A/N: Written well before DH was released, this was simply the way I pictured Ron and Hermione finally getting a clue. While obviously A/U now, I hope you enjoy it all the same. And for form, I am not now, have never been, and will not ever be JK Rowling; I am merely playing in her exquisite sandbox.
"Ron, I've been researching this whole time, you know that! Just because your sense of responsibility is lying in a puddle somewhere in the backyard at the Burrow doesn't mean I have to baby-sit you while you do your rounds!"
The portrait slammed closed behind them and heads began turning, watching the two of them. A colossal fight was in the works, and the electricity in the air was enough to draw the remainder of the house out of their dormitories and down to the staircase railing to watch.
Harry and Ginny looked up from their conversation at the interruption and sighed simultaneously - this was going to be a big one. Sharing a knowing look, they turned their attention back to the fight at hand, waiting for it to play out.
"Right, Hermione, right. That's why my lack of responsibility decided to come check on you and remind you of the time, Oh Honorable Head Girl," came the testy reply, "only to find you not even researching, but writing a letter to a certain Bulgarian!"
Honestly, what did she expect, that he'd be thrilled to find her writing a love letter to Vicky when she'd skipped out on rounds with him to research? The letter was two feet long already - she couldn't have been researching all that long, so she was sorely mistaken if she thought he had no reason for his anger when he'd found her.
"You're over-reacting again, as usual," she bit out. "I read three different books and had three feet of notes before I decided to take a break and return the letter of a friend. Apparently, though, that's not allowed in the world of Ron Weasley, is it?"
He was the only one who knew exactly how to get to her, how to dig the knife deep and give it a good twist. He went berserk at the most insignificant things - how could he think she was writing love notes to Viktor? And what was his problem, anyway? It was part of her job to assign the prefects their times for their rounds, not to go around with them and hold their hands every shift.
"It doesn't matter if I'm over-reacting, Hermione! You said you'd do rounds with me, then went off to write sweet nothings instead of the research you're otherwise normally engrossed in! Most of the time, you think too bloody much, but this time you conveniently left your brain in the last book you opened!"
In a shrill voice filled with the fury of frustration, she yelled, "Maybe if you bothered to open a book once in a while you'd be able to wrap your miniscule, pea-sized brain around facts instead of wild suppositions! You always jump to conclusions, and never think about the repercussions!"
Harry and Ginny glanced at each other; here came the petty insults. They knew this play - and most of the lines, to boot. Sharing a smirk this time, they again turned their attention to their bickering best friends.
Ron's cheeks were pink with fury and his eyes spat blue fire as he said, "Maybe you should tell me the truth once in a while instead of acting like I'm the world's largest moron!"
Face flushed and eyes blazing, Hermione retorted, "Maybe you should think before you act!"
"All you do is nag and criticize!"
"All you do is eat and complain!"
"You read too much!" Ron's chest was heaving, his fists clenched at his sides.
"You goof around too much!" Hermione's thin shoulders shook, her chin jutting out in defiance.
"And you talk too bloody much!" he roared in response. And before he could stop himself - before he even knew exactly what he was doing - his big Keeper's hands had grasped her around the ribcage and hauled her to her toes, and he crushed his mouth to hers as her hands came up to frame his face.
This.
It was the only thought her over-worked brain had time to register before the fire shot through her veins. This was what she'd been waiting for, what she'd been dreaming of for the last four years - just this, just Ron, holding her close and pressing his lips to hers.
This.
It was the last thing to run through his mind before he lost himself in her. This was what he'd wanted, what he'd been desperately needing for what seemed like ever - just this, just Hermione, pressed close against him, her lips caught against his own.
The common room exploded with sound; cheers, whistles and catcalls echoed across the tower, loudly enough to be heard as a roar of approval all the way down to the great hall. The stragglers still finishing their dinners looked around, trying to determine where the noise came from; some of the castle ghosts began following it to find out where it originated.
Even McGonagall, seated at her desk and grading papers, looked up, startled, and began quickly making her way toward the noise.
In the common room, Ginny sighed with relief. "It's about bloody time," she muttered, leaning back against Harry's shoulder. She felt the laugh rumble through him as he murmured back, "Couldn't have put it better myself."
The laughter and cheering continued in high spirits. Money began changing hands, won and lost from the numerous bets and pools that had been placed and held about this very event; around it all, Colin's camera was snapping and whirring, recording everything as fast as his finger could press the shutter button.
Hermione could hardly believe she was still standing...her knees felt like they were made of jelly and wouldn't hold her up much longer. She was vaguely aware of some kind of noise and cheering, but couldn't bring herself to care overmuch about it when she was finally exactly where she wanted to be.
Ron could hear cheers and whistles, but didn't care - he was finally kissing the only girl who had ever haunted his dreams, the only one he never would've thought he could have, and it felt better than anything he ever could've imagined.
"Uh-oh," Harry said quietly in Ginny's ear, "McGonagall just walked in." Ginny sat up quickly to look just as McGonagall came to a screeching halt. Because they were watching for it, both Harry and Ginny caught the quick twitch of her lips and the glint in her eye before she managed to put on a stern face.
"What exactly is going on here?" McGonagall asked firmly. It worked like nothing else had, and the noise died down nearly immediately.
Startled, Hermione jumped away from Ron and glanced around, looking for all the world like she'd been walloped with a sack of bricks. Knowing full well his face would mirror hers, she looked back at him for a second, then bolted out of the common room.
McGonagall fixed her gaze on Ron, then tilted her head ever-so-slightly toward the portrait Hermione had just run through. She figured she could afford to be generous this time, seeing as she'd just won the staff pool. Ron, mercifully, got the hint and took off after her as McGonagall began to restore peace and order to her house.
He burst through the portrait, where the Fat Lady sighed and grumbled something about kids and their bad timing. Looking around, he saw Hermione reach the end of the corridor. He called her just as she rounded the corner.
"Hermione! Hermione, wait!"
Ron couldn't believe he'd let her run off like that - and he had no idea what he'd say once he caught up to her. But he knew things couldn't go back to the way they were. Nothing could ever be 'just friends' between them again. He realized with a start that he didn't want them to be - he loved her.
Holy hell, he loved her. Oh, man, what if she didn't feel the same? She couldn't have kissed back like that if she didn't feel something for him, could she?
He rounded the corner, then stopped abruptly. There she stood, her back to him, unmoving.
Hermione had stopped the minute she'd heard him call out to her. She knew she wouldn't be able to outrun him - wasn't sure she wanted to. But she was terrified of what he might say. What if he thought it was a mistake? What if he didn't really feel about her that way? What if it was just the heat of the moment?
She was head-over-heels in love with him, and every dream she'd ever had of herself with him had become gloriously real - for those few moments. She didn't think she could have that little taste of heaven and then nothing. She didn't know if she was courageous enough - Gryffindor enough - to take it if he apologized to her.
"Hermione?" He said softly, questioningly. He leaned a shoulder against the wall and waited as she turned slowly around. Merlin's beard, she was gorgeous. Her hair fell in a riot of curls around her shoulders, and her lips were swollen, eyes still a little wild. She looked like she'd just been snogged right and proper - which, of course, she had.
"Hermione, I - "
"Don't," she whispered, a pained look on her face. God, he was so close. He was so tall, so lithe, so boneless leaning there, looking at her the way he was. He was so everything she'd ever wanted, and she just couldn't handle what was certain to be an apology, so she stopped it before it could be issued.
"I'm sorry I always criticize you. I'm sorry I treat you in a way that makes you feel stupid. You're not a moron. You're every - " She broke off for a moment, took a shuddering breath, then continued, "You mean the world to me. You always have. I think - "
He'd stopped listening. He meant the world to her. And now she was rambling about best friends and looking like she'd just lost one. No way was he falling for that. For once, he knew something before she did, and it lit him up like a Christmas tree. She felt the same way he did. He couldn't stop the smile spreading across his face.
" - and I think that we should just forget it and move on," she finished. She looked at him and lost her breath; his grin undid her. It always had.
"I was right," he finally responded, "You talk too much."
Her eyes widened in disbelief and she spun around, but before she could take two steps, he launched himself off the wall and grasped her wrist, spinning her back toward himself and into his arms. He backed her up against the wall, took her face in his hands and continued, "You should stop thinking once in a while and just observe. Maybe if you had, you'd have known exactly how far gone I am over you."
He watched as her eyes got big as saucers, and she whispered, "How far gone are you?"
"Hermione, I love you. Merlin, I've been in love with you for - I have no idea. Since before Krum came along. I acted like such a prat, and didn't have any idea it was because of you. But I know now. And I don't want to forget it or move on. All I want is you."
Hermione's lip trembled, and a tear escaped as she shuddered out a breath. He'd just said everything she'd been longing to hear, and all she could do was cry. "Hey," he soothed, "don't cry. I hate to see you cry." He leaned the extra few inches and kissed her eyelids, kissed the tear away, kissed her lips.
"I love you, Ron," she choked out, "So much." His heart burst with pleasure, and he did the only thing he could - he leaned down and caught her mouth with his, deepening the kiss when she sighed against him.
"Well, well, well. What have we here? I didn't think a Weasel would sink quite so low as that, but there's a first time for everything, right?" The over-cultured voice dripped with snobbish disdain, causing Hermione to stiffen in embarrassment. Crabbe and Goyle, ever-present and dumber than a box of hammers, guffawed loudly from behind Malfoy.
Ron pulled away from Hermione gently, and with a level of control she hadn't known he possessed, lazily pointed his wand in the trio's general direction. Suddenly, the three of them were clutching their faces and running away, shrieking in pain.
Hermione stared after them, then drew her eyes back to Ron, who had backed her up against the wall again. In between soft, feather-light kisses, he said, "Took - a page - out of - Ginny's - book." She could feel him grin against her mouth as he said, "She's not the only one who can do a decent Bat-Bogey hex."
He could feel the laugh she tried desperately to keep in, and relishing the feel of her in his arms, Ron leaned in for another kiss before drawing away and tugging her along with him. It was best, after all, to not be near the scene of the crime, as it were.
No, they wouldn't be forgetting this, not as long as Ron Weasley had a say in it. Which, in his estimation, would be forever.
OK, so I quite obviously hoped for a little more maturity from Ron in DH than we were actually given, but-. All the same, thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think!