Inell's Fanfiction Archive

She stared at the tranquil lake, oblivious to the light rain that had begun to fall. Why had he done it? He didn't like her, didn't trust her, and thought they were stupid for letting her help. She could have faced Voldemort herself and he still wouldn't have believed she was truly against the side that had claimed the majority of her former friends and her parents. There was no mark on her arm and she'd die before seeing one there, but he just sneered and muttered things about spies and Slytherin liars. It didn't even matter that Potter could care less that she was there or that Granger, of all people, defended her right to be there. He still looked at her and scowled and muttered and treated her as if she didn't deserve a second chance. Why, then, had he kissed her? It didn't make any sense whatsoever, not that Ronald Weasley would ever be accused of making sense by anyone, even his closest friends and relatives. Worse, though, was her reaction to the kiss. It did things to her that snogging Draco had never done and it had just been a brief meeting of lips. When she heard footsteps behind her, she didn't need to turn to see who it was. When he sat beside her on the small bench, she didn't look at him. When he took her hand in his, so large and rough yet gentle as he held hers, she didn't flinch away. When his caloused fingers brushed against her cheek and urged her to look at him, she closed her eyes for fear that it was only another dream. But when his lips touched hers with more purpose, not a hesitant and tentative kiss like before, she parted her own and kissed him back.