Feeling

It's funny how looking at one thing can make you think of something else entirely. Coming down the stairs this morning, my eyes fell on a bookshelf in the corner. That was it, just a bookshelf. But just seeing the dark mahogany wood brought back memories of sitting in my fathers lap in his study when I was young, trying to memorize every detail of a map spread out on his desk.

It wasn't really even the memory that came to me. It was more of simple feelings. Feeling like I was wrapped up, safe and tight. The feeling of taking a bunch of lines and letters and figuring what they meant to me. And just looking at that bookshelf made me smile.

Now I'm sitting on one of the big couches in the common room. I'm hugging a pillow to my chest and staring off into space. Ron is sitting next to me, his shoulder touching mine. He's talking to Harry, who's sitting nearby, somewhere. I've lost track of their conversation that started with Quidditch hours ago. I'm trying not to think about Ron. It's beginning to be really hard to ignore that every time he moves, he brushes against me.

"Hermione? You OK?" he asks, his voice soft and very close.

I look at him and squeeze the pillow tighter. Just looking at him, I feel safe. And happy.

I smile; I can't help it. Looking at him makes me think of all our fights and plenty of things I wish I'd never said, but I smile anyway, because its Ron. It's Ron, my best friend, and I love him. I love him as a friend, and I love him as more. I love him as Ron.

I lean my head against his shoulder, smiling still as I breathe in the unique smell that is Ron.

"Yeah Ron. I'm fine," I whisper.

I close my eyes. His arm finds its way around my waist, and I feel safe. I feel safe and happy with my Ron.

A/n: This came right off the top of my head. I'm sorry about the title; I'm horrible at those. Hope you loved the fluffy cheesiness. Please review!