Sort of a Moment
You could say we were having sort of a moment.
We were in the kitchen of the beloved Burrow. I was sitting at the table, having just helped cleared it, and he was standing, facing me, with his back to the sink, having just finished washing the dishes. His hands rested on either side of him on the stone counter, and he looked up at me. It was silent and dark out. We were alone.
Although no words had yet passed between us since Harry had gone up to bed three minutes ago, I knew something must be about to happen. It must, because silence often meant more than dialogue with Ron. Especially with me.
We weren't by ourselves much. Just the two of us. The trio and all, you know. But it was awkward when we were, because we didn't quite know how to interact with each other without Harry standing there, completing the circle. Or at least, Rondidn't know.
I knew. I had known for quite some time that we belonged together in a very different kind of way.
Perhaps he knew by then too, or at least I hoped so. But he gave me no concrete sign. He never did. And the frustration and pain of it wound my heart up into a tight little knot that worsened with every cruel word or action from him, which were unfortunately quite often.
But right then I sensed a change. He was going to do it. He was going to tell me how he felt. And about his regret at all the years we had wasted. Watching, waiting, doing nothing. That he was sorry.
He lifted his arms from the counter and placed them by his sides. He took a deep breath.
I couldn't stand it, couldn't stand waiting for him a second longer.
"Ron?" I said timidly, shrinking in my seat as his presence seemed to grow before my eyes.
He didn't answer my quiet plea for him to speak. He took a step forward. Another. And another. His hand was so close to mine, I could reach out and touch it with hardly any effort or movement. Funny, how something so small was magnified a hundred times in my eyes. Something so small could mean so much to me, and to each of us.
But some impulse seized hold of me. In that moment I knew what it must be like to be Harry. My hand fluttered slightly as it seemed to drift of its own volition toward Ron's. My skin made contact with his and my breath hitched. I knew I shouldn't touch him, because surely he'd jerk away at the contact and give me that look he always does. The shocked one. The hopeful one. The pitying one.
But all he had to do, in this moment, to let me know how he felt, was latch his finger onto mine. A movement a total of two inches and two seconds to accomplish. Then, all the years of tension, the fighting and the subtext, would melt away and mean nothing anymore and we could just be.
Us. Together. Finally.
But he had never done this before, never responded once intentionally, even though I would have bet anything that he wanted to. Why? Because he was too afraid. And as a result of this continued incomprehensible fear of his, I was always, once again, filled with doubt, wondering for the thousandth time if what I had hoped and dreamed of for so long would ever come to fruition.
These thoughts stumbled and fell across each other in my mind as I completed the action of placing my hand atop his. Closing my eyes, I hoped, dear Merlin, I prayed for something. A reaction. Anything. I didn't think I could stand to lose hope one more time.
The seconds slipped by like water in my cupped hands. I held on, willing for him to make a move.
Nothing. But perhaps his breathing deepening slightly. I imagined I could feel the fight going out of him. He was not going to do it.
This could not be happening. We could not have failed again. And yet, minutes had passed with us stationary like this, and I knew, in my heart, that we had. He had.
I had. I had... The words I had repeated themselves over and over again. I could not place the blame solely on Ron. Maybe he was waiting for something from me that I wasn't giving him.
But I was tired. So tired. I did not want to figure out what he was waiting for. Wasn't it clear how I felt? Couldn't he see it, every day, every time we've ever really looked at each other?
I let go of his hand abruptly and opened my eyes, disappointment sinking within me. I was fed up. Without really thinking about it or realizing what I was saying aloud, I spat scornfully, "Don't you think it's about time we grew up, Ron?"
I looked up at him. He stared back at me, his blue eyes wide.
"I don't know what you mean." But his voice was uneven.
"I think you do."
Something was dawning in his eyes. Comprehension? Was he really only just seeing me for the first time?
"Or at least, I've known. For a long time," I said. "Haven't you?"
"Known what?" he said, taking a step away from me.
"Known what…" I repeated back mockingly, starting to get a little angry now. "Why don't you just say it Ron? You know it was on the tip of your tongue just a minute ago."
He took another step back, fear flooding his expression. And… Did I detect a flicker of hope?
"Why are you backing away? Are you really that scared?" I rose from my seat to meet him, years of frustration and anger empowering me. I was not going to wait a second longer. I was maddened with a rage that had been steadily building since I first saw him that day on the Hogwarts Express seven years ago. "Just say it Ron! Goddammit, just say it!"
And I began my chant, voice rising madly. "Say it! Say it! Just say it!"
I kept moving toward him, limbs shaking, he kept moving back. We danced around the kitchen in this fashion. Say it, say it, say it… I pleaded. I was only vaguely aware that my face was all wet, streaming with angry tears. Ron looked horrified.
Suddenly he stopped moving. His back had met the door. He was trapped. I continued walking toward him. Say it, say it, say it…
My fists made contact with his chest and I began hitting him, actually hitting him, sobbing hysterically.
"Say it! Say it! Say-"
But I was cut off mid sentence when he kissed me.
I was so shocked that my fists froze on his chest where I had been banging him. My eyes widened and I stood there, letting it happen. Letting him kiss me. Letting his arms wrap around and pull me as close as I could go.
When he broke away I had still not responded. He looked at me, the smallest hint of a grin gracing his lips.
"I thought it didn't need to be said."
And then I think I may have fainted.
But no, I was wide awake, the door we had been leaning on had just been swung open. We went down in a great tumble, and I heard whoever had opened the door leaping away in fright. Ron and I hit the living room floor together, I in his arms. My mind was still reeling from our moment in the kitchen.
"Umm…"
I looked up, rubbing my eyes. Dear sweet Merlin, it was Harry.
He took one glance down at us in the position we were in and walked away bemusedly, eyebrows raised. He had been expected this, perhaps even longer than we had. A small part of me felt sorry for robbing him of his midnight snack.
And then I remembered where I was. I sprang out of Ron's arms and stood up hastily, collecting the remaining pieces of my dignity. He got up too, though more slowly, looking anywhere but at me. He scratched the back of his head inconspicuously, eyes still on the ground.
"I uhh…" he cleared his throat awkwardly. "It's getting late." And then he turned to go.
The madness that had possessed me only minutes before returned with a vengeance. "Excuse me?" I said coldly, willing every particle of my body not to fall apart again.
"We'll… We'll talk about it tomorrow."
A familiar flow of tears began to well up behind my eyes. How could he?
But he hadn't left yet. He was still standing there. And for the first time since we kissed, Ron looked me in the eye. Evidently he felt the need to explain, for he whispered, "The moment's gone."
I let a sob escape.
"Hermione…"
He said it so longingly, so apologetically. When he uttered my name, a second burst that night of spontaneity and instinct raced through me. Oh hell. You only live once.
I dived at him, seizing his face with both hands and crushing my lips to his with unbelievable force I wouldn't have even expected from myself. But I am a Gryffindor, after all. He was knocked backwards into the wall and I smashed his body to it with my own. If I wanted something to happen, damn it, I had to make it happen.
And, fantastically, finally, it did happen. He wrapped his arms around me again, and it felt like I was coming home. I never wanted to leave. He kissed me and kissed me. I had no idea how much time was passing or how late it was, but I couldn't find it in myself to care.
At long last we broke apart. For a few heart stopping seconds, we just stood there staring at each other, breathing heavily.
He spoke first. "I'm sorry." It came out as barely more than a choked up whisper, but it was there. I smiled, for there was the signal that the wall between us had finally been broken down.
"I know. I'm sorry too," I whispered back, leaning in to rest my head on his shoulder. He rocked me back and forth, as if he could make the past go away.
"All… All those years. I always… Don't think I didn't…"
"I know."
"If only I had done something… Anything. This could have been five years ago."
"I know."
"Do you know why I waited?"
I shook my head. I used to think I knew, but I wasn't sure of anything anymore. He lifted my head and turned it to parallel his.
"Because I was scared I would lose you. I thought… Maybe you didn't like me that way and it would ruin our friendship. I told myself, I always said this to myself for years, as an excuse for my pitiful cowardice, that it was better to have you as a friend than to not have you at all. Did that occur to you?"
"No," I said truthfully. "You're so thoughtful. I didn't realize."
"I thought… Maybe you liked me. But I wasn't sure."
"Oh, Ron. How could you have missed it?" I said honestly.
He laughed a little, wiping a tear from the end of my nose. But his eyes grew serious again. "I'm still not sure how much you like me now, but I… I like you a lot."
"I love you, Ron." I had been bursting to say this, but actually letting the words pass my lips felt foreign to me. Foreign, yet wonderful.
"Oh, good," he said, laughing again.
"Don't doubt this Ron, don't doubt us again. The years we've wasted, they don't matter anymore. It's all in the past. It's about the present now."
"And the future," he added, subtly hinting to me that this was for real. For good. But he needn't have.
"Yes, Ron, the future." I was laughing now too. I couldn't believe how simple being together was.
He wiped another tear from the corner of my eye, fondly. "It really is late. We should go up to bed. And besides, I have yet to endure the imminent interrogation from Harry. He's waiting up for me this second, I expect," he said, smiling at the thought.
"And Ginny as well."
"So. Goodnight." I watched him walk up the stairs, each foot seeming to take a year to reach its next hold. He was halfway when he turned around. "I just realized I never said it."
"Said what?"
"That I love you." So simple. So much. He turned back around. I watched him until he disappeared into the dark corridor of the second floor.
But I remained there for a minute longer, thinking.
Everything was behind us now. It didn't matter that we had wasted nearly seven years. And as Ron said, we had the whole future before us, which I knew in my heart was going to be a long, happy one. I sighed blissfully, heading up to meet Ginny and tell her that my life had changed forever.
Us. Together. Finally.
AN: Thank you for reading, and please review. This is my first Ron/Hermione fanfiction. :D