The Sugar Quill
Author: Kirkis  Story: First Kisses  Chapter: Chapter Two: Ron Weasley
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First Kisses: Ron Weasley

Harry Potter, and all Characters therein belong to J. K. Rowling, © 2001 Warner Bros. In short, they aren't mine, please don't sue.

First Kisses
By Kirkis
Chapter two - Ron Weasley

***Special thanks to Seldes Katne for Ron's thought regarding Madam Pomfrey's hands.

        Ron stood and followed the dazed Gilderoy Lockhart out of Professor Dumbledore's office, closing the door behind him.

        "Sometimes I wish I could be in on those little chats Harry has with him," Ron commented as the two of them headed down the hall. Lockhart tossed his head aimlessly, this way and that, gazing at the portraits lining the wall.

        "Hmm? Oh, do they talk a lot, those two?" he replied. "That elderly man and the boy, um, what's his name?"


        "Yes, Harry, that was it," Lockhart naïvely acknowledged. Ron rolled his eyes.

        "This way," Ron sighed, moping along behind the dumbfounded professor.

        "My goodness, what's happened to Professor Lockhart?" Madam Pomfrey asked, watching the professor wander into the infirmary.

        "Memory charm gone wrong," Ron replied turning to Lockhart. "This is Madam Pomfrey, she'll help you," he said slowly and deliberately, as if Lockhart were hard of hearing.

        "Hello," Lockhart said, an innocent smile drawing across his face. Madam Pomfrey shook her head slowly.

        "I have so much to do already without someone else," she muttered, taking him by the hand and leading him into the next room, leaving Ron alone in the dormitory with all the petrified patients. Ron glanced around the room, then wandered over to where Hermione lay, still frozen. He took a seat on a stool next to her bed, and drew in a deep breath.

        "Won't be too long now," he said to her. "Professor Sprout harvested the Mandrakes earlier, they're just making the juice I'm sure," he finished, as if she could fret over being petrified. He tilted his head and gazed at her for a moment. She wasn't hard as stone, though her entire body was stiff as a board, her flesh was still soft. He'd noticed it when he and Harry had wrestled the piece of paper out of Hermione's hand.

        He hesitantly drew his hand close to her face, watching her eyes intently, fearing that by some fluke, she might suddenly turn her head and glare at him, wondering what he was doing. She didn't. He touched her cheek gently and led his two fingers down its slope to her chin. Glancing up from her, Ron looked back and forth, over his shoulder and back again, before returning his gaze to her. He bit his bottom lip gently and wrinkled his brow, then leaned forward, inching his face closer to hers. Nearly an inch from her lips, he caught sight of them. Two chocolate-brown eyes staring blankly upward, at him, glossed over, but still seemingly very full of life. He could almost hear her.

        "Just what do you think you're doing, Ron? I'm lying here petrified and you're sneaking kisses! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" Ron pulled back a bit, and brought his hand up to her face again. He gently put his fingers over her eyelids, and pulled them down. But the moment he moved his hand, her eyes popped open again, in the same fixed stare. He tried again, but to no avail. Ron looked warily into her deep brown eyes.

        "Hermione, you've got some beautiful eyes, you know," he paused. "when you aren't shooting daggers out of them at me that is." He kept looking at them, finally waving a hand in front of her face. Wonder if she can see me? I don't guess so, if she's petrified, I guess her brain's been petrified too, he assured himself. Swallowing a lump of anxiety, he leaned forward again, bringing his lips down slowly to meet with hers. It was almost a shock to him at first contact.

        So soft, like kissing... his thoughts trailed off. I dunno, never felt anything like this before. He let his lips press down on hers a little more firmly, drawing in a breath. She had a faint scent that he recognized, it was something he'd smelled before, but he couldn't place it. He opened his eyes, and looked deeply into her wide-open eyes. A warm tingling was surging in his lips, and he could feel his ears grow warm with blush. The sensation of her lips touching his was overwhelming, even though she wasn't moving at all. He closed his eyes again, wanting only to imagine that she'd closed hers.

        The library, that's it! he thought, nearly laughing on the spot. She smells like the library, even after all this time in the infirmary.

        His imagination was cut short by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. In the split second he realized that someone was coming, Ron whipped his head back away from her faster than Harry's Nimbus Two Thousand flew, and plopped back on his stool with such force that it rocked back on its back two legs. He tried to look casual, watching as Madam Pomfrey walked into the dormitory. She was approaching, carrying a tray full of bottles.

        The Mandrake Juice, no doubt, he thought, still eyeing her. She set the tray down on the stand next to Hermione's table.

        "I'm sure you'll want to talk to your friend," she said warmly, pulling out a small straw from her breast pocket, and wiggling it carefully into Hermione's mouth. "Hold this steady, please" she ordered, taking one of the bottles off the tray. Ron held the straw as steady as he could as Madam Pomfrey started to pour the Mandrake juice down the straw and into Hermione's mouth.

        She's got to have the steadiest hands in the world! Ron thought, watching Madam Pomfrey slowly drip the Mandrake juice into the straw. She stopped after only a few seconds.

        "It'll take some time, dear, it has to trickle down into her, she can't swallow yet," she explained. Ron nodded at her and then turned his attention back to Hermione.

        A few minutes later…

        "Where…" Hermione said softly, her voice barely audible. She turned her head toward Ron, who was sitting beside her, looking sheepishly happy. Suddenly everything came rushing back: the library, finding out about the Basilisk, telling the Ravenclaw Prefect, and then peeking around the corner with Penelope's Mirror only to see two big yellow eyes glare back.

        "The monster," she croaked. "I know what it is."

        "Don't worry, Harry's already killed it," Ron said smiling.

        "Then you two found the Chamber of Secrets?" she asked, her voice popping in and out.

        "Kinda. Harry went down into it, I just went part of the way," Ron admitted. Not that he really wanted to go all the way down into the Chamber, but he had wanted to save Ginny. Hermione looked down at her hand, noticing the torn piece of paper was gone.

        "I'm guessing you two found my notes," she said hoarsely. Ron only grinned.

        The night seemed to fly by, and it was well into the morning before anyone even thought of going to bed. Slowly the houses made their way back to the dormitories one by one. Hermione said her goodnights, or rather, good mornings to her friends and headed off to her four-poster bed. She plopped down heavily on the cushy mattress, and rolled over on her back staring up at the covered ceiling overhead. She lay there gazing calmly up at the same spot. Then slowly brought her hand to her lips, gliding her fingers along her bottom lip. She closed her eyes and replayed the scene in her head.

        Ron coming ever so much closer to her, his lips touching hers, his eyes closing. She could still feel his lips on hers. She knew she should probably be more than angry with him that he'd do something as pathetic as sneaking a kiss when she wasn't able to stop him. But the fact that she had once stolen a kiss from him at a very opportune moment had held her back.

        No, It wasn't that, Hermione. You were thrilled that he wanted to kiss you, she thought, a grin sneaking to her lips. He'll never have to know that I saw him, that I remember vividly. That I could hear, see and feel him, she thought again, sighing. She pulled the blankets up around her shoulders and turned to look out the window at the slowly rising sun. A broad smile shot across her face.

        "Same color," she said, squinting at the flaming red-orange sun.

Kirkis' comments:

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