A/N: Just a cute little ficlet I thought of. For once, I'm going to write one chapter. Usually, I write one and then it develops to about 10.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognize. Like all the important stuff.
It was a particularly hot day at the Burrow. Just a few minutes inside made Ron feel as if he were choking, and even though it really wasn't any better outside, Ron grabbed his broom and kicked off, feeling better as he soared up in the air.
It was the summer after seventh year. Harry Potter, his best friend, was in some ways the same little boy he had been when he had first come on the Hogwarts Express seven years ago. He was still skinny, he still had that mess of black hair on the top of his head that wouldn't lay flat. His emerald-green eyes still held that look of someone who was starved for any bit of love he could get. No amount of his mum's coddling or Hermione's fussing or even Ginny's newly-found status as his girlfriend could make up for the ten years he had spent neglected and abused. But in some ways, he was so much more than that mere memory, and he never would be the same again. After he had learned he would be the victim or the killer of a vicious murderer, Harry had never truly been the same. He had spent two years looking over his shoulder, withdrawn from his friends and everyone around him. The battle had come, as nearly everyone had expected, at the end of seventh year. Ron couldn't remember a happier time in his life than when Harry stumbled out of the Great Hall, beaten and bruised…
But alive.
And that was what mattered. There was always time for recovery, and Dumbledore had assured them Harry would eventually come around. Harry had already started, with Ginny's help. A flash of laughter would show up every once in a while, especially if Ron and Hermione were there.
Hermione.
Just the mention of her name made Ron feel happier and sadder at the same time.
Ron had known Voldemort was a real threat from his first year on. He met Harry Potter and learned first-hand about the terrors Voldemort could bestow on his victims.
But at the end of fifth year, when Sirius had died and he had almost gone as well, something in him clicked. He realized how much grief Voldemort had caused, and could cause, in his life.
That was when he looked at Hermione and saw, not a friend, but as something more. He wanted to spend the rest of his life protecting her.
No, that wasn't it.
He looped around the makeshift Quidditch pitch a few times.
He didn't want to just protect her. He could do that and stay her best friend.
He wanted to love her for the rest of his life and know that she loved him too. He wanted to wake up next to her and be able to touch her whenever he looked at her and was overwhelmed by how much he loved her.
Not that any of that mattered. Because he wasn't Harry Potter. He was Ron Weasley, the sidekick. Ron Weasley, poor and stupid and worth nothing much in life. All you had to do was look at his family to see just how dumb he really was. Bill, the oldest. Daring and brave, a member of the Order, and just…well…cool. All the girls flocked to him. Then Charlie, who worked with dragons and was in the Order as well. Percy…well…as soon as he had realized the mistake he had made, he was in the family's good graces again. At least in his mum and dad's. The boys and Ginny had had a harder time forgiving him, but they'd come around. And Percy wasn't only ambitious, he was intelligent. Once again, something Ron didn't have. And Fred and George, who had successfully opened a joke shop and gotten their mother's approval, something bloody near impossible. Ginny, the only girl, who had escaped Voldemort and who was admired by nearly everyone.
That left you with Ron, who hadn't really any talents other than being exceptionally good at chess. He was horrible at Quidditch and in his studies, which was Hermione's forte. Just his luck. He was stuck in a family of overachievers and was branded as average.
He'd never be worth Hermione. He barely deserved her as a best friend, let alone anything else.
He really thought that after two years, he'd be able to accept that.
Apparently not.
"RON!" his mother yelled from the door of the Burrow. "Ron, Hermione will be here any minute, and you're not even washed yet!"
Ron sighed and landed in front of her, regretfully getting off his Cleansweep.
"Come on now, I still need some help setting the table. Harry and Ginny can help, too, so make sure they're…decent," she said hurriedly.
Ron smirked as he climbed the steps. Ever since his mum had caught Harry and Ginny…well, things weren't the same.
"Oi, Harry, Ginny!" he yelled as he reached the third floor landing. "Mum wants you downstairs before 'Mione gets here!"
Percy stuck his head out of a door. "Ron, do you mind keeping it down?"
Ron sighed. "Sorry."
The door closed with a snap.
After seven flights, Ron finally reached his room. It was cluttered and messy, but it was his.
He rummaged through his drawers until he found a clean shirt and peeled off the one he'd been wearing.
The door opened behind him and he turned around, thinking it was Harry.
He was wrong. Quite regretfully so.
Hermione was standing in the doorway, looking beautiful as usual in a pale blue sundress. Her long, brown hair was twisted into a knot on the top of her head, and she was wearing the necklace he'd given her last Christmas.
She didn't have to bother. Cheap thing, he wished he'd been able to afford better.
She looked shocked and some other emotion Ron couldn't quite place. He suddenly realized he wasn't wearing a shirt but couldn't seem to get his arms to pull the clean one he held over his head.
"H-h-hi, Hermione," he stuttered, feeling his ears turn a bright red.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
*Hermione POV*
Of all the situations she'd imagined, Hermione had absolutely no idea this was going to happen. She felt as if she really shouldn't be staring but…Merlin, Ron looked…well…completely grown up.
"Hi, Ron," she said, trying to regain her composure.
"Er—sorry—I'll just—" he broke off and pulled a shirt over his head.
She sighed. He really did have to wear a shirt.
She just wished he didn't.
"It's all right," she replied, wondering if she sounded as stupid to him as she did in her head. "Harry's here, right?"
"Oh, yeah," he said, turning around, his red hair flopping wildly about his head. She smiled slightly. "He got here a week ago."
"Him and Ginny have really hit it off, haven't they?" she asked, searching around blindly for something they could talk about. It had never been this hard.
"Yeah…yeah," he answered without looking at her. "It's nice to see them together. You know, after Mum stopped yelling about them…er…" he trailed off.
She blushed. It was really embarrassing to talk about that sort of thing in general, but with Ron…
It was a different matter entirely.
She suspected she knew she liked him long before she actually admitted it to herself. That "last resort" comment after the Yule Ball had come out before she had time to think about what she was saying. At first, she'd been upset with herself. But then…she thought that perhaps, he'd take the hint. But no such luck. Three more years had passed by since that fateful night, and Hermione had not behaved logically at all. She thought that with time, her feelings would pass and she would be able to look at him normally again. Instead, they had simply gotten stronger until sometimes, it actually hurt her to look at him because she knew she could never be with him. She'd taken to wearing the necklace he'd gotten her last Christmas every day, but she tucked it in her robes so he wouldn't know.
She knew he'd never want her—an ugly bookworm with excellent grammar, it was true, but with absolutely no social skills. It didn't really make it any easier, though.
"I wish I could have that," he said suddenly. Hermione jerked out of her stupor and blinked a few times.
"What? Have what?" she asked.
"What Harry and Ginny have," he said, almost wistfully, looking at her in a way that made her feel weak. "You know, just being with that person and knowing it's enough, being with them and feeling like…"
"Nothing could go wrong," she continued quietly.
He looked at her for a long moment and she looked right back at his crystal blue eyes, almost afraid to break the glance.
"RON! HERMIONE!" Mrs. Weasley's voice snapped the mood in half. "Time for dinner!"
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Dinner was an unusually quiet affair. The twins, Bill, Charlie and Mr. Weasley were gone, so it was just Mrs. Weasley, Harry, Ginny, Percy, Ron, and Hermione.
Hermione picked at her food, unable to eat. She kept on chancing glances at Ron, and then at Harry and Ginny, who kept on smiling at one another. Finally, she could take it no longer.
"Can I please be excused?" she asked in a rushed voice, standing up.
"Why—Hermione…are you all right?" Mrs. Weasley asked.
"Yes, I'm fine," Hermione lied. She had to get out of that house or else she'd explode.
Before she knew it, she had opened the door and ran down to the lake where Harry and Ron used to swim while she read on the bank.
She sat down and tucked her knees in close to her. Was this what it was going to be like? Her being forced to watch Harry and Ginny date, then get married and have children and grow old together, while Ron met some girl and married her? She would be old Auntie Hermione, an old maid who studied her life away.
What an intriguing thought.
Tears slipped slowly down her cheeks. She rarely cried, but she just couldn't take it anymore. Ron being so close to her and yet so far was a silent and cruel sort of torture.
"Hermione?" she heard his voice behind her and for once, didn't bother to wipe the tears away.
"Hermione, are you all—" he stopped as he saw her face. "You're crying."
She didn't respond as he sat down next to her.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?" she said, surprised at how choked up her voice really was.
"I must have done something wrong," he answered, looking at her. "I'm sorry."
"You didn't do anything, Ron."
That was exactly the problem.
"Well, something's obviously wrong," he said. "What is it?"
"I can't—I can't tell you," Hermione looked away from him. Looking into his eyes felt like drowning, but she couldn't help thinking that it was a lovely way to die.
"Yes, you can!" he insisted. "We're friends, aren't we?"
"Yes," she agreed bitterly. "We are. Nothing more and nothing less."
"Hermione, look at me," Ron said seriously. She slowly turned her head and looked at him. His red hair was piled messily on his head, and his freckles dusted his nose and cheeks.
Without a warning, he touched his lips gently to hers.
Despite what Ron probably thought, she had never been kissed, especially not by Viktor. It was a new and wonderful experience, and she had just enough time to realize she wanted more before he pulled away.
"Hermione, I have to tell you something," he said, locking his eyes with hers.
She swallowed.
"I—er—well—the thing is, I…well…I love you."
She didn't know what to say. Did he really just tell her he loved her? Or was this another dream?
"I think I have ever since I met you, even when I was calling you bossy and a know-it-all and everything…because you know I didn't mean it. But I finally realized it after Sirius died…because I realized how easily I could lose you without ever telling you how much I loved you…and I understand if you don't feel the same way."
Tears spilled onto her cheeks again, but this time, she didn't care. She nearly flung herself at Ron and hugged him the hardest she ever had in her life. She felt him hug her back and she didn't want to let go, ever, even though she knew he'd be there with her for the rest of her life.
This was what heaven felt like. It had to be.