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Smile Like You Mean It

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Summary: Not songfic. Ron contemplates his newfound freedom in a new happy life, while Hermione does the same - but for very different reasons; reasons that could destroy his world. Femslash mentioned. Rating for the mention of girly!sex, drugs and swears.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Harry Potter > Non-BtVS/AtS Stories > Theme: RomancedaiquirigirlFR151865008102 May 062 May 06Yes
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine - I just manipulate them to suit my own diabolical ends, bwahaha!...*ahem* Sorry. They belong to JK, whom we all love, and who will make us cry when the seventh book comes out as if the world has ended - for many of us it will have! Now onto the fic...

*~*~*~*~*



A bird calls overhead. I look up to see it, squinting against the bright summer sun, and see its silhouette soaring across the sky. The sun is so bright today that all the colours seem harsh, like a picture where the contrast has been heightened. I can see in my sister's face what mine must look like - the harsh light shows her skin as white, the darkness of the brown freckles covering it absolute. It lights her hair in such a way that parts of it seem almost blonde. Harry, sitting next to her, is of course tanned, his shock of dark hair falling into his eyes, making him look ridiculously arty and intellectual with the roll-up between his fingers. It makes me want to laugh at the truth - that he's just a scruffy git. And you...you, of course, look beautiful. You are lying back on my bare chest, chocolate hair spread out on me, and heat of it burns my skin - yet you look so perfect I daren't ask you to move. I wonder, sometimes, how on Earth a guy like me ever got you. I'd do anything to keep you mine. Your golden skin is reflecting the sunlight, eyes closed in bliss as you absorb the summer heat, and the only move you make is to lift your joint to your lips, and then your arm rests again. I do not know how long we have been sitting like this.


You must be able to feel me watching you, as your eyes flicker open to check. When you see me looking down you smile bemusedly, perfect pink lips twisting up, and in the light your eyes look almost green, instead of brown.


"Are you watching me?" you tease, and at your words the others stir, Ginny to realise that her forgotten cigarette has burnt a hole in her jeans.


"What if I am?"


I can never think of anything intelligent to say when I'm around you.


You let out a soft sound, almost a laugh, and sit up, face down, so that your hair hides it from view. I curse myself for not saying something funny, something smart, something beautiful...Something you would say.


As you stare intently at your joint Ginny scrambles forward, flopping ungracefully down on her stomach in front of you.


How you can make even flopping look graceful is a delicious mystery to me.


I see her whisper something in your ear, and as she does you flick your head, smiling, and your hair flashes gold. The two of you glitter together: the two girls I love the most, and although it is in different ways I know it is for the same reason. Nothing could mar either of you.


“Hermione…” you whisper teasingly, knowing that if your brother snaps himself out of thought he could know everything.


“What?”



She’s giggling at you now, and I’m so intent on watching the two of you sparkle that I do not think to try to listen to your words.


“I love you.”


A final smile and giggle, and Ginny pecks your lips playfully as she leans back to her patch of grass, and I wonder how my life finally got so perfect, after years of just being fucked up all the time. Today is the first day I’ve felt finally relaxed, like at long last nothing can fuck the four of us up: nothing.


I mouth back to you, ‘I love you too.’ You smile at me happily, and lie back on the grass. I will make you smile again tonight, in our secret that has become some sort of ritual, in this purgatory to repent for our lives before, which were lies. This is still a lie, but at least it contains a grain of truth: a sweet grain, like the ones found in pears. Not like before.


For the first time in seven years - since the chess game, and my realisation that my life was from thereon in ruined - I smile for real. My life is, at long last, perfect. I have a girlfriend I love, and who more importantly loves me; I have my little sister back after her years of torment (to look at her smiling now, after years of depression, shows me the blessings that summer can bring); a fantastic life. I grin from ear to ear at the sun, and come to terms with the fact that from now on, I have no reason not to be happy.


I turn my head to look up at Him, and he is smiling at the sky. I think to myself, ‘I don’t love you any more,’ and it is a shock to me, but a welcome one. I wonder what I could have done to save this. Not falling for his sister would be one. But then I think, if truth is what I crave, then this is what is needed. Now it is too late though: too late to save our broken lives.


I wonder if they’ll ever be perfect.


I look at him, and imagine one of his sister’s pure smiles on his face, and think: If only you would smile like you mean it.

The End

You have reached the end of "Smile Like You Mean It". This story is complete.

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