He woke to see her chewing her bottom lip indecisively, her face looming ominously close above his.
'Bloody hell!' He groaned. She jumped back, startled.
Flapping her hands anxiously and flicking her wand to close the hangings around his bed, she hissed reproachfully, 'Harry's asleep!'
Ron raised his head and peered through the curtains at the seventh year dormitory he had not grown accustomed to. 'Heavy sleeper.' he grunted in explanation, acknowledging the snoring lump of sheets (otherwise recognised as his best friend) with a dismissive wave. He reached for the wand in his pocket, pointing it vaguely in the direction of the curtain surrounding him and muttered, 'Silencio!'
He collapsed back onto the bed and looked to her, rubbing his eyes, 'Hi.'
'Hi.' She replied softly from the foot of his bed.
'What are you doing here?' He asked, his eyes greeting the streams of light from his window uncomfortably.
She spoke nervously, 'Just...seeing how you were.'
He nodded and sat up slowly, his back hunched slightly. 'It's early.' he commented, staring at the floor.
He looked up at her. 'You can, you know, come over.' He said awkwardly, patting the space beside him.
'No, sorry - I should go, get back to sleep.' she said, shaking her head.
He caught her by the hand,'Oh, come off it, Hermione.'
'You're holding my hand.' she observed vaguely.
'Really?' He said, controlling the urge to roll his eyes at her.
'It's nice.' she commented absent-mindedly.
He laughed.
Her face turned a curious shade of red.
'Shut up!' she exclaimed reproachfully.
He looked away from her to resist laughing. Even so, he was unable to obscure an appreciative grin. He glanced up at her scarlet face a moment later before she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.
'…-oh.' He said eloquently, as she slanted away from him.
'You kissed me.' he stated.
She raised her eyebrows, smiling, and mocked him light-heartedly, rolling her eyes - (unlike Ron, she was unable to suppress the tendency) - 'Really?'
'Again.' He continued, frowning.
Her eyes flitted across his face. She exclaimed in a slightly critical tone,'You're sulking!'
'No, really, I'm not...' He said, shaking his head hastily, looking as though he would have preferred to say more before having trailed off.
'Ron,' her voice was unnervingly neutral, almost curious.
He did not seem to find this a reassurance.
'Mmm?' he replied slowly.
'Why did you stop talking?' She asked, tilting her head to the side.
In an attempt at nonchalance, he spoke, '…sorry, I dunno what you're...um...'
'Ron!' She reprimanded crossly.
'Yes?'
'You did it again!' she cried out incredulously.
'What?' he said, bewildered.
She crossed her arms, and spoke crossly, 'You trailed off!'
He appeared baffled.'When?'
'Just then, in mid-sentence!'
'Well, what d'you want me to say?' he asked, bewildered.
She spoke, through gritted teeth.'I want you to answer me.'
'Answer you what?'
She breathed out exasperatedly, 'I kissed you. You sulked. Why?'
'Well-' he paused, feeling a bit uneasy under her unflinching gaze.
He thought back to when she had bruised him after returning weeks after he had abandoned her. He scratched his arm in thought and felt the mark of one particularly fierce bird that Hermione had set upon him in his sixth year. His eyes focused on her once more and he recognised The Expression.
That familiar, ardent appearance.
That she seemed to save only for him.
He needed his wand. Just in case; to protect himself from her. It was time he acted in his defence, he encouraged himself as his silence grew longer and her patience; shorter. He tried to be discreet, failing abysmally as he fumbled for it in the many pockets of Charlie's old pyjamas (they were starting to border on the resemblance of a pair of shorts).
'Ron,' she snapped, her eyes narrowed.
He froze.
'What are you reaching inside your pockets for?'
'My wand.' He said resignedly.
'And how are you going to use it?'
He grinned, 'I'll recite a spell and -'
'Ron!'
He looked shifty. 'You know - for protection…'
'Oh, really?' it was obvious she was sceptical.
'Yes.' He said defiantly, regretting it as he cowered under her gaze.
'From who?'
'People…' said Ron, significantly.
'Who?'
He elaborated, 'Witches and, er, wizards.'
'Who?' She repeated incredulously, 'Voldemort's dead!'
'Really?' He questioned feebly.
She pursed her lips and chose not to reply.
'Still…Death Eaters - can't be too, er, careful…' he trailed of somewhat lamely.
She looked at him strangely.'You were with your Dad when he delivered them to the Ministry.'
'Oh, yeah. Right, I remember now.' He nodded his head confidently.
'It was last night.' She said dubiously.
'So it was.' He agreed.
She stared at him, trying to detect a hint of what he was feeling in his posture or expression or eyes. He did not move until the last moment before she spoke, reaching for a quidditch magazine on his bedside table, unable to stand the uncomfortable dynamic inside the curtains.
'Ron, you're scared.' She concluded wisely, but her tone was probing.
His fingers faltered while flicking through the magazine and he looked up, considering her carefully, 'It's just...your face!' Her cheeks quickly gathered a crimson tinge.
He swore. Throwing the magazine on the floor, he mumbled into his hands miserably,'Merlin, that came out wrong...'
She was furious. 'No, no - I'm glad! In fact - relieved you brought this up. Please, delight me and explain what you find terrifying in "my face"!'
Ah. There was The Expression again.
He didn't answer.
'Well. It's nice to know that find it harder to look at me than you do to duel Voldemort's followers-'
'-No, Hermione-'
She was unstoppable. 'I can't believe I repulse you that much!-'
'Hermione!'
'I can't really blame you - I know I'm no Phlegm -'
'NO!' She stopped speaking, surprised.
He was breathing heavily. 'No. Your face…it's, it's nice. Really nice.'
She looked to him doubtfully, 'Then why are you scared of it?'
As usual, he was the last to know.'It's not like that. Well, it sort of is… scary.'
'Scary?' She cried hysterically, her eyes bulging slightly.
'Yes, scary, don't look at me like that! It is scary. It's scary that someone like you can exist. After all this, you're still there and you're real and… you can feel and… still be.'
Her face softened considerably.
'I know I should be happy that the darkest wizard of all time is dead. Mind you, I am. But, you know - Tonks and Lupin and -' he breathed the name out heavily, 'Fred.' He bowed his head, not wanting her to see his face. 'And after all that, all of them, I just feel so angry at myself!'
'For what?' she asked, surprised.
'For sitting here and, enjoying myself, with you.' he muttered to the drab curtains surrounding the four poster bed.
'Ron.' she said his name softly, strangely. Before he had lifted his head to look at her, she had wrapped her arms around him. She sat there, holding him, until his breathing slowed down and his shoulders dropped. He buried his face where her neck met her shoulders and was still for several long moments. He lifted his head up and gave her a small smile, folding his feet beneath him.
'Ron?' her voice was quiet.
'Mmm?'
She asked, unable to relieve her voice of a tone of curiosity. 'Why were you sulking before?'
He laughed. 'Oh, that - It's just, you know, I hadn't had a turn yet.'
'Of wha-?' she made an appreciative sound as his face drew nearer. He kissed her tentatively, his mouth barely moving over hers. She raised her hand to the back of his neck.
'Ron?' she murmured, resting her forehead against his.
'Mmm?'
She pondered aloud, 'Why did you need your wand before, then?'
His head snapped up and he looked fearful.
'Well, it's just you can be, just a bit…' he looked around the room, desperate for a distraction but instead caught sight of Hermione's menacing glare.
He spoke in a small voice, 'Intimidating.'
She asked, confused, 'Is this like a sort of repeat of "my scary face", that sort of thing?'
He shook his head.
Hermione spoke slowly, 'For your sake, I hope that you have another gallant explanation on hand. Because otherwise,' she noticed he had retreated to the very edge of his bed, 'otherwise,' she repeated (out of respect for dramatics), 'you won't have one at all.' She smirked as he patted the backside of his hand with an air of mourning.
She waited for him to say something.
He didn't.
A minute passed.
She huffed impatiently and prompted him to speak by nudging him forcefully in the ribs.
He cleared his throat and compared both his hands carefully. 'Do I get a say in which one goes?' He asked, smiling slightly.
Hermione's stony expression did not alleviate in the slightest.
He sighed. 'Hermione, it's a… good sort of intimidating.'
Attempting to lighten the mood with a small instance of humour, he continued, 'Really - Dad once said to me if I don't marry someone I'm scared of, it wouldn't work out.' He chuckled fondly. Hermione, however, looked taken aback and remained silent. She opened her mouth and closed it again. Ron found this extremely strange; in all the years he had known her, she had never abandoned a conversation so abruptly (unless she was in "urgent" need of the library) or voiced her opinion with the sophisticated articulation used in their current textbook. Of course, they had had their share of silences, but even in those he could practically hear her brain whirring beside him. But now, she just looked stunned.
Then in all but a second, she had regained her composure and set her voice to a strictly business-like tone, 'So, you're planning to marry me, then?'
It was his turn for his jaw to arrive at the floor.
'No, wait-wha-?'
'Ron, you just said to me, "No, really - Dad once said to me if I don't marry someone I'm scared of, it wouldn't work out." to try and persuade me to acquit your hand. Yes?' The time was long since gone when he found her alarmingly accurate memory unnerving. He knew it was a deeply ingrained habit and suspected she had acquired the skill through her increased visits to the Library during the time they spent bickering years before (they did seem to do that a lot, he thought), 'Well, I didn't - I mean, you, er-'
'Yes or no?'
He gulped. 'Yes,' but his next protest was drowned out by Hermione, who had raised her voice to make herself heard, 'So, I take it you thought saying what you said to me is something short of comforting; a reassurance?'
He looked terrified,'Well-'
'And to suggest it,' she paused for the first time, looking slightly unsure of herself and repeated, 'to suggest it,' she continued, searching his face, 'you were serious!' She exclaimed, sounding dazed.
Was he serious? He had never really thought about it before. He was sure he didn't want her to be married to anyone else. An unpleasant image cropped up in his mind of Hermione in a long, white dress standing alongside Viktor Krum, exchanging rings, vows -
'No!' he wasn't aware he had spoken aloud until Hermione spoke, sounding hurt, 'You weren't?'
She had misunderstood. He shook his head quickly, 'I wouldn't mind.' she narrowed her eyes. He cleared his throat and clarified unnecessarily, 'I'm not fussy, really. Okay, we can. Or we will? We will? er...yeah, okay.'
'Do I get a say in this?' she asked bemusedly.
'Do you object?' he replied.
She was quiet for a long while. He started when he heard her burst out, 'But we're young!'
He concurred. 'Yeah. We are.'
'…So?' She questioned, looking almost afraid to hear the answer.
'Maybe later, then.' He suggested, more to himself than her.
'Yes. Good. Later.' Hermione spoke again, sounding rather excited, 'It's quite fulfilling isn't it?'
He frowned, 'What?'
'Planning to plan to get married?' she said brightly.
'Mental, more like, if you put it that way.' but he added as an afterthought, 'Yeah. It'd be nice. Really nice.'
Reviews, anyone? Thank you - happy sappy ending xx