Yours Between Mine

Yours Between Mine

(to Lyzel in E Flat)

Hermione stepped out of the castle. Instantly, the cold winter air hit her with an odd sort of pleasantness, brisk and sweet and arousing all her senses. She smiled against the coolness and began to walk, the snow-covered ground crunching under her black Mary-Janes. It was midday, Saturday. A prefect meeting had just let out, and Gryffindor Quidditch practice for the day was just beginning. Many of the older students had ventured to Hogsmeade for the afternoon, while the younger ones chose to stay inside, drinking hot chocolate and socializing in the Great Hall. This early December day was perfect, or as close to it as any day had been for Hermione in a very long time.

Although somewhat lonely, she enjoyed walking outside. It was as though each problem she had slipped into the wind and blew away with each step she took. Hermione smiled to herself slightly, tying the loose ends of her scarf so it was tight around her neck. The thick brown tendrils of her hair framed her pink cheeks, almost warming them. She turned around the first corner of the great castle, staring at the white-washed ground as she walked. Christmas was not far, and soon it would be gift-giving time. There were always so many people on the list, most of whom were easy to buy things for. Her parents usually appreciated something for the house: a coffee table book or perhaps a piece of artwork. Her grandmother usually wanted something of the same. Last year, she had gotten Ginny a little charm bracelet from a Muggle shop back in Cambridge, and Harry's gift usually jumped out at her when she walked into the store. But it always took a great deal of time to pick Ron's, simply because she wanted it to be something that he enjoyed. It would've been easy to buy him another Chudley Cannons poster, or a box of chocolates, but for the past few years, Hermione had wanted to get him the right gift.

She knew Ron well enough, perhaps even better than she knew Harry. And it was that fact that pushed her to find the best gift she could every year. Still, what could you get for someone like Ron? He was her best friend, and yet so much more. They weren't dating, and Hermione wasn't exactly sure what she felt for him. But whatever it was, it was strong. She felt the pressing need to arouse a wild, wide smile out of him. As if on cue, she noticed a coppery-red-haired figure in black coming in her direction. "Afternoon, Hermione," he said loudly, quickening his step.

Hermione smiled and continued toward him. "Hello, Ron."

"Where are you off to?" he asked inquisitively, stopping in front of her. She shrugged slightly and pushed a few curls from in front of her face with her bare fingertips. Her fingers were pale white, exposed to the cold.

"Nowhere in particular," she replied honestly. "I thought of going to Hogsmeade, but seeing how the castle was so empty, I think the entire school has made their way there."

Ron nodded. "Well, this 'nowhere.' Mind if I come along?" He smiled and swallowed as Hermione slowly nodded. Then, as a note after the fact, he added: "Gryffindor has practice for two hours, and Seamus and Dean have decided not to play Quodpot today. I think they opted for stalking Ravenclaw girls." Ron tacked on a slow, uncertain laugh.

Hermione blushed. "You didn't want to join them?"

"Nah," Ron waved one hand as they began to walk again. "Besides. I think this 'nowhere' sounds like a damn good place to visit."

She blushed even further. She pressed her hand to one of them, trying to warm her freezing fingers. It was like all the blood in them had rushed out to leave them to become frostbitten. She drew them back into her robes, rubbing them together. "So . . ." she sighed, looking around. "Haven't seen you much this morning."

He nodded. "Ginny's birthday was two days ago, you know--"

"Yes, I did."

"--So I hadn't gotten her a gift yet. But this morning, I brought her out for breakfast, and then got her some candy from Honeydukes."

Hermione looked up at Ron's freckled face. His blue eyes danced and sparkled, reflecting the light from the snow, studying their surroundings. Hermione drew her hands from her robes once more to massage them. "That was nice," she remarked. "I'm sure Ginny enjoyed it."

"I hope so," Ron agreed, reaching one hand into his pants pocket. "I don't know how I'm going to be able to get her a decent Christmas present, after this. I need some way to get more money before the holidays. I want to buy people good things this year. Not the usual crap I can barely afford." He glanced up at Hermione.

Hermione stared at her hands intently. As they continued to walk, an awkward silence settled between them. It wasn't that Hermione had nothing to say to Ron; it was simply that she worried she might say the wrong thing. Ron, on the other hand, obviously thought he had brought on the silence. "Sorry," he said, biting his bottom lip.

"Why? You didn't do anything."

But in typical Ron-conversation fashion, he had moved on, probably unwilling to answer the question posed. He pointed to her hands, which Hermione was rubbing together. "What's wrong?" he asked, pointing to them.

"The tips of my fingers, they're stinging."

"Why?"

She rolled her eyes and replied, "It's really very cold out here."

Ron shook his head slowly, eyes still focused on her delicate fingers. "I don't know what it is about girls and their hands," he admitted slowly, softly. "Ginny said the same thing back in October, since she didn't have gloves, last time I took her out just for fun."

Hermione smiled. "What did you do?" she inquired curiously.

"Bought her some gloves, of course."

There was silence as he watched her try to work the blood through her veins once more. She balled her hands into fists, squeezing them tight. Hermione shivered slightly. It truly was colder than she thought it was. Her cheeks were beginning to sting despite the long sweater and robes under her cloak, and her arms had started to get goosebumps. Still, there was the possibility that those weren't weather induced at all.

Finally, Ron spoke up hesitantly, "You look really cold."

"Yes," Hermione agreed.

"Do..." he looked from the ground to Hermione and back to the ground again. "Do you want some new gloves?"

Hermione shook her head, her mouth parting in an inevitable smile. She blushed slightly and locked eyes with him. "No, thank you. It's my own fault for losing my pair in the first place."

"You do look cold, though."

She shrugged, "I am, but I'll be all right."

Then, quite unexpectedly, Ron cocked his head to one side and reached over, taking Hermione's right hand between the both of his. She shivered slightly, shocked. His hands were large and looked hard and almost callused, but turned out to be quite soft and gentle. They pressed hers between the both of them, rubbing her fingers back and forth, truly warming them. Once again, a flame started to burn within, shooting through her arms and up into her cheeks, making them burn. After a moment, he did the same to the other. The tips of his ears began to blend with his hair, also turning bright red, as did his cheeks. Slowly his freckles disappeared into the mass. "Thanks," she whispered as they began to walk again. She expected him to drop her hand as he had done to the other, but instead, he held on tight with one of his, rubbing his thumb against the back of her hand.

Embarrassed, Ron held his head high as they continued walking. "Perhaps we should go to Gladrags. They'll have something in there."