I Want to Hold Your Hand – The Beatles

Oh yeah, I´ll tell you something
I think you'll understand
When I say that something
I wanna hold your hand
I wanna hold your hand
I wanna hold your hand

Oh, please, say to me
You'll let me be your man
and please, say to me

You'll let me hold your hand
Now let me hold your hand
I wanna hold your hand

And when I touch you i feel happy, inside
It's such a feelingt
That my love
I can't hide
I can't hide
I can't hide

Yeah you, got that something
I think you'll understand
When I say that something
I wanna hold your hand
I wanna hold your hand
I wanna hold your hand

And when I touch you I feel happy, inside
It's such a feeling
That my love
I can't hide
I can't hide
I can't hide

Yeah you, got that something
I think you'll understand
When I feel that something
I wanna hold your hand
I wanna hold your hand
I wanna hold your hand

"You just can't get over yourself, can you?" She screamed, her voice fading out wearily at the end before she burst into tears. Behind the sound of her heaving, tear moist breath the gentle music of crickets graced the night. It was just past dusk and the sky was finally a full black sheet, void except for a few stars that shone in scattered disarray.

Any reply he would have managed to come up with would have been pointless to say out loud for she was crying too passionately. Instead, he attempted to suppress her sobs by placing a hand on her shoulder and reaching the other to pull a thick lock of brown hair from her face. This only seemed to increase the level of emotion for her crying grew louder. He sighed in frustration but kept his hand warm on her. After a few minutes her crying finally ceased. She was spent and breathless so she didn't try to speak. She just looked up at him with wet rimmed eyes.

"I'm sorry." He managed.

She stepped back and wiped her dripping nose on her sleeve. It was amazing how sweaters were better to wipe away tears than a Kleenex. Her eyelashes fused together with wet and formed a dark row that stuck when she blinked.

"You don't even know what you're apologizing for." She stepped back again. "That's really pathetic."

He sighed again, dropping his hands loosely to his sides. "Then what do you want me to say?" He asked in his usual tone for such matters. He acted like he didn't know. Maybe he didn't but she thought it had to be obvious.

"Do you really think I care about you only because you're helpless?" She replied, regaining her composure while he hunched over. "Do you really think I care about you because you're one of the only boys that talk to me?" She shook her head, answering for him. He was not the only one high with frustration, she was just as intoxicated with it. For years the two had been friends that walked side by side, stood up for each other and yet fought ferociously against each other. The whole situation was one big mess of emotion and trying to hide it with disdain, much like elementary school days where girls would say the meanest things to the boys they liked. Boys would beat up the girls they liked and nothing ever worked out. But this had to. They both wanted it but were too afraid to admit to their feelings. A pathetic and a helpless condition.

"Or because I'm a bumbling idiot?" He asked, his eyes searing into her.

"My point is not to insult you. Can't you understand anything I'm trying to tell you?" She asked.

"No, not if you can't do the same for what I say." He replied and crossed his arms. Fighting fire with fire never turns out well. It may be beautiful and powerful but it promises one thing; destruction by burning. Smoke would have been blowing out of both sets of ears if it were possible.

"Then I shouldn't have to say it then. You should already know."

"Oh really, from what signs?"

She rolled her eyes. "You should already know from what your heart says."

The sound of the crickets could finally be heard in the moment of silence. Neither basked in the serenity for their minds were too consumed, their hearts too induced.

"I love you." He blurted out in realization. His face turned that bright shade of red, competition to his hair color but good accent for his freckles. With this she took three steps forward and stood, almost touching him.

"And I you." She said softly, tears filling her eyes again.

"But what about Harry? He'll use the killing curse if he ever knows that we have it in for each other. He'll feel betrayed, like we're abandoning him to do what he needs to alone." Ron muttered. Usually it was Hermione that thought of such things, rarely was Ron thoughtful to any degree.

"He knows how much he means to us. Our love for each other can't affect our friendship with him. If anything it will make it stronger because just think of the union he has to support him now." Hermione said, pushing her hair from her face. "And besides, isn't this what you want?"

Ron blinked. He always tried to hide his self-doubt with confidence. Hermione always seemed to see right through him. All the times he had stared at her and wondered what she were really like beneath her own façade molded together. The night of the Yule Ball. In the Department of Ministries. Outside the Whomping Willow. Visits to the Hospital Wing. Every time he had wanted so badly to just give in to his feelings and get over his stubborn defiance. He wanted so badly.

There was a knock at the door and Ginny's head appeared. Her own voice was touched with a vibe of loss as well but she was only there to tell them it was time to leave. Ron turned toward the door. Hermione stepped up to his side, still waiting for an answer. He stood there, not moving, barely breathing. Then he nodded and put his hand tenderly over hers. Whatever were to happen now, whatever were to come their way he will always be holding her hand. And Ron and Hermione both would be there, standing tall beside Harry to help him with whatever lies ahead. Holding hands.