Harry Potter Oneshots »»HARMIONE««

The Special Two

By: Beaumontrulz

The Special Two

Ron was very happy with his life. He had two best friends whom he loved and protected fiercely and a beautiful girlfriend who loved him. Yes, his life had turned out rather well.

Seventh year was going by relatively smoothly, considering what had happened in the past. Harry had defeated Voldemort and the wizarding world had recovered rather well. Buildings were rebuilt, Voldemort's remaining army of followers were destroyed and the Dementors were banished. No one quite knows how this happened but many thought that Dumbledore worked very hard together with Harry to compose a spell strong enough to constantly repel the Dementors away from everyone.

Anyway, back to Ron.

Yes, he was happy. Content.

Well, except for one thing. It wasn't such a bad thing; he supposed he could live with it if he couldn't do anything about it. It was this odd relationship his best friends seemed to have. They seemed like a couple a lot of the time. They hugged and held hands and kissed each other on the cheek. They'd stay up late talking and finishing homework together. They'd even sleep together after Harry had a rather upsetting nightmare or after Hermione had got into a fight with Ron (Harry had worked out how to go up into the girls' dorms somehow and refused to tell the rest of the boys).

Ron had absolutely no idea how he'd make them realise their feelings for each other. But he knew that it would happen… eventually.

"Hey Hermione," Harry said thoughtfully, looking up from his half-finished Charms essay.

"Mmm?" she murmured, frowning slightly and sucking on the end of her quill.

"What's your favourite colour?"

"Huh?" she asked, taking the quill out of her mouth and looking up at him.

"What's your favourite colour?" Harry repeated.

"Why?"

Harry shrugged and said, "I just figured I never knew it. I thought I may as well ask."

Hermione smiled and said, "My favourite colour is periwinkle blue Harry."

"Ah, should've known," he said grinning at her. "Your Yule Ball dress robes."

She laughed and said, "Well, what about you? What's your favourite colour?"

"Not green," Harry said, looking thoughtful. "Too many people think it is. My favourite colour would have to be deep red."

Hermione smiled and said, "Nice colour. What on earth brought that question on?"

"Well, this Charms essay is about colours and stuff and I was looking up at you for a moment and I realised I didn't know your favourite colour."

She laughed softly and said, "Ok Harry."

They were sitting side by side in one of the squishy armchairs; how they were sitting there so comfortably, neither of them knew but they had managed to find comfortable positions. This involved Hermione draping her legs over the top of Harry's. Harry leant on a book propped up against the side of Hermione's leg and on his lap, writing his essay. Hermione leant on a tray that she'd conjured so she could work properly and not poke her leg every second word with her quill.

Every so often Hermione would look up from her essay to gaze at Harry. In the front of her mind she was thinking about what to write next but in the back of her mind she was thinking to herself, 'He's gorgeous, wouldn't you love to have him?' Something would jerk her back into reality and she would shrug these thoughts off and go back to her essay.