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[waningred]

Who: Hermione and Ron
Where: Ron's room, Order HQ
When: 29 May, 2001, very early morning
Status: Complete

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It was the opening and closing of the drawers that woke Hermione, though she'd been teetering on the edge of that moment between sleep and awake for quite some time. Finally opening her eyes, she watched Ron look through his things then settle on just combing through his hair.

"They're in the jar on the bookshelf," she said, curling her arms around a pillow.

It was nice to just be here. For a moment, before she really woke up and actually started to think, it was nice to just pretend like it was a regular day and the world wasn't arse about face and Harry wasn't dead and Moody wasn't gone and Luna hadn't been locked in Azkaban for so long and....

Hermione shoved all those thoughts that started to creep in down to the bottom of her stomach.

"A few more inches and a dragon tooth earring and you'll look like Bill did in his cursebreaking days."

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Tugging out the very last, rather bothersome knot, Ron picked his way around the various items of clothing strewn on the floor and chose what looked to be a black (or maybe blue, it was still too dark in the room to tell) band from the glass jar. Opting to wait until it dried more before gathering it up into a ponytail, he instead snapped the elastic over his hand to rest at the wrist.

Perhaps later he'd ask Hermione to weave it into a tight plait, something he didn't quite have the patience or dexterity to manage himself.

"Bill never looked so good," Ron said with an amused snort. His hair had been grown excessively long for several reasons: one being that he really couldn't be bothered to get it cut anymore; and another, to be an utter contrary, as he knew it drove a few people right around the bend.

Sitting down on the bed to drop a quick kiss on her cheek, he greeted, "'morning."

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"Oh I don't know about that," teased Hermione. "Bill did have those dragon-hide boots and those tight, tight trousers."

Hermione reached over and curled her fingertips around his hand, tugging him so that he'd lie down beside her, just wanting him close. She'd not spent a night in her own bed since returning from Azkaban. Human contact being her main reason. Trying to find a way to ask Ron about the research and what Harry had asked of them... her second reason.

She combed her fingers through his hair, lifting an eyebrow. "Hmmm... Is your hair supposed to be more manageable than mine? This hardly seems fair."

A very brief smile crossed her face before a look of determination filtered through and set itself up on her features.

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Despite the fact he'd completely soak the surrounding area with his still very damp hair, he wasn't about to deny her whatever intimacy she craved and wrapped an arm around her body.

"I wonder if he's still got those trousers?" Ron pondered out loud with a grin. "I bet I could land myself a Veela with a pair of those..."

He was joking, naturally. Good times or bad, Hermione had always been the very center of his sometimes quite mad universe.

"It's the tradeoff for the colour," he replied after a moment, frowning a little as her smile shifted to a look he easily recognised and had seen countless times before. Over the past few months they'd reached an amicable "couple" routine only interrupted by the occasional speed bump row - and almost always Order related.

Reaching out to still her hand, he had a feeling this was probably one of those times. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

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Hermione didn't care about the wet hair; she could charm the pillow dry afterward. The side of her mouth turned up when he mentioned a veela and it was on the tip of her tongue to remind him about just how well he managed around a veela in fourth year.

"I could always give your trousers a bit of a shrink if you're that desperate for them."

A small sigh escaped her throat. How on earth did he get so good at reading her when she'd always thought he was completely blind as to how she felt?

Hermione shook her head. She wasn't going to lie to him. "No, you're probably not going to like this at all." Her hand slid down to rest flat against his chest and she lowered her gaze to just above her fingertips.

"Without Moody now..." Her voice went quiet. "Ron, I need that research back. We have to finish it."