Author's Note: This is an idea I'm trying out. Happy reading and enjoy!

Chapter One:

It was a bit like being underwater. Like when you're in the bath and you put your face under and open your eyes. You can see the ceiling above you and the rest of the room, but you're not really a part of it. And voices sound different too. Echo-y and far away, blurred together so that words were just too garbled to not make sense. Yes, it was exactly like being underwater. That's what Ron felt like.

Except he couldn't just lift his head and emerge, shaking the water out of his hair and ears and rubbing it out of his eyes. He was trying to; he had been trying for the last ten minutes or however long he had woken up like this, underwater. He couldn't move his body. That was curious. He felt very heavy, and strange, like maybe his arms didn't belong to him. He was just stuck here, in his underwater, trying to get out. He discovered he couldn't talk either, despite several frustrating attempts.

Instead, he tried to remember how he had gotten here and why. His memory wasn't working properly. He remembered waking up that morning. It was his birthday! Yes, that was why he had been excited, it was his seventeenth! He had eaten chocolates someone had given him as a present. Maybe they had been from Hermione; she gave him presents he actually enjoyed. Not like Lavender, who gave him stupid things like jewelry. Well, no, Hermione wouldn't have given him the chocolates, would she have? After that, his memory went entirely blank, and the next thing he could remember he was in Slughorn's office, clad in his pajamas. Harry was there as well. Now Ron remembered! The chocolates had love potion in them! Harry had taken him to Slughorn to get the antidote! Well, that explained most things, but it didn't explain why he was like this now, why he was underwater and he couldn't talk or move. The very last thing he remembered was Harry and Slughorn toasting his birthday, and then his memory went all fuzzy and black, and he somehow had ended up here.

There were voices above him. He thought he could tell whose they were, even if he could not understand what they were saying. Here and there he could make out a word, but without context it didn't make any sense. Once or twice he thought he heard his own name. Vainly, he was listening for one voice in particular, or perhaps it was more like hoping. He was hoping he would hear her voice, despite how unlikely that was.

Yes, that was Harry talking right now. He knew it was Harry, even though he did not know what Harry was saying. And someone was answering as Harry paused. Was it…no. It was Ginny. He could just make out Ginny's voice. He listened to her speak and tried not to let disappointment flood through him. Then another voice, a new one. It was….one of the twins. They were as alike in Ron's underwater world as they were in life, and Ron couldn't make out which one was speaking at the moment. He thought it might be Fred; Fred was always slightly louder. But it could be George…

Ron was getting bored. He didn't do well sitting still for long periods of time; Hermione had told him this repeatedly as he had fidgeted through lessons, bouncing his leg or twirling his quill or tapping his fingers on the desk. But now he couldn't do any of those things; he couldn't lift his finger even, and he didn't think he was holding a quill. Besides, there wasn't the added benefit of having Hermione there, anyway. Sometimes, when he fidgeted and she got fed up with him, she'd put her hand over his leg or his hand or whatever he was moving to stop him. Whenever she did that he'd get a curious jolt in his stomach and he'd get a bit dizzy just thinking about her touching him, even if it was just for a second. But, he remembered sadly, that hadn't happened in a long time. She had stopped sitting next to him once he made the world's biggest mistake.

And, because he had absolutely nothing better to do with himself other than mentally beat himself over the head for the millionth time, he remembered that night in the common room. It had been right after he had won the match against Slytherin. They had played brilliantly…

He stalked through the common room portrait hole, stamping his feet and realizing he looked childish without really caring. There were so many things going through his mind he didn't even think about the people around him and how he would appear. And there was one thing in particular that was blocking up his brain right now.

Hermione.

He had tried out for the team for her. To prove to her that he wasn't completely rubbish at everything. He was rubbish at lessons and he was probably the worst Prefect Hogwarts had ever seen. Sometimes he was even a rubbish friend. But he wasn't entirely bad at Quidditch; he had been playing since Bill had taught him the summer after his sixth year at Hogwarts; he had been Captain. It had been Ron's best summer. He felt good when he was in the air, he felt freer from everyone. So when Wood left and he heard they were holding trials he thought he might as well give it a go. Hermione had already proven that she liked Quidditch players. Maybe if she saw him in the air, deflecting every shot that came his way and winning the Cup for Gryffindor, she would start to like him back. He wanted to impress her; he wanted to show her that he could be good at something too.

Well, to say that the plan had backfired would be a massive understatement. It turned out he was rubbish at Quidditch as well. It also turned out that playing catch with your brother in the orchard is entirely different than Keeping for the House team while the rest of the school watched on and the Slytherins sang nasty songs to and about you. His plan of impressing Hermione went out the window. Now he was just hoping not to embarrass himself, and her.

But today. Today he had played brilliantly. It was the kind of match he had wanted Hermione to see all along. He had saved practically everything, and everyone had been screaming for him. The shouts of the crowd still reverberated in his ears, pushing past his anger at Hermione. Gryffindor had won, and for the first time it had been because of him, not in spite of him.

Hermione thought he had been given lucky potion, and when Harry had said he hadn't given it to him at all, he had just pretended, Ron had started shouting at Hermione. He wasn't entirely sure why he had done it; he thought he had been given it as well, but then he realized that she had just confirmed everything he dreaded that she thought about him. He was useless. It was impossible for him to do anything without help. He wasn't worthy.

At these last thoughts Ron kicked a chair and then kicked it again when he didn't feel anything. Now his toes hurt. He wanted to prove Hermione wrong. He could do some things well. And he could do them without help. He looked savagely around the common room at all of the grinning faces. He could have been like that, but Hermione had ruined it for him.

He spotted Lavender Brown a few feet away from him. He wasn't sure what he thought of her. Actually, for five years he had found her quite annoying. She giggled a lot and gave mean looks to people behind their backs. Ron had suspected that he had been the subject of many of these looks in past years, but something had changed this year. Now she beamed at him and waved to him whenever she saw him. She had even batted her eyelashes once, but Ron had convinced himself that he had been imagining that one. Ron was pretty oblivious to most signs – Hermione told him this constantly – but he was almost positive that Lavender Brown fancied him. He stopped kicking the chair.

Half-formed thoughts were flooding through his brain. Lavender Brown was a girl. A very attractive girl, even Ron could see that. She liked Ron. Ron didn't much like her, but that wasn't the point. The point was that Hermione thought he was useless. If he could prove to her that he wasn't useless, maybe then she would finally understand how much he liked her. The Quidditch plan had backfired, but that didn't mean that every plan had to turn out badly. Besides, how could getting with Lavender turn out badly? He wasn't sure what he had to do to execute this plan; he'd never even kissed a girl. And then he remembered, with an unpleasant jolt in his stomach, Ginny saying that Hermione snogged Vikor Krum. Well, Ron thought, standing up straighter and squaring his shoulders, if that wasn't justification for what he was about to do, he didn't know what was. Stupid Viktor Krum with his stupid Quidditch team and stupid accent and stupid fame.

He walked up to Lavender, and despite himself he felt a bit nervous. He had absolutely no idea what he was getting himself into. He just needed to show Hermione that he wasn't a speck of dirt she could carelessly brush off her shoe. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at Lavender, who was blushing deeply.

Lavender said something, but in the din of the common room Ron couldn't hear what she had said. He leaned down slightly to ask her to repeat herself, and before he knew it she had launched herself onto him, kissing him right on the mouth and wrapping her arms around his neck. Ron was frozen for about five seconds, and then realized he should be doing something. He kissed her back. He hoped Hermione was here right now, watching them…

Ron returned from the memory of the common room back to the underwater world he was trapped in. He had been over than night in his mind more times than he cared to count. It had all gone so wrong, and he didn't know how to ever make it right. In some ways, he had done exactly what he wanted to: he had shown Hermione that he was just as capable as she was to get someone to snog them. He had shown her that he wasn't useless. But the consequences had been more severe than he'd thought: Hermione couldn't even be in the same room as him anymore. They hadn't talked in months and she gave him looks whenever she walked past him. But the worst part was the hurt look on her face whenever she didn't think he was looking; the expression her face made whenever she saw him with Lavender. Ron finally understood the irreparable damage he had done by kissing Lavender. He was an idiot.

And yet he was still listening for her voice. Harry was talking again, in response to something that Ginny had said. And he was still listening for Hermione. Even though he had hurt her in ways he didn't think were possible, even though he had flaunted his relationship in front of her purely to hurt her as much as she had hurt him, he was still listening for her. Because it didn't matter that he had been snogging Lavender for the last few months; he would always be listening for Hermione. She was the point. She always would be. But he had ruined it all with his stupid plan with Lavender. If he could move his arms, he would hit himself.

There was a pause in the noise above him, and then a new voice joined the symphony of voices he had been listening to for the last twenty minutes. It was a girl's voice, soft and gentle and beautiful. Hermione. She was here after all. Ron wanted to jump or shout or say something. She was here! She was sitting by his bed! She cared, she really cared. Ron wanted to cry. He wanted to escape this trapped feeling and open his eyes and tell her everything. He needed to tell her everything. All of the mistakes, all of his foolish attempts to prove himself to her. But how? How could he speak?

"Hermione!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Hermione! Hermione! Hermione!" he kept on shouting. Curiously, his voice wasn't making any sounds. But on the last try, he managed to get something out. He tried again. It was garbled, just like the voices he could hear above him. But this was better than nothing at all, so he tried again.

"Er-my-nee," he managed to croak out, and somehow he knew that this had broken the surface of the water and reached all of the people above him. He heard the voice stop at the sound of his voice. He had said her name! He tried again, but he felt very, very tired. As if saying her name had taken everything out of him. He felt himself slipping into sleep. He tried to say her name once more, but it was only muttering. He didn't mind much. He had said it. And she was here. And with that thought, he fell asleep, hoping that when he woke up he'd be out of this water and Hermione wouldn't have left.

Author's Note: I'm working on the second part which is Hermione's point of view...please tell me what you think. Is it okay? Is it total crap?