Late Night Snack
Title: Late Night Snack
Prompt: The Burrow, middle of the night
Description: Nothing short of a raging war will interrupt them again.
Ron woke without opening his eyes. Filtered by his closed eyelids, it seemed to him that there was no light in his room; he guessed it was all pitch black. Through the soft mist clouding his waking mind, he realized then he had probably slept a whole day and at least half the night.
He tried to go back to sleep, but soon gave up. He opened his eyes to look around his room, a world of black and grey around him and around Harry, who was sleeping in his cot.
Harry, who had ended the war. Harry, who had insisted he would sleep in the same lumpy mattress he had gotten used to over the years, when the house had filled up with all of Ron’s family after the Battle. Harry, who was now snoring away, clearly still needing to rest after all they had done and survived over the past few weeks. Over the past years, really.
But Ron didn’t want to think of that. He didn’t want to think of hardship and loss and grief. The war was over and it was time to think of hope and happiness and a bright future. That was what they had fought for, wasn’t it? He would be honouring everyone… and Fred… if he did just that. So he got up quietly, trying not to wake Harry, promising he would focus on healing and growth and the full potential ahead. That’s what you lived for, brother. I will do it for you.
He went to the bathroom, where he checked his watch to learn it was 3:32 in the morning. But he was thirsty, and he was ravenous, so he ignored the notion that going for breakfast this early would be a bad idea. He would willingly ruin his chances of settling into a normal schedule if it meant his stomach would stop rumbling, so he went straight to the kitchen. Apparently, Ron wasn’t the only one who had decided to ignore sensibility, for Hermione was sitting there, her back to him, holding a steaming cup of tea in her hands.
He stopped at the doorway, hesitant to disrupt her, but she must have sensed him for she turned around on her chair to look at him.
“Hey,” she said.
“Morning,” he said back, and walked to the food cupboard. “Are you eating anything? I’m starving.”
“I had a couple of biscuits. There are more on the jar.”
“Biscuits? Nah, I need something more filling right now. Do you want a sandwich? I can make you one if you like.”
It took her a moment to reply, which he knew meant she was hesitant to eat at this absurd hour. She must have been as hungry as he was, for she finally relented. “Thanks, I’d love that.”
Ron worked quietly, unsure of what to say. As soon as he had seen her sitting there, he had been invaded by a million and one thoughts and visions and wants, but none seemed to distill into an idea or plan. Only one thing was clear: he wanted to somehow steer the conversation to the kiss they had shared about twenty-four hours ago, and ask whether they could do it again.
He really, really wanted to kiss her again.