'In the spur of the moment'

'It's pathetic!'

Hermione inwardly groaned. She had spoken without thinking again, and insulted Ron. She could see the look of hurt and embarrassment on Ron's face as she swept over to the corner of the room.

It wasn't Ron's fault that he couldn't help himself in front of Fleur. She was a Veela, after all; she unintentionally had that effect on every man she met. Ron clearly hated the way that he responded whenever Fleur was around, and yet Hermione still couldn't contain her jealousy and anger. She had complained about Ron having the emotional range of a teaspoon, but she could hardly hold the moral high ground in that department.

Until she somehow started dating Ron (which, as dubious as that prospect seemed to her, Hermione couldn't help but hope), she could hardly get angry at him for looking at other women. They weren't dating; she was just his friend with a hidden attraction to him. She had no right to get jealous. And yet, every time it happened, she would inadvertently end up insulting and belittling Ron. Why couldn't she just keep her mouth shut? Why was it that the only times her feelings reached the surface were when she was spitting with rage?

Of course, she had tried to change things between herself and the boy she…loved? Yes, she supposed she did love him. It couldn't be passed off as just teenage hormones or a crush.

She'd been terrified that she would blow her cover too soon, and possibly get her heart broken in the process, but she had tried. She had, over the course of the past year-or-so, been dropping subtle hints about her feelings. Although none of them had really done the job.

She had casually mentioned, during a prefect patrol, that she had heard Lavender and Parvati discussing boys in her dormitory. Of course, she had said, she was offended that Ron wasn't mentioned. Ron had looked downcast and said 'of course I bloody wasn't; what girl would fancy me?'. Hermione had spent the rest of the patrol feeling immensely guilty, and blabbering about their Charms essay to fill the silence.

She had tried, during an evening spent playing wizard-chess in the common-room, to flirt with Ron. She had tried smiling more at him (Ron had avoided eye-contact and kept his eyes focused on the chess pieces), flicking her hair alluringly behind her ear (the resulting mess took several embarrassing minutes to rectify), and complimenting Ron on his chess skills (this proved pointless, as Ron correctly observed 'how would you know if you don't play Wizard Chess?'). She had eventually given up on trying, and eventually just settled for laughing at Ron's jokes. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ron smiling at her laughing face, his grin so warm and comforting. But that was surely just the fire next to them reflecting off his face.

She had softly moved her leg against Ron's under the table as they studied in the library. Ron had responded by muttering 'sorry, my legs really are too long to be allowed, aren't they,' and moving his legs in the opposite direction. It must have been Hermione's imagination, then, when she briefly saw the tips of Ron's ears flush and his eyes widen as her leg brushed against his trouser-leg…

And then: her coup de gras. In an attempt to support Ron before his first Quidditch match, she'd kissed him on the cheek. Hermione's face pinked at the memory. Ron's skin had felt smooth and tender on her lips, and her stomach had turned over. It had been almost in the spur of the moment, but she had managed it. Somehow, her face hadn't reddened like a tomato until she was out of Ron's sight.

And yet, none of her efforts seemed to have had any effect; she and Ron were still just-friends. They were stuck at an impasse; she couldn't move anything forward until she actually overcame her fears of being rejected, and she could hardly dare to hope that Ron saw her in the same way. And even if he did (by some wonderfully impossible possibility), she suspected that Ron's insecurities and self-doubts would prevent him from making a move. The poor boy really was his own worst enemy at times. He honestly thought he was the least of everyone; that the people around him wouldn't notice if he was gone, that everyone could do without him.

But she couldn't.

Despite how little Ron thought of himself, Hermione couldn't imagine a world without Ronald Bilius Weasley. She loved every inch of him, inside and out. She loved his kindness, his bravery, his loyalty and his refusal to take the easy way out. She loved the way he made her feel; that she wasn't just some bookworm who was only good for revision notes, that she was funny, witty, kind and beautiful. Ron gave her a deep, warm feeling whenever she was around him. She loved his gorgeous red hair, his bright sparkling blue eyes, the way his mouth stretched into a lopsided grin as he looked at her, and the way his ears turned red whenever he was embarrassed or flustered. It was all so… Ron.

She didn't know when things had changed between them; when she had stopped seeing him as just her best friend. Maybe she had always felt this way, but she just hadn't known how to process it. She had certainly never seen Ron in the same way she saw Harry; who had always been like a brother to her. But Ron had always felt… different.

So, here she was. Hopelessly in love with her best friend, a boy who didn't (and probably never would) realise how much she yearned for him. A boy so utterly brilliant, and insufferable, and oblivious, and irritating, and yet so utterly wonderful that it made her heart ache to be with him.

She was stuck. Her type was, and had always been, Ron Weasley. No-one would ever match up.

And therein was the problem. Because Ron would never see Hermione in the same way.

Hermione had been so focused on her thoughts that she didn't even notice what she was holding; a telescope, of which a large boxing glove appeared out of.

KAPOW!

The punching telescope had at least given her something else to think about that didn't remind her of her own romantic issues, or the growing power of Voldemort.

She hadn't meant to grab Ron and Harry under the elbows. She heard Harry yelp in pain and struggle out of her grasp, but Ron remained still. Although most of her attention was on the approaching owls, Hermione couldn't help noticing that his ears had reddened slightly, and (Hermione's heart seemed to beat quicker) had he moved slightly closer to her?

Whatever it was, she didn't have any time to consider it, because what felt like nano-seconds later, she was reading her O.W.L results.

Her brain seemed to judder to a halt as she read the crisply-printed writing.

She hadn't failed…she had passed everything…she wasn't going to get expelled…

As if from a distance, Ginny's tentative voice reached her.

'Hermione, how did you do?'

'I- not bad,' she stammered, her voice cracking slightly.

'Oh, come off it,' Ron said, striding over to her and snatching Hermione's letter out of her hands. 'Yep, nine "outstandings" and one "exceeds expectations" in Defence Against the Dark Arts.'

Hermione looked into the bright blue eyes of the youngest Weasley boy, and his mouth morphed into the usual lop-sided grin that always made her stomach flip over.

'You're actually disappointed, aren't you?'

Harry laughed in the background, but Hermione's eyes were still fixed on the redheaded boy in front of her; smiling down at her from his great height and looking half-exasperated and half-amused, with so much warmth and tenderness in his expression that he took her breath away.

Hermione felt her heart flutter against her chest.

Oh, to hell with subtle hints…

Before she knew what she was doing, Hermione threw her arms around Ron's neck and kissed him full on the mouth. His lips were soft, and she could feel a few short hairs tickling her on the cheek.

She felt Ron startle, and stagger slightly as she clung to him. He felt so strong… so safe… so alive… so Ron Weasley that the feeling of his torso against hers was sending intense shivers down her spine. And she was kissing him, and…was he kissing her back? She couldn't be sure, but she prayed he was.

Hermione snapped her eyes open, and let go, stepping away from Ron, who was staring at her in deep shock, the tips of his ears turning the tell-tale red.

Her face turning a boiling scarlet, Hermione broke eye-contact with Ron. She looked down at her feet, and her eyes flicked awkwardly from side-to-side, terrified that she'd completely lost her sanity.

'I…I have to clean my room.' Ron stammered, turning on his heel and marching out of the room. 'See you all later.'

The door closed shut behind him, and Hermione heard the creak of the steps as he climbed hurriedly up the staircase to his room.

Hermione's vision took in the surprised looks on Harry and Mrs Weasley's faces, the barely-contained giggling from Ginny, and the warm smile on Fleur's lips.

'Well,' Harry said, apparently at a loss for words. 'That was one way to celebrate getting your exam results.'

Ginny clapped Hermione on the back, grinning widely.

'Well done!' she exclaimed, still chuckling. 'You finally kissed him! You should have seen the look on his face!'

'W—what?' Hermione stammered, blood ringing in her eyes. 'What look? Is he upset with me?'

Ginny's eyes flicked quickly to Harry.

'Er,' Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. 'I don't think so. More surprised than anything.'

'Surprised?' Hermione squealed; her stomach feeling like it had dropped several feet. 'Did he… not realise how I feel about him?'

Harry and Ginny exchanged worried looks.

'I'm…I'm sure that's not it, Hermione,' Harry said, not sounding like he believed his own words.

Ginny made a wincing noise.

Hermione covered her face with her hands. What had she done?

The rest of the day passed at an agonising-slow pace.

Hermione didn't see Ron at all, but Harry did; although (despite her raven-haired friend's urging) Hermione didn't think she had much to hope for.

'Well, he doesn't seem… angry.' Harry had said, as the two of them peeled potatoes in the Burrow's kitchen. Perhaps sensing the awkwardness between the two of them, Mrs Weasley had sent Ron out with Ginny to feed the chickens. 'I think you just shocked him a little.'

'He's been avoiding me all day, Harry!' Hermione had exclaimed, blinking fast in an attempt to prevent the tears that were already threatening to spill from her eyes. 'He obviously doesn't feel the same way. And now… I've made him hate me!'

'Don't be daft!' Harry slammed the potato peeler down on the counter, his voice rising. 'You really think Ron would start hating you just because you kissed him? That's a flimsy answer, and you know it!'

Hermione felt slightly taken-aback.

'Well,' she snivelled, wiping her eyes with her handkerchief. 'How do you explain why he hasn't made any effort to talk to me since then?'

'Knowing my brother, he's probably still trying to process what actually happened.'

Ginny had joined them, leaving her wellies scattered messily near the door.

'How do you—'

'I know I can be harsh on him,' Ginny explained, earnestly grabbing Hermione by the shoulder. 'But Ron's a good bloke. He'd never do anything to hurt you. He's probably just avoiding talking to you until he can understand it all. Since it concerns you, he probably doesn't want to say the wrong thing.'

'What do you mean; "concerning me"?' Hermione asked, completely at sea. 'Why would that affect anything?'

Ginny shared a long-suffering look with Harry.

'Remember the last big argument about romance he had with you?' Harry said to Hermione, as if he were explaining to a temperamental child that two plus two equalled four. The irony was not lost on Hermione. 'At the Yule Ball?'

'I'd rather like to forget it, to be honest.'

'Well, Ron certainly didn't forget.' Ginny elaborated. 'He said a lot of things that he regretted, and he's been trying to get better ever since.'

'Didn't you think there was a reason why he didn't rise to you always making sure to write those long letters to Viktor Krum in front of him?' Harry asked.

Hermione's mouth dropped open. She had never even noticed that Ron had been changing his behaviour. And for her?

Hermione's heart gave a nervous little flutter.

'Was… was it really that obvious?' She asked, her stomach shrivelling with embarrassment and guilt. 'That I was trying to get a response from him?'

Harry and Ginny both nodded in unison.

'Then….' Hermione mumbled, brain practically whirring with confusion. '…Why didn't he say anything?'

'Well, that would be precipitated by Ron actually knowing you fancied him at the time.' Ginny elaborated. 'To be fair, you haven't exactly been trying to break down the platonic barrier between the two of you, have you?'

'What?' Hermione exclaimed; feeling stung. 'I have been trying!'

'Let me guess,' Harry sighed, rolling his eyes. 'Those "subtle hints" you kept giving him?'

'I—well, yes!' Hermione stuttered, 'I didn't want to make things too obvious, just in case he—'

'Didn't fancy you?' Harry finished. 'You do realise that blokes need strong signals before they try anything, right? Subtle hints don't work.'

'Are you serious?' Hermione felt her stomach gurgle unpleasantly. 'All of those hints, and he didn't catch on.'

'Like I said, blokes need clear signals. Like…er…'

'Snogging the bloke in question after you get your exam results?' Ginny offered, giggling. 'That should have done the trick.'

Hermione's face burned.

'I didn't snog him!'

'Looked like a pretty full-on snog to me.' Harry chuckled. 'I was surprised you didn't knock him flat.'

'Shut up, Harry! I didn't… I mean, I wasn't trying to—'

'Er, I finished feeding the chickens. No thanks to you, Ginny.'

Hermione's eyes swept towards the door, her heart seeming to beat in her ears.

Ron had just entered through the door, and was ungainly removing his wellington boots. The tops of his ears were a delicate red colour, as he stared over at the three standing near the counter. No; scratch that. He was staring at Hermione.

Outside of Hermione's vision, she saw Ginny open her mouth to respond, no doubt with a joke, but Hermione was paying so little attention that she couldn't even hear what Ginny said.

All of Hermione's senses were locked on Ron; how the sweat seemed to gleam in the sunshine, how the smell of his hair seemed to fill her nostrils, how the sound of his voice seemed to echo through her mind, and how she could almost taste his warm, spicy scent on her tongue.

As her own brown eyes met the bright blue of Ron's, Hermione felt a shiver go down her spine. But, before she could compose herself to say something, Ron's eyes darted back down to his feet.

'I've gotta get on with cleaning the bath.' He muttered, his chest heaving slightly (or was it Hermione's imagination?). 'See you lot later.'

And with that, he strode past them, keeping his eyes to the floor; without so much as another look in Hermione's direction. A few seconds later, they could hear his large footsteps as he climbed the staircase.

Hermione put her hands onto the counter to steady herself; her knees feeling like they could buckle at any moment. Her stomach seemed to be full of lead, and her heart ached against her chest.

Ginny and Harry put comforting hands on her shoulders, but they couldn't do anything to ease the escalating fear within her heart.

He hates me… he really hates me….

That night, Hermione lay awake for hours, her mind unable to rest.

Ron had spent the entire evening playing wizard chess with Harry, his head bent down low over the chess board. A few times, he raised his head to look at Hermione, who was sat nearby reading "Arithmancy: NEWT level studying for swottish students" on the sofa. However, Hermione couldn't bear to meet his eyes; her heart aching beneath her t-shirt, and her eyes blinking quickly to prevent the tears from developing.

Eventually, she decided that she had to get some water from the kitchen. She moved quietly, making sure not to wake Ginny as she left their shared room.

Hermione moved through the sleeping house. She could hear the soft breathing of people as she made her way past various bedroom doors.

Eventually, she climbed off the bottom step of the staircase. Hermione rubbed her eyes blearily as she entered the kitchen, only to stop dead in her tracks as she registered the sight before her.

Ron was sat at the table, his mouth full of the biscuits he was eating off a plate. Crumbs littered his cheeks, and his hair was sticking up in all directions. Hermione couldn't help but notice that he was only wearing a t-shirt and pyjama shorts.

'I'm… I'm so sorry,' Hermione mumbled, feeling her face burn. She turned to leave. 'I didn't know you were…I'll come back later…goodnight—'

'Wait!' Ron exclaimed, somehow managing to talk through the biscuits. 'Hermione, please don't go!'

Like she could ever say no to spending time with Ron, even in this situation…

Hermione sat down on the seat opposite Ron, not quite managing to look him in the eye. She was suddenly very aware that her hair probably looked a mess, and that she was only wearing a thin vest-top and shorts.

Ron swallowed his mouthful of biscuits, and his eyes lingering for a split second on the witch sat in front of him. A slight blush appeared on his cheeks, and he blinked repeatedly.

'Er,' Ron started, as Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. He looked a little lost-for-words. 'Would you like something to eat?'

Hermione shook her head.

'Just a drink of water, please.'

Ron got up, taking a glass from a cupboard nearby, and filling it at the sink. As he turned his back to her, Hermione found herself staring at his broad shoulders and the several inches of visible skin exposed on his neck.

'Thank you,' she said, taking the glass.

'No problem, what are friends for, after all?' Ron said. Then his cheeks flushed, and he looked down at his feet. 'Although, I wouldn't think that most friends do…well, what you did after we got our results.'

Hermione felt her face heat up.

'Ron, I'm… I'm so sorry!' she exclaimed, her eyes beginning to tear up slightly. 'That wasn't right of me to do that!'

'Oh.'

There was a long pause. Hermione could feel her heart turning to lead, and her stomach seemed to have dissolved into her legs.

Ron swallowed loudly, and spoke again.

'Did you… did you not mean to kiss me?'

Hermione wiped her eyes, feeling very confused.

'Did I not mean to—'

'I mean…' Ron continued, his face turning a deep maroon. 'I can understand why you'd regret kissing a prat like me…'

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. This couldn't be happening, surely?

'I just wanted you to know that I…' Ron swallowed, as if steeling his nerves. '…Well, I don't regret you doing it.'

Did that mean what Hermione thought it meant? No, it couldn't be possible…

'R—really?'

Ron nodded.

'It's one of the happiest moments of my life.' He said, earnestly. 'Please… please don't be sorry about it.'

Hermione felt like her heart had leapt into her mouth. She couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. Did Ron really not mind at all? Did he… no, that was impossible.

'B-but…why?' Hermione asked, blood pounding in her ears. 'Why would you be so happy about that?'

Ron bent down, cupped her face softly with his hand, and brought his lips to hers.

In an instant, Hermione's brain seemed to short-circuit.

All she could think about was the way Ron's lips tasted like strawberries, and the softness of his skin against hers; which keep sending shivers down her spine.

'Did that explain it?'

Hermione nodded, feeling strangely weightless. However, a synapse fired in her brain, and a thought occurred to her.

'B—but…' she stammered, looking into the freckled face that she loved. 'Why did you avoid me all day?'

Ron's face creased with embarrassment, as if he had been caught in wrongdoing.

'Sorry about that.' He said, his eyes crinkling in nervousness. 'You see… after you kissed me, whenever I saw you… I wanted to kiss you so much. But everyone—else was always around… this house is so busy with all the people… I didn't think you'd want everyone—else to see that, not after how embarrassed you looked after you kissed me. I was kind-of hoping to catch you alone, but I never got the chance… until now that is.'

Hermione's brain rattled and her heart seemed once-again to be beating hard in her ears. He had wanted to kiss her that much? And he'd held off just in case she got embarrassed?

'I'm… I'm sorry,' Ron said, taking Hermione's hand in his. 'I was worried you'd start thinking that I hated you.'

'Apology accepted. And you know me too well.'

'Of course I do. I've been in love with you since I was thirteen.' Ron said, and Hermione felt like her heart had risen up into her mouth. 'And, just for the record, I could never hate you, Hermione.'

'The feeling is mutual.' Hermione smiled, warm tingles going up and down her spine. 'And I've loved you since I was thirteen too, Ron.'

Ron grinned, his gorgeous blue eyes twinkling. He wrapped his eyes round Hermione, and brought his face closer to hers, making their noses bop against each-other.

'Bloody hell, 'Mione.' —Hermione's stomach exploded with butterflies at the nickname— 'I wish you'd kissed me a lot earlier.'

Hermione smiled again, her heart beating triumphantly in her ears.

'Well, better late than never, I suppose,' she said, as Ron began to gently kiss her neck, making her giggle. 'And it was in the spur of the moment.'

'Please do that more often.' Ron murmured, as his lips gently traced her ear. Hermione felt more excited shivers going down her spine.

'Oh, definitely…' Hermione grinned, as she brought her lips to Ron's for the second time that day. But it certainly wouldn't be the last.