DISSS-CLAIMER: J.K. owns everything!
:(
a/n: This is the first part of about five installments:) Enjoy! And review!
De-Gnoming Us
"Hermione, dear, would you mind helping the boys de-gnome the garden?"
Would I mind? Of course I'd mind. Any sane person could tell that I would mind 'helping the boys'.
The boys. As in plural; as in two boys.
As in Harry...and Ron.
The awkwardness is unbearable and I want to melt into the ground everytime I'm around him. Both of our cheeks inflame like a Weasley and Weasley firecracker and if Ginny is around, she erupts into snickers. And speaking of Weasley and Weasley, that's another crucial part. Even if I wanted to (which I'm not saying I do) how would I go about unleashing my feelings when a funeral is being planned? Ron could never enjoy my company with mourning over Fred to attend to.
So, would I mind? The answer to that is an irrevocable and firm yes. But in times like these, small lies are what help us stay sane. So I smile and shake my head while a frazzled Mrs. Weasley visibly relaxes for a fraction of a second before catching sight of her ruddy clock. The clock on which Fred's hand now points to 'dead'. Her eyes become vacant and unseeing and to save her from even more pain, I immediately turn to face some myself.
They're outside, sweating away under the hot sun. Almost unthinkingly I summon some lemonade to bring out to them. There are moments when I regret kissing Ron. There are moments when I wish I could have held back just a little bit longer until we were both ready to face it; or at least he was. I've been ready for the past three years. For that reason, there are also times when I can't bring myself to feel remorse over my actions.
As I step out of the backdoor with the cold drinks, Ron and Harry look eagerly up. Harry sighs with relief and runs over to drain his glass in one sip. Ron seems to forget the change between us and his face breaks into a lopsided grin that makes my knees wobble. It's almost immediately replaced by a bewildered look and now he's gone back to snatching gnomes out of his bushes and flinging them into the air. I sigh and Harry delivers Ron a drink, sparing me the humility that's sure to come.
I bend over, easily catching a gnome and sending it spinning through the air. Harry rolls his eyes.
"You don't have to help us, Hermione. We're almost done."
"But I want to--" I begin.
Ron snorts. "I always knew you were insane."
Nobody speaks. Harry seems to be aware of the immense tension blossoming from every direction, threatening to suffocate me. He backs away a few steps, one eyebrow raised questioningly.
Ron and I haven't really spoken, haven't had a knock-down, drag-out row it what seems like forever. And now we're both blushing again. I clear my throat, determined to overcome this. I was Hermione Granger and dealing with jealousy and revenge and shattered hearts and close calls for almost half my years at Hogwarts was not going to end in a disaster. I've waited too long and wished too hard to simply give up.
So I give a sort of wavering smile and ask, "Did you now?"
Ron's surprised, I can tell, but he hides it well. He stands up straighter, turning to face me. "Well yeah, I mean it was pretty obvious in school. You were mental."
"So were you," I shoot back, memories of wall-shaking screaming matches threatening to knock me down.
Harry is rooted to the spot, his mouth hanging open, swinging from the hinge. He couldn't move if wanted to, which I'm sure he didn't.
"I was mental?" Ron starts laughing and the sound sends butterflies throughout my whole body. "How was I mental?"
"For one, you randomly began going off and snogging cows," I smirk, making a crack at the Lavender Brown Fiasco.
He bit back a smile. "I'm guessing you're excluded from the cow category?" he asked, cocking his head to one side.
I freeze on the spot. I can almost hear Harry stop breathing, which I'm sure he has. Ron has never mentioned the kiss before. He lets a smile spread across his face. "Unless you consider yourself one."
I'm spluttering now and Ron's walking toward me, his chores forgotten. Harry is still there, attempting to melt into thin air.
"Th--That's really for y-you to decide, right?" I ask, tripping over every other word.
Ron nods. "You make a good point, Hermione."
"Yes, well, it's been known to happen."
He laughs and I smile up at him; he's right in front of me now.
His eyes are roving over my face, hungrily taking in every detail and I can taste him on my tongue; it's taking every ounce of my practically non-existant self-control to refrain myself from attacking his lips.
Then his faint smile seems to fade and he clears his throat loudly, running a hand through his hair nervously. His ears turn red and he takes a step back. "Er--sorry--"
"No--" I say quickly, feeling my own face heat up. "It's my fault--"
"I'm going to go inside," Harry mutters awkwardly, practically fleeing the scene.
And now we're both alone for the first time in what seems like forever.
Ron's eyes are fixed on the dry ground and mine are fixed on the empty lemonade glass that Harry's left behind. I try to tell myself that I have to hash it out, I have to work it all out, I have to bring up the kiss again or else it will never be forgotten. As much as it pains me, I can tell that that's what he wants. And of course, Ron gets what he wants. From homework to a spot on the Quidditch team to this terribly heart-wrenching deed of self-destruction I'm about to preform, everything's always been to make him happy.
I clear my throat at the same time he does.
He begins to splutter incoherently, gesturing for me to speak first and I clear my throat again, working up all the accumulated Gryffindor courage my body can muster.
"Ronald," I begin, my voice quavering treachorously.
He shuts up at once.
"I would like to apologize...for my mistake."
There. I've said it. He can relax and let out the breath he's been holding and everything can go back to normal. I don't think that anything could make me feel worse than what I'm feeling. And then of course Ron asks, "What mistake?" and his words push me halfway to the edge as I'm forced to explain.
"When I kissed you" --his face instantly pales-- "I was confused. We were in the middle of a war and people were dying and I didn't want to be next and not know for sure that nothing could have happened between us. So...I kissed you...to make sure that I didn't fancy you." My chest is tight; I feel like I can't breathe, and suddenly the heat of the sun beating down is making me a dizzy mess ready to faint from exhaustion.
His face is blank.
"So, you don't fancy me?" he asks. "I thought..."
"I'm sorry," I whisper, too terrified to talk for fear of my voice cracking.
"Don't be sorry," he mumbles, his ears giving away his embarrassment once again. "It's my fault. I was stupid. I thought..."
"Well," I say loudly, looking past his shoulder and focusing on a tree trunk. Reciting all the uses that the magical bark could be used for. Distracting myself. "I know you thought that I cared for you as more than a friend, and I know that that's why you weren't sure how to act around me because you didn't feel the same way, and so I'm setting your mind at ease. Everything can go back to normal now."
"What?"
I roll my eyes, sighing loudly. "Ron--"
"Hermione! Hermione--look at me."
His hands are shaking my shoulders gently and my tired eyes lock on his blue ones. They're filled with something I haven't seen in awhile. Something like when we were trying to escape the Ministry or when Harry was fighting that Horntail or when he was fruitlessly trying to protect Fred's lifeless body or even when he would search for his notes before a particularly hard test. I don't understand why he's looking at me this way.
"Are you--I don't...Hermione...you..."
"Spit it out, Ron," I say exasperatedly, trying to ignore the rush of pleasure I get from his contact.
"Are you saying that the reason you don't like me is because you think that I don't like you?"
"Er...yeah? Well...no, I don't like you no matter what."
It's getting easier to lie.
"Oh..."
His hands fall from my shoulders and he looks so crestfallen that the words tumble out of my mouth before I even register what I'm saying.
"Well I mean--unless you DO like me."
He shakes his head quickly. "No, you don't like me, so I don't like you."
"Wait--are you saying that you'd like me if I liked you?" I asked, my brain whirling confusedly in circles.
"What? You don't like me so it doesn't matter."
We're both blushing again.
"Ronald, do you fancy me?"
"Do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Me?"
"Excuse me?"
"Do you fancy me?"
I gulp loudly and throw caution to the winds because in all honesty this is getting kind of ridiculous and don't want to go the rest of my life regretting a bonehead decision I made because I didn't want to get hurt.
"Well, lets say that hypothetically I did, would that mean that you would want to snog me again?"
"Me? Well, you know, hypothetically...yeah, I guess so."
"Right."
"...So..."
"Okay."
"Okay what?"
"Oh, I don't know, it's just okay..."
"That we snogged?"
"Er...yeah, I mean, that's okay too..." I'm at a complete loss for words, and Ron doesn't seem to be faring any better.
He swallows loudly, and offers me a crooked smile that seems to say all the things he can't.
And then Ginny runs outside.
"Mum says that you two need to come and eat lunch with Harry...although I'm sure she'd understand if lunch needed to be... postponed. Am I interrupting something?" She sends a wicked grin my way, and I shake my head quickly.
"No!"
Ron is stuttering out a nonsensical answer about summer homework and job applications next to me and I close my eyes against the irrational humility that's overcoming me.
We follow Ginny into the house awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.
This is almost worse than before.