He'd held his tongue long enough. She was so...light today. Giggling at things that weren't funny. Smiling off into space in the middle of class. That grin at him across the table at lunch sent an ugly pain through Ron's chest. By day's end, he was on edge. He knew why. But, of course, he could never say it. There was no reason to give voice to the feelings that had held them in limbo for longer than either wanted to admit. The final straw came when Hermione spoke what had to be her third 'we' sentence in five minutes.
"Give it up already."
Hermione stopped in midsentence. Ron watched the joy drain from her face as she turned to him. "Excuse me?"
"You've been babbling for ten minutes." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Either get to the point or stop talking already."
As Hermione's face clouded over, Dean, Parvati and Lavender took their leave.
"Do you have a problem?"
With her? Always. Problem or not, there was always something between them, but getting her to acknowledge it would take the kind of finesse Ron had never possessed. He preferred different, easier methods of getting Hermione's attention.
"I don't even want to get into it." As he knew it might, his nonanswer riled her even more. "You're just so..."
"I'm what?" Hermione's voice rose on the second word in a screech that made Ron flinch. She punched him in the shoulder, frowning when he didn't turn. "I'm stubborn, a pain in your arse, smart enough to do your homework, but not to understand Quidditch?" Her rant stopped when he mumbled something. "What?"
"You should've chosen me...for once."
He felt her withdraw.
The broken spirit behind that quiet whisper unnerved her and she took a step back; the fight in Hermione died along with any quick-witted response she might have employed in the past. This was it. The quiet admission that she hadn't been alone in their fruitless dance.
It wasn't enough and had come too late. She'd already chosen. He'd never given her another option.