The hot day had given way to an equally hot afternoon, and after a smoothie, some self-indulgent shopping, gelato, more shopping, and more gelato, Hermione and Ginny had declared themselves too sweaty and exhausted to continue. Hermione was feeling a little bit burnt, and a little bit guilty about swanning about Byron Bay rather than hunting frantically for her parents, and Ginny was fantasising about aloe cooling charms, a cold shower and a glass of water she could drown in, but they both froze when they got to the verandah, and heard raised voices.
"Why not?"
"I can't do that to her Harry, she's my friend,"
"Just ask her out,"
"No."
"But she likes you-"
"I can't. Even if she does like me, I'm only going to hold her back. I can't- I can't do that to her. She's too brilliant, I can't be responsible for stuffing up her future,"
"But-"
"No! Just drop it, ok?"
A door slammed on the other side of the little holiday house. They stood for a minute, like sweaty mannequins.
"Well, that explains a lot," said Ginny in a fake whisper, "I don't think we were supposed to hear that,"
Hermione swore.
"I can't unhear it. Damn, he's stupid."
"You're the one in love with him,"
"Oh, shut up,"
Harry opened the front door.
"Back from shopping?"
"No," said Ginny solemnly, "We're still trying on dresses."
"Ha ha."
She kissed him on the cheek and strode into the living room, dumping her bags on the sofa and kicking off her shoes at the same time. She flopped down on a kitchen chair and melodramatically fanned herself with one hand.
"This climate is beastly,"
"You were the one who insisted on coming,"
"Well, I was hardly going to pass up the opportunity," she smirked, "And I now have a range of very attractive swimwear,"
"Hmmm" Harry started peering into the bags.
Hermione stood in the doorway.
"Harry,"
"Yeah?"
"Where'd he go?"
Harry opened his mouth. Then shut it.
"I… dunno. Stormed off. The usual."
Hermione slowly put her bags down on the sofa beside Ginny's.
"But that was about what I think it was about, right?"
"Erm…"
"We heard everything," said Ginny, helping herself to a glass of water
"We heard the end of the conversation," Hermione frowned
"Argument," said Ginny
"Oh," said Harry, "Erm… yeah. Probably. I think I just made it worse."
"Oh no, this is not your fault," Hermione looked grim, "The only person responsible for this spectacular display of stupidity is Ron." She sighed. "I suppose I'd better give him time to cool off."
Ginny passed her a glass of water.
"I found something," said Harry, clinging to the hope of changing the subject. "Your parents do work locally, but they're on holiday."
Hermione blinked.
"They're living in Byron Bay. Where on earth are they on holiday?"
"Taking a trip through the red centre, apparently. Good news is, they're due back next week."
"Oh, gee," said Ginny, "You mean we're just going to have to hang out here, and go swimming and shopping, and lie on the beach? What a shame."
Harry grinned.
"We're all due a holiday,"
"Too right," she said, "I'm going to call Dad. He gets so excited about the telephone,"
Evening was starting to fall when Hermione left the house in search of Ron. Proximity to the sea was taking the edge off the heat, but it was still warm as she headed down the beach towards the lighthouse.
She saw him, calf deep, wading through the shallow waves heading back. She walked across the squeaky warm white sand, and the stiff, recently wet sand left by the receding tide, and tried not to boil with annoyance.
He looked so… damn romantic.
Windswept hair, shirt blown smooth against his chest, striding through the waves with something faintly angst-riddled about his posture, fading sunlight somehow making his colouring more striking than usual. Red red hair, blue blue eyes.
Argh, for crying out loud.
"You have the most continentally huge inferiority complex," she said when she was close enough to be heard over the sounds of the sea, "And I get it, ok, it makes sense. Youngest brother in a big family, best friends with, let's face it, a superhero and a minor genius, but quite frankly, it's getting old."
Ron stopped walking and just looked at her. The hem of her dress was getting wet, and the wind was blowing her hair backwards round her face, the setting sun leaving her with a glowy halo at odds with her cranky expression.
"It breaks my heart that you don't realise how brilliant you are, and it really pisses me off that you don't see how much we are who we are because of you, and we never could have done the things we've done without you, and I hate that you cast yourself in the role of expendable sidekick," she paused to breathe, "I have never seen you that way,"
"You've been talking to Harry,"
"No, I've been accidentally overhearing the completely stupid things you say and…"
He raised a cynical eyebrow.
"And?"
Hermione blinked.
"Go out with me."
He let out a derisive breath and half shook his head.
Hermione glared at him.
"Give me one good reason why not,"
He gave a bitter laugh.
"There are hundreds."
"No there aren't," she folded her arms, "Until you can give me a logical reason why not, I'm…" I'm what? She thought, I'm… erm… "I'm going to make life very difficult for you,"
Ron snorted.
"Oh what, in new and more creative ways?"
Hermione thought about the contents of her shopping bags, and the things Ginny had sort of bullied her into buying.
"Oh, believe me Ron, you have no idea." The thought cheered her up somewhat, and she smiled. Ron raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her. "Now, that's sorted, it's dinner time. Harry's ordering Thai,"
Ron frowned.
"That's it?"
"What do you mean?"
Ron peered at her anxiously.
"You looked ready to rake me down, and now… Thai?"
"Would you prefer I start making your life more difficult right now?" They both started walking back up the beach.
"Fair point," he shrugged, "So you don't hate me then,"
Hermione cast him a look.
"I think I covered that with 'go out with me'. Or did you somehow miss the implications there?"
He half laughed
"No, I mean, are you planning on yelling at me later? Is this a hiatus for dinner, or are we good?"
She considered him slowly.
"I don't think I'm planning on yelling at you later. But I wouldn't count on it. You're quite annoying, you know."
"Right."
Ron lounged on the bed and sweated. The ceiling fan just seemed to be pushing the hot air around. A cooling charm would probably fix it (provided he didn't accidentally freeze himself), but the muggy weather seemed oddly appropriate for the mixture of emotions battling somewhere between his chest and his throat.
On the one hand, he couldn't do that to her.
On the other hand, she had unambiguously asked him out. She… asked him out. Ron felt weirdly smug and zippy about that. It was extremely pleasing.
On the other hand, it was an extremely bad idea. It could ruin their friendship. It almost certainly would ruin their friendship. And it would make things weird with Harry. And he just simply wasn't good enough for her. He was all right, he supposed, but not… not the kind of man she needed. He couldn't imagine a kind of man she might need, and told himself it wasn't because if he couldn't be that person, no one else was allowed to be, and more because… because why? Because she didn't need anyone.
That seemed true.
His mind slipped back through a hundred examples, Buckbeak's trial; Rita Skeeter's secret identity; liberating Gringotts' dragon; punching Malfoy; the basilisk; all of the research, all of the protective magic, all of the organisation for the Horcrux hunt… that damn beaded bag of genius…
No. He couldn't imagine the man she needed because he didn't exist.
It was a strangely sobering thought, and it squashed the zippy happy feeling down to a little bubble.
He felt so needy. He needed his family, he needed his friends, he needed encouragement, he needed someone to tell him it would all work out, someone to point him in the direction of what to do next after they'd found her parents, and went back to Britain… because then what?
All at once, he was disgusted with himself for being so dependent. So insecure. So… like a small child holding up a crayon scribble and hoping for approval.
He was just about to descend into a really miserable spiral of self loathing, when she knocked on the door and asked to come in.
"Sure,"
She was wearing pijamas, for Ron a dangerous clothing choice. He found her easiest to look at in bulky robes. Less distracting.
"Are we up to the 'making my life difficult' part?" He asked, trying to joke himself out of the black spiral.
She blushed, and sat on the end of the bed
"No." She said, "I- I've changed my mind about that." She went even pinker, "It was silly, really. It just." She closed her eyes for a moment. "You really bring out the worst in me sometimes." She bit her lip. Ron thought that it was particularly appealing, and that if he brought out the worst in her, her worst was pretty good, and why on earth would she want to date someone who brought out the worst in her? "I do have something to say though."
She was frowning slightly, a little bit hunched. Braced? Ron frowned.
"Ok. What's up?"
She took a breath.
"If you don't want to go out with me, because you don't want to go out with me, that's fine. But if it's for pretty much any other reason, it's not. Especially if it's for the reasons you were yelling at Harry this afternoon. You get to choose what's right for you, but you don't get to choose what's right for me. Actually, it's appallingly sexist, paternalistic, and downright patronising, now that I think about it," her frown deepened, "For a second there I thought maybe it was sweet, but no, no, it's not. Bother, now I'm angry again."
Ron tipped his head, considering.
She didn't need him. She was choosing him. Hmmm.
"I still think it's a mistake," he said, "But… ok."
She blinked.
"What?"
"Well, you know, as a friend, I'd have to advise against dating me- I'm not exactly a good choice and all, you know, needy, obnoxious, no measurable skills of any kind- but if that's what you want to do… well, we've backed Harry up on stupider schemes, so yeah, I'll give it a go. Why not,"
Hermione stared at him.
"Let's date," he added, and instantly felt like a twit.
She blinked, started to smile, and shook her head, like she was trying to shake free from some thought or other.
"You- Ron, I mean, you… really take the cake in the romance department, you know,"
"Wait, so are we dating or what?"
"Yes, God, yes, of course, I'm just saying, that has got to be the least roman-"
"Hey wait a second," Ron suddenly found he was feeling rather excellent, "You were telling me only this afternoon that you were going to try to seduce me by making my life 'unbelievably difficult'. How is that romantic? That's the opposite of romantic, you know, at least I have your best interests at heart. You on the other hand-"
"Romantic isn't the word for it, no-"
"-had every intention of inflicting pain and suffering, and it really doesn't get less romantic," He paused, because she'd gone bright red and had started muttering something into her hands. "Oh come on, it's not that bad. I mean it is, you're perverse, but I'm not bothered,"
She glanced at him.
"No, it's not that… it's… oh God this is so embarrassing."
"Is it? Brilliant," Ron found he was feeling more than excellent, kind of reckless and over confident, "Tell me everything- we are dating, after all…"
"Oh, for- God you're annoying,"
"I bet Ginny knows," he started to get up, "I'll just go ask-"
"Look, it's nothing really-"
"She'll be in with Harry- he'll be interested in this too, I'd imagine,"
"Argh, look, she dragged me through every swimwear and lingerie shop in town,"
Ron took his hand off the doorknob, and kept his eyes fixed on the door. He took a breath.
"She would do that, yes. What are you saying?"
Hermione clenched her teeth, then sighed.
"I'm saying your sister coerced me into spending a lot of money on underwear and bikinis. And then… when you were being such an idiot… it seemed like something that might make you a bit… uncomfortable, that's all."
Understatement of the century. And extremely bizarre.
"Puerile and stupid, I know, and not at all the kind of thing I can pull off, which I said to Ginny repeatedly when she was trying to convince me into buying them in the first place, because it's not as though any of it is the kind of thing I would usually wear… It's all sort of … decorative… oh God, this is excruciating. I think I'm going to stop talking now."
"Huh," Ron considered this startling piece of new information. Truly, the evening was just getting dizzyingly more interesting by the second. He turned around, and tried to look thoughtful, and as though Hermione in decorative underwear was not at all on his mind.
"You know, it's a very hot night," he said, as though it had only just occurred to him, "And a full moon. D'you know, I think I might pop down to the beach for a swim,"
Hermione went pink again.
"Really, Ron? Isn't it a bit dangerous?"
"Oh, I think we could handle a few sharks," he said idly, "And currents. And stingrays, or… swimming werewolves, or whatever is out there. Besides, I thought you'd requested romance,"
"Engineering circumstances in which I might wear revealing bathers is hardly what anyone would call romantic," Hermione said dryly
Ron grinned.
"Yes, well, that's not the romantic part, is it. I'm sure I mentioned the full moon. Plus, I think there's still half a box of chocolates in the refligerator,"
She let out an exasperated sigh, that was at least part exasperated laugh.
"Oh, go on then. At least I won't get burnt,"
"That's the spirit," said Ron, cheerfully.
She had intended to put on her old bathers, the boring navy one piece and pleasingly concealing lycra shorts. But she stood in the bedroom looking at the new bikini and realised she actually wanted to wear it. Yes, partly because he might find it appealing, but mostly because the dark blue shot through with reds and purples was lovely, and when she'd put it on in the shop, it had made her feel a tiny bit glamorous and quite a bit like a normal teenager. Like maybe she wasn't on the run, or weirdly self-orphaned, or too academic, or too nanna-ish… It made her feel like a teenager. Including the part where she felt a bit awkward and self-conscious about it. That was how it was supposed to be, wasn't it? Everyone looked sort of all right in bathers, really. A little pudgy, or bony or lopsided or whatever, but mostly just… ordinary.
She'd put a dress on over the top, and they'd left the house- Ron carrying a plastic bag containing a dented, rattling box of left over chocolates, and towels oddly rolled into a bundle. He seemed quite pleased to have thought of the chocolates, and did not at all seem to think that carrying them about in a plastic bag in any way hampered their romantic connotations. Hermione found herself smiling in the moonlight. She slipped her hand into his, and his long fingers closed around hers- warm, solid, comforting. A little rush of anxiety dissolved. She hadn't realised how much she needed him. Just… the reassurance, the laughter… goofing around. He kept her grounded, stopped her spinning out into dark seriousness. She got so solemn when he wasn't around. It was slightly like her sense of humour disappeared with him- it was just missing him, of course, and throwing herself into study, and spending too much time with Harry, who was far too serious too…
And this was really excellent. They were far enough from the town center that the noise and light from the nightclubs was sort of a distant, pleasant party vibe, and everything where they were was sort of silvery moonlit. Actually, it was pretty romantic, plastic bag notwithstanding. Hermione found herself smiling again at the ridiculousness of feeling a bit romantic about things.
"So," said Ron, awkwardly, reminding himself firmly that she had asked him and on top of which, she'd been holding his hand pretty much since they left the house, and he kept sort of half-forgetting, because it just sort of felt normal, and like they always held hands even though they absolutely never had, not like this, not ever. "If you don't mind me asking, how long has this been going on?"
"What do you mean?"
Ah crap. How to put this…
"Well. You kind of asked me out today, which, don't get me wrong, very flattering, and if I'm honest, not entirely surprising. I mean, mostly surprising, because I never thought- except lately I had started to wonder- only it seemed ridiculous-"
"What was the question?"
"What?"
"You were trying to ask me something,"
"Oh. Yes. So. How long have you…" he gestured oddly with both hands- the one holding hers and the one with the bag full of towels, "you know, felt like that?"
"Oh." Embarrassing question. How to say 'I saw you on a train once and babbled like an idiot because I desperately wanted you to like me even though I didn't know why, and it just got worse from there'. "Erm. Well, it's hard to say really. These things just sort of… develop. Why? Have you… How long have you… you know?"
Ron bit his lip. The honest to goodness truth? 'Couldn't admit it until a couple of years ago, but can't remember a time when I wasn't in love with you. Sorry about being horrible to you in first year, by the way. It's really hard to impress a girl who's much smarter than you and seems more interested in your famous pal.' Bit much. On the other hand the parents were always going on about honesty being the foundation of relationships… actually, so did that stupid witch charming book. Still, not sounding like a good option. Hedge. Definitely, hedge.
"A while. Ages, really."
"Oh,"
Huh. Pretty sure you've fancied me since fourth year at least. Yule ball fiasco? Remember that? Or was that just weird sort of 'protect the pack' type thing and not obsessive jealous lover behaviour at all? Possible. Might explain Lavender. Eugh. Visions of her sucking your face of are singed into my retinas permanently. Honestly, hormones turn some people into lunatics. And yes, I know I'm wearing a bikini and wandering around a strange Australian town in the dead of night. Never said I was exempt.
They slipped their shoes off and walked down on the dry cold sand down to the beach. The waves curved, glassy and gleaming in the silvery light, rushing happily at the shore. The sand squeaked a little as they walked. Half way to the water, Ron stopped, and started extracting things from the plastic bag. He took the towels out, somewhat gingerly, and started unrolling them.
"What…?"
"I went shopping too. Supposed to be for breakfast, but I thought… why not? Better than half -eaten chocolates anyway. Dunno why Ginny insists on trying them all to see if they have the horrible cherry centres."
"Ron, is that a… is that a mango?"
"Yep," he said, sounding pleased. They sat down on one of the towels and he laid the fruit out on the other one. "Mango, guava, and the weird little spiky things are lychees. Left the pineapple back at the house. Looked too difficult to open on a beach."
"You…" Hermione shook her head. For some reason an odd assortment of strange tropical fruit seemed perfect, "God, I love you,"
Ron paused. It felt like the whole world vanished and came back again, all in a second.
"Sorry," she said guiltily, "I didn't- I mean- It's fine-"
Ron leaned over, and sort of scooped her up and kissed her, in one clumsy movement.
"Sorry," he mumbled, breathless, "You were kind of stealing all the relationship milestones… you're a shocking over-achiever, you know,"
"Oh- you- it's not-"
Ron grinned
"Oh it so is," he kissed her again, "Well, sort of anyway."
"What are you talking about?"
"No idea. Argh- don't squash the fruit!"
"You're ridiculous,"
"Yes, well they're for eating, not sitting on-"
"Honestly, Ron-"
"Yes, honestly, they're grown for eating- not like they're a special kind of seat fruit-"
"Ron!"
"All right, all right, keep your shirt on. Well, I mean, you don't have to, if you don't want to-"
"Shut up and kiss me, you idiot,"
"Geez, you're bossy,"
"Yes, well, tell me something I don't know,"
"You're sexy as hell,"
"Ha, nice try, I'm-"
"I used to put mistakes in my potions essays on purpose, so you'd spend more time with me correcting them,"
"That's-"
"Ridiculous, I know." He paused and smoothed her hair back, running his thumb down the side of her face. "I'm so in love with you, it's pathetic."
Hermione blinked.
"That is extremely good news," she said.
After that the bickering ceased (temporarily), and all other sounds were drowned out by the sound of the sea.