Disclaimer: If I was J.K. Rowling, this wouldn't be a short fan fiction. It would be a 900-page book.
Ron Weasley had always loved Friday nights. Although he was constantly in a school environment, it was nice to have one night a week when you knew that you could put off homework and other pressures until the next day. That's why on one Friday night in his sixth year, Ron was found sitting in his armchair before the common fire with a very relaxed and pleasant attitude.
Of course, he had also been having a very enjoyable night with his friends. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had found out that day that Cornelius Fudge had been fired because of illegal actions towards goblins (for full details, see the Quibbler), and the three of them found this highly amusing. They could not go for five minutes without one of them cracking a joke about Fudge or goblins or pies, and all the laughter had put Ron in a very good mood. Not to mention it stopped him and Hermione from fighting, and he found the break from their constant bickering very nice.
At about nine o'clock, the trio were all sitting in their armchairs relaxing and drinking butterbeer when they heard a tap on the window and looked up. A large barn owl was outside the window with a letter clutched in its beak. Hermione recognized the owl and opened the window to let it in. She pulled the letter out of its beak and began to read it, her eyes moving rapidly back and forth while Ron and Harry waited to hear the news. However, after Hermione had finished she simply put the letter in the back pocket of her jeans and went to sit back down without saying anything.
"Well?" Harry asked.
"What?" Hermione said.
"Aren't you going to tell us who the letter's from?"
"Oh, it's no one, just a friend of mine," she replied. A small blush tinged her cheeks when she said this.
"Don't tell me it's from…" Ron began, but he stopped as the realization hit him. "You can't still be writing to Vicky!" he exclaimed.
"So what if I am?" Hermione said dangerously.
"How can you still be writing to that stupid Bulgarian git?"
"He is not a stupid Bulgarian git, Ron! He's my friend!"
"Yeah, right, and I'm Father Christmas," Ron said sarcastically.
"You know Ron, you drive me up the wall sometimes! We were getting along fine and then you had to go and act like a stupid prat and criticize my friend! Again!"
"Your friend? Yeah right…you very well know that you're more than friends!" Ron spat. Hermione glared at him, stood up swiftly, and stomped out of the common room.
Harry sighed heavily after Hermione left. He was so sick of Ron and Hermione's constant arguing and their immaturity. It was bluntly obvious that they were trying to hide their feelings for each other, but he really wished the pair of them would stop acting like six year olds. He rolled his eyes and stared into the fire, wondering when they would grow up.
"What are you rolling your eyes at me for?" Ron said irritably, having caught Harry's facial expression when he turned away from the portrait hole.
"Because I'm tired of you two messing things up everyday. Why don't you just stop being stubborn and admit to Hermione that you like her?"
"Like—Hermione—you think I like—what are you talking about!?" Ron hissed defensively.
Harry only shook his head, got up from his chair, and made his way to the spiraling staircases. Ron sat fuming in his chair for a few minutes trying to ignore the small voice in his head that kept telling him Harry was right. After he had cooled down a bit he started to regret his outbursts at Hermione and Harry. In fact, he had a sudden urge to go find Hermione and apologize. Without thinking about what he would say, he got up and walked out of the portrait hole.
Right, now, where did she go? Ron thought. He began to walk down the corridor, looking for Hermione and contemplating where she might be. His rational thoughts told him she might be in the library, but Ron's instincts told him to veer left and head to the lake instead. He walked out into the slightly chilly September air and paced towards the lake, squinting for a sign of Hermione. It soon became clear to him, however, that Hermione was not out here. Well of course she's not here, you stupid prat. Why would she come out here? He sat down by the beech tree and stared out into the lake, wondering why she did this to him and what was so good about Viktor Krum. He was jerked out of his stupor when he heard a small sniff from above him. Ron cricked his neck around and stared up at a large branch about eight feet off the ground, on which sat a dark figure.
Ron stood up and began backing away from the tree. The dark shape began to move towards the trunk and climb down the tree, and Ron recognized the long, lean figure.
"So, come to tell me off again for being somebody's friend?" Hermione said angrily.
"I know he's more than your friend, Hermione," Ron replied in a voice of equal anger, completely forgetting his apology.
"You don't know as much as you think! If you did—if you really were my friend—you wouldn't be so quick to jump down my throat! Friends trust each other Ron. You don't know anything about me," she said in a voice of mixed anger and hurt.
"I
know more about you than you think," Ron replied, just as angrily.
"Like what?"
"Like the fact that you can't stand being in a fight with me right now! Like the fact that you have to sit in trees and cry because you don't want people to think you have weaknesses, Hermione. And how everyone only thinks of you as a smart, brainy bookworm, but truthfully you really don't like that. You only use your intelligence to cover up the fact that you're afraid. And don't try and tell me that's not true," he said forcefully, as she stared at him incredulously, slightly offended. "You care about a lot more things than schoolwork, even if it's not apparent to everyone. You care about helping minorities like house-elves and making sure Harry and I are okay and I know you want people to realize that there's more to you than books. And you know what else? You don't really like Krum. I know you well enough to know that you could never be as close with him as it seems. The only thing I can't figure out is why you keep this relationship with him going. I used to like Krum before you two started dating."
Hermione continued to gazed, mesmerized, at Ron, but this did not deter him. He was on a roll, admitting everything, and he plunged recklessly onward.
"And I also know a few things about you that you don't know. Like how you always organize the food on your plate without realizing it, and how you always smile when you read, and how the only things that really make you giggle are incidents like that old bloke in a nightgown at the Quidditch World Cup, and how you always bite your lip when you're thinking, and you fold your arms really tight when you're uncomfortable. And how you drive me mad sometimes but for some reason I still want to be your friend because of—because you're you. There's just one thing I don't understand about you. Why do you like Vicky so much? Why do you need Vicky when you have Harry and me? I would have gladly taken you to the ball! I realize I sort of acted like a prat about it, but really, I would've asked you, and I always realized you were a girl Hermione, even if it didn't seem like it sometimes. Why did you have to go and make yourself all pretty for Vicky? You drive me mad sometimes!"
Hermione was folding her arms now, but it was because she was not used to seeing Ron this way, not because she was uncomfortable. The end of Ron's tirade seemed to snap him back into his senses, and he started to burn with embarrassment at the things that had toppled out of his mouth. Hermione could not see him in the dark but she knew he was blushing. They stood there uncomfortably for a few seconds, Hermione still in shock, and then Ron seemed to come to himself and turned to leave. He took two steps before Hermione had seized his wrist.
"Ron," she said, and he turned to face her, still very embarrassed. She looked at him for a moment and then flung herself onto him, enveloping him in her warm embrace.
"I'm sorry," she said as she hugged him tightly. "I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have accused you of all those things. I think you understand me better than anyone. And you're right about everything you said." She began to cry onto his shoulder, and Ron awkwardly put his arms around her and held her for a few moments.
"I'm sorry too," he said, as she pulled away and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "I know you hate it when I make fun of Vick—Viktor. It's just that…Hermione…I can't stand…" he broke off, not knowing how to express himself.
"Ron, Viktor and I are just friends. Just friends," she sniffed.
"Then why are you always writing letters to him and—and why did you go to Bulgaria last summer?" he said, his voice cracking a little with the hurt that was rising inside him.
"I didn't go," Hermione said softly. Ron looked at her skeptically but Hermione continued, "He kept asking me to go, but I didn't want to. I wanted to be with you and Harry." Ron was still looking at her and she felt she owed him more of an explanation. "Look, I'm sorry, I know it upsets you when I write to him and talk about him, I could tell because of your reactions that you felt—and Ginny kept telling me—but I wasn't sure—but Ron, trust me, Viktor is just my friend. I promise."
A small weight seemed to lift in Ron's chest at her words, but he was still confused about some things. "You weren't sure about what, Hermione?"
"Well I—I thought you might—but I wasn't sure…" she broke off, looking down at the ground.
"You thought I might fancy you?" Ron asked timidly.
Hermione looked up from the ground and into Ron's shining blue eyes. "Well, from what Ginny kept telling me, and from your behavior toward Viktor, I thought maybe you did."
"Why didn't you say anything?" Ron asked in an unsteady voice.
"Because," she looked down at the ground again, "because I fancy you Ron, but I wasn't sure if you felt the same way, and I didn't want to fool myself into believing that I could have you." Hermione felt very self-conscious now and continued to stare at the ground. Ron didn't say anything for several moments, and Hermione looked up at him expecting to see a look of disbelief or revolt, but to her amazement, he was grinning.
"Hermione, I—I reckon you should listen to Ginny more, because she's right. I, er, I fancy you too. And I have for quite a while now." Now it was Ron's turn to stare at the ground nervously, wondering how she would react to this confession. To his surprise he felt Hermione tentatively slip her hands inside his and he looked up at her tear-stained face. She was smiling shyly and standing only about a foot away from him. Ron felt his heart beating rapidly and was both terrified and ecstatic at the same time.
"I guess this means we won't be having any more fights over Viktor," she said playfully.
"No, I guess not," said Ron with a nervous laugh, clutching her hand tightly. "Er—Hermione—did you…did you ever kiss him, at the Yule Ball or anything?"
"Yeah…" she said, looking at him unblinkingly. Ron's heart stopped beating and his chest felt constricted. He stared at her, clearly hurt, but she smiled and continued, "…but only on the cheek." Ron felt the breath come back in his lungs and slowly smiled. "Honestly Ron, do you really think I'd let Vicky kiss me?" Hermione asked with a hint of humor. "I was sort of hoping my first kiss would be with…someone else."
Ron grinned and shyly stepped nearer to her. The two of them stood awkwardly for a moment, fingers intertwined, and then Ron leaned down and kissed Hermione swiftly on the lips. Hermione felt a chill come over her and Ron felt slightly dizzy. He pulled back slowly and stared at her, waiting for her to say something. Hermione looked at him for a second, a broad smile spreading across her lips, and then stood up on tiptoe and kissed him again.
"You know, this is kind of funny," Hermione said, as they pulled away a second time. "I mean, we make a bit of an odd couple, you and me. I suppose opposites attract though."
"Hermione, do you have to analyze everything?" Ron teased.
"Oh shut up," she replied, but she wasn't angry at him for once; on the contrary, her heart felt lighter than it had in weeks. "So…what's Harry going to say about all this?" she asked.
"D'you know, he might not be all that surprised."
Hermione looked at Ron questioningly, but he just took her hand and led her slowly to the oak-front doors of the castle. They looked shyly at each other as they climbed the front steps, both feeling slightly dazed. Later, as Ron lay in bed thinking about Hermione and the night's events, he decided Friday was definitely his favorite day of the week.
End of fluff
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