I SUCK NO LONGER!
AHA! Finally, I am free from being lousy to the fabulous urbanmama1 , who generously made a donation to the HP Alliance (check out some of the truly excellent work being done by Harry Potter fans around the world!) in exchange for a "second kiss" fic from me...It's not quite 6 months later, so I now only partially suck. Here it is, my dear, I hope it pleases you! Thanks for using your generosity as a way to encourage more fic! No warnings, unless snogging offends. If snogging offends, then why are you here?
L'Esprit d'Escalier
PG-13
864 words
Hermione Granger was not a young woman who was often at a loss for words. A question in class saw her hand in the air before the teacher could pause for breath and a foolish or impolitic statement from her peers earned a scathing rejoinder without a second thought. Yes, Miss Hermione Granger was a young lady who knew what to say....with one crashing, humiliating exception.
To add insult to injury, the maddening git was standing right behind her. Six feet of infuriating, idiotic, and obtuse speechlessness, all tied up in a dead sexy ginger bow. Bastard.
As Harry’s dirty trainers trudged around the bend of the staircase ahead of her, Hermione realized that yet again, she didn’t know what on earth to say. If the next few moments went the way they usually did, she’d think of the perfect words to say about three or four minutes after the right moment had passed. Well, that stopped now. This was a new day! Voldemort was dead and Hermione Granger was going to be tongue-tied around Ron Weasley no longer! She stopped climbing the stairs and turned, opening her mouth to speak.
“You should go get some rest, too.” Damn it, Ron, it wasn’t your turn to talk! “I should...I should go to my family...” His ears were red and his eyes seemed to be everywhere but on her face.
“Oh...” she stammered, embarrassed for forgetting his terrible loss,in a moment of girlish infatuation. “Please give them all my love.” She took a step down, so that their faces were level.
“Would you, I mean...” His eyes lifted to hers and the flush spread across his grimy cheeks, “Wouldyoumind....Would you mind if I kept some for myself?”
Oh. Oh....this was it, then...her time to speak. He was shifting nervously on his feet, as though that one vaguely flirtatious comment had taken more bravery it even his defiant shout to Voldemort a few hours before. She slid a hand into his.
“Oh, Ron, you should know by now I have a huge supply that’s set aside just for you.”
His breath burst then, in a smile of relief. “Yeah?” He blushed at her nod. “Uh...good.” They stood, then, blushing and shifting, but now holding each other’s gaze. The silence stretched between them, but, for once, it wasn’t awkward or confusing...it just was. Or, at least until Ron blurted out the very thing that had been on the tip of Hermione’s tongue.
“Would it be OK if I kissed you right now?” That he asks brings her a relieved smile of her own.
“I think I’d be quite put out if you didn’t.”
And, like in a dream, he was licking his lips and inching closer and closer, until their noses brushed. He cupped her face in his hands, and his lips seemed to slide across hers in a gesture so infinitely gentle that it was barely there, and yet, her every nerve sparked in awareness of every cell of his skin against hers.
She had been kissed before, but this was somehow different and so much more terrifying. The mechanics of lips and mouths may have been similar, but this was no flattery from Victor, no fumbling one-off snog at a resort New Year’s party, no bored grope with a son of her parents’ friends -- this was Ron and that realization made her stomach drop and her heart flutter in a way that was altogether new.
She opened her mouth as she gasped for breath, and their tongues seemed to naturally slide together, exploring and gently probing. Her brain was in overdrive, cataloging every detail of him, the taste of him, the silky feel of the skin inside his lips, the kitteny velvet of his tongue. “Those are Ron’s taste buds,” she noted, and the oddly clinical thought made her shiver as though she had done something so very forbidden and filthy...and she desperately wanted to do it again.
They parted too soon for her liking, eyes opening to meet again.
“Wow.” Ron’s voice cracked endearingly. His hands were still on her face, and he stroked her cheeks with his thumbs.
“Wow.” Hermione agreed and smiled as she turned her head slightly, nuzzling his hand.
“Would you...I know you must be exhausted...but, would you come back down with me?”
“I don’t know, Ron, you should be with your family...” His hands dropped from her face and grasped her hands.
“Please? I mean, you belong with me there, now that we’re, you know....together?” His question was awkward and hopeful and all the things that Hermione had felt for so long.
“Yes, together, of course. If you want me, I’ll go with you anywhere, Ron.” she held his hand firmly and began to walk back towards the Great Hall.
“Oh, I want you all right,” and Ron waggled his eyebrows. Hermione tried and failed to scold him without laughing. The sadness and the endings needed to be faced, but now there was a beginning to sweeten their sting.
And, Hermione thought rather smugly, she really did know just what to say.
L'Esprit d'Escalier
PG-13
864 words
Hermione Granger was not a young woman who was often at a loss for words. A question in class saw her hand in the air before the teacher could pause for breath and a foolish or impolitic statement from her peers earned a scathing rejoinder without a second thought. Yes, Miss Hermione Granger was a young lady who knew what to say....with one crashing, humiliating exception.
To add insult to injury, the maddening git was standing right behind her. Six feet of infuriating, idiotic, and obtuse speechlessness, all tied up in a dead sexy ginger bow. Bastard.
As Harry’s dirty trainers trudged around the bend of the staircase ahead of her, Hermione realized that yet again, she didn’t know what on earth to say. If the next few moments went the way they usually did, she’d think of the perfect words to say about three or four minutes after the right moment had passed. Well, that stopped now. This was a new day! Voldemort was dead and Hermione Granger was going to be tongue-tied around Ron Weasley no longer! She stopped climbing the stairs and turned, opening her mouth to speak.
“You should go get some rest, too.” Damn it, Ron, it wasn’t your turn to talk! “I should...I should go to my family...” His ears were red and his eyes seemed to be everywhere but on her face.
“Oh...” she stammered, embarrassed for forgetting his terrible loss,in a moment of girlish infatuation. “Please give them all my love.” She took a step down, so that their faces were level.
“Would you, I mean...” His eyes lifted to hers and the flush spread across his grimy cheeks, “Wouldyoumind....Would you mind if I kept some for myself?”
Oh. Oh....this was it, then...her time to speak. He was shifting nervously on his feet, as though that one vaguely flirtatious comment had taken more bravery it even his defiant shout to Voldemort a few hours before. She slid a hand into his.
“Oh, Ron, you should know by now I have a huge supply that’s set aside just for you.”
His breath burst then, in a smile of relief. “Yeah?” He blushed at her nod. “Uh...good.” They stood, then, blushing and shifting, but now holding each other’s gaze. The silence stretched between them, but, for once, it wasn’t awkward or confusing...it just was. Or, at least until Ron blurted out the very thing that had been on the tip of Hermione’s tongue.
“Would it be OK if I kissed you right now?” That he asks brings her a relieved smile of her own.
“I think I’d be quite put out if you didn’t.”
And, like in a dream, he was licking his lips and inching closer and closer, until their noses brushed. He cupped her face in his hands, and his lips seemed to slide across hers in a gesture so infinitely gentle that it was barely there, and yet, her every nerve sparked in awareness of every cell of his skin against hers.
She had been kissed before, but this was somehow different and so much more terrifying. The mechanics of lips and mouths may have been similar, but this was no flattery from Victor, no fumbling one-off snog at a resort New Year’s party, no bored grope with a son of her parents’ friends -- this was Ron and that realization made her stomach drop and her heart flutter in a way that was altogether new.
She opened her mouth as she gasped for breath, and their tongues seemed to naturally slide together, exploring and gently probing. Her brain was in overdrive, cataloging every detail of him, the taste of him, the silky feel of the skin inside his lips, the kitteny velvet of his tongue. “Those are Ron’s taste buds,” she noted, and the oddly clinical thought made her shiver as though she had done something so very forbidden and filthy...and she desperately wanted to do it again.
They parted too soon for her liking, eyes opening to meet again.
“Wow.” Ron’s voice cracked endearingly. His hands were still on her face, and he stroked her cheeks with his thumbs.
“Wow.” Hermione agreed and smiled as she turned her head slightly, nuzzling his hand.
“Would you...I know you must be exhausted...but, would you come back down with me?”
“I don’t know, Ron, you should be with your family...” His hands dropped from her face and grasped her hands.
“Please? I mean, you belong with me there, now that we’re, you know....together?” His question was awkward and hopeful and all the things that Hermione had felt for so long.
“Yes, together, of course. If you want me, I’ll go with you anywhere, Ron.” she held his hand firmly and began to walk back towards the Great Hall.
“Oh, I want you all right,” and Ron waggled his eyebrows. Hermione tried and failed to scold him without laughing. The sadness and the endings needed to be faced, but now there was a beginning to sweeten their sting.
And, Hermione thought rather smugly, she really did know just what to say.