'Hermione?' he called her quietly.

'Hm?'

'You've been always a master in feelings and that stuff, haven't you?'

'Master? No, well, I've always talked with my heart on the sleeve, if that's what you mean,' she replied, confused.

'But you've always seen beyond Harry and me about people's feelings … like, er, love,' he said, stubborn.

'Aha?'

'Yes. So maybe ─ er, maybe you can help me because ─ er ─ I've been thinking and ─ er, I love you but ─ have you ever wondered why you and me?'

'Well, yes, many times, but before,' she admitted.

'Before? And now?' he wanted to know.

'Now I don't care too much, actually. We're together, aren't we?' said Hermione firmly.
'We are. But … I want to know … why did you choose me? You are … Hermione Granger.'
'And you are Ron Weasley, so? What's the matter, do you want me to change my name, or are you planning on change yours?' she chuckled.

'It's not that what I mean. It's that … wouldn't it have been more logical if you had ended up with Harry?'

'Harry! Why are you shipping me with Harry, Ron?' she asked shocked.
'No, it's not shipping. It only had been more logical … Look: Harry is very handsome; he's the Hero, the Chosen One, vanquisher of Voldemort and Master of Death. And if you have a look to our life in Hogwarts, you've been always closer to him than to me ─' he reasoned out.

'Love isn't logical, Ron,' she cut him softly.

'I know. But … I disliked you in first year, remember I called you a nightmare? But Harry was the one who wanted to tell you about the troll. I didn't want you to die when I saw you there, but … it was Harry who cared for you. Then … we spent bickering most of our years there, just for something to do! People thought we were disgusting. And I made you cry. And Harry was always the one to be with you, and you the one to understand him, and you chose him when we were camping. And I've only made you cry. Is that love?' he asked slightly gloomily.

'What, crying? No, it was grief. For love. You made me cry because we were young, and childish. People become childish when they're in love, you know. And I cried for you because I loved you, and I thought you didn't. That was a mistake, wasn't it? But people don't show their love just like that. And … we didn't argue for something to do; it was because both had opposite interest and the same bad mood, and we have got a huge pride. I've also argued with Harry, remember? But it's less spotted because I was who kept fighting and he didn't say anything. And it's not that I chose him. You know I hadn't got another choice,' she reminded him.

'But Harry and you … you've listened to each other for years, and you've always cared for him much more than for me … It'd been like, kinda logical. But, ok, if not Harry, then why not Krum, or … Neville, or McLaggen, or Ernie Macmillan? They seem more suitable for a girl like you. Krum is handsome, and a international and successful player, and he's like a gentleman, I mean … and Neville always felt fond of you, and he's very brave, after all he did that year, you know; and then it's Ernie, he was prefect and always as smart as you, despite a bit pedantic … And McLaggen, well, you have to have seen something in him to try and drive me jealous with him ─' he suggested, before being interrupted again by a giggle.

'Have you got beaten with a Bludger today? It's simply because I didn't fall for any of those guys, as simple as that. Well, I did for Viktor, but you've always been there in my heart,' she said lovingly.

'Me? See, why did you choose me? I mean, I'm too lanky, I've got a thousands of freckles, my hair is ginger ─ I dunno, I've got too many relatives, my family is poor, my surname comes from "weasel" ─ erm, I snore, everybody says I'm lazy and a jerk, I've walked out on you, I'm jealous, I seem a loser, I've got no confidence in myself and I'm asking these stupid questions. And you still choose me? What kind of girl could like me that way?' he retorted in a desperate voice.

'And why I shouldn't choose you? Maybe this kind of girl can like you that way. Just in case you don't know it, everybody has got flaws. Besides, love has nothing to do with physical appearance, not for me. I used to have big teeth, and bushy, frizzy hair, and I was a "nightmare", and you've always said you liked me that way, you've never asked me to change. And what has all the other rubbish you mentioned to do with love? Family? I'm happy you've got a big family, but family isn't a problem for love. You're poor, and so what? I didn't choose you for interest, and I think neither you, because it's not that I'm well-off. Your surname? Well, that's just amusing … so what? Every surname comes from everything amusing! And … I don't think you're a jerk, or lazy. You're working hard; if you were lazy once it's because you were a teenager! Who kind of normal teenager boy isn't lazy? And you're very brave, how can you forget all you did to save your friends whenever they needed you? You were jealous, yes, and so I was! I explained that already; how can't you be jealous of the person who is standing where you wish to be? And you're not a loser, so stop saying that. However, you actually are asking stupid questions right now, but … A jerk?' she snorted, outraged in his place.

'No, well, I reckon ─' he tried to apologize.

'Tell me the truth, Ron, where did you take from that two people need a reason to fall in love for each other?' she inquired, stern.

'Ah, Hermione, if you'd only realise it … It's that … I feel as though most people don't like us being together. As though this couldn't be called love, and this would never work out because our love isn't perfect,' he said, embarrassed.

'Listen to me, Ron. The perfect love is an illusion, doesn't exist on its own. Love doesn't sprout between two people just because they're perfect. There's no magical potion to erase defects, to avoid arguments, or to get a happy, shiny life. Everything you need is inside you, and inside the person you choose. Everything I want and I need lays here, in you. Yes, we made mistakes; yes, we aren't perfect; and yes, it's probably we won't think the same in some affairs, but if I love you, if you love me, we can make it work. What does it matter whatever people could think about us? Can they even feel, or picture at least, what we feel when we are together? How can anybody analyse us and judge our decisions from outside? This is our story, after all,' she whispered at last.

'You're right. We aren't meant to be. Our love is,' said Ron, kissing Hermione.