Author Notes-This is a fic idea I’ve had in storage for a
while now. I finally decided to write it so I could use the shelf space for my
dental floss. So here is to shiny teeth, red hair, and pianos! Enjoy!
Hermione hugged the front of her sweater, trying to
fend off the wind that whipped through the air. It poked at her face as she
traipsed across the slightly squishy ground of the Weasleys’ backyard. She had
come to stay for the summer and so far it had been raining for about two and a
half days. More rain was probably just waiting to spill out from the clouds and
drench the young, curly-haired witch, but she didn’t care. Being locked up in
the Weasley house with a dozen or so people at any given time was enough to
drive her, or anyone for that matter, out into a hurricane.
Ron was especially irritating at
these times. After he had bruised her ego by annihilating her at chess at least
ten dozen times, he had taken on a new hobby: helping Fred and George invent
candied horrors. A few of which had unintentionally (Hermione snorted)
ended up in her and Ginny’s food. It had taken an hour to get the feathers out
of Hermione’s corkscrew hair. Boys, honestly. They could accomplish all this in
a span of two and a half days.
So here she was out in the harsh
wind suddenly wondering why she had really come out into this drizzling, cold,
weather. Then she remembered her other option was to go back inside and face
obnoxious red-headed boys…who were annoyingly skilled at chess.
Looking for some shelter from the
gusts of wind, she spotted the brown shed that was located behind the Weasley
house. It was Mr. Weasley’s Muggle shed, where all his muggle “toys” were kept.
King Tut had nothing on Mr. Weasley when it came to collecting precious things.
Well at least in his eyes they were precious, not so much in Mrs.
Weasley’s eyes though She ran over to it and gratefully pushed open the
door and stepped inside. As she snapped the large door shut instantly some of
the howling wind was muffled. She took a deep breath of this much better, and
She took a long look of her
surroundings as she took off her heavy sweater. TV’s without glass, radios with
ridiculously long antennas, and numerous other electronic devices were all
crammed onto the shelves next to her. A huge bin was overflowing with batteries
and its counterpart had plugs crammed hastily into it. This place was obviously
used quite frequently because most of it was very clean. Except for one thing.
A Piano sat quietly in the very
back of the room. Hermione’s eyes snapped onto it instantly and she sucked in
her breath in delighted surprise. It would be a handsome piece of furniture,
she was sure, if it weren’t so dusty. Even though it had a crack snaking down
one leg. And the top was broken clean off, exposing the strings that were used
to tune it. At least the stool was still sturdy – or at least it looked
sturdy. Hermione sat herself cautiously on the stool, and it didn’t break. She
grabbed a cloth that was lying on the ground and began to wipe the instrument
clean. Each swipe revealing the beautiful wood in streaks.
Hermione loved the piano, she
always had. Ever since she had taken piano lessons at age four she had been
glued to the piano bench. Her fingers would fly freely across the keys
as she practiced for hours upon hours. Concerts, dances, church even, you name
it and she had played there. And she had been good too – no, not just
good, brilliant, no sense in being modest. This was the one thing she excelled
at because she wanted to excel at it. Unlike everything else
where she felt pressured to be the best, like school, sometimes school.
Her musical bliss had come to a
screeching halt when Hogwarts came into the picture. She loved that school but
they had no music whatsoever. That song in the beginning of first year didn’t
even count. She loved magic and loved her life there, but she had been
distraught that she could only play in summer. And she’d been even more
upset when she came home from fifth year to find her piano had been broken and
eventually sold. She felt like she had lost a best friend.
So now her fingers itched to
dance over the keys, and a powerful feeling rose in her. And hey, who was she
to resist powerful feelings, especially good feelings]? She
positioned her fingers and began to play. Not a good idea. The strings were so
horribly out of tune, that each note was sour and pinched at her. She flinched
before she heard a creaking within the piano.
The strings were tightening
themselves! Mr. Weasley had put some sort of self-tuning spell on the piano.
Hermione would have to ask him to teach her that later…
Filled with new hope, her
fingers sprung to the keys and began to play. She closed her eyes as the music
wafted around her. She played softer then louder, faster then slower. Up and
down the grinning ivory keys her fingers bounced and strummed. She hadn’t felt
this in good in…a while. Not since…he…had come back and Sirius had died,
and Ron had gotten that girlfriend in sixth year that she still didn’t think he
Speak of the devil.
“How do you do that?” said an astonished voice very close
behind her. She nearly jumped on top of the piano in surprise, and the notes
jolted as her elbow landed hard on them.
“Ow!” she said rubbing her elbow.
She turned around to see a tall, freckly, red-head – one who was very
good at chess. “I used to take lessons when I was young. I practiced a
“You must have practiced every
day to get that good,” he said, clearly impressed.
Hermione couldn’t help flushing a little bit and adding,
“Sometimes I practiced two times a day. It’s hard work but…” How could she
explain to Ron how the piano made her feel?
“Nothing you can’t do though,
huh? Nothing too hard,” he said, grinning at her. “I should have known – the
great Hermione can do any spell, make any potion, slap any Slytherin.”
She had tried to be annoyed at this comment, but feeling
rather proud she couldn’t help but grin at Ron.
“But you still haven’t answered my question: how do you do
that?” he asked again, standing next to her and actually looking interested in
the muggle instrument.
Before she could stop herself,
she scooted over and told him, “Sit down and I’ll show you.” When
he actually sat down next to her, she realized how suddenly small the bench
seemed. He wasn’t even an inch apart from her, and they were touching.
She felt her heart do little flip-flops for reasons she refused to acknowledge.
She tried to compose herself.
“Okay position your finger on top of the keys like I have
mine now,” she said, curving her fingers. He imitated hers with that grin
still on his face. She pressed on one of the notes.
Ron copied her. She played
She played another one and some more until she and Ron
were slowly playing her favorite song as a child.
Ding, Dong, Ding Ding Ding!
Tink tink tink!
Gong gong gong!
Ding Tink Gong!
“I have never heard that song in my life,” Ron commented,
turning to look at her.
“Well, of course you haven’t, I composed it when I was
four,” she said, her face tinting again. Ron laughed.
“I couldn’t hit a drum when I was
four and you were writing songs. You could be the next, what was his name? Mope
“It’s Mozart, Ron.” She
could feel him snort next to her. But slowly that died away into silence. And
it was an uncomfortable silence, so she did the only thing she could. She
started playing again, a soft gentle tune she had learned when
she was nine. Ron sat listening to her for a while; he watched her hands in
fascination. He watched her. She tried not to turn red. Stupid capillaries,
they couldn’t just pick one shade of color.
“You think we’ll win, Hermione?” he said, his voice low,
almost a whisper.
“What do you mean?” she said, although she had a feeling
what he meant.
“Us, the Order. Against the Death
Eaters and Vol…Vol…him.” He stuttered over his name; he still had
trouble saying it.
“We will, I know we will,”
Hermione said firmly, her hands still moving.
“How can you be so sure?” he
asked with a little bit of softness, a little bit resentment in his
“Because it’s too terrifying for
me to believe otherwise. I don’t think about what will happen if we don’t win,
just what’s going to happen when we do.” Her voice was so quiet she stopped
playing so Ron could hear. “I’m…I’m so glad I have you and Harry.” She
smiled at Ron and he did the same to her, making her heart jump a bit. Why did
he have to have to be so interested in other girls?
“I’m glad I have you too,
Hermione, and Harry.” She turned and looked at him. “I don’t know how I
would survive school or—or anything without you.” He looked a little
embarrassed at saying this and broke their eye contact momentarily, only
momentarily. She looked at him frozen, unable to move from her spot, heart thudding
His smile grew timidly on his
face. Before she knew it, one of his hands was on her shoulder then hesitantly
on her face. She knew what he might do but still wasn’t ready for it. Imagine,
Hermione Granger, being off-balance when it came to anything. He leaned in
slowly, pausing to see if she would pull away. She didn’t, and instead
closed her eyes ,took a small breath, and leaned in, closing the space
between their lips.
She felt like she had been given
several rounds of Shock Spells. Ron wrapped his other arm around her waist and
she put one arm around his neck. They kissed like this for a few more seconds
until Ron pulled away. She could feel him grinning, though as he did so. She
couldn’t help it – she grinned too.
“Well that was…unexpected,” he
“You started it,” she accused
him. He leaned in, a little less shyly this time, and kissed her quickly again.
Then, his grin as big as ever, he looked her over and said:
“Hey Hermione, how about a game of chess?”
This time she just laughed and
nestled herself into his arms.
Author Notes- This story is my
penance to Sherster6 and her friend Hippoluv for not writing a R/H fic or being
so fluff as obsessed as only they can be! I love you guys!!!!!! lol! HP
Twins!!! Also an astonishing amount of credit must go to my beta reader Megan
Laura! You’re the best! Remember: If you have any spark of decency in your soul
then you will please leave my starving writer soul a REVIEW REVIEW