4
Maybe I Am, Maybe I'm Not
AN: Thank you to all who have given me such great encouragement! This chapter is a tad on the short side, but hopefully I will be able to update again soon.
"Still don't know why we can't go with you," Ron grumbled Sunday night, as everyone sat around the dinner table.
"We've talked about it, Ron." Hermione sighed as she accepted another serving of bangers and mash. Ever since the final battle, Ron noticed that Hermione ate with a veracious appetite. He couldn't blame her really, after a year of near starvation. He personally planned to never be more than five minutes away from a good fry-up again.
"It's not safe," Ron couldn't help but object once again. "You know there are still-"
"Ron," Hermione interrupted, closing her eyes. "Kingsley has arranged security for me. It's not what I wanted, but I accepted for you…and Harry. I will be fine!"
"If Harry and I were going with you, you wouldn't need bloody security." Ron glared at Hermione. "You're…wasting tax money!"
"Ron, for crying out loud! Hermione hasn't seen her parents in a flippin' year!"
Ginny shoved her plate away, her face flushed angrily. "Explaining everything is going to be hard enough without you there to cop it up more!"
Ron felt his blood boil. How dare she? She would have something to say if it was Harry's who was about to traipse across the world alone. He opened his mouth, ready to have it out.
"Stop," Mrs. Weasley said wearily, causing Ron's mouth to snap shut. "Ron, Hermione is a big girl and more than capable of taking care of herself. Plus she's right. What she's done will take a lot of explaining, and she does owe her parents a couple of days of her undivided attention. If you care about her, then be fair."
Ron scanned the table, unable to believer that no one was on his side. It wasn't as though he didn't want her to go. He just wanted her to be safe.
"Sod this," he growled, pushing away from the table. He stormed through the kitchen door, and into the twilight, his blood pounding in his ears. He walked to the kissing gate and kicked it open, stomping down the narrow dirt lane.
"Fucking Bellatrix Lestrange," He said, spitting into the dirt. Every night she haunted his sleep. After all that had happened, Ron did not dream of losing Fred, of Harry's lifeless body, or of their narrow escape from the Ministry of Magic. Every night, Ron returned to Malfoy Manor and listened to Hermione's tortured screams. It was not a dream he could get use to. The details stayed relatively similar, and yet Ron always woke soaked in sweat and tears. The feeling of helplessness was the worst. Hermione was being violently assaulted only feet from where he was yet he couldn't help her.
He could never let it happen again.
"Ron."
Ron gripped his wand and spun around, Sectusempra on the tip of his tongue.
"Bugger, Hermione! I nearly cursed you!"
"I though you might want some company," she said softly.
Ron bit his tongue down on an angry retort, and opted for a neutral shrug instead.
"It's not as though I don't want you to go, you know," Hermione said, standing next to him and gazing west, where a thin strip of sky still glowed grey-blue. Ron glanced sidelong at her, and found that he couldn't pull his eyes away. Her hair was as unruly as ever, and she was still painfully thin, but there was something about her that compelled him.
"You're lovely, Hermione," he blurted, his face immediately burning up. She turned to him, her wide eyes reflecting the starlight.
"Ron, I'm not-"
"You are," he insisted, wondering how she couldn't know. "Really."
"Thank you," Hermione nearly whispered. "Ron, we haven't really had a chance to talk."
"Talk," Ron felt his heart rate pick up. "We talk everyday."
"Honestly, are you being thick on purpose?"
"No," Ron ran a hand through his newly cut hair. "I just…bloody hell, Hermione, you know I'm not good at this."
"Truer words were never spoken," Hermione muttered, rolling her eyes. "Look, if things keep going on like this, I'm going to lose the plot!"
Ron felt something devilish come alive inside of him. Despite a wild desire to smile, he kept his face completely neutral, staring at Hermione in apparent confusion.
"You know what I'm talking about, Ron!" Hermione all but hissed, her face flushed scarlet.
"Yeah...I think I do," He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned to fully face her in the moonlight. "I was going to bring it up myself, but I thought I should let you."
"Well, we can't just keep skirting the issue. If I learned anything, it's that we shouldn't wait to say how we feel because we might not be given another chance."
"You're right. One of us just needs to come out and say it, so I guess I will." Ron took a deep breath, fighting a mad desire to laugh. "Hermione, I think you're madly in love with me."
Ron wished they had done this in the light of day so he could see her face clearly. As it was, he saw her mouth open and close several times without successfully forming a single word. When the silence stretched past the two-minute mark, Ron began to doubt his judgment. Maybe this hadn't been the thing to joke about.
"Hermione, I-"
He was not given a chance to finish his apology. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, pushing herself against him firmly. Standing on tiptoes, she kissed him squarely on the mouth. He stood for a moment, feeling the heat pulse through his body. When he attempted to return the kiss, however, Hermione pulled away abruptly.
"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not," she said saucily.
Ron felt god smacked. "Hermione, I-"
"Goodnight, Ron," she said, cutting him off once again. With that, she turned and all but skipped back to the house.
"Bugger me," Ron said softly, a smile spreading across his face. He turned back to the yard, gazing up at the newly risen full moon. She was mad. Completely and utterly mad. And Ron loved her.
