I do not own Harry Potter anything.

Reading the books, my son just found out about Snape. Blew his mind.

Summer at Grimmauld Place

She was in the drawing room, tidied and freshly cleaned by the newly revived Kreacher.

Reading, always reading.

Searching for a clue, a breadcrumb.

Smidgen of hope.

And finding nothing.

The door creaked and she looked up to see Ron entering the room.

"Hey," he smiled.

"Hey."

Ronald Weasley.

If someone had told her upon meeting him that first day on the Hogwarts Express, that she would one day fancy him, she would have gawked at their ridiculousness.

It just wasn't logical.

But now . . .

He wasn't generally thought of as handsome. Not like Victor Krum.

Flaming red hair. Freckles. Plain face.

He wasn't charming, he wasn't particularly bright. Sometimes, she had to admit, he was downright rude and selfish and dim.

Or had been.

There were so many 'wasn'ts', one might think she would be hard pressed to stumble upon a 'was'.

In the end, she could only surmise that he was Ron.

A boy who had, with the exception of the time when he and Harry were both acting like insufferable gits, always stood by his friends through thick and thin.

Near certain death and even worse she'd thought at times, expulsion.

A boy who, over the course of time, had begun looking outside of himself to comfort and support her.

And now they together stood in support of Harry Potter, marked for death by Lord Voldemort himself so many dark nights ago.

Who was now being actively hunted by not only the Dark Lord himself and his Death Eaters.

But also by the Ministry of Magic. Those ridiculously thickheaded, easily blinded or bought government officials who were hired to protect and serve.

But only managed to make more oppressive and trapped, the plight of all who did not align to their sense of entitlement.

She ground her teeth together in fury.

Turned the page in 'The Tales of Beetle the Bard' as Ron sat down near her.

She studiously ignored him.

And continued her desperate search.

She could feel his eyes on her face.

Hear his mouth wanting to speak words.

Sense his hand wanting to touch her arm or shoulder.

And she valiantly attempted to ignore that too.

Resolutely pushing her burgeoning feelings for Ronald Bilius Weasley into the back of her mind.

The imminent complete and absolute plunge of the entire Wizarding world into darkness and destruction was no time for romance.

No time at all.

Even if he was right there.

They had been getting closer for some time now.

Well, not in the physical sense.

After all, it was Hermione.

Hermione.

Not Lavender Brown.

He couldn't just grab Hermione and snog her silly.

He wanted to but . . .

It was Hermione.

And she was different from every other girl ever.

So he moved carefully around her, gently.

He listened when she talked.

Held her when she needed support.

Encouraged her, tried to make her laugh when it all became a bit too much.

He cared for her.

Because she was Hermione.

And he was becoming more and more certain that he had deeper feelings for her than he had ever considered having for any girl.

That he loved her.

And she was so smart, so clever, so brillant a witch, that he really couldn't understand why she might have an eye for him.

Ronald Bilius Weasley.

Not strapping and brave like Bill or Charlie.

Not clever and charming like Fred and George.

But at least not an insufferable git like Percy.

Still, the quandary remained as to why she might fancy him.

But it seemed she did.

Of course she wouldn't say.

She would never say.

But the way that she looked at him sometimes.

Peeked when she thought he didn't see.

Or went ahead and gazed when he did.

The way she was so tough on him, he thought because she cared about what he said and did. Wanted him to be better than the rest.

But she wouldn't say.

And she wouldn't touch.

Even though he found himself reaching out and touching her more and more frequently.

Wiping away a speck on her cheek.

Putting an arm around her shoulder.

Staying close by when she seemed to prefer not to be alone.

Whatever he could do, he did.

Because it was Hermione.

And Ronald Weasley was pretty that if they survived all this, he wanted to be with her forever.

After they killed the Dark Lord and all.

Hello! Reading and watching Harry Potter with my son got my writing brain going.

This is going to be relatively mild romance here so don't expect any smut or anything.

But if that's good with you, then I hope you enjoy the fic. :)

Everybody appreciates feedback. Leave a review if you like.