Just One Night
Is there anybody
gone to listen to my story
All about the girl who came to
stay?
She's the kind of girl you want so much
It makes you
sorry; Still, you don't regret a single day.
Ron Weasley had just finished his letter to Harry when he heard his mum calling out a greeting. He smiled to himself as he sealed the letter to his best friend, knowing that his other best friend, Hermione Granger, had just arrived with his dad. Ron sent off Pig with the letter, and then started down the stairs. About mid-way down he was passed by a red blur as Ginny darted past him to welcome Hermione.
Ron neared the bottom of the steps, and smiled again – he could hear Hermione laughing and talking to his mum, dad, and sister. No matter how much they fought or argued, Ron couldn't understand why he felt differently around Hermione than he did around anyone else. He couldn't figure out why he always wanted to be around her, or why he liked her laugh so much, or why he worried about her, or why he wanted to defend her against everything – mainly Malfoy.
Bits of their conversation floated up to him. He could hear Ginny talking excitedly at a fast pace about the approaching Quidditch Cup, and Hermione replying with a laugh. Ron knew that she wasn't really fond of Quidditch, but how could anyone not have fun at the World Cup?
He came to a halt on the bottom step and watched them in silence for a moment. His mum and dad were gone from the room, but Ginny was still there, chatting away about Hogwarts, now. Ron wondered if Hermione would be able to get a word in edgewise.
As he turned his gaze to Hermione, he felt his stomach tingle. I can't get sick before the Cup! He thought miserably, placing a hand on his stomach. He looked down, as though that would help, and the feeling went away.
Laughter and the arrival of his twin brothers drew his attention back and he watched as Hermione greeted each of them. Hermione was one of the few people that Fred and George rarely tried to play pranks on – maybe they realized that she was a force to be reckoned with. Even she had to admit that they were brilliant in the joke industry, however.
"What mischief have you two been up to lately?" she asked them with a smile. Ron looked at her again and his stomach flipped.
"Bloody hell," he whispered. Hermione was the cause of the flip in his stomach. He lost track of the conversation as he struggled with this new discovery. It made sense that he should want to help and protect her – she was his best friend, after all – but would it extend as far as it did if he just cared about her as a friend? Would he have tried to curse Malfoy, or back-talk to Snape? Would he have been so upset and heartbroken at the fact that she was Petrified? Would he have worried so much about her time-table and the fact that she worked herself into exhaustion?
Those were all questions that Ron wasn't sure he wanted the answer to. He shook his head to clear it, and came back to the present in time to see the twins leave and hear Hermione say, "Where's Ron?"
Ron backed up a few steps and nearly cursed as he heard Ginny's reply, "Not sure – I passed him on the way down."
Ron hesitated for a moment, and then purposefully strode down the remaining stairs. Ginny noticed him first, and looked at him with an eyebrow raised, "Where in Merlin's name did you disappear to?"
Ron was thrown momentarily off-guard when Hermione turned to him and smiled up at him. He didn't look at Ginny as he answered, "Forgot to send Harry's letter off, and you know Pig – very excitable."
"That's the dumbest–"
"Ginny, dear!" Ron felt relief flood through him as he heard his mum call Ginny's name. "I want some help with this stew."
Ginny grumbled something and spun on her heel, marching out of the room in a huff. Ron laughed a bit and then felt his stomach drop – he was alone with Hermione. He turned back to her, and she smiled at him again, "Great to see you again."
Ron flashed his lop-sided grin and tried to keep from blushing. She walked over to him, dropping her rucksack in the process, and held out her arms. He swallowed thickly as he embraced her in a hug, feeling his heartbeat quicken. Merlin, help him now.
He caught a whiff of her hair; the scent was so familiar to him that he couldn't help but shudder slightly. She noticed and stepped back. "Cold?" she asked him.
Ron gave a half-shrug, "Erm, I guess." She smiled at him again and then stepped back to try to carry her trunk up the stairs. "Let me help you," Ron offered and strode over to the trunk. He lifted it and then motioned for her to go upstairs. Hermione picked up her rucksack, but looked at him oddly.
She didn't say anything as Ron led the way up to Ginny's room and pushed open the door. He let her pass, and then stepped inside and placed her trunk along the far wall. "Where's Crookshanks?"
"No doubt terrorizing your garden gnomes," Hermione replied, placing her bag on the cot and following him back out of the room. "Do you still hate him?"
"Not as much," Ron admitted. "Besides, Snuffles gave me that owl, remember? He's a hyper, annoying ball of fluff, but he's better than a human disguised as a rat."
Hermione shuddered a bit, "He was disgusting, wasn't he? I really hope they catch him. Sir-Snuffles needs to be cleared."
Ron nodded his agreement and they headed downstairs into the kitchen. Ginny had obviously managed to escape as she wasn't in the room. Almost as if he was hearing someone else say the words, Ron said, "Mum, do you need any help?"
When both Hermione and his mum looked at him in shock, he realized that he must not offer to help very often. He shrugged nonchalantly, but said nothing else.
"Well, why don't you set the table, Ron, and Hermione, you can supervise the peeling of the potatoes." Mrs. Weasley smiled at them both, "There are ten of us tonight, Ronald."
Ron scoffed and picked up the silverware, setting it out by hand. He knew that dinner would be an awkward situation, but at the same time, he felt a bit excited by it. As he set out the silverware, he chanced secretive glances at Hermione.
She was watching the potatoes peel with an odd, faraway look on her face. Ron wondered what she was thinking, and suddenly, his mind was overwhelmed by unbidden thoughts. Is she thinking about me? Don't be a git, Ron – 'course she's not…It's Hermione after all. She's probably thinking about school or....
Ron ceased all his thoughts abruptly as he came back to the present. Hermione wasn't watching the potatoes anymore – she was looking at him. Ron stared back for a moment out of pure shock; he was sure his heart was going to burst from his chest, it was beating so fast – and had someone replaced his blood with fire recently?
He watched her as she watched him. He could hardly describe the look she was giving him – he was a guy, after all – but when she smiled it seemed to be full of…tenderness?
Ron was just about to suggest that they go talk somewhere else when a knife slipped from his hand and clattered against the table. He jumped, broke eye contact with Hermione, and also alerted his mum. "Ronald! Be careful!" She chided.
He nodded and pretended to eagerly continue setting out the silverware. He didn't really care, though. He glanced up at Hermione, but she had returned to watching the potatoes peel themselves. He looked back down and cursed silently as he realized that he had given the last three places two forks each.
During supper, he was just as much of a mess, if not worse. Who the hell had decided to seat her next to him? As Ron reached for his knife, his right hand brushed her left and he felt as though he had been shocked. She didn't seem to react any differently than if she had touched the table, although she did say sorry. Could that be a slight blush across her cheeks? Suppressing a groan, he turned back to his meal, determinedly trying to avoid looking at her.
He was able to escape the clean-up when his mum snagged George and Fred, and he all but bolted from the table as a result. He ventured outside, where he sat against the tree in their yard. Part of him couldn't wait for Harry to get there so that he wouldn't be alone with Hermione; the other part was praying for this night to last eternally, so that he could be more alone with her than usual.
All of this was laughable, really, given the fact that he had time to be alone with her, and yet he was nowhere near her. With a sigh, Ron rested his head on his arms, which were supported by his bent knees. Who could have guessed that liking your best friend would be so troublesome?
"Ron?" Ron whipped his head up so fast that he heard a loud cracking noise. He winced and rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry," Hermione told him, "I didn't mean to startle you. Could I sit?"
Ron nodded; he was positive his mouth had sucked every bit of moisture that had filled his mouth only moments before. It would help, too, if his tongue didn't feel like it was two times too big for his mouth. "What are you doing out here?"
Bloody hell, questions required him to speak. "Err – watching the sunset." He said, trying to think of something he could be doing, other than thinking of her and how perfect she was. "Want to watch it with me?"
He chanced a glance at her and saw that she was smiling brightly, "I'd love to." As he looked at her smile, he deemed himself hopelessly lost. Hell, this may be more than just liking.
Ron paled at the fact; was he in love with Hermione? What would he do when he told her and she laughed in his face? Someone as intelligent as Hermione would never want to be with him.
Yet, even as those thoughts plagued his mind, new ones chased them away. What if he told her and they got together? His heart leapt at the very thought. What he wouldn't give to be able to tell her –
"This is beautiful!" She remarked, drawing his attention. He looked at the sunset briefly, then back at her before saying,
"Yes, it is." Ron smiled when she looked at him, and continued watching her as she turned her gaze back to the sunset. The rapture on her face was enough to make his heart swell – if she was happy, so was he. His new feelings were beginning to scare him a bit.
As much as he longed to, he realized with a sinking feeling that he could never tell her what he felt – he wouldn't risk their friendship like that. What if it tore them apart? Although if at that point in time, Ronald Weasley had been able to foresee the events that would come to pass, he may have kissed her then and spared them both the upcoming and unnecessary pain and heartache. Instead, he sighed audibly, and looked at his hands, forcing himself not to entertain thoughts of Hermione and himself together, "Should we go back in?"
He could hear the smile in her voice and picture it on her face as she said, "No…I like it better out here." Ron looked at her then, and they shared a smile. She was smiling at him the same way she had inside the house earlier. Although Ron had just made a promise to himself to ignore his feelings for her instead of acting on them, he leaned against the tree and suppressed a sigh of relief. He could bottle his feelings tomorrow – this night was just too perfect, and he wanted to imprint it in his mind forever.
