Ron/Hermione ("cattywampus")
“Y’okay?” Ron’s voice dragged her eyes from the wall she’d been zoning out on.
She was prone to moments of external absentmindedness when her thoughts were buzzing and connecting, her physical form momentarily forgotten and left stationary as her inner self scurried around. But her thoughts hadn’t been racing along a single track this time; they hadn’t been racing at all. They felt heavy and empty, and she felt the same for it.
“I’m just feeling…” She trailed off. The inability to define it was another layer to the way her brain felt, like sodden newspaper left on a park bench. Full of information but rendered unreadable.
“Cattywampus,” Ron supplied. It was the word as much as his definitive tone that brought her eyes to him, the beginning of a smile tugging at the edge of her mouth.
“That’s not a word.”
He scoffed playfully. “It absolutely is. It’s the word to describe how you look right now.”
“Ah.” She pressed her lips together, half-annoyed that she was already smiling. “And how do I look right now?”
He walked to stand in front of her, hands raising to rest on her shoulders. “Out of sorts,” he said. “Slightly askew.”
It was remarkably perceptive. She let out a little exhale, at having a word for it, and such a silly one at that. He smiled, hands shifting her slightly to the right until she was directly in front of him.
“There,” he said. “Now you’re skew.”
“That’s not a word,” she snipped, but the accompanying eye roll felt good.
Ron shrugged. “And yet you know what I mean.”
“Yes.” She sighed and stepped forward, letting his hands slide over her shoulders and around her. She exhaled into the hug. “I do.”