Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: My first try at a serious Ron/Hermione fic.
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The Lines Defining Us
Ron can be stupid.
Foolish.
Insensitive.
Cruel.
He uses "colorful language" at least every half-hour.
He has absolutely no motivation.
His attitude (and IQ) are probably the same as his shoe size.
He obsesses with Quidditch to the point where it's absolutely incurable.
His love for the Chuddly Cannons is near-fanatic, and I wonder how he has managed to keep it up all the years they were slaughtered.
He dates girls that are the furthest thing from 'decent.' (Lavender Brown, anyone?)
They (the girls) have long legs and a large chest.
Their hair is silky straight and smooth (not bushy).
Their teeth are perfectly white (not large and beaver-like, even with the help of Madam Pomfrey and my parents.).
His temper clashes with mine constantly and sometimes I can't help but wonder if he hates me.
Like, for example, when Crookshanks "ate" Scabbers.
Or when I sent those canaries after him (even though it was justified!).
And the Yule Ball episode?
Oh, lord…
How could Viktor Krum, his bloody hero, make this…rift between us?
He defined the line that I know that we will never be able to cross, no matter if we finally make sense of how we feel for each other.
The line of What We Are and Something More.
How much we may want it…
How much we may want each other.
And I know I'm being delusional, instead of my cold, calculating self.
But I can't help that feeling, that when we were at Dumbledore's funeral…When I cried, and he "teared up"…When he held me for those minutes (or were they hours?)…I felt as if we were the only people in the world. Nothing else mattered. Not the war, not the impending doom, not Volde-Volde-(oh, blast it all) Voldemort.
I felt like we, for some odd minute, were Meant to Be.
And I know it sounds stupid…
But I hope—deep in my heart hope—that he somehow feels the same.
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A/N: Reviews are love and Constructive Criticism is DEEPLY appreciated.
-VM