Rainy Days and Mondays - 1/1 - All Ages - George/Hermione
Title: Rainy Days and Mondays (1/1)
Author: silvernatasha
Rating: All Ages
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: There’s this couple sat over in the corner, holding hands across the table. They’ve got just one bowl of ice cream between them, and they keep feeding it to each other. George/Hermione.
Word Count: 1221.
It’s raining and it’s a Monday. Is there any worse combination? Chocolate ice cream makes it marginally better, but chocolate can only do so much.
There’s this couple sat over in the corner, holding hands across the table. They’ve got just one bowl of ice cream between them, and they keep feeding it to each other. Sometimes, he’ll get a smudge of ice cream across her lips accidentally-on-purpose and lean across to kiss it away. It’s sweet and romantic, but it makes me feel old.
My ice cream looks lonely.
“Are you by yourself again? Where’s Fred?”
I look up and an inquisitive pair of brown eyes is staring down at me. It’s Hermione and she’s on her lunch break. She grins at me and slides awkwardly into the seat opposite me.
“He’s taken Katie for a ‘business lunch’,” I say and she nods knowingly.
“At least Fred had the courtesy to leave the shop for their rendezvous this time.”
“I suppose.” I prod what’s left of my ice cream with the back of my spoon. Hermione likes Mondays - she likes to see them as a fresh start, a new beginning. You’ve got to admire her optimism. “Funny, but it seems I always wind up here with you.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Is it because we’re predictable old farts?” she asks. “Set in our ways?” Hermione hasn’t ordered anything, but a waitress brings over a bowl of chocolate and pumpkin ice cream. She frowns at the ice cream as though she’s annoyed with it. “Good grief,” she says, leaning back in her chair. “We are predictable, aren’t we?” Hermione rests her hands on her stomach. She stretches her legs under the table and her feet knock against mine.
I grin. “Yes.” She laughs and picks up her spoon. These Monday lunchtimes have become a regular feature in our lives, and even though I hate Mondays, I look forward to seeing her. In a job where a customer could accidentally touch a display and activate the products at any given moment, it’s nice to have something mildly repetitive in my life.
Hermione’s been busy lately, and I had thought that she wasn’t going to make it today. Here she is, though, devouring that ice cream as though her life depends on it. She looks up at me. “George,” she says slowly, “are you staring at me?”
I shrug. “I suppose.”
Rolling her eyes, she takes a purposefully slow bite of her ice cream, lips curving around the silver spoon. I love her, by the way.
The rain makes her hair frizzy. It’s neater than it used to be, but a bit of dampness in the atmosphere and it puffs up and annoys her. I couldn’t imagine her without her hair. It’s such a part of her and I think it represents everything that she is. It tries to conform, but it can be wild and rebellious and sometimes it just won’t listen to anybody.
“What are you doing this afternoon?”
“I don’t know. Need to make a start on the stock check, I suppose.”
She nods. “Sounds like fun.”
“Your idea of fun scares me sometimes.” I hate doing stock checks. I think I’ll leave it until tomorrow when it isn’t Monday and isn’t raining. You can never tell with the weather, though. The other day it looked perfectly lovely outside, but it was freezing cold and you could see your breath. I don’t really like it when it’s like that - I like the weather to be nice and simple.
Hermione grimaces and leans backwards. “Are you alright?” I ask. I’ve finished my ice cream now, and there’s just a small brown puddle in the bottom of my bowl.
“It’s nothing.” She smiles weakly. “Don’t worry.” Hermione narrows her eyes. “Are you alright?”
“Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.”
She actually laughs at this. “Can I help make it any better?” I think about it for a moment and then my hand darts across the table, grabbing her spoon. “Hey!” she protests. I pick up a spoonful of the chocolate and pumpkin concoction, but instead of feeding it to her I swipe the spoon across her lips. Before she can lick it off, I lean across the table and kiss it from her lips.
Hermione is rather startled by this; I can tell from the look in her eyes when I pull back. “What was that for?”
“I love you.”
She smiles. “I love you, too.” Her hand reaches across the table for mine. “Shall we go out for dinner for tonight? Only I don’t feel like cooking and the baby wants Chinese food.”
I look at her suspiciously. “Are you sure it’s not Hermione who wants Chinese food?”
Grinning, she says, “Maybe a bit of both.”
“You’re not going to be able to use the ‘eating for two’ excuse for much longer,” I remind her with a grin.
“I know,” she says in mock glumness. “I’ll just have to be fat.”
“You’re not fat.”
“I am,” she retorts. “This is actually a very tiny baby and the rest is just insulation.”
“Insulation?”
“Yes,” she says soberly.
“Maybe you should just eat salad, then.”
She scowls. “I want Chinese.”
“We could get a take-away, then. Spend the evening together curled up on the couch.”
“I’m not so good at curling these days,” she reminds me, gently patting her very pregnant belly. “But that does sound nice.”
It’s been three years since I finally realised I was in love with her. A group of us had gone out for a drink after a few pints I actually kissed her. She wasn’t surprised and I remember her actually telling me that it was about time I did something. It turned out that she’d had her eye on me for quite some time and I hadn’t noticed.
Kissing her felt so right and it still does. She was the one who proposed, you know. She told me that she’d been waiting long enough for me to make the first move that she might as well make the second. We’d only been together for six weeks at the time, and I’d nearly turned her down. But how do you turn Hermione down?
I didn’t in the end. Fred still teases me about falling for her, but it’s not been so bad since that time I hexed him. He never imagined that I’d turn my wand on him, and he even looked at Hermione for support, expecting her to scold me for daring to hex my own brother. Instead, she laughed so hard that she was almost crying. The sight of Fred with antlers and Hermione’s face red with laughter is one that I always want to remember.
“Hey,” she says gently, reaching over to prod my arm. “You’re daydreaming again.”
“I’m only thinking about you and how much I love you.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re in one of those sappy romantic moods again, aren’t you?”
“How could I not be with a gorgeous wife like you?” She looks at me incredulously. Her hair is frizzy and she’s not wearing a scrap of make-up. The robes she’s wearing are mine, because all her maternity robes are in the wash. Then she smiles at me, and I don’t care that it’s raining anymore.
Author: silvernatasha
Rating: All Ages
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: There’s this couple sat over in the corner, holding hands across the table. They’ve got just one bowl of ice cream between them, and they keep feeding it to each other. George/Hermione.
Word Count: 1221.
It’s raining and it’s a Monday. Is there any worse combination? Chocolate ice cream makes it marginally better, but chocolate can only do so much.
There’s this couple sat over in the corner, holding hands across the table. They’ve got just one bowl of ice cream between them, and they keep feeding it to each other. Sometimes, he’ll get a smudge of ice cream across her lips accidentally-on-purpose and lean across to kiss it away. It’s sweet and romantic, but it makes me feel old.
My ice cream looks lonely.
“Are you by yourself again? Where’s Fred?”
I look up and an inquisitive pair of brown eyes is staring down at me. It’s Hermione and she’s on her lunch break. She grins at me and slides awkwardly into the seat opposite me.
“He’s taken Katie for a ‘business lunch’,” I say and she nods knowingly.
“At least Fred had the courtesy to leave the shop for their rendezvous this time.”
“I suppose.” I prod what’s left of my ice cream with the back of my spoon. Hermione likes Mondays - she likes to see them as a fresh start, a new beginning. You’ve got to admire her optimism. “Funny, but it seems I always wind up here with you.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Is it because we’re predictable old farts?” she asks. “Set in our ways?” Hermione hasn’t ordered anything, but a waitress brings over a bowl of chocolate and pumpkin ice cream. She frowns at the ice cream as though she’s annoyed with it. “Good grief,” she says, leaning back in her chair. “We are predictable, aren’t we?” Hermione rests her hands on her stomach. She stretches her legs under the table and her feet knock against mine.
I grin. “Yes.” She laughs and picks up her spoon. These Monday lunchtimes have become a regular feature in our lives, and even though I hate Mondays, I look forward to seeing her. In a job where a customer could accidentally touch a display and activate the products at any given moment, it’s nice to have something mildly repetitive in my life.
Hermione’s been busy lately, and I had thought that she wasn’t going to make it today. Here she is, though, devouring that ice cream as though her life depends on it. She looks up at me. “George,” she says slowly, “are you staring at me?”
I shrug. “I suppose.”
Rolling her eyes, she takes a purposefully slow bite of her ice cream, lips curving around the silver spoon. I love her, by the way.
The rain makes her hair frizzy. It’s neater than it used to be, but a bit of dampness in the atmosphere and it puffs up and annoys her. I couldn’t imagine her without her hair. It’s such a part of her and I think it represents everything that she is. It tries to conform, but it can be wild and rebellious and sometimes it just won’t listen to anybody.
“What are you doing this afternoon?”
“I don’t know. Need to make a start on the stock check, I suppose.”
She nods. “Sounds like fun.”
“Your idea of fun scares me sometimes.” I hate doing stock checks. I think I’ll leave it until tomorrow when it isn’t Monday and isn’t raining. You can never tell with the weather, though. The other day it looked perfectly lovely outside, but it was freezing cold and you could see your breath. I don’t really like it when it’s like that - I like the weather to be nice and simple.
Hermione grimaces and leans backwards. “Are you alright?” I ask. I’ve finished my ice cream now, and there’s just a small brown puddle in the bottom of my bowl.
“It’s nothing.” She smiles weakly. “Don’t worry.” Hermione narrows her eyes. “Are you alright?”
“Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.”
She actually laughs at this. “Can I help make it any better?” I think about it for a moment and then my hand darts across the table, grabbing her spoon. “Hey!” she protests. I pick up a spoonful of the chocolate and pumpkin concoction, but instead of feeding it to her I swipe the spoon across her lips. Before she can lick it off, I lean across the table and kiss it from her lips.
Hermione is rather startled by this; I can tell from the look in her eyes when I pull back. “What was that for?”
“I love you.”
She smiles. “I love you, too.” Her hand reaches across the table for mine. “Shall we go out for dinner for tonight? Only I don’t feel like cooking and the baby wants Chinese food.”
I look at her suspiciously. “Are you sure it’s not Hermione who wants Chinese food?”
Grinning, she says, “Maybe a bit of both.”
“You’re not going to be able to use the ‘eating for two’ excuse for much longer,” I remind her with a grin.
“I know,” she says in mock glumness. “I’ll just have to be fat.”
“You’re not fat.”
“I am,” she retorts. “This is actually a very tiny baby and the rest is just insulation.”
“Insulation?”
“Yes,” she says soberly.
“Maybe you should just eat salad, then.”
She scowls. “I want Chinese.”
“We could get a take-away, then. Spend the evening together curled up on the couch.”
“I’m not so good at curling these days,” she reminds me, gently patting her very pregnant belly. “But that does sound nice.”
It’s been three years since I finally realised I was in love with her. A group of us had gone out for a drink after a few pints I actually kissed her. She wasn’t surprised and I remember her actually telling me that it was about time I did something. It turned out that she’d had her eye on me for quite some time and I hadn’t noticed.
Kissing her felt so right and it still does. She was the one who proposed, you know. She told me that she’d been waiting long enough for me to make the first move that she might as well make the second. We’d only been together for six weeks at the time, and I’d nearly turned her down. But how do you turn Hermione down?
I didn’t in the end. Fred still teases me about falling for her, but it’s not been so bad since that time I hexed him. He never imagined that I’d turn my wand on him, and he even looked at Hermione for support, expecting her to scold me for daring to hex my own brother. Instead, she laughed so hard that she was almost crying. The sight of Fred with antlers and Hermione’s face red with laughter is one that I always want to remember.
“Hey,” she says gently, reaching over to prod my arm. “You’re daydreaming again.”
“I’m only thinking about you and how much I love you.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re in one of those sappy romantic moods again, aren’t you?”
“How could I not be with a gorgeous wife like you?” She looks at me incredulously. Her hair is frizzy and she’s not wearing a scrap of make-up. The robes she’s wearing are mine, because all her maternity robes are in the wash. Then she smiles at me, and I don’t care that it’s raining anymore.