FIC: Blundering Through Delusion (2/2)
Second part of this.
Ron (and everyone else in the near vicinity) gaped as she stormed from the party. Merlin, what had he done? “Wait, Hermione, wait!”
The crowd starting shifting, bored with the outcome of the spat. It was like a moving maze, one that jabbed and tripped him as he tried to escape. Trelawney lurched in front of him, blubbering about tea leaves, and he dodged her only to collide with Snape.
“Mr. Weasley,” he sneered, “Why am I not surprise that -”
Ron didn’t stop to find out what exactly he had done to not surprise Snape; he shoved through the last few people obstructing the door and burst out into the hallway.
“Hermione!” She was moving quickly away from the party, her robes billowing behind
her as she stomped through the hall.
“Ronald Weasley leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” She threw over her shoulder, not bothering to turn to face him. Her angry footsteps thundered in the dark and a few pictures woke up and grumbled as she passed.
Ron scrambled after her. “Hermione, I was just looking out for your best interests.”
Hermione threw up her hands, “Yes, my best interests. I can clearly see that. Making a fool of me, yes, what a good idea, Ron!”
“No, that’s not what I meant - Hermione, wait, please!”
Hermione was walking as fast as she could, but Ron’s long legs gave him the advantage. When he caught up to her she glared up through her wild hair with narrowed eyes. “Ron,” her voice was dangerously low, “Leave me alone.”
Desperate to make her understand, Ron stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “Just let me explain, please? Give me two seconds, that’s all.” He reached down and grabbed her hands, apologizing sheepishly when she frowned at him, “Don’t want you cursing me. Though Merlin knows I probably deserve it.”
Hermione exhaled a large sigh and tapped her foot impatiently. “Your two seconds are up, Ronald. Now, are we going to continue making a scene in front of the paintings or are you going to let my hands go and act like an adult?”
He groaned, but didn’t drop her hands. He’d made a mess of everything again - completely botched the evening and dug himself into a hole, a very very deep hole, with no chance of escape. “What if,” he paused and looked about the hallway at the glaring pictures, “What if we go into a classroom? We can talk and not be interrupted.”
Hermione started to pull away, but Ron held fast. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Well, I can apologize and not be interrupted. What do you say?”
“Very well,” she said slowly. Suddenly she smiled, “It’s not often I get an apology from you. I suppose I’ll have to cherish this.”
Ron swallowed hard and tried not to misinterpret her. “Right, then. Think there’s one over here somewhere…” He loosened his grip on her hands, dropping them.
Before his fingers could leave hers completely, Hermione grabbed his left hand. “Er,” she said, staring down at her feet, “Shall I lead?”
“Right,” he said quietly, a surge of delight replacing his surprise. She was holding his hand. And by choice! His heart swelled with pride and hope. Her hand was so small in his; his fingers curled around her completely. He could feel a callus on her middle finger, probably formed by the constant pressure of a quill, and he caressed it a moment before catching himself. “You know where one is, then?”
“I studied Harry’s map, trying to memorize all the rooms in the castle.”
“Figures.”
“I was sure that it’d come in handy.” Her eyes met his and a blush rose again into her face. “For studying,” she added quickly. “If the library is full.”
Ron’s voice had gone on holiday again, so he nodded and tried not to look like he was about to have a panic attack.
She pushed open a door and they stepped into a dark classroom. They stood for a moment, fingers still entwined, and Ron felt his blush reach boiling levels. When their eyes met, they both dropped hands.
Hermione spoke first. “So… I believe you were saying something about an apology?”
Her smile took away the sting and Ron’s guilt and trepidation trickled away. “I didn’t mean to make such a mess of it, I swear. It’s just that he looked like he was going to bite you.”
“Apology accepted,” she replied. “I admit that he was somewhat suspicious. Though you should know by now, Ronald, that you shouldn’t jump to conclusions about someone. Besides, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
He knew. But at that moment, when he truly thought that she was in danger, he couldn’t stand by and do nothing. He wanted to explain it to her, to show her how worried her was and how’d lost he’d be without her, but it was easier just to stare at his shoes and swallow his words.
The silence was oppressive. He shuffled his feet, the sound echoing in the darkness, and wished fervently for some of Harry’s Felix Felicis. A drop! All his efforts would succeed, that’s what Slughorn had said. Ron kicked at a dust bunny and curbed the urge to curse. He was too unlucky even to own Felix Felicis.
He stole a glance at Hermione. Again he was grasping for something to say. He needed to say something, anything! “What’s that smell?”
Hermione startled, then inhaled deeply. “Does it smell like flowers, but also somewhat like the ocean?”
“Yeah… You smell it, too, then? Reckon it’s this classroom? Maybe it was used for potions or something.”
She giggled a very unlike-Hermione giggle. “I’m surprised you don’t recognize it,” she said in a breathy sort of voice, “It’s the perfume you gave me for Christmas last year.”
“Really?” Ron cleared his throat and straightened the collar of his robe. “Yeah, thought it’d fit you.”
“Oh yes,” Hermione’s roamed the room, looking anywhere but at him. “I really like the aroma. Reminds me of the end of Wuthering Heights.”
"What? Withered heights?”
“It’s a book, Ron.” Her voice was back at its normal tone and her smile wasn’t as shy. “Wuthering Heights. You might like it, actually; it has some gruesome parts in it.”
“Sure, I’ll put it on my list. Right after I read Hogwarts: A History.” He grinned down at her. There she was, so close!, smelling like flowers and the end of book, just begging to be touched. His smile faded slightly and he swallowed hard again. Ron stared at her lips. And then gaped. And then boggled a bit. And, when his eyes were satiated, his mouth started on him. He just had to touch and kiss and -
“Here,” she tilted her head back, presenting him her ivory neck. “Don’t - don’t you think it smells a bit like…”
Tentatively he lowered his head, his lips just a hair width away from her skin. He wondered if she could hear his heart pounding - it was beating so hard it seemed like it was about to leap out of his chest. Maybe she was trying to kill him. “Hermione,” his voice came out like a hoarse whisper and he cursed silently. He had to kiss her. He just had to. But… He hesitated as a bubble of anxiety blanketed his desire. “Are you sure?”
She grabbed the lapels of his robe and pulled herself up on her tiptoes. “I’ve waited a long time for this,” she mumbled before her lips met his.
Finally, finally!, he was able to bury his hands in her hair. The weight of it nearly drove him mad and he shuddered against her. And then there were her lips! She was silky and soft, but her kiss was firm and without hesitation.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. He shifted and their bodies fit together like a like two jigsaw pieces. He groaned against her mouth when she pressured harder against him and practically died of pleasure when she long fingers caressed his skin. He moved his hands down to her shoulders and thanked whoever had fitted her for her robe.
“You look amazing, by the way,” he whispered when they parted. “And taste amazing. And feel amazing. And are amazing.”
She nipped at his ear lobe. “Mm.”
His heart nearly exploded. “Can you… Can you do that again?” She complied and Ron’s legs nearly crumpled. “That feels… Wow.”
Hermione laughed and moved her lips down his neck. “Glad I learned it, then.”
He froze. Someone had taught her that? “From who? Krum?”
He felt her shake her head. “I won’t even be offended by that,” she said, smiling against his neck. “Ginny gave me my Christmas present early this year.”
“Ginny taught you?” His voice came out like an astonished gurgle. “You’ve been snogging my sister?”
She pulled out of Ron’s embrace with a strange expression on her face. For a terrible moment he thought that she was going to risk Azkaban by using an Unforgivable, but then her face cracked into a grin and she doubled over laughing, clutching her sides. “I want to be angry at you,” she gasped, “But it’s all too absurd.” She leaned against the wall and wiped tears from her eyes. Finally, her chuckles subsided and she took pity on him, “She bought me a book, Ron.”
He groaned and shook his head. “I should have known,” he said, his laugh joining hers. “You can’t do anything without studying it, can you?” He reached for her and she moved back against him. “I’m sorry that I thought you were some sort of scarlet woman. I always botch things up.”
“You need to conquer your insecurity, I think,” she mused. “That’s all.”
“Easily enough done. At least my emotional capacity is bigger than a teaspoon now,” he said as he stroked her hair. “I’m making progress. Now, getting back to the book, what else did it teach you?”
Ron (and everyone else in the near vicinity) gaped as she stormed from the party. Merlin, what had he done? “Wait, Hermione, wait!”
The crowd starting shifting, bored with the outcome of the spat. It was like a moving maze, one that jabbed and tripped him as he tried to escape. Trelawney lurched in front of him, blubbering about tea leaves, and he dodged her only to collide with Snape.
“Mr. Weasley,” he sneered, “Why am I not surprise that -”
Ron didn’t stop to find out what exactly he had done to not surprise Snape; he shoved through the last few people obstructing the door and burst out into the hallway.
“Hermione!” She was moving quickly away from the party, her robes billowing behind
her as she stomped through the hall.
“Ronald Weasley leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” She threw over her shoulder, not bothering to turn to face him. Her angry footsteps thundered in the dark and a few pictures woke up and grumbled as she passed.
Ron scrambled after her. “Hermione, I was just looking out for your best interests.”
Hermione threw up her hands, “Yes, my best interests. I can clearly see that. Making a fool of me, yes, what a good idea, Ron!”
“No, that’s not what I meant - Hermione, wait, please!”
Hermione was walking as fast as she could, but Ron’s long legs gave him the advantage. When he caught up to her she glared up through her wild hair with narrowed eyes. “Ron,” her voice was dangerously low, “Leave me alone.”
Desperate to make her understand, Ron stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “Just let me explain, please? Give me two seconds, that’s all.” He reached down and grabbed her hands, apologizing sheepishly when she frowned at him, “Don’t want you cursing me. Though Merlin knows I probably deserve it.”
Hermione exhaled a large sigh and tapped her foot impatiently. “Your two seconds are up, Ronald. Now, are we going to continue making a scene in front of the paintings or are you going to let my hands go and act like an adult?”
He groaned, but didn’t drop her hands. He’d made a mess of everything again - completely botched the evening and dug himself into a hole, a very very deep hole, with no chance of escape. “What if,” he paused and looked about the hallway at the glaring pictures, “What if we go into a classroom? We can talk and not be interrupted.”
Hermione started to pull away, but Ron held fast. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Well, I can apologize and not be interrupted. What do you say?”
“Very well,” she said slowly. Suddenly she smiled, “It’s not often I get an apology from you. I suppose I’ll have to cherish this.”
Ron swallowed hard and tried not to misinterpret her. “Right, then. Think there’s one over here somewhere…” He loosened his grip on her hands, dropping them.
Before his fingers could leave hers completely, Hermione grabbed his left hand. “Er,” she said, staring down at her feet, “Shall I lead?”
“Right,” he said quietly, a surge of delight replacing his surprise. She was holding his hand. And by choice! His heart swelled with pride and hope. Her hand was so small in his; his fingers curled around her completely. He could feel a callus on her middle finger, probably formed by the constant pressure of a quill, and he caressed it a moment before catching himself. “You know where one is, then?”
“I studied Harry’s map, trying to memorize all the rooms in the castle.”
“Figures.”
“I was sure that it’d come in handy.” Her eyes met his and a blush rose again into her face. “For studying,” she added quickly. “If the library is full.”
Ron’s voice had gone on holiday again, so he nodded and tried not to look like he was about to have a panic attack.
She pushed open a door and they stepped into a dark classroom. They stood for a moment, fingers still entwined, and Ron felt his blush reach boiling levels. When their eyes met, they both dropped hands.
Hermione spoke first. “So… I believe you were saying something about an apology?”
Her smile took away the sting and Ron’s guilt and trepidation trickled away. “I didn’t mean to make such a mess of it, I swear. It’s just that he looked like he was going to bite you.”
“Apology accepted,” she replied. “I admit that he was somewhat suspicious. Though you should know by now, Ronald, that you shouldn’t jump to conclusions about someone. Besides, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
He knew. But at that moment, when he truly thought that she was in danger, he couldn’t stand by and do nothing. He wanted to explain it to her, to show her how worried her was and how’d lost he’d be without her, but it was easier just to stare at his shoes and swallow his words.
The silence was oppressive. He shuffled his feet, the sound echoing in the darkness, and wished fervently for some of Harry’s Felix Felicis. A drop! All his efforts would succeed, that’s what Slughorn had said. Ron kicked at a dust bunny and curbed the urge to curse. He was too unlucky even to own Felix Felicis.
He stole a glance at Hermione. Again he was grasping for something to say. He needed to say something, anything! “What’s that smell?”
Hermione startled, then inhaled deeply. “Does it smell like flowers, but also somewhat like the ocean?”
“Yeah… You smell it, too, then? Reckon it’s this classroom? Maybe it was used for potions or something.”
She giggled a very unlike-Hermione giggle. “I’m surprised you don’t recognize it,” she said in a breathy sort of voice, “It’s the perfume you gave me for Christmas last year.”
“Really?” Ron cleared his throat and straightened the collar of his robe. “Yeah, thought it’d fit you.”
“Oh yes,” Hermione’s roamed the room, looking anywhere but at him. “I really like the aroma. Reminds me of the end of Wuthering Heights.”
"What? Withered heights?”
“It’s a book, Ron.” Her voice was back at its normal tone and her smile wasn’t as shy. “Wuthering Heights. You might like it, actually; it has some gruesome parts in it.”
“Sure, I’ll put it on my list. Right after I read Hogwarts: A History.” He grinned down at her. There she was, so close!, smelling like flowers and the end of book, just begging to be touched. His smile faded slightly and he swallowed hard again. Ron stared at her lips. And then gaped. And then boggled a bit. And, when his eyes were satiated, his mouth started on him. He just had to touch and kiss and -
“Here,” she tilted her head back, presenting him her ivory neck. “Don’t - don’t you think it smells a bit like…”
Tentatively he lowered his head, his lips just a hair width away from her skin. He wondered if she could hear his heart pounding - it was beating so hard it seemed like it was about to leap out of his chest. Maybe she was trying to kill him. “Hermione,” his voice came out like a hoarse whisper and he cursed silently. He had to kiss her. He just had to. But… He hesitated as a bubble of anxiety blanketed his desire. “Are you sure?”
She grabbed the lapels of his robe and pulled herself up on her tiptoes. “I’ve waited a long time for this,” she mumbled before her lips met his.
Finally, finally!, he was able to bury his hands in her hair. The weight of it nearly drove him mad and he shuddered against her. And then there were her lips! She was silky and soft, but her kiss was firm and without hesitation.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. He shifted and their bodies fit together like a like two jigsaw pieces. He groaned against her mouth when she pressured harder against him and practically died of pleasure when she long fingers caressed his skin. He moved his hands down to her shoulders and thanked whoever had fitted her for her robe.
“You look amazing, by the way,” he whispered when they parted. “And taste amazing. And feel amazing. And are amazing.”
She nipped at his ear lobe. “Mm.”
His heart nearly exploded. “Can you… Can you do that again?” She complied and Ron’s legs nearly crumpled. “That feels… Wow.”
Hermione laughed and moved her lips down his neck. “Glad I learned it, then.”
He froze. Someone had taught her that? “From who? Krum?”
He felt her shake her head. “I won’t even be offended by that,” she said, smiling against his neck. “Ginny gave me my Christmas present early this year.”
“Ginny taught you?” His voice came out like an astonished gurgle. “You’ve been snogging my sister?”
She pulled out of Ron’s embrace with a strange expression on her face. For a terrible moment he thought that she was going to risk Azkaban by using an Unforgivable, but then her face cracked into a grin and she doubled over laughing, clutching her sides. “I want to be angry at you,” she gasped, “But it’s all too absurd.” She leaned against the wall and wiped tears from her eyes. Finally, her chuckles subsided and she took pity on him, “She bought me a book, Ron.”
He groaned and shook his head. “I should have known,” he said, his laugh joining hers. “You can’t do anything without studying it, can you?” He reached for her and she moved back against him. “I’m sorry that I thought you were some sort of scarlet woman. I always botch things up.”
“You need to conquer your insecurity, I think,” she mused. “That’s all.”
“Easily enough done. At least my emotional capacity is bigger than a teaspoon now,” he said as he stroked her hair. “I’m making progress. Now, getting back to the book, what else did it teach you?”