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 warmer, air.

 

 

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 was over…

 

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 lot.”

 

 

“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.

 

Ding.

 

 

Ding.

 

 

Ron copied her. She played another one

 

 

Dong.

 

 

Dong.

 

 

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 art.”

 

 

“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 voice.

 

 

“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 uncomfortably.

 

 

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 teased lightly.

 

 

“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 REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!