Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm just a poor teenage HP addict.
Ron cringed as his footsteps echoed around him. No matter how softly he tried to set his shoe down, it seemed to crash into the stone underfoot.
Not that it would normally bother you.
Shut up.
You know why you're noticing it, you just won't admit it.
Shut UP!
Just admit it!
No!
Oh, come on! We both know! I'm not ashamed to admit that we're madly in love with Her-
DON'T SAY THE BLOODY NAME!
Why are you so set against it?
pointed silence
WHY?
Because it's impossible for anything to come of it, as you know as well as I.
Ron glanced at the object of his affection, who happened to be walking right beside him. He contemplated dropping down dramatically on one knee and informing her of his devotion.
Before he could decide anything, he felt one foot slide out from under him and he crashed onto the floor. His teeth smashed together and the taste of blood filled his mouth.
He raised his head slowly, trying to discern what had tripped him. He was lying on the floor just inside the common room, with one foot still caught on the edge of the portrait hole. The voice of the Fat Lady was berating him wildly for scratching her frame and smearing mud across her new Christmas dress.
Ron quickly sat up and pulled his foot inside, letting the Fat Lady slam back into place. He was suddenly aware of Hermione's voice behind him. He spun around to face her.
"Oh Ron, are you okay? You hit the floor really hard, maybe you should see Madame Pomfrey."
"Oh no, I'm fine," he insisted.
Well, it's the truth.
Bleeding tongues are a minor concern when we can stare at her like this.
You are so right.
"Are you sure? You could have a-oh!" She fell to her knees, eyes full of worry. She reached out and ran her fingers along the side of his face.
Ron almost started hyperventilating at the feel of her fingers on his skin. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat.
"Erm-Hermione, what are you doing?"
He had tried to make it sound deep and slightly sensual. Instead, to his extreme embarrassment, it came out as a high-pitched squeak. She didn't seem to notice the tone, but she drew her fingers away from his skin, to Ron's deep relief...
WHAT? I was pretty darn depressed!
I was relieved.
Well, too bad! I claim supreme editing rights.
...to Ron's deep disappointment.
You suck.
"You're bleeding," she told him, showing the smear of red across her fingers. "You didn't feel it? It's pretty big."
As though her words had flipped a switch, the side of Ron's face seemed to explode into a cacophony of screaming nerves, informing him that he was, without a doubt, injured.
"Aaa!" Ron pressed a hand to his cheek, feeling liquid seep between his fingers.
"You really should see Madame Pomfrey. This needs to be looked at." Hermione pulled him to his feet, her touch leaving Ron too dazed to do anything but follow her.
Hermione continued speaking as they stepped into the hall.
"Honestly! 'I'm fine', you say. You're seriously hurt! I'll never understand you boys' pride issues!"
Anger bubbled up inside him, drowning out any romantic thoughts he might have had.
"Not as though you girls have no faults! You're not as perfect as you think you are!"
"At least that's better than risking my life because I'm too proud to admit I need help!"
They glared at each other for a few minutes. The only noise was the sound of their breathing.
Finally, Ron turned away, furious with Hermione, himself, and the world in general. Hermione strode in front of him, leading the way to the hospital wing. Ron scuffed along behind, wishing that his head would let him ask for the help he so desperately needed; help to get over her.
R/R!