Red

dream_boat

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 22/04/2005
Last Updated: 22/04/2005
Status: completed

"It shouldn’t have been so amazing. It shouldn’t have come as quite a shock. It shouldn’t have been the surprise of the century, but here it was: A Revelation..." [Probably passes for PG. Short fluff.]

Chapters

1. Red

1. Red

DISCLAIMER: JKR owns the characters in this story.

NOTE: Well, it's been a while since I've written much of anything. However, this story walked up and smacked me across the face while I was painting my toenails last night. Hope it's good…it's fluffy, short, and all of my usual unedited specialness. Enjoy! And please review!!

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It shouldn't have been so amazing. It shouldn't have come as quite a shock. It shouldn't have been the surprise of the century, but here it was: A Revelation.

He had rushed in without thinking. He'd spent so many years with her that, somewhere along the way, she had almost melted into him…making them one person at times. So here he was…in her house, in unfamiliar territory, barging in on her.

It wasn't as if she was in the shower. It wasn't like she was in the nude…though the thought alone sent several more shocks through Harry's newly-awed body.

For a moment, he just stood there….paralyzed with…paralyzed with what?

There, perched on her plump mattress, was Hermione Granger; witch, best-friend, genius Hermione Granger….painting her toenails. Painting her toenails red. Red.

Hermione…red.

His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. He realized that's exactly what he was…suddenly he was on foreign soil….behind enemy lines….venturing into the unknown….going where no best-friend had gone before…

It wasn't the mere fact that Hermione was painting her toenails red…it was more, so much more. As she looked up at him with a mixed expression of confusion and amusement, he realized she was speaking to him. What was she saying? Who knows…she's always saying something… The only sound was that of blood rushing in his ears.

Hermione, in an effort to keep her clothes out of harm's (in this case, nail polish's) way, had rolled each pajama leg up past her knees, exposing the milky white skin beneath. Hermione wore pajamas to dinner when she was at home, Harry found it endearing. The soft, sensual curves of her calves enraptured him. His mind raced backward at full speed, trying to remember whether he had ever seen the creamy skin of his best-friend's bare legs before.

Knees…all he saw were knees. Where their Hogwart's uniforms excelled in being practical, they certainly lacked in the sexual appeal department. For all he could remember between Hermione's skirt and those tall socks were two uninteresting knees.

Now he stood frozen in the doorway, blinking, trying to remember what it was he had burst in on her for in the first place, when finally his brain began to un-fog.

Harry? Harry, are you alright?? A voice echoed from the distance….he recognized it from somewhere.

“Harry!” He jumped in surprise and opened his eyes. When had he shut them? “What's wrong Harry? You're starting to scare me.”

“Er…yeah, sorry `bout that….I-I…” It was hopeless. Speech was out of the question. Surely Hermione could understand some other form of primitive conversation because this just wasn't going to work. He began gesturing with his hands…indicating the door through which he had just come….pointing downwards, hoping to refer to the downstairs area of the Granger home, all the while sounds similar to that of a caveman spilling from his failing lips. To make matters worse, Hermione seemed even more confused by his efforts.

Finally she stood, arching her toes upwards so as not to stain the floor, and hobbled toward him with a worried expression on her face. When she got to him, one hand brandishing the open bottle of polish while the other clutched several cotton balls, she flung her arms around him.

“Oh Harry, its okay…everything is going to be okay…” She cooed softly against his shoulder, trying to reassure him as she rubbed the back of his neck. This was definitely not the reaction he was expecting. Moreover, it was eliciting a rather pesky reaction from his own body in the process. He backed away from her, his face reddening. It was obvious that Hermione had gotten the wrong idea about what was wrong with Harry.

She must have thought he was thinking about his Godfather again….

…This was definitely not the case.

“Ah-No, Hermione…”

Ah-ha, so speech had finally decided to return to him…. Tentatively, he rested his hands on her shoulders in an effort to keep her hugs at bay. They looked at each other for a minute, her with a puzzled expression and him with a blank one. It was a strange feeling. Suddenly realizing how much Hermione meant to him…in a less than friend-like way…well, it was just downright explosive. He wondered if this was how theories of spontaneous combustion had begun. “Hermione….you're painting your toenails,” he said lamely.

Stupid! Stupid! Of course that's what she's doing, numb-skull!

To his surprise Hermione giggled, “Yes, silly. I'm painting my toenails.” For a moment she just stood there smiling at him with that crooked smile of hers. She always smiled with her mouth shut, just using her lips. He supposed it was from the several years she had spent with buck teeth, and now she just couldn't kick the habit. “Was there something you wanted to say to me?”

“Your smile's crooked.” He didn't know where it had come from…he seemed to be puking up sentences from the farthest recesses of his mind. Suddenly, his racing mind was overpowering his tongue…or perhaps it was that his mind was running in slow motion. Either way, his body was just plain out of sync. Hermione's eyebrows furrowed, as they so often did, and he could tell that she was figuring him out. She always made that face when she was busy solving a problem…and now she was analyzing him.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Er…I didn't mean…it's just…” The frustration set in and he exhaled a discouraged sigh. “For Merlin's sake, why can't I speak normally!?” Hermione hopped backward in surprise. Instinctively he reached out toward her, grabbing her by the waist, “No, Hermione, I'm sorry…I'm sorry. Come back,” he said softly, pulling her towards him.

Hermione, still holding the bottle of nail polish, shuffled uncertainly back toward him barefooted. She looked up at him, big brown eyes wide with caution. Harry looked down into those eyes and gulped audibly. “What is it, Harry?”

His arm, moving of its own accord against his uncoordinated body, rose…his hand touched the curls surrounding her face. “It's just….you're so pretty.”

Hermione's eyes pulled away from his to look down at her red toenails. At first, Harry was worried that she was mad…or upset. But when her face came back up, he saw that glistening tears had formed beneath her beautiful eyes…and beneath that a smile. With teeth. It was the most beautiful sight Harry had ever had the good fortune to witness. Cotton balls scattered on the floor as she brought a hand up to rest on his, holding it to her face. “I was wondering when you'd notice,” she said simply.

Harry wasn't sure who started the kiss…he was sure it had been both of them. Either way, he found his lips pressed firmly against Hermione's. Her lips were the softest thing he'd ever felt, her skin the warmest touch he'd known. Soon, his brain was battling over whether he could go on without oxygen much longer and whether he'd be able to breathe without Hermione's lips fastened to his anyway. His lungs won and they broke apart for air. Her hands were busy disheveling his already disarrayed hair, that's when Harry noticed the bottle of nail polish on the floor and the splatters of red across his shoes.

Looking back up, he pressed his lips gently against Hermione's once more before pulling her into a tight embrace. She clung to his waist tightly and he felt her sigh against his chest. He let his eyes fall shut and rested his chin atop her head.

It was then that Harry's mind found the order it had been so desperately seeking when he had first walked into Hermione Granger's room. He let his hands rub circles across her back and spoke softly, “Your mum said to tell you that dinner's ready.”

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