Sweet Dreams

...furthermore, the Salem Witches of 17... weren't really witches.

The visions the young girls saw were really the hallucinations

of what is now called Dutch Elm disease. They were persecuted

for being 'devil creatures' when in fact, all they were suffering

from was an uncommon sickness.

Later Muggles in Hollywood used the public's fascination with

witchcraft to make several programs. One of the more intriguing

was called Bewitched, where the 'witches' used their noses for

doing spells rather than actual wands...

Ron sighed. His History of Magic essay on "Witchcraft from Non-Magic Eyes: Muggle Stupidity Through the Ages" was not nearly as long as it should be. He needed another half scroll at least. All this by tomorrow. Ron stretched his arms way above his head and finally looked up from his papers to find an empty common room.

A few open inkbottles were left out on a table. Random bags were scattered about the floor, waiting until morning when they would be lugged downstairs to breakfast and then to class. He could see some candy wrappers on the floor from Fred and George's latest test run. More importantly, the only other person in the room was sitting next him on the sofa. Asleep.

Her chin was lying against her chest and her right hand still held the quill with which she had been writing. Her hair cascaded forward slightly and acted as a great bushy shield, hiding part of her face. Just how long had he been working on that essay?

Hermione? he thought to himself. She could be getting a whole other scroll written on this Muggle junk. She must be tired. Well, it was late, at least midnight. Harry still wasn't back from Umbridge's latest attempt at torture. They had decided to wait up for him again. After dinner, Ron and Hermione had returned straight to the common room to try and make a dent in their homework. With the exception of the occasional interruption from Fred and George or a first year asking for help, neither had said a word. They had worked steadily and then slowly the common room had emptied itself until they were the only ones left.

Ron glanced down at his essay. It was terrible. What else could be said about common Muggle misconceptions? Maybe if he just glanced through her papers for a quick second, he would find something more interesting to write about. Shuffling through the few papers on Hermione's lap, Ron came across a piece that looked suspiciously like a letter.

"...I miss you a lot. More and more each day, actually."

Stupid Viktor Krum, he thought to himself. Honestly, what is it about him? What does he have that I don't?

"Things have gotten worse. That hideous teacher I told you about, Umbridge, is incredibly unfair, more so than Snape. That's saying something. There is no news yet about Voldemort- Ron shuddered-

I'm sure that Dumbledore would have said something since the

Daily Prophet is so unreliable. I'll let you know the minute

anything serious happens. Until then, know that I am safe. Well, I

really need to get back to work. They aren't giving us any room to

slack off. I'm really glad for that though. Harry and Ron need

that kind of work piled on top of them. I don't think either have

any clue as to just how important these O.W.L.s are."

Why is she talking about our study habits to him? Ron thought, bitterly. It's none of his business how we prepare for the stupid tests.

"Send a reply back with Harry's owl if you can."

So, Hermione, using Harry's owl for your love letters, eh?

"With all my love."

Love? LOVE? Ron glared at her sleeping form and muttered under his breath. Who does she think she is? She hardly knows him. Love? Already?

"Your daughter, Hermione"

Daughter? Ron shuffled to the first page and blushed. Oops. Of course she would write to her parents. She hadn't seen them since the very beginning of the summer holiday.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her stir. Quickly, before she could catch him snooping, he flung the papers into her stack just a little too hard. His heart jumped into his throat as her open bottle of ink tipped over and fell onto the sofa.

"Bloody hell." Ron leaned awkwardly over her sleeping form and grabbed the bottle. Ron began furiously wiping at the ink with a corner of his robes, and when he stopped paying attention to anything but the stain, his elbow accidentally hit her shoulder. She slumped against him. He muttered another curse. Slowly, as not to disturb her, he leaned back into the couch. He lifted an arm and tried to push her back to where she was, but all she did was curl into his side. Ron's entire body went still. He felt her breathe slowly in and out. Ron looked down at the top of her head as it rested against his chest. Some of the more wild strands tickled his face. Ron caught himself smiling.

Ever so slowly, he commanded his arm to relax, and muscle by muscle, it started to lower itself and settle around Hermione's sleeping figure. After his arm, he commanded the rest of his body to relax. It was just Hermione after all. And that's the exact problem, he told himself. Just Hermione. She had never been just anything.

Before he gave himself a chance to think too hard about it, Ron lowered their papers to the ground and adjusted himself to a more reclined position. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes and sighed. I'll let her sleep until Harry gets back. That should be long enough.

His head snapped back up as he felt her snuggle closer to his side. For a few long moments, his heart was in his throat again. Was she awake? After a few moments, he relaxed again and found himself smiling. Slowly his breath evened out and his eyes became very heavy. Thoughts drifted in and out of his head. His worries slipped away and his free hand linked with his other so that Hermione was cradled completely in his arms.

This is heaven.

~*~

Ron awoke again with a start. Wanting the dream to continue on, he didn't open his eyes right away. It felt as if he had been sleeping for ages. Something in his arms moved. Hermione. Oh, yes. Of course. It wasn't a dream. He loosened his arms that had tightened instinctively at her first movement, and felt her sit up. Regretfully, his arms fell from around her. So did the soft blanket that had covered them.

Blanket? When was there a blanket? Harry. Realization dawned on him. That little git. Bless him. He almost smiled. Ron's attention was directed back to Hermione as he felt her turn towards him. For several, painstaking moments, she was still and he had no idea what she was doing. He dare not move. He had to remember to keep breathing as if he were asleep. Hermione turned more towards him and her leg brushed his.

Breathe, Weasley, he scolded himself. He felt her hair brush his cheek and smelled the sweet scent of the soap from the prefects' bathroom. It was a bloody miracle that he didn't freeze right there. No, he kept absolutely still. Then it happened. He felt her lips brush his jaw. Bloody Hell. It lasted for no more than a second, but it sent shivers up and down his spine. She went still again. This time he had to work really hard to keep from smiling.

Then he felt her wonderful hair against his cheek again. Only this time, her lips brushed his lips. Without thinking, he grabbed her arms right above her elbows and kissed her back. For several moments he did nothing more than let the experience of kissing her wash over him. Their breaths mingled momentarily, and then slowly he pulled her away while his thumbs drew circles on the inside of her arms. This time he didn't hold back the smile. When his eyes slipped open, they found her staring back with a deer-in-headlights expression. She gasped, and he couldn't resist. Before he could talk himself out of it, Ron pulled her to him and kissed her again. It was better than anything else in the world. His heart thudded hard. Ron was scared of what she would say.

"Morning, Hermione." Ron grinned at her. She drew in a breath, her eyes still wider than ever. Without a word, she jumped up and sped off towards the girls' dormitories. Ron let her go. He smiled to himself and began to pick up the papers they had on the floor. As he folded the blanket, he reminded himself that he needed to thank Harry for being quiet.

Ron hung the blanket over the back of the sofa and turned towards his room. He made his way up the steps two at a time and crashed on his bed to sleep a few extra hours before the Gryffindor tower began to wake. I kissed Hermione. For a brief moment, he wondered if she was mad at him. That thought left as quickly as it had came. He saw the look in her eyes. She had been caught, but she was doing something she had wanted.

She probably thought he was going to laugh at her. That must have been the reason she left so quickly. No, he wouldn't laugh at her, if anything, he'd try and kiss her again.

Yes, he had let her go without a word a few moments ago, but she couldn't avoid him forever. After all, they had Prefect duty together this morning.