'Summer in the City'

Hermione Granger was in a good mood.

After back-and-forth letters with her two best friends for the past three weeks, they had finally decided on a day to meet up in The Leaky Cauldron.

Harry had never had the chance to sight-see around London due to his horrible relatives the Dursleys.

And Ron… well, where to start with Ron?

He was a pureblood wizard who had grown up in rural Devon. The only times he had interacted in Muggle London were the brief journeys to and from Kings Cross Station at the start and end of each academic year. He had grown up in the wizarding world, and therefore didn't really under the muggle world; although (like all the Weasley family) he found it interesting rather than uncomfortable.

On top of that, Ron was also kind, caring, funny, and utterly gorgeous.

Hermione had been well aware of all of this for several years now. Ron Weasley was… an enigma. He wasn't academically minded like she was (although his grades were fine). He wasn't traditionally handsome. He was the complete opposite of the boys Hermione's parents expected her to be attracted to.

And yet, he got under Hermione's skin. She could argue and bicker with him, and not feel like he was getting sick of her. If anything, he seemed to enjoy their bickering. To an outsider, it might seem like they couldn't stand each-other, but nothing could be further from the truth.

They might not have matched up on paper, but Ron Weasley was (in virtually every way) Hermione Granger's perfect other half. Where she was logical, he was emotional. Where she was intense, he was relaxed. The cool water to her raging fire.

Hermione was doomed. Before she had even realised it, she had fallen inescapably in love with Ron Weasley. Before she had even started noticing boys, she had noticed Ron.

She had never stopped noticing him. When he was in a room, her eyes were irresistibly drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. When he spoke, his voice sent shivers down her spine and butterflies into her stomach. When he laughed, the sound was like bird-song to Hermione's ears.

Needless to say, it had been ridiculous of her not to realise her feelings sooner.

Granted, her feelings for Ron had impacted slightly on her judgement regarding the planning of the meet-up in Muggle London. But Harry would be there as well, a platonic buffer who would prevent Hermione completely losing her head around their mutual redheaded best friend.

Often, Hermione wished that Harry wasn't around them quite as much, so she could spent some time alone with Ron. She liked Harry a lot; he was like a brother to her, but she did despair of his constant presence around her and Ron.

However, this would not be the case tomorrow.

A few hours previously, she had sent Ron's Owl Pigwidgeon away with her reply to Ron's last letter, which covered what parts of Muggle London they would be visiting.

She'd suggested The British Museum and the National Gallery, plus a look around the Westminster area, and she was hoping Ron would like her choices.

As if responding to her thoughts, Pigwidgeon promptly bounced off the glass of her bedroom window, having flown straight into the pane.

Chuckling slightly, Hermione opened the window, and the slightly-dazed owl swooped into the room, dropping Ron's reply into Hermione's hands as it did so.

As Pigwidgeon began to drink out of a cup of tea nearby, Hermione opened up the letter, and read.

Hermione,

How typical of you is that? Museums, art galleries and popping round the houses of parliament?! Me and Harry need to have more of a bad influence on you!

Seriously, though, that all sounds great! Looking forward to catching up with you. And Harry, of course.

Miss you,

Can't wait to see you,

Ron

Hermione smiled to herself. She couldn't help but re-read those last three lines over and over again.

She hurriedly pulled a scrap bit of parchment towards her and wrote quickly;

Ron,

Glad you like those choices; hopefully, you won't be completely bored out of your mind! Can't wait to see you tomorrow (and Harry as well)!

I miss you too,

Love,

Hermione

Hermione felt her heart beat quicker as she looked down at the second-to-last line. True, she did write the same in her letters to Harry, but that was different. With Harry, it was familial. Like she was his older sister, and he was her (slightly annoying) little brother who kept getting into mischief.

But with Ron?

With Ron, she always blushed a little writing those 'love's; it felt like she was sneaking a little confession of her feelings into every letter she sent to the redheaded boy.

She gave her reply to Pigwidgeon; who gave a happy hoot and promptly soured straight into the closed side of the window. Hermione chuckled again as the owl bounced off the glass, and flew out the open side instead.

Hermione looked down at Ron's letter again. Did he really miss her that much? Who would miss her? And miss her so much that they'd happily wander around museums and art galleries just to be with her again?

Did Ron-?

Honestly, she chastised herself, don't get your hopes up; we're just meeting up. And Harry's going to be there the entire time, so it's not we're going on a date-

Hermione's train of thought was interrupted as a loud tap at the window. Hedwig was stood on her window-still.

Hermione let the snowy owl in. Taking the letter from Hedwig's claws, she skim-read Harry's handwriting.

Hermione,

Sorry, but I can't make it. Dumbledore's just sent me a letter warning me not to wander around the muggle world. Hopefully, Ron won't hate me for skipping out (send him my regards, by the way).

Enjoy your date,

Harry

Maybe she was just being paranoid, but Hermione had the distinct impression Harry had written the letter whilst laughing. She also very much doubted that Dumbledore had asked Harry not to wander around Muggle London; security wasn't that tight, even for Harry.

Her eyes ran over Harry's letter again.

"Enjoy your date"

Hermione's stomach seemed to drop several feet. A date? With Ron? No, they were just two friends spending time together. Yes, she had been attracted to Ron since she was thirteen years old. But her one-sided feelings didn't automatically make it a date.

It could never happen between her and Ron. He was brave, and kind, and sweet, and friendly, and just wonderful. And she was Hermione Granger, a brainy know-it-all with no social skills.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as the usual tears threatened to spill.

No, she thought loudly at herself, you can't beat yourself up over this. Sure, Ron doesn't fancy you, but he's still your friend. He cares about you.

Hermione spent the night tossing and turning; never able to entirely relax. Eventually, she fell into an uneasy sleep, full of dreams revolving around Ron ignoring her to stare at a parade of Veela women. It didn't take an 'Outstanding' in Divination to figure out what that meant.

In fact, Hermione slept so badly that she almost slept through her alarm. After ten minutes of it ringing, she finally woke up.

It took her so long to tame her bushy hair (which had chosen that day of all days to develop massive tangles everywhere) that she almost missed the underground train to Charring Cross.

She nervously opened the door to the Leaky Cauldron, and waited nearby the fireplace where Ron would be travelling to by floo-powder from the Burrow.

Hermione leant against a nearby wall, and tried to catch her breath back. The pub was almost completely empty (which was unusual for that time of year), although Tom the old barman was stood reading a book behind the bar.

Well, here we go, Hermione thought, trying to calm her busying heart, just you and Ron spending a day together as friends, don't get your hopes up…

But she couldn't help but get her hopes up. She had never spent a day alone with Ron during the summer holidays. Even when they had been ensconced in Grimmauld Place the previous summer, there had always been other people around. They'd been so focused on cleaning the house that they'd never really gotten a chance to relax around each-other. And besides, that been before Ron had given her that perfume for a Christmas present. Before she had even dared to hope that maybe… just maybe… he might see her as more than a friend.

Hermione smiled sadly to herself. It was a pretty forlorn hope, but she couldn't help it.

Without warning, the fireplace burst into flames, and a redheaded figure emerged, beaming from ear-to-ear.

'Hermione!'

Ron Weasley was stood in front of her, his blue eyes glistening in the light of the lamps nearby, and his face covered in soot. He was wearing an old t-shirt (no doubt Charlie's, considering the dragon imprinted on the front), and a pair of slightly-too-short jeans that had clearly seen better days.

In other words, he was breathtakingly handsome.

Hermione felt goosebumps erupt along her arms and back as Ron pulled her into a tight hug. He smelled like an intoxicating mix of soot, chocolate and freshly-mown grass.

There was an audible chuckle from nearby, and Ron hurriedly let go, his ears turning red.

Tom, the old barman of the pub, was grinning knowingly at the two teenagers. This clearly wasn't the first time two young sorcerers had met up for the day in his pub.

'Er, should we…?' Ron asked, trailing off. He looked rather uncomfortable. Hermione felt her heart sink slightly; was the assumption that they were a couple that distressing for him?

'O-oh, yes!' Hermione squeaked, trying to keep her voice cheerful as she began to move towards the door. 'We've got so much to see!'

A few minutes later, they were walking towards the British Museum. Ron had insisted on paying for his own ticket, using some Muggle money he'd changed in Gringotts earlier in the summer.

Hermione has always loved wandering around museums. The British Museum was, of course, one of the best around (at least, in London, anyway). She remembered the first time she had visited it as a small child with her mother and father. Even at such a young age, she'd been deeply intrigued in every exhibit.

Today was no exception. There was a fascinating study on early Rome, as well as an in-depth exhibit on the ancient Britons. And another one on the industrial revolution and another one on the Tudors and….

Hermione heard an all-too-familiar chuckle.

She looked up from the glass case she was looking at to see Ron grinning at her, dimples appearing in his cheeks.

'What is it?' she asked, feeling a little embarrassed. Had she reminded me of how much of a swot she was? Well done Hermione, she thought, you get one day alone with him and you just ignore him…. 'Sorry, are you getting bored?'

'Not at all,' said Ron, still smiling down at her. 'I just think it's nice to see you enjoying yourself.'

Hermione felt her face burn. Did Ron not realise how wonderful he was when he said things like that? He was going to give her heart failure if he wasn't careful.

A few hours later, they wandered over to the National Gallery. Ron took his time looking at each individual painting. Hermione had assured him that none of the paintings would be moving, but he still insisted on staring at each just in case they did move.

In some of the galleries, Ron even looked slightly emotional. Such was the case when looking at examples of Norwegian artwork that used stark contrasts of lightness and darkness to make a mood. Ron's eyes teared up at one point, and Hermione cautiously rested her hand on his arm. He smiled down at her, and Hermione's stomach turned over.

In other galleries, Ron was much more cheerful. In the gallery labelled 'Abstract Expressionism', Ron bounced around, grinning from ear to ear.

'What a painting, Hermione!' he whisper-shouted, smiling broadly. 'It doesn't look like anything!'

'That's the point, Ron!' Hermione giggled, as she watched the redheaded young man rock excitedly on the balls of his feet.

'These muggles were mad!' Ron grinned, before catching himself. 'Er, not in a bad way, of course. A bit like how you go mad over school-work.'

Hermione felt her cheeks flush with warmth. If anyone-else had said that about her, she would have been insulted. But she knew Ron didn't mean it like that; he genuinely liked how much of a swot she was.

'Hey, Hermione; look at that!'

'Ron, that's a cinema poster…'

'I know, isn't it cool?!'

Hermione smiled; they had just finished looking round the Houses of Parliament, and were wandering back to the leaky cauldron. Ron was pointing at ordinary muggle things, and grinning happily like a child in a sweet shop. Despite how much he'd try to deny it, Ron really was extraordinarily like his father.

Ron was still grinning at the poster in wide-eyed wonder.

'Hey, look at that boy…'

'I know, right…'

Hermione's attention was diverted towards three girls standing nearby. They looked roughly Hermione's age, and were all unashamedly staring at Ron.

'He's gorgeous…'

'Why's he staring at that poster?'

'Who cares? Look at those muscles….'

Hermione felt her jaw clench, as she processed what was happening. These girls were mentally undressing Ron… her Ron…not that he was her possession, of course… but he was still her friend…

'That girl's glaring at us…'

'The one with the bushy hair?...'

'Must be his girlfriend…'

The three girls seem to quail under Hermione's angry glare, and they quickly slipped away.

'Hermione, you okay?'

Ron had turned away from the poster, looking at Hermione. His face was concerned. Hermione felt her heartbeat quicken.

'I'm fine, Ron,' she said, smiling. 'Is there anything else you'd like to see?'

Ron knotted his brow, thinking hard. Then, a thought seemed to occur to him.

'Wait, I haven't seen your house yet!'

Hermione's stomach seemed to turn over.

'No, you haven't,' she mumbled, her heart-beat quickening. 'I mean, are you sure? It's not that interesting-'

'But it is!' Ron replied, grinning broadly. 'It's where you live, isn't it! Besides, we've been friends for years, and you've seen my house. Please, Hermione?'

Hermione felt her resolve crumble under Ron's enormous puppy-dog eyes. Why couldn't she ever say no to him?

'O-okay, then.' Hermione stammered. 'We'll have to get the underground…'

Ron spent the underground ride happily grinning around. Hermione couldn't help but stare at him; he really did stick out like a sore thumb in muggle London. Not only was he so unused to the muggle world, but he was also a small-town boy at heart. The commuters around them eyed Ron with the same suspicion they regarded anyone who showed friendliness on public transport. Hermione distinctly remembered a Northerner once causing utter panic on an underground line by saying 'hello' to everyone they met.

At one point, the carriage became so crowded that Hermione felt herself pressed up against Ron's chest. He was so close that she could hear his heartbeat through his clothes.

'S-sorry,' she mumbled against his t-shirt. 'It can get very busy on here.'

'No…No problem,' Ron replied. Hermione wondered whether his ears were turning red, but she couldn't bring herself to look at his face.

Mercifully, they finally reached Hampstead, and exited the underground train.

'Oooh, look at that boy…'

'Shhhh, he'll hear you…'

Oh, not again….

Sure enough, there were several teenage girls standing just outside the station, and every single one of them was staring at Ron.

Hermione could happily admit that Ron was very attractive, but did every girl on the planet have to realise it too?

'Wow, muggle London is brilliant, Hermione! Today's been amazing!' Ron grinned, smiling down at her.

Hermione tried not to feel smug as the collective mouths of the girls around them dropped open. Did they think that Hermione was Ron's girlfriend? That was a nice thought.

They began to walk towards Hermione's house, which was a few streets away. The initial awkwardness from the train ride had dissipated, and the two of them had a nice conversation going.

However, Ron happened to be standing nearby a large puddle of water as a double-decker bus went straight through it.

A tidal wave of water swept over Ron, and he stumbled backwards in shock.

'Well, that was unexpected,' Ron chuckled, spitting water out of his mouth. 'You okay, Hermione?'

Hermione seemed to have lost the ability to talk. Ron's t-shirt was now almost entirely transparent, revealing strong chest muscles and a few coppery ginger hairs around his belly button.

'Y-yes,' Hermione mumbled, dropping her eyes from Ron's torso. 'Er, I think so. Not sure about you, though.'

'Oh, this?' Ron asked, ringing out the excess water from his shirt and revealing his lower stomach (Hermione's eyes couldn't help burning the image into her mind). 'I'll be fine. It's summer, after all.'

Hermione let out a mental groan. Did he really not realise what he was doing to her?

A few minutes later, they had reached Hermione's home.

'Wow!' Ron exclaimed, his eyes widening. 'It's enormous!'

Hermione felt her face burn. Her parents were reasonably wealthy (they were both dentists, after all), but she had didn't think they were that rich. The house wasn't really anything to comment on; in fact, compared to many others in the neighbourhood, it was actually quite cosy. Hermione's parents weren't especially extravagant; they were quiet people who desired a quiet life.

Trying not to let Ron realise how embarrassed she was, Hermione led him up the garden path. Both of her parents' cars were away, as they were both at work.

'Hello, Hermione!'

Hermione let out a small squeak. Mrs Parkins, her parents' neighbour, was cleaning her car just across the wall. She had put down her bucket of soapy water, and had wondered over, waving.

Warily, Hermione raised her hand in greeting.

'Hello, Mrs Parkins…'

'Oooh, who's your companion?' the elderly lady asked, motioning towards Ron, who was standing off to the side, looking slightly self-conscious.

'Oh, this is Ron…' Hermione mumbled; trying not to dwell on the fact that Ron's t-shirt was still transparent. 'He's….er… someone from my boarding school…'

'Boarding school? What do you- Oh…' Ron said, cottoning on after he noticed the look on Hermione's face. 'Er, yes… we've known each-other a long time.'

Mrs Parkins raised her eyebrows as her gaze hovered over Ron's soaked appearance.

'I see,' she said, giving Hermione a knowing look that made her cheeks burn again. 'Well, it was nice to meet you, Ron. It's not very often Hermione brings young men home-'

'Yes, thank you, Mrs Parkins!' Hermione exclaimed, hurrying Ron through the front door before her neighbour said anything-else embarrassing. 'Good to see you!'

Hermione quickly closed the door behind her, and let out a sigh.

'So…' Ron giggled, taking off his trainers. '"It's not very often Hermione brings young men home", eh?'

'Oh, shut up!' Hermione groaned, her cheeks burning. 'Will you just go and get changed, please?'

'Get changed?'

'Yes! You're soaked through! You'll catch your death if you don't take your clothes off!'

Ron's eyes widened. Hermione clapped her hand to her mouth. Had she really just said that?

'Oh, you mean…. for a shower?' Ron offered, after a long pause. 'Is that okay? I wouldn't want to, you know, impose…'

'It's… it's fine, honestly.'

'Okay…'

'It's the second door on the right.'

'Thanks.'

Ron flashed a brief smile, and then climbed up the stairs.

Hermione let out an internal groan. This day was just making things more complicated…

Hermione sat down on her bed, and tried to maintain her cool. This wasn't easy as she could hear the boy she fancied stripping his clothes off in the next room. With every wet slap that the clothes made as they dropped onto the tiles, Hermione's stomach gave a guilty squirm.

Do not think about Ron naked, she told herself sternly; do not think about your best friend naked…

The water turned on in the bathroom, and Hermione heard Ron clamber into the shower. She could hear the water splashing.

Hermione felt her breathing intensify, and she hurriedly shook her head, trying to get all images of a very-wet-and-very-naked Ron out of her mind.

Hermione's bedroom door burst open, but it wasn't Ron.

'Hello, dear!' Hermione's mother exclaimed, her mouth stretched into a wide grin. 'The neighbours said you've brought a handsome redheaded boy back to your room!'

Hermione felt her face burn with embarrassment, and she promptly fell off her bed onto the floor.

'It's Ron, mum!' Hermione spluttered, picking herself up off the floor. 'He's my best friend!'

'Oh…' Mrs Granger said in surprise, raising a hand to her mouth, her eyes twinkling. 'I see. So, you've seduced your best friend-'

'THAT'S NOT WHAT I SAID AT ALL, MUM; WERE YOU EVEN LISTENING-?'

'Er… Hermione, you wouldn't happen to have anything I could change into, would you…'

Ron appeared in the doorway, and Hermione's heart seemed to fail. He was wearing nothing but a small towel tied around his waist. He was drying his glistening red hair with another towel. Hermione's eyes became glued to his torso, which had a few teasing spots of water still clinging on, not just to the skin but to the delectable coppery hairs around his belly button and trailing down towards…

Oh dear…

Hermione felt her face burning again as she tore her eyes away from Ron. Thankfully, he'd been too surprised by her mother to notice Hermione's moment of unashamed ogling. She couldn't risk losing control like that again. It was too dangerous.

'Oh hello, Ron!' Mrs Granger grinned, managing to contain her laugher at her daughters' flustered reaction. 'I didn't realise you were here!'

'H-hello, Mrs Granger,' Ron said, looking a little embarrassed to be seen wearing so little in front of his friends' mother. 'Sorry to impose… my clothes got soaked earlier…'

'It's fine. I'm sure Hermione's not bothered.'

'MUM!'

Hermione's face burned again. Was it her imagination, or were Ron's ears turning pink?

Mrs Granger chuckled.

'Don't worry, dear. I won't be here for long; I was just popping back for some paperwork. I'll see you this evening!'

Mrs Granger shut Hermione's bedroom door behind her.

A few seconds later, they heard the front door slam from the floor below. Ron and Hermione were, once again, alone.

'Er…' Ron mumbled, looking very awkward in his small towel. 'So… those clothes…'

'Oh, yes!' Hermione exclaimed. 'Bare with me a moment!'

Stepping back inside her room, she grabbed an old pair of jogging bottoms (large enough to fit Ron) and a baggy t-shirt.

'Thanks!' Ron said, as Hermione shoved them into his arms. 'Wait, are these yours-'

'Just put them on!'

'Er, what-?'

'In the bathroom, obviously!'

'Geez, you don't have to yell…' Ron chuckled, walking out of the room. 'I wasn't gonna strip in front of you…'

Hermione waited until Ron was out of sight before screwing her face up in her hands. She could barely contain the scream that was threatening to explode from her mouth.

Did Ron honestly think that she wanted him to…to…

Hermione's stomach gave a guilty lurch. She'd never admit, but that was exactly what she wanted. But she wasn't going to tell him that.

Ron re-entered the room. Hermione couldn't help but notice the way the t-shirt clung to his muscles, and how the jogging bottoms seemed rather tight on him. She wasn't complaining though.

'Hermione?'

'Er, sorry, Ron, what is it?'

'You're… staring at me.'

Hermione's stomach turned over again.

'S-sorry,' she mumbled, her face burning as she unsuccessfully attempted to tear her eyes away from his face.

'No, it's okay,' Ron said, his cheeks dimpling as he smiled. 'I'm not gonna complain if a girl looks at me.'

'Like those girls earlier, you mean?'

'What?'

Hermione groaned. She wished she'd kept her big mouth shut. Why did she have to get jealous now of all times?

'There were girls staring at me?' Ron asked, surprised. 'Why? Did I have something stuck in my hair?'

'No!' Hermione shouted. Why was he still the only person who didn't realise how amazing he was? 'They were staring because you're gorgeous, and beautiful, and jaw-droppingly attractive!'

There was a deafening pause. Hermione clapped her hands to her mouth in a futile attempt to somehow make the words go back in. But it was too late; her words had tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

Ron's eyes had grown wide, and his mouth had fallen open.

Hermione dropped her vision to her knees. She couldn't look at Ron, petrified of seeing the rejection she expected on every inch of his face.

'You… you think I'm attractive?'

Ron's voice didn't sound disgusted, or uncomfortable. If anything, he sounded… hopeful? Were Hermione's ears playing tricks on her?

'Y-yes. And…well, those girls certainly did.' Hermione mumbled, wishing he'd just reject her and get it over with. The waiting was killing her.

'Really? I…I didn't notice them, to be honest.'

Hermione's eyes flicked up to Ron's. He was looking at her, smiling earnestly and yet shyly. As if he was choosing his words carefully. Why did he need to be careful? Wasn't he rejecting her?

'Why?'

Ron's ears turned red, and he began absentmindedly playing with a loose strand on Hermione's duvet.

'I… I was too busy looking at you, Hermione.'

He said this all very quickly, as if he couldn't contain his words any longer.

Hermione felt her face burn again, and her eyes grew wide.

Could this be…? Did Ron…?

No, it wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible. There was no way that Ron Weasley- kind, caring, funny, gorgeous, wonderful Ron Weasley- could ever fall for a plain bossy know-it-all like her.

Ron's eyes seemed to sparkle as they met Hermione's. He began to lean forward towards her slowly, as if giving her time to move away from him if she felt uncomfortable.

But that wasn't going to happen. Hermione felt her body being pulled irresistibly towards Ron. They were so close that she could feel Ron's heartbeat through the light t-shirt he was wearing.

As one, the two young people slipped back onto Hermione's duvet, so that Ron was leaning over Hermione, his face barely an inch from hers. Hermione was distinctly aware of Ron's thigh pressing against her leg, and how his gorgeous blue eyes seemed to catch the sunshine emanating through the window.

Hermione's brain seemed to disengage. Ron's lips were now a hairs breath from her own, and she could feel his breath- husky and warm- against her skin.

As if from another universe, the sound of a door opening reached Hermione's ears.

'Oh, so you weren't seducing him, dear?'

'MUM!'

Hermione's mum left the room and closed the door, laughing cheerily as she walked down the stairs and slammed the front door. Blushing furiously, Hermione covered her face in her hands and groaned.

Ron giggled and tucked a strand of Hermione's bushy hair behind her ear.

'Don't worry; my mum would have probably yelled at me if she caught us like this in my room.'

Hermione smiled, giggling.

'Is that a promise, Ron Weasley?'

Ron grinned down at her, a mischievous look appearing in his eye.

'Oh, definitely, Hermione!'

Hermione Granger smiled up into the face of the boy she loved, as their lips finally met for the first time.