Title: Waiting
Author: Cassieopeia
Ship: Ron/Hermione
Rating: T
Word Count: 615 words
Summary: Very short one-shot about Hermione's thoughts on her developing relationship with Ron.
She handed him a bowl of chocolate covered trail mix. It looked like a mixture of road kill and petrified wood and pine needles, but she knew that he'd eat it anyway, appearance be damned. She watched him as he dug through the mix, searching for a chocolate covered pretzel, the wind playing in his hair and the sun catching on his arms, lightening the hair there and making freckles appear.
She noticed just how muscular his arms were and she wondered what they would feel like wrapped around her, touching her, exploring the skin beneath her clothes…
Hermione stared at him, wishing, not for the first time in her life, that he might notice her as something more than his best friend.
Ron didn't pay her compliments like others boys did with their girlfriends. But Ron wasn't exactly her boyfriend. Sometimes it was so obvious, everyone assured her that he fancied her just as she fancied him, and sometimes she actually believed it. But then he'd say something without thinking or get huffy with her and sulk or manage to find the exact most hurtful thing to comment about in one of their rows and Hermione would think again Why on earth do I like him?
Sometimes she would think of reasons, sometimes not.
And sometimes she would wish that he was like the other boys and he told her how beautiful she was and how lucky she made him feel and that he loved her terribly. But Ron never was like other boys.
To the untrained eye he was just like any other boy. He was stupid and irresponsible and completely tactless when it came to Hermione. He was a one note song, the only interesting thing about him being the shock of red hair and the lumbering height that drew attention to himself. Sometimes Hermione herself thought that he was exceptionally ordinary, until she caught a glint of fiery passion in his eyes and she knew-just knew-that he was a different sort of boy. But that was all right. She was a different sort of girl, so it made sense that she'd end up falling for a different sort of boy.
She could list his flaws off the top of her head, familiar with the pointless and half-hearted arguments why it was impossible for her to love someone like him. He was messy, childish, annoying, jealous, terribly insecure, completely tactless, clueless, lazy, had an awful temper and a moody side.
And then there were the perfections, which she also knew by heart and thought about more often than the flaws. His passion, loyalty, bravery, intelligence (although the times he actually ever applied himself could be counted off on her fingers), love, skill, selflessness, good spirit, honesty, sense of humor, care, and fierce overprotection of his loved one.
He wasn't bad looking either, she thought.
And really, didn't the good outweigh the bad?
He catches her looking at him and, past the mouthful of food he's shoved in, asks what she's staring at and she smiles and shakes her head, not bothering to answer. He gives her another strange look, but turns back to the bowl in his lap, delving in for another taste.
She wishes that he would throw the bowl aside and jump her, kiss her senseless and admit that he's felt something strong for her a long time now. But she knows he won't. He never does.
She watches him, certain today would not be the day that he would get the courage to take the next step, but patient, knowing that he would eventually. He was worth waiting for.
The time would come. And she was willing to wait.
Merry Christmas! A little R/Hr fluff to celebrate. (;
-Cassidy