Ready, Set...
Ready?
He opened his eyes.
Bright orange above him, in contrast with the gray sky outside his window. Was it still too early to be awake, or was it yet another gloomy summer day?
Ron stretched.
This was it.
He had fallen into bed the night before and marked the day. The beginning. Of everything.
It felt like he was walking into a warm abyss, knowing his future as solidly as he now did. He hadn't allowed more than dreams to occupy the area of his mind that was interested in considering what would happen after all was said and done. But now, it seemed, that all was said and done. Completed. The last part of his life was a closed book. And the one before him now? A blank page. No, a blank canvas with no borders or boundaries. If he closed his eyes, however, he could colour the whole thing brilliantly in one short second, one breath.
Time to sort it out again, to prepare his mental notes.
He sat up on the edge of his bed and let his feet hit the cold hardwood as he rubbed his eyes and attempted to smooth his hair back away from his brow. No use, so he let his fringe drop again.
Focus.
It had been two weeks exactly since she had kissed him. Two weeks, and he had said nothing. Neither had she. It was the right thing to do, to hold on for a while until things were... better, as if that word could quite reach the surface now, after everything... But Ron had given himself two weeks intentionally. A buffer between his former life and his new one, the one he craved desperately with each heartbeat, every shy smile, each glance in her direction...
Things were going to change. For good, if he let them. If she let them.
He shivered as the intensity of his feelings overcame him yet again. He knew the magnitude of what he was preparing to do. He understood how much this was going to alter. He welcomed it, accepted it... but was absolutely terrified of it. Not because he wasn't sure. Not because he didn't want it more than anything...
But... because this wasn't something he could do over if he screwed it up. He had one shot. And it had to be perfect. And he wasn't very good with perfection...
"Come on," he whispered to himself, urging his brain to move his body out of bed before he shriveled once again into his own self doubt.
He was out the door before he could think of what it meant, that each step led him closer, further down a path he could never retrace. Down the stairs, another flight... and he was standing in front of Ginny's bedroom door. Pushing aside his unwillingness to be teased by his little sister, he shook his head to fully wake himself, and he knocked.
His heart leapt into his throat instantly.
Permanent. Forever.
Words that now flowed freely through his vocabulary, startling him with how he accepted them without question.
Hermione opened the door. He was frozen solid.
"Hi," she said softly before clearing her throat. "You're up early."
He shrugged.
"So are you."
She could have replied, but she seemed a bit unwilling to put forth the effort. This little hiccup could have deterred him from his plan, and perhaps it should have, but he wouldn't let it. He had made a choice and he could not turn back. No matter what.
"Are you okay?" he asked, getting it out of the way though he knew the answer she'd provide, no matter how she felt.
"Fine," she said with a slight shrug before stepping out into the hallway and shutting the door behind her, tightening the tie of her dressing gown as she stood so small before him.
"Ginny still asleep?" Ron asked unnecessarily, aware of how he was procrastinating.
Last question, then you do it.
"Yes," Hermione said simply, offering him a very small, tentative smile.
He returned it, something comfortable and warm settling in his stomach, like a cup of hot cocoa before bed.
You're ready.
"Can we find a place no one will bother us? I really need to talk to you and... it might take a while." Ron cringed inwardly at his own words. He wasn't really selling this to her...
"Sure," Hermione said. And was that a flash of fear he saw in her eyes?
"Maybe... Dad's shed?" Ron suggested, his eyes taking inventory of Hermione's improper dress, especially given the light rain he was sure was falling.
"Let me just get my cloak. I'll meet you at the front door..." she said. And had he caught her lip trembling as she turned back into Ginny's room, shutting the door with a muted click?
He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked down the stairs on unsteady legs. He had just enough time to stuff a biscuit into his mouth and throw on one of his old Weasley jumpers that had been hanging on the coat rack before Hermione appeared next to him, dressing gown and pyjamas under her black Hogwarts cloak. He smiled at the sight of her in it, something he had missed without realizing it.
Shyly, testing the waters, Hermione took his hand and averted her eyes from his, leading them out the door.
His stomach toppled over. Maybe the biscuit had been a bad idea.
But Hermione dropped his hand too quickly to stuff her feet into a pair of old Wellington boots on the front porch, and Ron copied her, grinning again at the sight of her little feet in such oversized shoes. They tromped through the muddy yard towards the shed, faces misted with fog and vague rain by the time Ron opened the door for Hermione.
She smiled and stepped inside, gathering her cloak around her body as she turned to face Ron again. He shut the rickety door behind them and rocked back on his heels, hands shoved deep in his pyjama pockets.
She looked like she was about to say something, to break the heavy silence before them. But Ron had to beat her there. It was, after all, what he'd waited for...
"We've been sort of..." but he paused, unsure already if he was heading in the right direction. Everything inside him was screaming to simply blurt out the truth, but he wanted to get it right, and he had planned this, the proper way to do it. He had to give her the full picture, didn't he? She deserved that much.
"Sort of what?" Hermione asked shakily. She was so nervous.
"Me and you," Ron continued, "what are we exactly?" But he didn't wait for her to answer. He didn't want her to reveal anything until he'd had his say, his moment to be courageous. "I know what I want. I have for a while now."
She sucked in a breath and stared up at him with round eyes, her cloak falling back slightly as she neglected it, focused intently on Ron's next words...
"This... isn't like anything else. I..." Ron trailed off, alarmed with what he had almost revealed, the future that stretched until his deathbed.
Should he? Could he? She was waiting for him, so impatiently, and yet silently. Terrified of scaring her off, of sounding too serious for their young age, he had come to the conclusion that perhaps he could take all day to explain properly. But he'd almost told her the biggest part, the part he wanted to save for after his declaration, at least...
"What I'm trying to say..." he continued, desperately trying to get back on the track he had started from, "is that..."
She held her breath.
"What if we weren't just Ron and Hermione anymore... but... RonandHermione?" He ran the words together, his cheeks reddened, and her eyebrows lifted.
"What if..." she whispered shakily, still digesting his words. She took an unintentional step towards him, as if under a trance.
"What if," he repeated again, and it was his turn to step closer.
Hidden among his father's gadgets and broken car parts, he felt her warmth move into his, merging in between their bodies.
"And... and what if I... was in love with you?" He couldn't stop himself.
Her eyes watered from lack of closure.
He should have saved that one... for a bit longer... he thought.
But her hands slipped free of the constraints of her cloak and her fingertips brushed his wrists, her lips parting as she studied him with awe.
"Okay?" he questioned awkwardly, tilting his head as he stood waiting for her to speak.
She let out a breath that seemed to carry more weight with it than was physically possible.
"Oh my God, Ron!" she cried in a strangled whisper. "Really..."
Her body met his, head tilted at such an extreme angle. She was on her tiptoes in a flash. His hand was suddenly on the back of her neck.
He pulled her up and she pulled him down. His arms wound under her cloak to hold her warm, dressing gown encased body as their lips met.
Completely alone this time, no interruptions, the rain increasing outside to beat against the worn wood of the shed roof...
Her lips parted, smooshed against his, and his tongue found hers. She gasped into his mouth, and he chanced a peek at her eyes. They were tightly crushed shut, creased at the edges. Could have been pain, though he knew it, delightedly, to be from pleasure. He joined her again in blissful darkness as he clamped his eyes shut too, squeezing her body up and against his further so he was sure that her feet were no longer on the ground. She was nearly weightless in his arms, somehow defying some laws... though it was likely a lack of sufficient gravity given off by a spark finally ignited.
When their lips separated, their eyes opened in unison to look back at the other's.
"Do you know... do you... how long I've been waiting?" she whispered.
"I think I might, yeah," he whispered back, stunned, still supporting her body off the ground so their heads were nearly level.
Plateaued passion brought to life the feeling that his awkward squeeze might not be so comfortable for her anymore, and he lowered her to her feet slowly, Wellingtons hitting the ground with a gentle thud.
"My turn," she said shakily, and Ron had no idea what she meant, too dizzy from the scent of her filling the room and her back against his palms... "I love you so, so, so-"
But he grinned instantly, a face splitting grin, and she was back off the ground again before she could add any more 'so's. He crushed her lips with renewed vigour, elbow knocking over some ancient rusty spare part as he tried to remain balanced. Her squeal was minimized, yet echoed, inside the cavern of his throat as he moaned, one hand in her hair, strong arm around her middle to keep her against him.
Out of some combination of desire and necessity, he turned so she was propped against the table, knocking over several more mangled parts in the process. She wiggled back so she was sitting on the table just barely, still at Ron's lanky height, palms trembling against his neck. She leaned back enough to break off their third kiss...
Third!
"Anything else you wanted to say?" Hermione breathed through a delighted giggle.
"What..." Ron choked, clueless and dazed speechless.
"You implied you had a lot to talk about, that it might take some time," she said, though it was clear from her little grin and sparkling eyes that she was teasing him.
"Ah," Ron sighed happily, understanding, fog lifting somewhat. "I sort of blurted it all out, didn't I. Not what I'd... planned."
"You planned?" Hermione asked, awed and eyes wide.
"Blimey, yes... so much," Ron admitted. "Nearly all I've been thinking about for months..."
"You... you prat!" Hermione scolded suddenly, startling Ron as she hit him in the arm... not quite painfully, but close.
"Hey!"
And then she startled him again by burrowing her face into his neck, legs parting as she settled fully into her position atop the table. He found himself between her legs, his whole upper body entangled with hers as she snuggled against him.
"Why did you wait so long?" she half groaned.
He grinned and closed his eyes to the feeling of her.
"Hypocrite," he said boldly.
She pulled back from his neck to raise her eyebrows at him, noses almost touching as he opened his eyes again to meet hers.
"You're so sure?" she asked, a wicked gleam escaping to the surface of her eyes.
"Dunno," Ron mumbled as he glued his own eyes more solidly to hers.
"I am..." she finally admitted.
But, lips within a breath of each other again, so close, a voice rang out from the porch and shattered their solitude.
"Ginny!"
Ron and Hermione raised their eyebrows at each other, moving back an inch.
"Harry," they said in unison, and Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Ginny, we could try the shed..." Harry's voice was much too close.
Ron sighed heavily and moved out of Hermione's legs, hands sliding down her arms.
"Every single bloody time," he muttered, shaking his head.
"Well, either we Disapparate now or he finds us," Hermione said with no particularly obvious inclination either way.
"Up to y-" Ron started, but the door to the shed slid open and it was too late to make any more decisions.
Harry blinked at them.
"Mate, no offense," Ron began as he stepped back again from Hermione, no longer touching her... regrettably... "but you really have a knack for bad timing."
Hermione bit her lip to keep from laughing and hopped down rather ungracefully from the table, boots hitting the floor with a significant thump this time.
Ginny's head moved into view over Harry's shoulder and she made a face that somehow combined guilt and deviousness...
"Already occupied, I see," she said as Hermione took Ron's hand, surprisingly, and led him towards the door.
"You can have a turn," Hermione said as she met Ginny's eyes, brushing past Harry into the settling fog. The rain had turned light again, and as Ron stepped into it behind Hermione, it cooled his burning skin brilliantly.
"Ah, but it's a bit like taking someone's leftovers now," Ginny smirked, but Ron just shook his head, smiling.
"Sorry," Harry began, scratching the back of his neck guiltily.
Ron shrugged and squeezed Hermione's hand tighter as she leaned against him. She seemed to be avoiding eye contact with Harry.
"Come on," Ron half whispered into her hair where it bunched up against his face, frizziness increased by the damp outdoors.
He tugged and she followed with a smile, boots sucked into the mud with each step as they moved together back up to the Burrow, hand in hand.
And so... it begins.