Glancing out the window for what was probably the 25th time, Ron sighed loudly.
"Everything okay, mate?" Harry asked, not looking up from his task of writing a letter to his godfather. He knew exactly what was on his best friend's mind. His other best friend, Hermione Granger, was due at the Burrow sometime this afternoon. Pig had arrived a few days prior with her letter, explaining that she would arrive midday on the 15th of July. She was having a "lovely holiday" but was excited to "come home." Ginny had read the letter out loud.
"Aww," Ginny had said, "It sounds as if she thinks of the Burrow as home." Harry caught Ron grinning at this theory. Ron met his eyes, and quickly forced a cough-covering his mouth and subsequently wiping the tell-tale smile from his face.
"Doubtful. Who'd want this for a home?" He said.
Harry laughed, "Me for one. This place is brilliant...I stand by what I said second year." Ron smiled.
The effect of Hermione's letter lasted for the next few days. Ginny set about to cleaning her room, and at a quick glance moved with the same efficacy as Mrs. Weasley. Ron, on the other hand, seemed to take on the mission of cleaning himself. For the first time since the summer began, he shaved. Further, his hair looked suspiciously as if it had finally had some up-close and personal contact with a comb. His clothing, thus far a combination of whatever wrinkled trousers and shirt he grabbed in the morning, suddenly looked clean, matched, and...could Harry's eyes be deceived?...properly ironed.
In addition to the overall improvements to his appearance, Ron's mood was brighter than it had been since the start of summer. But today, while engaged in the waiting game, he seemed a bit on edge.
"Mate?" Harry asked again.
"Oh! Everything's fine. Why?"
"She'll be here soon."
"She'd better-er, who?" He stopped himself. Harry just shook his head and continued his letter. He wasn't sure why Ron had refused outright to disclose his feelings for Hermione. He suspected he either worried about Harry's reaction or-more likely-Ron hadn't admitting the feelings to himself yet, and so it was out of the question to open the discussion up to anyone else.
"Do you reckon she went to Bulgaria, after all?" Ron asked softly, "She wouldn't-or didn't get too specific in her letters to me." Apparently he did know to which "she" Harry was referring.
"Nor in mine. But, you can ask her person if you're interested," Harry was looking past Ron, out the window and across the yard where Hermione was walking toward the house with Fred and Ginny on each side and bright, joyful smile across her face.
"I suppose...wait, she's here?" He turned wildly toward the window. "Blimey," he mumbled under his breath. Harry couldn't help but notice exactly what Ron had seen. She was wearing a colorful sun dress, modest but feminine and flattering. She had a sun-kissed glow, and her usually bushy hair was gathered back in a pony tail, with a few ringlet strands around her face. She was, in a word, lovely. She had always been, but it could be forgotten sometimes under the cover of Hogwarts' robes, and hidden behind dusty books, and lost in the casualness of seeing her everyday.
Harry, genuinely happy to see his friend, chose to wait one moment before walking out to greet her so he could enjoy to look on Ron's face. He turned to see what he thought would be a huge grin splayed across his freckled face. Instead, he looked...constipated. It was a combination of discomfort-torture, almost-and deep concentration.
Harry laughed. If girls only knew the power they had...much stronger than any wizard's magic or muggle's science...we'd have an entire civilization run by women.
Without further delay, each boy headed toward the door to greet her. Harry arrived first, and was met with an enthusiastic hug.
"Harry!" Hermione cried, "It's lovely to see you! I saw some fantastic things on holiday that made me think of you."
Ron cleared his throat.
"Of me?"
"Yes!"
Ron cleared his throat again.
Hermione turned her attention to Ron...(Finally, Harry could almost hear Ron's thoughts). "Hello, Ron." She was still smiling, but it suddenly seemed strained. She was avoiding eye contact. "Nice summer so far?"
"Er, yeah so far." He stood awkwardly as if stuck to the ground. He seemed like he was waiting in a queue, and it struck Harry that he was probably expecting to receive a hug next. Hermione simply nodded and moved past both boys, one small piece of luggage in tow. Fred was holding the larger piece.
"How about a bit of quidditch?" He asked as he passed by, dramatically dragging the suitcase as if it were filled with rocks. On second thought, it was probably filled books heavier than rocks. They agreed to meet outside in 20 minutes. Or rather, Harry and Fred made the arrangements, as Ron had a dazed look on his face.
Other than the perfunctory greeting in the afternoon, Ron hadn't had any more contact with Hermione for nearly the rest of the day. She had hurried with Ginny to their shared room. He idled around for a bit, but when he heard no stirring on the steps, he begrudgingly headed out to play two on two quidditch with the twins and Harry.
Ron wasn't playing his best, and Harry noticed it was because he kept looking down to see if they had any spectators.
"C'mon Ron, get your head out of your arse!" George yelled. He was on a team with Ron. When Fred and George played together they couldn't be trusted not to cheat. Harry and Ron had learned this the hard way and insisted, though they preferred each other as teammates, that they would have to play separately. Today, Harry didn't mind the arrangement as Fred was quite good and not at all distracted by any recent visitors.
George said, "Honestly, I think I'd rather have Hermione as a teammate." At George's mention of her name, Ron's ears broadcasted a rather bright shade of pink. It didn't-like most things-go unnoticed by the twins.
"Hmm, George," began Fred, "I think our brother wouldn't mind having her as a teammate either."
"Or perhaps," continued George, "he'd fancy having her in some other ways as well."
Ron tried to looked incredulous. "I don't know what you tossers are on about, but you're mental if you're saying what I think you're saying." With that, he steered his broom downward.
"Better hurry up though, little brother," Fred called after him. "You might already be too late seeing as she's spent the summer in the arms of a famous, international quidditch player."
Ron had no time to mask his feelings this time. He jerked quickly around on his broom, barely keeping his balance and said, "What?"
"Oi! You didn't know?" George smirked.
"By George, I don't think he knows!" Fred teased.
"By...me, I think you're right!" George added.
Harry saw the need to step in, noticing Ron's shaky maneuvering on his broom. "Hey mates, let's call this a game. Dinner's probably ready soon. Let's head in, eh?"
As soon as they dismounted their brooms, Ron demanded, "How do you know about it? How do you know...?"
George shrugged, "Extendable Ears, of course."
Fred furthered, "He heard her talking with Ginny right before we came out here. 'Oh and Bulgaria was just marvelous!'" His imitation of Hermione was laughable. He batted his eyes and upped the pitch of his voice so that only dogs could hear it.
Ron set his jaw straight, "Who she chooses to spend her time with is her business, and you shouldn't be eavesdropping like some gossiping hens."
Harry looked at his friend with admiration and shook. What a mature change in tone for Ron!
"And anyway," Ron continued, "even if she went to Bulgaria, that's no proof she saw that duck-footed git, Krum."
And welcome back, Ron, thought Harry with a smile. The boys heard Mrs. Weasley's voice calling them in for supper.
"Listen, little brother," said Fred, "whether it's due to Krum or some other bloke, she isn't going to wait around forever. There are loads of duck-footed gits out there."
Ron seemed thoughtful for a moment, but then said, "I don't know what you're on about."
Dinner at the Weasley's was Harry's favorite part of the day. Mrs. Weasley looked like a concert conductor, her wand simultaneously levitating bowls of food over their heads and to the table, washing pans in the sink, and pouring pumpkin juice into mismatched cups. Mr. Weasley generally shared his latest take on some "brilliant muggle contraption" he had come across at work, peppering Hermione and Harry with an influx of questions he saved for when he had muggle-borns to visit. Fred and George were always good for a laugh, transfiguring their dinner rolls into spiders to frighten Ron or garden gnomes to infuriate their mother.
This evening, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were most interested in Hermione's holiday. When they had taken their seats, Ron had almost comically and unsuccessfully attempted to push Ginny out of the way so that he could sit next to Hermione. Ginny gave him a rude hand gesture and took her seat. Mr. Weasley sat on Hermione's right, and asked mad questions about Muggle forms of transportation. Ron settled for the seat directly across from her, though the chair legs were wobbly and low, and so, despite his height, he looked like a little kid at the grown-ups' table.
Hermione happily and politely answered each question. That is, until Fred with a mouth full of food said, "Did I hear you mention you made it to Bulgaria?"
Hermione flushed. Ron was starring right at her, and she looked everywhere, it seemed, but at him. "Yes," she said. "For a bit. Pirin National Park was quite lovely."
"Well," said Mrs. Weasley, "You certainly look as if you got a lot of fresh air and sun. You look lovely, dear."
"Thanks." Hermione looked reverently at Mrs. Weasley.
"So what was your favorite part?" Ron asked in a strange sounding voice. It was louder than necessary, as if it erupted from the back of his throat.
"Oh, all of it, I guess. There were some beautiful libraries in France." Though Hermione's words answered Ron's question, she looked anywhere but at him. Harry wanted to test this.
"Did you see the Eiffel Tower?" Harry asked. He was seated on the same side of the table as Hermione, and she would have to crane her neck to see him.
"Yes! It was massive!" She did crane her neck to see him. This is suspicious, thought Harry. He silently willed Ron to ask her another question.
"How massive?" Ron asked. Harry turned his attention to Hermione. She was staring at her plate.
'Erm, 324 metres I think." She might as well have been talking to her pudding.
Harry also caught the injured look on Ron's face. She was being inexplicably dismissive of Ron, and only Ron. And this time, he hadn't done anything to deserve it. Not yet, at least. She had only been here a few hours.
After dinner, the family sat comfortably in the den. Fred, George, and Ginny played a game of exploding snap, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were reading sections of the Daily Prophet and then trading. Harry had suggested a game of chess to Ron, hoping Ron's inevitable win would cheer him up. Hermione had excused herself after dinner to take a shower. Ron began to set up the pieces, when Harry heard the water shut off. He waited a few moments, and then excused himself to the loo.
He moved quickly to Ginny's bedroom and tapped softly on the door, "Hermione? It's me, Harry."
"Just a moment," he heard her say from within. A few moments later, she opened the door. She was wearing a robe and toweling her hair. Harry noticed that, when wet, her curly strands straightened out to nearly twice their length.
"Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to speak with you if that's okay."
"Of course. Come on in." Hermione moved aside so Harry could enter. He took a seat on Ginny's bed, and Hermione closed the door behind her. She sat on the opposite bed, towel drying her hair.
"I only have a minute; Ron thinks I'm in the loo," Harry began, but noticed at the mention of Ron's name, Hermione lowered her eyes and blushed. "Okay, just what is going on?"
"What do you mean?" She looked up, startled.
"You're treating Ron like a...like a stranger or an intruder or something. You give him a tepid greeting, you barely look at him during dinner, and now you seem uncomfortable by the sheer mention of his name."
Hermione's mouth had dropped open. "Is it...am I...Oh Harry! I was trying to avoid this!"
"So there is something going on then?"
"No. In a way, yes, but really no. I'm being stupid, terribly stupid. Something happened on my trip and..." She seemed to be struggling with her explanation. Harry waited patiently. "Something happened and I can't tell you because it's beyond embarrassing. Oh Harry..." Hermione buried her face in her hands.
Harry was unsure what to say. He racked his brain to think of what could possibly have happened on her trip that would have anything at all to do with Ron. He knew he didn't write anything cruel in his letters to her. And, other than a few letters, they had no other contact. On the other hand, he wasn't sure he wanted to know what happened if Hermione found it painfully embarrassing to even think about.
"Listen, Hermione..."
"No, you're right. I thought I was being normal with Ron but obviously I wasn't. What happened has nothing to do with him, just me being silly. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. I will get my act together."
"Hermione, what happened?"
Suddenly, the door swung open. Ron stood there, looking at Harry with the same fire in his eyes usually reserved for Malfoy.
"What are you doing in here?" He growled.
"Ronald! Don't you knock? I could have been...indecent!" Hermione shrieked.
"Oh, pardon me for interrupting. I'll just let you two get back to being indecent!"
Harry grabbed the door before Ron should slam it shut. "Hang on, mate. I just came to have a quick chat. Don't overreact."
Ron scowled at Harry first, then turned his gaze to Hermione, "Welcome home." The spite in his voice was palpable. He turned on his heels and sped down the steps. They heard the front door open and shut a moment later.
"He has such a temper!" Hermione said, the heat rising in her voice.
"Wouldn't you? He was positively thrilled when you wrote you were coming to visit. Or rather, that you were coming home. He spent the last few days on cloud nine. And then, you're here and avoid him for a reason that, according to you, has nothing to do with him. And now," Harry's voice became shrill at this last part, "he comes in here to find you, practically starkers, with me!"
Hermione instinctively pulled her robe more tightly around herself. "I am not starkers!"
They were quiet for a moment, then Harry chuckled.
"What's so funny?"
"Well, it isn't funny. Not really. But Ron could probably avoid any misunderstanding about you and I if he only knew..."
"Knew what?"
"That I'm completely mental for his sister."
"I knew it!"
"Do NOT tell her, or Ron, or anyone for that matter. In fact," he said tentatively, "you should probably tell me something private so that we can make sure we keep each other's secrets."
"Ha! Nice try, Harry, but I'm not telling you what happened in Bulgaria."
"Bulgaria! Something happened with Krum?!"
Hermione put her face in her hands again.
"Did you see Victor?"
Hermione nodded.
"Are you two...together?"
Hermione shook her head.
"Were you..."
"It's...complicated." Hermione began to pull on a pair of trainers.
"Well, try me. I could be helpful. Hey, why are you putting on your shoes?"
"I have to go talk to Ron. There's...quite a bit that needs to be said and it should come from me." She was looking wildly about for her second shoe.
Harry felt suddenly nervous. He couldn't piece everything together, but he knew for sure that Hermione had seen Victor Krum. He guessed that she had perhaps started something with Krum, and maybe was worried about how Ron would react. She knew he didn't approve of their "friendship" and anything more would certainly be out of the question. Above all else, it seemed likely that Ron's heart was going to be broken.
"Wait. I have to tell you something. Before you run after him and tell him whatever it is you want to tell him." Harry took a breath. He just might be betraying his best friend, but the alternative-Ron being blindsided with this news and the consequences that would result for everyone who was staying at the Burrow with him-was worse. "He fancies you, Hermione. Quite a bit."
Hermione's eyes widened.
"Now, he's never said it himself, but I know he does."
Hermione pulled a face, "Oh, so you really have no idea then? You're just guessing?" She headed towards the door.
"Just assume I'm right. And, please, please let him down gently."
"Harry," she spun around, "Who says I'm going to 'let him down'?"
Harry watched her leave, dumbstruck.
Hermione snuck past the other Weasleys and headed out the front door. Despite the fact that it was July, there was an unseasonably cool breeze about. She pulled her robe tighter, wondering why she didn't take a moment to throw on some proper clothes. Given the conversation she was about to initiate, she wished she was wearing something equivalent to the dodgy dress robes Ron wore to the Yule Ball-high collared and very concealing. At the same time, she knew if she delayed any longer, she'd lose all the courage she would need to tell him what happened.
"Ron!" She called tentatively. She stated to walk toward the lake, when something caught her eye. She saw him, flying over the field where the boys practised quidditch.
She took a deep breath, and headed over toward the field. She watched him fly for a few minutes. Unaware that he had an audience, Ron flew with confidence, grace, and real agility. He looked like a bird, like flight was his primary method for travel. She felt a not altogether uncomfortable trembling in her stomach that rose to her chest. It's now or never, she thought, shaking herself slightly, hoping to catalyze some confidence. This was not going to be an easy conversation.
"Ron!" Hermione called, through cupped hands. Startled, he turned toward her voice and wobbled on his broom. "Oh, be careful! Please be careful!" It was no secret Hermione was nervous about flying.
"What?" He made no motion to come down.
"Can you please come down here, so that we can talk?"
"What about, Hermione?" He tried to keep his voice as apathetic as possible. However, there was a slight tremble to it that betrayed his real feelings.
"Please Ron! I've only got a robe on and it's a bit chilly. I just need a few minutes and I would rather not shout what I have to say into the sky for the world to hear."
Ron peered down through the darkness. "Blimey!" He noticed she wasn't lying about the robe. Then he noticed she was wearing trainers and laughed to himself. She is so bloody adorable, he thought. Taking a breath, he tried to maneuver downward in a casual, impressively cool way. However, as he neared the ground he saw a tender look in Hermione's warm, brown eyes and wobbled involuntarily.
Instinctively, she reach out to steady him as he landed. Her left hand grabbed his right elbow, and her other hand clutched the fabric of his shirt over his chest. "Be careful, Ron!"
Ron dropped his broom at his feet, alarmed at her contact. She didn't move her hands. He muttered to himself, and broke her hold by picking up his broom. He immediately regretted it.
"Well?"
"Okay, I know I've been acting strangely. That's what Harry and I were talking about in Ginny's room. He pointed out that I haven't been as, well, warm to you since I arrived."
"I don't know what Harry's talking about." Ron avoided looking at her. He pretended to be interested in the sky.
"Well, whether you've noticed or not, I haven't been myself with you today. And, I would like to explain why. I hadn't really planned on telling you any of this and, to be honest, I'm not sure how much I'm going to say." Hermione began pacing as she spoke. She wrung her hands nervously. Ron watched interestedly.
"On my trip, I had some...experiences. I...can we sit somewhere?" Hermione asked suddenly. Ron motioned toward the trees. There was a fallen tree that worked perfectly as a bench. Hermione nodded, and sat, cautiously crossing her legs. The robe came to her knees and she pulled nervously at it to cover them.
"I should probably apologize first. I'm, well, practically indecent. I'm sorry."
"I'm not," Ron laughed, straddling the tree trunk, facing her profile. Hermione gave him a scandalized look, and then laughed as well. It felt good and lightened things, for the moment at least. "So, what were these experiences?"
"Can you promise to listen? Just listen, don't comment, don't get angry, don't make assumptions. Just listen?"
Ron nodded, a grin still on his face.
"Well, one of the many places we visited was...Bulgaria."
Ron's expression tightened. He opened his mouth to speak.
"You promised! Just listen. Yes, I went to Bulgaria. Yes, I saw Victor. He invited my parents and I for a visit. Ron, we've been friends," she ignored his scowl at the word "friends" and continued, "for some time and it made sense to pay a quick visit. It wasn't supposed to be long, but we ran into some bad weather. Our flight to our next destination was delayed."
Ron picked absently at the tree trunk. He knew where this was going. He didn't want to hear, but he had promised to listen.
"So, Victor and I spent a bit more time together than planned. And, I want to be honest here, he...well...he kissed me."
Ron swung his leg over the trunk, and sat facing the opposite direction of Hermione. It took everything in him to remain there. He felt a tightness in his chest and slight burning in his eyes. Do not, he ordered himself, cry like some bloody baby.
"It was...unexpected...but perhaps not altogether uninvited." Though Ron's face was turned away from hers, she could see him cringe.
Harry was right. She might not have seen it before, or just chose to ignore it, but it was there. Plain and simple. Ron had feelings for her...she didn't know how strong but there were feelings for sure. She braced herself. "Okay, I'm clearly upsetting you. I think I have to tell you the whole story."
"Please don't," He said softly.
"You promised. Don't make any assumptions. You don't know where this is going." Hermione put her hand over Ron's. He turned toward her touch. Though he thought it must be a patronizing gesture, he couldn't pull away.
Hermione continued, "I don't have the most...experience with this sort of thing. One moment we were talking casually, and the next, well, he was snogging me. It was...interesting, in a way. At one point," Hermione looked away from Ron's desperate gaze both because the look in his eyes pained her and because the next part was truly exposing. "At one point, he kissed me here," she pulled the robe slightly to expose her collarbone.
Ron noticed three freckles dotted across her collarbone. He wanted to be sick. Krum had kissed her there?
"It felt, nice," she continued. Her face was now a brilliant shade of red.
"Hermione, enough. Enough. Please. I don't know why you think I want or need to hear about this. I'll leave you alone. I won't criticize you about your relationship with Krum. Please, just spare me the details. You have no idea how painful this is for me." The burning in his eyes turned watery.
"No, no wait. Ron. Just let me get through this."
"Hermione," he pleaded.
"I said your name." She said this quietly, looking at her lap.
"What?" Ron was confused.
"When Victor was kissing me here," she still had her hand on her neck, "I said your name...out loud."
Ron's eyes widened.
"Can you appreciate, for a moment, how embarrassing that was for me then and how utterly humiliating it is for me now, telling you this? Another boy was kissing me, and doing a nice job of it, and I called out your name."
Ron wasn't sure how to proceed. This could be absolutely fantastic news, or the end of their friendship-it all depended on why she said his name.
"What did Victor say?" Ron asked, still watching her. Her hand was still over his. Neither had clasped the other's hand, but neither made a motion to move either.
"Well, he was a bit upset as you can imagine. But, then he laughed about it."
"Oh. I get the joke. I'm the joke." Ron scowled.
"What? Don't make assumptions! He laughed and said he shouldn't be surprised. He said he thought all along there might be something going on between..." Hermione trailed off.
"Why would he think that? Clearly you said my name out of habit. Probably because you're always yelling at me."
"Clearly," Hermione said softly, "I said your name because I was thinking about you in an...intimate way. And clearly, Victor thought something was going on between us because I write about you in nearly every letter I send to him. And clearly," Hermione stood up, "I've made a fool of myself here."
"Wait, Hermione! Wait." He spun around on the trunk, taking both of her hands in his. She had made herself incredibly vulnerable just now, and he knew he had to prove himself a true Gryffindor. "You have not made a fool of yourself."
"Well, I feel foolish. I thought I could just pretend it never happened, but as soon as I saw you I felt as if I had something stamped on my forehead, revealing everything that happened. And anyway, I've told you this because...well, now I don't even know why!" She was exasperated.
"Can you, er, show me the spot again?" Ron tried to mask the sheepishness in his voice. Come on, Godric, give me the courage...
"The spot?"
"Where he, where Krum, kissed you..."
Hermione held his gaze, and pull the robe aside slightly. Ron's eyes moved down her neck and then to the three freckles. He felt his heart pounding in his own neck and he leaned forward...
Hermione felt Ron's soft kiss on her collarbone before she even realized he had leaned toward her. Involuntarily, she murmured, "Ron" into his ear. He pulled back, a boyish grin on his face and his eyes wide.
"Is that how you said it?"
"What?" Hermione was still in a daze.
"My name? Did you say it like that?"
"Like what?"
"I dunno...breathy. 'Ron...'" He attempted to mimic her.
"Ronald!" She scolded.
"Oh Ron!" He became more dramatic now. He was positively giddy. She thought of me, ME while with HIM!
She pulled her hand from his and placed them on her hips. "I've exposed myself in far too many ways this evening, and I'm sorry to have done so. Glad you've had a laugh, though!"
Before she could storm away, as he knew she would, Ron wrapped his arms around her and pulled toward him, standing up in one fluid motion. "Now," he said, looking down at her astonished face, "you're making assumptions. I'm not laughing at you, Hermione. I'm so damn happy! I feel the same way I feel...when I fly. A few moments ago, I'm not proud to admit, I might have cried. And then, you said my name and I just..." at this, Ron lifted her off her feet and spun in a full circle. He felt he couldn't string together a coherent thought, so he chose to communicate in other ways.
Hermione was breathless, confused, and exhilarated.
"Will you fly with me? You can ride Ginny's broom?" Ron looked at her with such a hopeful look, Hermione wanted to kiss him senseless.
"Ron! Slow down! For one, I'm not decently dressed. Secondly, I'm a terrible flier. Third, we haven't...figured things out yet."
"Oh right. Well, you can get changed. And then you can fly on my broom, with me. And lastly..." Ron decided to go with the nonverbal communication. Running on the adrenaline rushing through his veins, he kissed her, properly on her mouth this time.
She responded almost immediately, holding him as tightly and he held her, and kissing him with a passion Victor Krum never got to see. After a few moments, they held each other in a nervous but enthusiastic embrace and swayed on the spot.
"Ron?" She murmured against his chest, absently tracing circles on the back of his neck with her fingertips.
"Hmm, say it again." His nose and mouth were pressed into her sweet smelling, still damp hair.
"Say what?"
He pulled himself out of her hair and pressed a soft kiss to her check bone, then behind her ear, then, for good measure, once more on her collarbone. "My name."
Hermione grinned, "Now, don't get such a big head about all this..." she paused then added a breathy, "Ron." Eager to try for herself, she planted a soft kiss on his collarbone. She felt his body tremble in her arms.
"Let me run to your house to put on proper clothes. And then I'll fly with you." She started to ease herself out of his arms.
"My house? Call it "home" like you did in your letter. I love when you call the Burrow home." He slide a kiss across her forehead that made her positively dizzy.
"Oh," she blushed, "I wasn't thinking of the Burrow, so to speak. Home is whenever I'm with you."
The End