Disclaimer: Seriously, these should just be automatically added as part of every story. This is a FANFICTION site, I'm writing fiction as a fan, so no, I do not own anything but the plot, and maybe not even that.

A Beginning

by: Elouera

They sat there for hours. They sat on the edge of the lake hand in hand for most of that day. He just looked at her while she bit her lip and stared off into the distance. Well, they weren't really hand in hand, he just wanted to believe that they were. Their hands were lying on the musty ground barely a centimeter apart. He wanted so badly to just take her hand, just to whisk away her problems. He only wanted her to look up at him with those worried, innocent brown eyes. He wanted her to just relax.

He sat there watching her for all that time, willing her to just take a deep breath and look at him; catch his gaze and lean into him. He wanted to close that gap between them, to put his arm around her waist and pull her head onto his shoulder. He knew she was worried about their friends, but there was nothing they could do about it right now. They were here, alone and together, sitting on the damp, compressed dirt by the lake, and he didn't want them this far apart. He knew that there were only a few inches between the two of them, but that was too much. He longed for more of her, but he knew that he couldn't have her that way. Not now, not any time soon; but a boy can dream.

His breath caught in his chest as she moved. He though she was going to take his hand, he thought she was going to shift closer, lean on his shoulder, and let go of her worry. But, she didn't. She merely pulled her knees up to her chest and folded her arms around them. She laid her chin on her knees and closed her eyes. He sighed and leaned back against the tree trunk behind him. He tilted his head back and desperately hoped she wouldn't notice the tears he was trying so hard to hold back.

She was worried about them. She knew they had to work this out on their own, but she knew what could happen to them. They could destroy each other, and she and the beautiful boy sitting beside her would be left to pick up the pieces. She didn't want to deal with them, she had her own things to fret about. Like what to do about the tight feeling in the pit of her stomach, the way her left arm buzzed with electricity where he was so close.

She wasn't really the type to take the initiative when it came to girl/boy type things. But she yearned with all her physical being to lean just a little bit farther over toward him, to pick up his hand and feel its warmth in her own. She wanted so badly to look over at him, for their gazes to meet, and she wanted to lean into him, feel his arms around her as she laid her head on his chest and listened to his heart beat.

She sat there for awhile, biting her lip in indecision, contemplating whether or not to slide across the damp earth towards him. As she thought this the feeling in her stomach increased, and the electricity in her arms was so strong the fine, blond hairs there were standing on end. Finally, she thought, "You know what? I'm just gong to do it!" But as she reached over to place her hand on his she chickened out and disguised the motion by pulling her legs up to her chest and hugging them close. She felt useless, pathetic and afraid. "When will I do it?" she thought. She was mad at herself for chickening out, but was it for the better?

She sat there for awhile more worrying about whether or not he liked her, too.

He was gradually growing angrier. He couldn't stand crying, he couldn't stand feeling weak. As he sat there in the warming air he was angry with himself, and with her. Why did she have to make everything so hard for him? Why couldn't she just want him, too, so he didn't have to worry about trying to catch her? Why was it so hard for him to admit out loud that he really and truly did love her with all his heart?

He had a quick temper, and he knew that the rising heat on his neck would not go unnoticed for long. He knew he had to calm down, he knew he shouldn't blow up at her. After all, it wasn't really her fault. He had brought this upon himself by not being open about his feelings. So he sat there by the river, so close to her and yet so far way, with the heels of his hands pressed up against his eyes, trying to calm himself down.

Finally, he felt like he had the self-control to lower his hands, and act like a mature adolescent, if there is such as thing. He wanted to be there for her, even though she shouldn't really be worrying about their friends' relationship problems. It wasn't her problem, although he wasn't going to be the one to tell her that. He looked at her longingly, wishing that she would look back at him. He leaned against that tree, his head tilted towards her until finally she looked over in his direction.

They sat there, staring calmly at each other for a few minutes, just looking. No harm in that, right? Wrong. It drove them both wild. The exact shade of his eyes, their depth, and the emotion wrapped around the varying hues of blue were playing murder on her insides. The way her hair fell across her face, how innocent and vulnerable she looked curled up like that, and the single tear that formed in the inside corner of one eye was making coherent thought impossible for him.

But why was she crying? Once the fact that a tear was rolling down her cheek registered, his mind snapped back into place. He immediately closed the space between them, pulling her into him, wrapping her up in his arms and hugging her like they had never been apart. Her breath caught half way through the beginning of a sob, and he smiled at the way their bodies fit perfectly together. As cliché as it is, they truly felt as if they'd found their puzzle piece.

She realized that she'd only been crying because she wanted so badly to be in this position, and she was immediately ashamed that it was her petty tears that had finally brought them together. She put both her hands on his chest, pleased at how muscular it felt, and pushed away from him. They sat there gazing longingly into each other's eyes, his arms still around her, both feeling slightly awkward.

He realized that maybe he shouldn't have grabbed her like that.

She realized that maybe he only did it because, after all, they are best friends.

She said, "I'm sorry I was crying, Ron. I didn't mean to."

He just stared at her, wanting so badly to kiss her, while she stared back wanting the same thing. At the same moment they both got a jolt of panicked fear at what was about to happen. She got up first and with a look of regretful angst in her eyes she turned and ran back to the castle.

"When will I finally just do it?" he thought. Then, he just sat there and watched her leaving, half sad and half glad because what if he'd been making a mistake by trying?

"Goodbye, Hermione," he whispered as a single angry tear ran down his cheek.

A/N: Please R&R, and, please, be as critical as you want to. I didn't expect this story to amount to anything, and I wrote it really quickly. I wrote in one study hall period and when I got the idea it was a fantasy I was having about the boy I like... But, it will never happen for me, so why not let it happen for them? It has been altered, and now it is appropriately R/H fluff.