Finished: Routine (T) - Ron/Hermione, ref. to R/G
Notes: For G itsbeenvery. A fair warning - implied, perhaps unrequited, incest. As of 2 May 2009, this story has been revised.
Date: 31 October 2005
Author: vexia
Pairing(s): Ron/Hermione, Ron/Ginny
Summary: He loves her less and less each day.
This is how it goes:
He sleeps with his eyes open sometimes, burning fractured lights and jangled stars in the deep blue of his irises. Sometimes he wakes to the early hours of morning - traces of sunbeams climbing up the rolling hills - and he'll perch himself on the edge of his bed, hands clasped together as he counts the number of freckles that he can see on them.
He stays like this while everyone gathers in the commons, and he takes advantage of this time alone to think about nothing and everything. The thoughts that run through his head are too much to identify, to specify. When he collects himself, he walks downstairs with a lethargic gait, stretching his arms across his chest until he can hear the alarming crack in his joints. Everyone looks at him, with the girls squealing in disgust and the boys laughing, and when they realise that everyone has congregated, they exit the portrait together and chatter all the way to the Great Hall.
But there he stays, left alone with the pretty girl and her dusty book. He saunters in that swaggering way of his, no longer gangly but well-balanced, and looms over her, his shadow darkening the pages littered with text.
When she looks up, her cheeks are rosy and her eyes are bright. Her hair is wild and soft, and he finds himself tangling his fingers in them, strands curling and slipping away.
"Good morning, Ron," she says.
He mumbles, "Morning," and kisses her cheek in greeting. This is their routine, followed closely by:
"Where's Ginny?" His eyes light up at his own curiosity.
And she answers, "With Harry."
He drops his hand by his side and he stands there, almost awkwardly, and sighs. The electricity that they had built from day one of their first year together is slowly beginning to fade away. He can feel it humming in his bones. He wonders, sometimes, if she feels the same way. She's smart; she should know.
Curious, he bends down and touches her lips with his. There's a faint spark, subtle, but when he closes his eyes it ignites. He can see copper red waves and a smatter of freckles on peach-skin, and he has to swallow the excitement building up inside of him and the blood that roars in his veins.
He doesn't realise what's happening until she pushes him away with a sharp gasp. He looks down at her, her eyes wide with shock and her lips parted slightly. They're bleeding. She looks flushed and scared and confused - a swirling mess of emotions are flickering in the dark depths of her eyes, and he can't help but wonder what she thinks of him.
"Hey, are you two coming or what?"
The sweet, gentle voice floods him, and he looks towards the portrait hole where his younger sister is waiting for them. She's grinning widely, her eyes twinkling and her skin so very lovely.
He smiles back and jogs over to her until he's close enough to touch her. He looks over his shoulder at his best friend, his girlfriend, and cocks his head to the side.
"Coming?"
She stares at him, clutching tightly at her book, as a dawn of understanding settles into her features. She puts her book down beside her and stands, looking at the two siblings whose identical smiles are enough to light up the room. His happiness is petrifying.
"Of course."