Choices

A/N: I wanted to write this before the 7th book comes out and possibly makes this little scene obsolete. Hope you enjoy, and please review. Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Just one thing, this idea is very loosely based on the X-Files episode, "All Things." However, this is completely a Harry Potter fic.

Hermione's unruly brown hair tangled with the rain and her black robes were completely drenched. It was like walking with ten pound weights around her body. It was two o'clock in the morning and pouring and Hermione was out for a walk. She'd been having a bit of a crisis in her life, an internal crisis. All she could seem to focus on lately was how every choice changed the course of her life so drastically.

Maybe it was because her father died a year ago in a car accident. If her father hadn't spilled milk on the floor because he slipped since the floor was wet because the maid answered her cell phone during that part of her cleaning ritual, her father would've never left for milk. Had he never left for milk, the hung over driver wouldn't have crashed his car into her father's. Then again, if her father wasn't a Muggle he wouldn't have been driving.

It was thinking about things like that that drove Hermione crazy. It left her wondering: What if she made the wrong choices? What if she was, essentially, living the wrong life?

Hermione turned the corner and found herself on the street where Ron's flat was. She knew, for sure, when it came to Ron that she had made wrong choices. She'd come close to telling him how she felt hundreds of times, but never did it. In the beginning, she knew she was too young. She knew the feelings she felt for Ron weren't going to die out, and she didn't want to begin a romantic relationship with him when she was twelve, have it end a few months later, and spend the rest of her life without him.

But here she was, twenty-two, long past the proper age to being a serious relationship with him, and she was still single. She'd been in love with Ron for half her life. Yet, here she was standing at his doorstep at two in the morning, not lying in bed with him.

Hermione knocked on the door. Ron was a sound sleeper, so she knew she'd be out there for a while.

"I'm coming!" She heard his sleepy voice from inside. "Hermione?"

"Hi, Ron. Sorry to wake you. I was out for a night walk and it was raining… do you think I could come in and dry off?" Hermione asked, her teeth chattering. God, she probably looked ridiculous.

She dried her clothes off with magic once she was inside, and Ron brought her a cup of tea.

"Hermione, what were you doing wandering around my neighborhood at two in the morning?"

"I was thinking."

"Ah, shocker," Ron smirked at her. She shot him a look and he held up his hands in surrender, "What were you thinking about, Hermione?"

"It's nothing."

He rolled his eyes, "You've been like this lately. It's like talking to a brick wall. You used to be good at conversation."

And now, they would fight. They would choose to fight, because that's what they do. But maybe, she didn't have to choose that, "I'm sorry, Ron. I've been going through some type of thing lately. I just keep thinking about choices, about every choice…" So she proceeded to tell Ron about everything she had been dealing with in her life.

As she finished, she looked down at her now empty tea, "So, I'm worried I've made the wrong choices in my life."

They were silent for a bit, the clock struck three in the morning. Finally, Ron spoke, "What if you made the right choices? What if you made all the right choices in your life and you're living the life that's best for you. It would mean that you've made all the right choices, so that right now, you're on my couch. And this would be the best place for you. Everything in your life would've lead to this very moment."

Hermione looked at him, trying desperately to read between the lines of what he was saying. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but it almost sounded like Ron was saying that she belonged with him. She fingered the paint nervously on her cup, "That says a lot, Ron."

She looked up at him, waiting for him to respond. He looked back at her in a way she had never seen him look before. Were they actually going to have this conversation? A roaring clasp of thunder shook the windows of Ron's flat and put an awkward break in the conversation.

"It's getting late. Why don't you stay here tonight?" Ron asked.

Hermione could've kicked him. They were so close to talking about their relationship and here he was taking the easy way out. Maybe it was the late hour, or the current state of her psyche, but Hermione chose to ignore what Ron was asking her and looked straight at him, "Ron, I think we need to continue with the conversation. I think it's way overdue."

Ron swallowed hard, and when he spoke his voice came out squeaky and high, "You… you do?"

Choices. Finally, Hermione was going to make the right one, "I'd say overdue by about eleven years."

Ron cleared his throat, trying to regain control over his nerves and see if Hermione was talking about what he thought she was talking about, "And which conversation is this?"

"The one where I tell you that I'm glad my choices have led to me sitting on your couch right now. The one where I tell you that I'll make sure all my choices always end with me being close to you. That's all I want, Ron, to end up close to you," She always imagined her whispering to him that she loved him with tears in her eyes like something out of a romance novel. When she spoke, she spoke around what she was saying. She didn't flat out tell him she loved him, nor did she whisper or cry. Although she spoke in riddles, she spoke with conviction..

Ron studied her for a moment, reading between the lines. It came to his turn to make a choice. Ron, who had never been the best with words, chose to kiss her. It was a light kiss. Hesitant and scared with Ron's hands on her waist and Hermione's hands on his freckled face. The kiss was shaky. The kiss was quick. It didn't unleash the eleven years of passion that had built between them. Hermione kissed him back, still hesitant. They wanted to make sure they were on the same page. When Ron kissed her, Hermione knew he loved her. When Hermione kissed Ron back, Ron knew she loved him. Yet, in that first kiss they were both still holding back, too afraid and too stubborn to give themselves completely to each other.

They gave themselves to each other on the second kiss and in about a thousand other ways that night. And the next night. And the one after that.