our cards on their chocolate frogs?

Ron: Because, Hermione, it means our cards are not *rare*. I want my card to be like getting Agrippa or something! Imagine kids saying, "I finally got Ron Weasley! This is the best day of my life!"

Hermione: Oh, Ron... and to think you used to believe just having your face on a card was all you could wish for...

[aloemilk]

Fatherly Advice

Ron: Everybody says, "when you know, you know". But really, how do you know?

Arthur: Well, it's the truth. You just know. You do know she's the one, right?

Ron: I do. But she'll want me to give her *reasons*.

Arthur: Tell her how her smile makes your day better. That you light up every time you get a letter from her. You could also mention how moody you got when she left for her last term at Hogwarts, and how restless you were the week before you met her at Hogsmeade. Pick and choose, Ron.

Ron: ...How do you know that's what it is like for me?

Arthur: I have eyes, son. I have eyes. And a good memory.