A/N: Have you ever noticed that, at the end of the fifth book, Harry leaves Ron, Hermione, and Ginny alone in the hospital wing while he goes for a walk? Well, this first chapter is my take on what happened back indoors. Next chapter soon!
As Harry's receding back turned a corner, Ginny cleared her throat nervously. "I've got to go and, er, meet someone," she said vaguely, and hurried out. Ron felt strangely grateful that she'd left, but Hermione was looking after her almost desperately. Doesn't she want to be alone with me? thought Ron indignantly, then shook himself mentally. Stop that. Without really thinking what he was doing, he reached out to cup his hand over hers, but she moved, and he had to cover up the sudden lunge by scratching his knee.
"Hey....Hermione?" he said at length.
"Ye—Yeah?" "Are you all right?"
"Oh, yeah, I'm fine, Madam Pomfrey's working wonders," she replied, knowing that was only half what he'd meant.
"No, I mean....you seem sad."
"Oh, well...I'm just worried about Harry," she said evasively, "you know, he's been really down since......" Her voice dwindled away. Somehow, he wished it wouldn't. His mind searched for a question.
"Does this have anything to do with Viktor?" She seemed about to snap at him, but instead she blushed and said, "Sort of."
"Oh." Somehow, at the mention of Krum, something happened to Ron's emotions. He felt angry, for a reason he couldn't explain, and jealous, for a reason he didn't really want to know. But then he looked up at Hermione, and the anger was replaced with a deep, pulsating ache somewhere inside him, a long-suppressed longing that he was afraid to examine, and afraid not to.
"You're my best friend, you know. More than Ginny, more than Harry, more than anybody." Ron blinked. He was stunned, happy, and, again, a little frightened of what was to come next. "What's this got to do with Krum?" Suddenly, she looked up and then down into his face, his arms supporting him on the mattress.
"Everything."
"What are you saying?" he said slowly.
"Well—I'm asking—what am I to you? Am I a friend, or something more, or....what am I?" Once Ron would have laughed and said that of course she was his friend, and of course she was nothing more. But now....well, he wasn't sure anymore.
"I don't know," he said finally. "You're....somewhere in between. You're you." Then, with difficulty, "You're me." He looked up quickly, and there she was: the missing piece to the puzzle of his emotions, only just put in; the subject of that wonderful, terrible ache deep inside him.
She seemed too surprised and joyful to speak. Instead, she leant down and kissed him gently on the lips, experimentally. "There." Each of them breathed a great sight of relief that they'd been holding for such a very long time. Then, a longer, more certain kiss—
"Bed! BED!!" screeched Madam Pomfrey. "Save it for out of my hospital wing, Miss Granger! To bed with you! NOW!" Hermione climbed meekly back into her own little hospital wing bed and stared at Ron for a long time before they both fell asleep.
