Second chapter now up. This takes some major editing.

Review?

Johnnydicaprio


Hermione stood dumbfounded in the gnome-infested garden. She had run out the house blindly, unaware of where she was going, and found herself in cold night.

What the hell just happened? She thought weakly. Almost happened…she corrected herself. Were we just about to kiss? She looked up at the sky. No. No. That's not possible. I just misread the signs. No. No way.

She sighed deeply, breathing out into the silent breeze.

What now? A small voice at the back of her head asked quietly.

She stared at her feet. There was just something about Ron that she couldn't quite pinpoint, that made her skin curl. Her hair stand on end.

This really can't be possible. I, Hermione Granger, am not…in like with Ron Weasley.

Since she first met the boys, she had always imagined herself falling for Harry. Harry the smart, decent, responsible type. Harry, the hero. The chosen one. The boy who lived. Not the stupid, dirt-on-his-nose boy that irritated her out of her mind. That made her say words that she never thought she'd say.

Somewhere along the line when she was paying far too much attention to Harry, her heart fell for Ron without any input from her mind.

Still furious with herself, she kept shifting her position, feeling uncomfortable in her skin. She sat in this mindset for at least an hour, the dark growing darker around her, though she paid no mind to it. When the door behind her creaked, she jumped and turned around to see Ron stumbling towards her holding a large crocheted blanket around his shoulders, and two steaming cups of tea in his hands.

Her heart dropped to her stomach at the sight. At that moment, she hated every single thing about him defiantly, right down to the several inches of bare ankle showing beneath his sweatpants. She turned right around and fixed her expression to what she hoped was something natural.

Ron grimaced as he lowered his head and asked nervously, "D'you mind if I join you?"

She didn't look up but stared straight ahead. He dawdled above her shoulder awkwardly. After a moment, she shrugged. In a few seconds, he dropped down next to her, and put his hands around his knees and the blanket around his back. She repressed a shiver.

"Blimey, it's freezing." He whispered more to himself than to her. "Are you cold?"

"No, I'm fine, thanks."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

The only thing colder than the air around them was her voice cutting through it.

"Do you want some tea?"

Hermione looked down at his outstretched hand with the steaming cup of tea. She took it with a small, "Thanks," and gulped down half of it in one sip.

She could feel his eyes on the side of her face. Ignoring his stare, she pretended to be interested in the gnomes strutting about the disheveled garden.

Even the gnomes are smarter than him, she thought savagely. I bet the boy-gnomes know when girl-gnomes were angry at them for not kissing them. Stupid. Stupid freckled person.

One of the gnomes fell out of Mr. Weasley's dragon-hide boots, and rocking back and forth, began cackling madly, rolling around the grass.

That stupid, skinny, selfish -

"Hermione?"

Her thought process halted.

"What's wrong?"

Biting her bottom lip so that she wouldn't shout or give in to the urge to blast a Ron shaped hole through the Burrow wall, she said "No, nothing. I'm fine."

"Are you mad at me?"

"No," she said quickly.

She heard him sigh exasperatedly. "Stop lying. You're angry with me, I can tell." He fixed a steady gaze on her face, and his blue eyes searched hers for some sort of explanation.

If you think I'm going to tell you just because you're staring at me…

"Hermione, I know you're angry, so if we could just talk…"

Oh, so now you understand everything? You miss all those signs, but suddenly you know I'm lying. Go to hell. Take your stupid pants and gnomes with you. BE GONE.

"No," she muttered through her teeth, her throat and voice constrained, desperately attempting to sound normal. She shook her head, cleared her throat, and repeated, "I'm fine."

You aren't fine, something nudged at her thoughts. Just tell him how you feel, and everything will be okay –

"Shut up."

"Excuse me?" Ron said indignantly. "I didn't say anything."

"No. Not you. Nothing. Forget it."

The silence that carried on between them after their short conversation was painfully unpleasant. Neither of them spoke a word; Hermione paid close attention and did not allow her eyes to wander around to his face. She noted out of the corner of her eye that he shot a couple of glances at her at times through the holes in the blanket around him.

Night had definitely fallen now; the gnomes that had been running around the garden retreated into the cool shades of the bushes. The sun began to disappear behind the clots of forests and high hills, visible barely beyond the borders of the Burrow. Hermione checked her watch inconspicuously; she had been sitting outside for near three hours. It had seemed like three minutes.

She heard an abrupt intake of breath from Ron, and turned to him expectantly, but even before Ron's mouth was fully open and able to form words –

"KIDS! INSIDE FOR DINNER!"

Molly's shrill voice pierced the growing silence. Ron's mouth closed shut. He pulled himself up to his full lanky height, and offered his hand to Hermione to pull her along with him. She completely ignored the gesture, scrambled up herself, pressed the still-hot mug against his chest without a word, and walked briskly through the back door of the house.

Ron raised his head to the sky, let out a small, irritated groan, and followed her inside.


I actually really do like this story. It was just very badly written. I hope you forgive me for your damaged eyes.

Johnnydicaprio

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