“Shut it, you dumb bird!”

Small brown feathers floated in the air as one Ronald Weasley hit his pet owl with his pillow. “Can’t you ever learn to stay bloody still for one moment?!”

“Hoo!”

It was summer holidays after Ron’s fifth year at Hogwarts. Bill and Fluer had come back announcing their engagement, resulting in some resentment with the two Weasley women. Fred and George on the other hand were still busy with their joke shop whilst Charlie was still out in Romania.

As for Ron, his holidays only started to get better when a certain Hermione Granger arrived at the Burrow, bringing her usual Muggle gifts for his ever delighted father. They had spent countless conversations about the extraordinary non-magical items together. It somehow made Ron admire and adore the moments Hermione shared with his family members. They simply just love her.

It was today that he woke up early in the morning; all credits to Pigwidgeon. Again, he heard the thunder grumbled as the rain poured. Although, he found that the thunder was not loud enough to change the comfy atmosphere of the cold morning.

Looking at the clock on his side table, he realised it was ten minutes past eight. “Bloody hell, Pig! It’s too early for me to be up yet!”

Muttering to himself again about his ruddy owl, he went up to the window and stretched his body, yawning away his sleepiness. He then adjusted his blue eyes to the view outside. The pigs and chickens it seemed were already put into the garage to prevent them from the rain.

It was overall a cold and serene morning to wake up to. He was somehow thankful to be up and enjoy the beautiful moment. It was rare of him to catch upon such time of the day whenever he was back in his family house.

Finally, his eyes landed at the scene far below his window at the small flower field his mother had lovingly put up. There was Hermione, soaked from head to bottom, jumping and twirling in the middle of the bed of flowers. Funny enough, none of the flowers got trampled over; although he could not be too sure since his room was too high up.

She was pirouetting elegantly, hands out with her head facing the sky. The yellow sundress she adorned clinged to her petite body, but still able to sway as she twirled again and again. One would have thought she had lost her mind and had exchanged bodies with Luna Lovegood.

Ron envied her capability of a perfect balance. If he was to admit, he would say that she looked absolutely divine at that very moment, even though her bare feet were covered in mud. Subconsciously, he found himself in a trance as he continued watching her danced; sometimes with an imaginary partner, or sometimes just enjoying herself.

She’s beautiful.

He trudged down the stairs to get to the ground level of the Burrow to join her. Upon reaching the opened entrance door, he halted. Hermione was actually humming to herself. It was a song he could not entirely recognise since it was probably some Muggle song.

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Hermione spun again, one hand up in the air; as if being twirled by a partner. She had always loved the rain ever since young. She had always found this weather sort of having the aptitude of washing away all her regrets and unhappiness. Simply put, she found that being under the rain was like rejuvenation.

It was during a turn that she caught a glimpse of red. Stunned as she was, her legs lost their balance. She toppled over the many flowers with mud splashing all around her; bottom first.

“Now that was a graceful climax,” chuckled Ron, unfolding his arms as he ambled towards her from door he was leaning on.

“Shut up, Ron. How long were you standing there, anyway?”

Cursing herself for still being underage and not allowed to do outside magic, she tried to clean off her dress as much as she could - the rain being no help at all. Luckily, Mrs. Weasley had her flowerbed enchanted so that the flowers would not be trampled however much they were being stepped on.

A shadow loomed over her head. Looking up, she saw Ron offering a hand to help her up. Astounded by his odd gentleman antics, she took his hand without question.

In an instant, she felt herself starting to blush. But as she tried to let go of their hands, Ron only pulled her closer. One hand already on her waist, whilst the other that had helped her up remained clasped around her right hand.

“You needed a partner.”

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Unbeknownst to them, Molly Weasley smiled from behind the frosted window. There, under the misty rain, were her youngest son and the bushy haired girl she adored, waltzing barefooted in her garden.

The scene looked almost like a beautiful painting to her. There was even a certain magical glow emitting from the two teenagers. If only they knew what it meant.

“Soulmates,” muttered the old woman.

Lounging back onto her sofa with a teary smile, she thought that breakfast could definitely wait.