Bowing To The Inevitable

By: Irish Emerald

Disclaimer:  I do not own anything that has to do with Harry Potter in the following story; I'm not trying to make money with it, and I really can't think of anyone who would pay to read it.  I have no money, so if you want to sue me, you'd be wasting your own time.

***

Hermione had reached a decision.  Ron was just going to have to deal with the fact that he liked her in that way.  She had tried dropping subtle hints since they got on the train in the beginning of the year, but it was almost Christmas and though his ears still turned red when Viktor sent her a letter and he mumbled incoherent phrases under his breath like "consorting with the enemy," and  "disgusting, he's 4 years older," she still hadn't gotten him to admit how he felt.  Her mother said that boys were like children and you just had to trick them into saying what you wanted them to say, but Hermione doubted it.  Anyway, subtle hints had never been her style.  Go straight to the point- no beating around the bush.  Beating around the bush was pointless in any case, as Ron, who had possibly the thickest skull of anyone she had ever met, never understood what she was trying to say.  But then, I suppose that's part of why I like him so much.  He's so genuine.  When he's angry, he never lets anyone doubt how he's feeling.  I wish I knew how he felt about me…Shut up Hermione, stop mooning over him.  You'll tell him tonight, after dinner, and that'll be that.

            Unfortunately, this was easier said than done.  Ginny had said that it was obvious from the way that Ron had been languishing around all summer that he had a crush on Hermione.  She had also said that she had kept finding crumpled up pieces of parchment lying around his room with Dear Hermione, I have something important to tell you.  I think I l- scrawled on them in Ron's unmistakable messy handwriting, but still, that didn't mean that he liked her.  He had given no indication of ever having feelings for her besides his abnormal and almost comical jealousy of Viktor Krum, who was nothing more than a good friend of Hermione's- and not even that close a friend.  Their correspondence had dwindled to about one letter a month and Hermione really had no wish to increase it.  O.W.L.S. were coming up and she had no time to waste writing frivolous letters to Viktor when the Dark Lord was on the rise.

            And Voldemort was most definitely on the rise.  Every day in the Daily Prophet there were stories of his escapades- torturing, murder; the Dark Mark was in the sky at least once a week. Between her worry for Harry, her schoolwork and trying to get Ron, the thickheaded git, to notice her, Hermione had very little time to write Viktor.  She only kept it up, really, because it was good to have friends in other countries, especially now that Voldemort's threat to the wizarding world was becoming more apparent.  And he had been very nice to her at the Yule Ball last year.  That would teach Ron to think of Hermione Granger as a last resort.  Hmph.

            There was the problem.  Her thoughts kept returning to Ron.  No matter what she was doing, she ended up daydreaming about him.  She was getting as bad as Lavender and Parvati.  Well, that's why I'm going to tell him how I feel tonight, right? Maybe then I'll finally be able to get some peace of mind.  Even if he doesn't like me back, at least I'll know.  Oh, but what if he doesn't like me back?

***

            Ron had made a decision.  That night, he was going to tell Hermione how he felt.  I'm a Gryffindor, aren't I?  I'm not scared at all.  Not even the tiniest bit.  He'd do it after dinner tonight.  It was really getting ridiculous, how much his feelings for her were getting in the way of things.  He had nearly lost to Harry twice while playing chess because he was so distracted by watching her doing her homework… he loved the way she brushed her quill against her chin while she was thinking, and the way the firelight in the common room made the reddish highlights in her hair stand out… Snap out of it, Ron, he chastised himself.  You can't be obsessing over her all day.  Which was exactly what he had been doing lately.  Even Harry, who had more important problems and therefore was chronically oblivious, had noticed.  Every time Ron made a bad move, Harry would look at him and then look at Hermione with that knowing twinkle in his eye and an infuriating smirk on his face.  That was why he was going to tell her tonight.

            The only good thing about the whole situation, from Ron's perspective, was that Harry seemed to find it hilarious and anything that Ron could do to lighten his friend's mood was not too embarrassing.  If he could get Harry to laugh by dressing and acting like Percy for a week, complete with Bighead Boy badge, he would do it.  The events of last year's Triwizard Tournament and the Dark Lord's ascension to power seemed to be weighing very heavily on his mind.  Yes, if there was anything Ron could do to give Harry a laugh, he would do it.  If Harry ever hears how badly I'm going to botch telling Hermione how I feel, he'd laugh his head off.  No, no, think positive… she'll like you back, she'll like you back…Well, there's no use worrying over it… "Hey Harry!  D'you want a game of chess?"  That'll distract me.  And it'll keep Harry from getting too uppity.  I know he thinks I'm losing my touch.  Ha!  I'll show him. 

***

That evening, an extremely apprehensive Hermione entered the common room.  Her eyes scanned the happy Gryffindors for the sight of a red head- and she found several of them.  There was Ginny, talking with the Creevey brothers; Fred and George, trying to get a few frightened first years to eat some kind of pastry; aha!  Harry and Ron were doing their homework by the fire, an open box of sugar quills between them.  That's a rare sight indeed, thought Hermione.  It's not often you see them doing homework.  I had better not disturb them.  I think I'll just sit here in the corner and read.  She knew she was making excuses for not going over there and talking to him, but she was just going to sit here for a while until she got her courage up.  And perhaps it would be better to wait 'til Harry went to bed.  If she walked up to Ron and asked to speak to him alone, Harry would know exactly what was going on and Hermione didn't think she could deal with Harry laughing at her while she tried to accomplish the scariest thing she had ever attempted in her life.

            Two hours later, Harry finally finished the Potions essay he had been writing.  He gathered his books sleepily, said goodnight to Ron, and headed up the stairs to his dorm.  Neither boy had noticed Hermione in the corner that evening, although Ron had wondered aloud several times where she was.  Mustering all her willpower, Hermione crossed the room to Ron's seat.

***

Oh no, Ron thought, here she comes.  And she looks serious too. Ron gave himself a small pep talk.  It's all right. Buck up, Ron.  You're a Gryffindor.  None of this scaredy-cat business. 

"Ron, I have something I need talk to you about."

            "Hello to you too, Hermione.  Where were you all night?  Been writing to Krum, have you?"

            Hermione tried to swallow her anger.  They'd said about ten words to each other and already they were fighting.  Maybe she should just give up and go to bed… no.  Hermione's natural stubbornness forced her to stay downstairs and continue talking.  "Ron, I didn't come here to talk about my relationship with Viktor--"

            Ron looked down at his homework, unable to believe the seemingly infinite bounds of his own stupidity.  He had been sitting here all night, gearing himself up to tell Hermione that he loved her, for Pete's sake, and the first word that came out of his mouth instigated an argument.  He looked up again and saw, to his surprise (it was winter, after all), a bee, sitting on her head.  "Uh, Hermione--"

            "--which is really none of you business anyway.  I came to talk to you about OUR re-- "

            "Hermione, there's a bee on your head."

            "—lationship… What did you say?"

            "I said, there's a bee on you head."

            At this revelation, Hermione let out a loud and terrified scream.

            "KILL IT, KILL IT!  WHERE IS IT?  WHERE?"

            This reaction would have seemed odd to those who only knew Hermione by her reputation as cool and levelheaded under pressure.  It had been these very qualities that had enabled Gryffindor to win the House cup back when they were all in first year.  However, Ron knew the story behind Hermione's aversion to bees, which involved a bush, a hornet's nest, and a pair of hedge clippers.  Therefore, he was not surprised when she ran screaming across the now-empty common room and buried her head in a sofa.

            So Ron embarked on a quest worthy of King Arthur—he spent 10 minutes jumping around the room in vain pursuit of the bee, leaping on and off the tables and couches.  Suddenly, he was struck with a bright idea.

"Hermione, do you have any water?"

            The couch emitted a muffled, "Yes, in my book bag there should be a bottle."  That's Hermione for you, always prepared.

            Ron took the last three sugar quills from their box and dissolved them in Hermione's water.  He then spilled a small puddle of it on the table where he and Harry had been doing their homework. 

            "Come over here and look at this."  Ron had to speak rather loudly as Hermione still had her head buried in the couch.  She emerged, looking reluctant and wary, eyes scanning the room for any sight of the sinister bee, which had caught the scent of the sweetened water and was slowly crossing the table toward it.

            Hermione watched in frightened fascination as the bee proceeded to crawl to the edge of the puddle and drink.  She caught sight of Ron lifting a large book—her Arithmancy book, to be more specific—and bringing it down on the delinquent bee, smashing it into the table, and in the process, knocking over the bottle and splashing them both with the sticky solution.

            Ron turned and faced her as soon as he had ascertained that the bee was properly dead and its entrails made a prominent display on the front of her textbook.  "Now that that's over with, I actually had something to tell you too, Hermione.  But you can go first."

            "Oh no, that's all right, you go ahead.  After you killed the bee for me, it's the least I can do," Hermione protested.  Her Gryffindor bravery was noticeably absent at this juncture, and if Ron was going to say what she thought he was going to say, then better he do it first than she.

            "Er, right.  Well… I… hum.   Lately I, ahem, have been having these… feelings and, uh, I think you should know about them, since they, er, are about you…" She'll never understand what I'm trying to say.  I don't even understand what I'm trying to say…

            He looked so miserably embarrassed—ears a bright flaming red worthy of its own Crayola color, cheeks flushed a matching shade, eyes downcast—that Hermione just had to help him out.

            "Do you like me, Ron?  Because, you know, there's really nothing romantic between Viktor and I, and I really wouldn't mind if you did.  In fact--," and now Hermione was blushing, "—in fact, I think I would rather like it."

            Ron gathered up all his courage and said, "Hermione, you know I like you.  You're so clever, you probably knew I liked you even before I did myself.  I need you to help me stop being such a bloody great prat all the time."

            "You know you're not a prat," Hermione said softly.  "And I'll admit, had I been looking at your behavior this past year objectively, I probably would have known that you had feelings for me.  But I really wasn't sure until tonight if you did or if it was just, you know, wishful thinking on my part."  I really should have known.  He was so obvious about it, I can't believe I ever doubted it.

            They had been gradually growing closer during this exchange, until finally they were standing eye to eye—or rather, chest to eye, as Ron was a good foot taller that Hermione.  However, she was looking up and he was looking down, so it didn't make any difference.

            "I'm sorry."  With that, he leaned down and kissed her.

When they broke apart, she asked breathlessly, "Sorry for what?  You haven't done anything wrong yet."

            "For every thing, I guess.  I'm sorry I blamed you for Scabbers' death in third year, I'm sorry I called you a nightmare in first, I'm sorry about the whole Krum thing this year and last, I'm sorry I teased you about Lockhart, I'm sorry… I dunno, I'm sorry for everything," he said again.

            "Oh Ron, that was so sweet…" Hermione sighed, and this time she initiated the kiss.

            Ron was still curious about one thing.  "So, are we an 'us' now?" he asked.

            "If you want us to be, then we are."

            "So… so will you go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?" he queried tentatively.

            "Of course I will," she replied, her face alight with happiness.  Then a sudden thought struck her.  "What about Harry?"

            "Oh."  Ron thought for a moment.  "I think he's been expecting this.  You know, you and me and … this…  Don't worry, though.  I'll tell him and I'm sure he'll understand."

            "Well, ask him not to tell the twins.  If they hear that we're," she blushed again, "going out, we'll never hear the end of it."

***

            Ron felt considerable trepidation as he walked up the stairs that night.  He still hadn't figured out how he was going to tell Harry about what had just happened.  He could hardly make sense out of it himself.

            "Harry?  Are you still awake?"

            "Yeah, I'm still here.  So," he said casually, "has anything interesting happened in the common room recently?"

            Ron tried not to get embarrassed so he could relate to Harry the events of the evening from a mature and reasonable standpoint.  "Hermione and I have made a date for the next Hogsm--"

            "—Hogsmeade weekend and you were wondering if I could make myself scarce.  And you also want me to make sure the twins don't find out."

            Ron was surprised.  He knew that Harry had suspected what was going on, but he didn't understand how he could have guessed their plans so quickly.  Were they really that transparent?  "Yeah.  How did you know?"

            "The two of you are so transparent."

            I guess we really are that transparent. "Do you mind?"

 "Of course not.  Ginny and I have been expecting this since the beginning of the school year.  She said I could go to Hogsmeade with her, so you two don't have to worry about ditching me."  Harry paused and said, "I'm simply bowing to the inevitable."

AN:  I hope you guys enjoyed that.  It was my first fic, so I won't be too disappointed if everyone says it's stupid and they hate it.  Actually, I will, so please don't if you can help it.  Constructive criticism only. And H/Hers, read the title again and then take the hint.

P.S.  I really did get stung once when I was trimming a bush with a hornets' nest in it.