Seventeen

By

Child of Evilness and Darkness

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Disclaimer: I don't pretend to own Harry Potter (er-at least I don't most of the time…) so don't sue me, 'kay?

A/N: I hope this is longer than my other one-shots, 'cause those are übershort…

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I don't really know.

Perhaps it was when I first saw him. He had dirt on his nose. I thought he was, well, pretty pathetic, at the time. Later, though…

I don't think so. Eleven is too young to fall in love. Eleven is too young to even know what love is. Yes, definitely. Not when we were eleven.

Perhaps it was when I awoke from my Petrified state. I remember that when I came round, the only thing I wanted to do was see them.

See them. Not just him, Harry too. So, I suppose, it wasn't then. Besides, twelve is hardly a better age than eleven to fall in love, or know what love is. No, definitely not when we were twelve.

Perhaps it was in the hospital wing, during our third year. Harry and I were going back with the Time Turner. His leg was broken, so he couldn't come with us. I remember that I wanted more than anything was to have him come with us.

So, maybe it was then.

No, now that I think about it… I just didn't want him to feel left out. Yes, that was it. Besides, can you know what you really want when you're only thirteen? No, I suppose not.

Perhaps it was in our fourth year, when I was dancing with Viktor Krum. I remember wishing I were dancing with him, not Viktor

But, now that I think about it, I only wished that because I saw him sitting in the corner being such a sourpuss. Plus, Viktor kept stepping on my feet. And who falls in love at fourteen? At fourteen, you don't want a serious relationship, just a light, fluffy romance. You know, first dates, first kisses, passing notes in class (not that I would do such a thing!). Not love, surely.

Perhaps it was the summer before our fifth year, when we spent so much time at number 12 Grimmauld Place together, alone-meaning without Harry. I guess one could say that we connected a lot in that time…

But, of course, Ginny was there, too. I guess I connected with her as much I did him… So I suppose it wasn't then. Besides, at fifteen, are you looking for anything more serious than a fourteen-year-old relationship? No, not really.

Perhaps it was in our sixth year, when Harry began to shut us out, and we spent even more time alone. I was with him, it seemed, every waking hour of the day.

Although… Most of that time was spent harping him about his study habits, I admit. And besides, when you're sixteen, you want to explore your options, not fall in love with one person. You don't want to get tied to one person when you're only sixteen. So, no, it wasn't then.

But then we were seventeen. And, I realized, I was in love with him. But surely that couldn't have just happened? I must've fallen in love before that, I thought. But when? There was no reasonable time to fall in love with him.

"But that's the point," a little voice in my head said. "Love defies all reason."

I decided to listen to the little voice. It wasn't always right, but I assumed that this time it just might be.

Then there was the small matter of telling him. That part scared the heck out of me. Fortunately, he beat me to it.

I remember exactly how that conversation went.

"Mione…" he had begun.

"Mione? Who's that?" I had said jokingly.

"Um, that's what I call you when I talk about you to Harry and Ginny," he had replied. He looked quite nervous, so I sobered up. I don't think I'd ever had to sober up before or after that moment; I'm Hermione Jane Granger for crying out loud.

"Do you talk about me to them often?" I asked, tilting my head and looking into his eyes.

"Well, yeah, because, I think I love you," he had said. I remember that when he said that, I had gasped so loud that Lavender and Dean had looked up from where they were sitting by the fire.

"Ron, I love you, too," I had said, tears in my eyes. I think Lavender had applauded when she heard me, but I don't remember very clearly. All I remember was that he looked very surprised.

"You do? Since when?" he had asked, still looking shocked.

I thought very carefully before speaking the absolute truth. "I've always loved you, Ronald Weasley."

And it was true, it really was.

Suddenly, we were seventeen. It seemed so old compared to those eleven-year-olds that had met on the Hogwarts Express. But maybe, just maybe, being seventeen was what it took to make you realize that, during seven years of stubbornness and fighting, you were falling in love with one of your best friends.

Being eleven was being innocent. So was being twelve. Being thirteen was having your whole life ahead of you. Being fourteen was having fun, and being fifteen was being worry-free (well, for most people). Being sixteen was experimenting, but seventeen…

Being seventeen was being ready to love, I decided.

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A/N: This plot bunny hopped into my head at 2 A. M. when I was trying to go to sleep. It was nagging me all night, so finally I got up and typed it. It wasn't as good as I thought it might be, but then, they never are. At least it's longer than my other stories.

Oh, by the way, what do you review think of subliminal review messaging? Review?