Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. I just use them for my enjoyment and others.

Authors note: I don't know where this story came from, but it just popped into my head as I was reading. I love the idea of this story, and I hope that you'll enjoy reading it. Please review! It would be greatly appreciated.

A Jealous Dinner

Bloody git.

He's just sitting there, ogling at her. I bet he doesn't even feel my eyes burning into his. I bet he doesn't even notice when I very indiscreetly kick him, hard, from under our booth. No, of course he doesn't. Because he's that bloody oblivious to me and every bloody thing I do.

She is quite pretty, I guess. Not that I'm too busy glaring at her not to notice, or anything. Straight, silky, dark brown hair that falls right past her chest. Breasts large enough to make even Pamela Anderson jealous and a shirt too tight, too small, and too low to cover them completely. She takes his order and continuously flirts with him, whipping her hair about, not even bothering to acknowledge me all the while.

I can see her eyes move greedily over his features before turning to face me. She then proceeds to smile a cheeky, fake grin as the words "And what would you like?" escape from her mouth, in a falsely, sweet voice.

I'll tell you what I'd like, I think to myself as her eyes dart back towards the handsome man sitting across from me. I'd like to hex you into oblivion for looking at my boyfriend like that.

Instead, I give her my order, keeping a hard smile glued to my face. She forges a smile in my direction, then grinned a genuine one towards Ron before she bounces off, swinging her hips and clicking her high-heels.

After watching her flounce off , I turn back to Ron, intent on giving him a piece of my mind and maybe even my fist.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" I practically shout, causing a few curious heads to turn in our direction.

He swiftly looks around and lowers his face, speaking through the corner of his mouth. "What are you talking about?"

I immediately grow more irritated. Of course. He has no bloody idea why I would be the slightest bit angry at him. Typical Ron.

I lean my head in farther, not stopping until my nose is inches from his and I can see the sparks beginning to form in his deep, blue eyes. "What do you mean 'what am I talking about'?! You were staring at our waitress the whole time she was taking our order! I'm surprised there isn't drool dripping down to your chin!"

"No I wasn't!" He retorts, his face becoming one of a look of innocence and guilt.

I growl under my breath and look fiercely back at him, whispering so that only he could hear. "Yes you bloody well were. You were acting like I didn't even exist!"

"She was the one flirting with me!" He snapped, throwing his hands in the air.

"Well, that doesn't exactly mean that you have to flirt back, Ronald!"

I try to say the last sentence with as much anger as I could, but I can feel that Ron senses the sadness and hurt underneath it. He gazes at me with hard eyes, but after a moment I see them soften and become less heated. He slides his hand across the table and his long fingers eventually find mine. I try pulling away, but to no avail. Ron holds my fingers tight in his calloused hand as I jerk away, staring gently into my eyes. I quickly give up my struggle and let my hand fall limp into his own. He reaches out his other hand and tucks it under my chin, tilting it up to look at him. I glance down swiftly, not wanting him to see the hurt behind my eyes, not willing myself to show him.

"Hermione…look at me," he whispers to me and I can no longer let my pride win as I feel his cool breath on my face. I bring my deep, brown eyes up to his own, and my breath hitches in my throat as I see the tender, loving look that he is giving me. Ron must have noticed because a slight smile plays on his lips as he talks to me, speaking words of comfort and love.

"I love you, Hermione. Hell, I love you more than I've ever loved anything or anyone. But sometimes you are so bloody crazy."

My eyes flash and again I try to tug away from him, but he only holds my chin tighter in his hand. When he spoke again, there was a new strength in his voice and he glared into my eyes as if trying to prove a point.

"You are crazy. You're fucking mental, Hermione. I wasn't looking at her, I swear to you. I have never and will never look at another woman while I am with you. I love you. I love how crazy you are, and I love every other damn thing about you. I would never, in a million years, dream of being with anyone but you. Insane or not, you're mine and I'm yours. That's how it's going to be, and no one will change that."

He lets out a sigh when I don't respond. I can't. He doesn't understand how much his words moved me, how much I love the fervor the contained him at times like these. So, I just stare at him. I stare and I wait. What I was waiting for, I did not know. Either my vocal chords to begin to function again or for him to start speaking. I didn't have to wait long for the latter.

"Do you understand me, Hermione?" He spoke clearly and confidently. However, his voice was also soft and soothing. Before I can fully regain my voice, I can feel myself nodding to his words.

"I understand," I answer quietly.

He looks me over for a minute, then he slowly leans in and presses his warm lips to my forehead. I smile and the gesture and lean back into the booth. He continues to watch me, toying with my fingers encased beneath his own.

I glance up as the waitress comes back with our food, frowning slightly when she lingers over Ron while handing him his meal. Yet, he just squeezes my hand and moves across the table to peck me lightly on the cheek. I distinctly hear the woman huff and took notice of the "click" of her heels as she marches away.

Ron's eyes never lingered from my face.

I love that bloody git.