"What the fuck does it mean, then? "
Hermione sighed and glanced momentarily up from her essay to the disgruntled redhead before her. "Language, Ron," she chastised while still scratching her quill across the paper. The girl could probably write their History of Magic essay in her sleep. Ron fought valiantly to avoid rolling his eyes at her and failed miserably. Hermione nodded around them before shooting him a stern look, as if that was all the argument needed to solidify her words.
Leaning back, Ron glanced around before returning her gaze. It was just the library. He considered how that could somehow make swearing not okay, especially in this situation – which was definitely a special situation. Unless there was some foul language detection charm in place, set by Madame Pince, he worried. He opened his mouth to ask if she had heard anything about it from "A History of Hogwarts" but thought better of it. They really did have more pressing matters at hand and she still hadn't really answered him.
Hermione was the girl that always answered the questions he couldn't figure out by himself, bless her. Usually they were only school-related as that was her best and possibly only subject of expertise. This, however, was a dire situation and called for extreme action, if necessary. Of course, she was a girl and they were always better with feelings and such.
Ron coughed and looked down into his crossed arms in embarrassment. This was definitely an emotion thing. He didn't know much but Ron couldn't ignore that constant burning sensation in his stomach. It was like the constant sense of being off-balance, an itch in a hard to reach place, and that moment just before you break the surface of water and take your first breath of air all rolled into one small burning stone in his stomach.
The worst part was it wasn't going away. It would quiet when he was busy enjoying the delicious food that the house elf provided three times a day, or when confused in class or trying to copy down Hermione's homework five minutes before class. Then, there were times when small, insignificant things would happen and it would come back full force. If not for the feeling, Ron wouldn't have ever considered anything amiss. However, the feeling was there, constantly.
Ron honestly didn't blame any of this on Harry or anyone really. In his mind, it was simply the fault of The Feeling. If he could get it to go away, then all would be well again, and they could wash their hands off and forget the matter. That's where Hermione came in. First, she needed to tell him what this all meant.
"Ron, it seems fairly obvious, even for someone like you." Hermione didn't even bother to look up from her writing as she spoke this time. It seemed her tone was currently locked into condescending chastisement.
Years of practice helped him ignore Hermione and her ability to dig into him so easily as he concentrated hard. As much as he hated to admit it, she did have a good idea of his mental limitations and wouldn't have said that if there wasn't an actual chance he could figure out the answer. Then again, she sometimes said that about potions, and other than identifying his cauldron as black, there was no way he could ever figure anything out about that class without her help.
Yet, he did think about it. If nothing else but to show her he was giving it some thought and perhaps an effort was all she was looking for. What the fuck does it mean? It being what happened two weeks ago, the second task of the Tri-Wizard tournament - specifically, Ron being underwater, unconscious, waiting for Harry to rescue him as the person Harry would miss the most. This was fine and Ron didn't give it a second thought until the night after celebrating Harry's success when the feeling started.
So, what the fuck does it mean? Did he not like being what Harry missed most because he didn't really think of Harry as his best mate? Of course not, he answered himself. If nothing else was sure over the past three and a half years, it was that Harry and he were best mates. Well, then…did it mean…
Hermione sighed and finally put down her quill. "Ron, you're thinking too hard," she remarked, staring at his crinkled forehead and red-tinted cheeks – clear evidence that he had been about to overheat from heavy thought. Ron visibly lit up when Hermione finally said something. She merely sighed and muttered something sounding like "Just like class…"
Leaning forward, Hermione folded her hands together and spoke loud and slowly. "Okay, this feeling happened after the second task, meaning it has a clear connection with the second task. You were unconscious for the second task, so it doesn't have to do with you or your actions specifically, but rather, the actions or feelings of those around you. And the only person who had much direct contact with you in those ways was Harry." Ron wanted to snort, he had figured out that much for himself, but thought better of it. He knew Hermione was getting to the part he did not yet know and had no intention of interrupting her before she got there.
"Harry didn't do much physically to you, other than save you from a situation of mock-danger. That leaves the emotional aspect, which is the fact that you were declared as the thing Harry would miss the most. Now that we have pinpointed what is making you feel this way, I think it's rather obvious why you are feeling that." Hermione sat there with raised eyebrows, waiting for Ron to snap his fingers and intercede with some epiphany she caused. Instead, Ron sat in silence, still grappling with the logic Hermione used to reach the same conclusion he had, with no intentions of even casting about in his mind for the "why" of the situation. Hermione was on a roll and would surely deliver him the answer after another sixty seconds of impatient waiting.
"Well," she bristled. Scratch that, only twenty seconds. "It is obvious that you feel odd under that outright stated attention, which stems from being the youngest brother in a large family. You've never been the sole center of attention. So, the spotlight, especially having it shined on you to a crowded stadium of three schools, must have been awkward. And, further," Hermione swallowed nervously and fidgeted slightly with her hands, looking confused about whether to push forward and draw back, "it is even more important of a declaration after the large fight you two just had. Perhaps you don't even feel worthy of the amount of love Harry is showing you."
Ron's head snapped up at that word, his eyes widening to show the expression of surprise. His face stretched to show the unsaid 'What?" he was experiencing internally.
Clearing his throat, Ron continued to stare at Hermione, again, waiting for the answers to all these important questions.
It was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes. "Honestly, boys." Her tone suggested that that was all the insult needed for the situation. "Harry loves you. That's beyond obvious. And you, him. Anyone who isn't blind can see it."
A shaky, high voice crawled up from Ron's throat. "P-pardon?" He desperately prayed that tone of voice would never grace his lips again.
Hermione merely pursed her lips. "Boys," she said in a tone that suggested she had just uttered the most vulgar phrase she knew. "You've been friends for years – the best of friends. Both of you have risked your life for each other multiple times. You sacrificed yourself in chess, he went to fight the basilisk to save your sister, you got taken hostage by his godfather, and now he just saved you from Merpeople as the thing he would miss the most. What else do you call that besides love?"
Slight stutters barely made it out of Ron's mouth before his lips smacked shut and caught them back. His reddening face still gave away the queer way he felt with the situation.
After mumbling something about an essay due in another three weeks, Hermione sighed and stood up. "Ron, you love your brothers, don't you? Even though they play mean tricks on you and make fun of you so much."
Ron looked up at her, for once having an answer. "Of course I do. We're family. Even if we have problems, they're still my brothers."
Victoriously, Hermione flourished her hand in front of Ron, as if she was handing him something prized. "There you go. It's the same way with Harry. You two fought and made up and still love each other, because you're like family. Now that explains everything and you can stop being such a stupid boy. Go start talking to him again properly like you were before the second task, and stop making him feel like he did something wrong for rescuing you." Her wand orchestrated her quills, parchment and books march back into her bag before pulling it up and marching away without another word on the matter, leaving Ron to think.
Ron couldn't help but pay attention to the nagging feeling in his stomach that, for once, Hermione didn't have the right answer.