fic: here's to the nights we felt alive
Title: here's to the nights we felt alive
Rating: PG
Pairing/Characters: Harry/Hermione, Hermione/Ron
Spoilers: mid-DH
Word Count: ~350
Prompt: Harry/Hermione | any war time | If it's not forever, if it's just tonight. Oh it's still the greatest (snowweisz)
Author's Notes: Title from Eve 6's Here's to the Night; written for At The Close Ficathon
Summary: He kisses her next to the dying fire, kisses her with her well-worn copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard clutched between them.
He kisses her next to the dying fire, kisses her with her well-worn copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard clutched between them (and when he'd imagined this, it was a Transfiguration, or Muggle Studies, or Potions text book she was holding, and he was wearing his Quiddith uniform, maybe, not the same pair of jeans he's worn all week, and her Gryffindor tie was done up neatly, and she laughed a little into his mouth, laughed as she said, softly, "Harry," as he pulled back, and she looked happy and shy and --
alive).
She does whisper his name, but it's sad and knowing, and her eyes are closed, her forehead creased. (And of course she knows. Of course. She is, no doubt, the cleverest witch of her age. She's known for a long time, but she's kept his secret, will keep this one).
"Hermione," he says, just as quietly. "Don't-"
This time, she kisses him.
: :
She lies back, the ground hard beneath them, the night air cold and heavy, and he kisses her; she touches his hips, his hair, the nape of his neck and kisses him back, over and over, and there isn't a lot he's sure about, these days, but this - her - he's always been certain of.
: :
He knows that soon - maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but soon - Ron will return, head bowed a little sheepishly, and while she won't forgive him quickly --
well. He knows Ron, and he knows her.
"Hermione," Ron'll say, tugging off his scarf, before losing nerve. "Got anything to eat? I'm bloody starving." She'll throw her book to the ground - "Honestly, Ronald," - and storm off --
but not too far, because they think differently, these days
-- and Ron'll turn to Harry, face drawn in confusion, and Harry will shrug back, all, "Girls", like they're fourth years again, like she's overreacting, like it's something that'll blow over before breakfast
(but he'll think, quite clearly, Coward).
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR. No copyright infringement is intended.
Rating: PG
Pairing/Characters: Harry/Hermione, Hermione/Ron
Spoilers: mid-DH
Word Count: ~350
Prompt: Harry/Hermione | any war time | If it's not forever, if it's just tonight. Oh it's still the greatest (snowweisz)
Author's Notes: Title from Eve 6's Here's to the Night; written for At The Close Ficathon
Summary: He kisses her next to the dying fire, kisses her with her well-worn copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard clutched between them.
He kisses her next to the dying fire, kisses her with her well-worn copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard clutched between them (and when he'd imagined this, it was a Transfiguration, or Muggle Studies, or Potions text book she was holding, and he was wearing his Quiddith uniform, maybe, not the same pair of jeans he's worn all week, and her Gryffindor tie was done up neatly, and she laughed a little into his mouth, laughed as she said, softly, "Harry," as he pulled back, and she looked happy and shy and --
alive).
She does whisper his name, but it's sad and knowing, and her eyes are closed, her forehead creased. (And of course she knows. Of course. She is, no doubt, the cleverest witch of her age. She's known for a long time, but she's kept his secret, will keep this one).
"Hermione," he says, just as quietly. "Don't-"
This time, she kisses him.
: :
She lies back, the ground hard beneath them, the night air cold and heavy, and he kisses her; she touches his hips, his hair, the nape of his neck and kisses him back, over and over, and there isn't a lot he's sure about, these days, but this - her - he's always been certain of.
: :
He knows that soon - maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but soon - Ron will return, head bowed a little sheepishly, and while she won't forgive him quickly --
well. He knows Ron, and he knows her.
"Hermione," Ron'll say, tugging off his scarf, before losing nerve. "Got anything to eat? I'm bloody starving." She'll throw her book to the ground - "Honestly, Ronald," - and storm off --
but not too far, because they think differently, these days
-- and Ron'll turn to Harry, face drawn in confusion, and Harry will shrug back, all, "Girls", like they're fourth years again, like she's overreacting, like it's something that'll blow over before breakfast
(but he'll think, quite clearly, Coward).
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR. No copyright infringement is intended.