Chapter Eleven

Summer Before Sixth Year: 1996

It was hot, so unbearably hot that Hermione wanted to chop all of her hair off and watch as the bushy brown fell to the ground. She would have, too, if she hadn't known how awful her hair looked so short. It puffed up like a loofah, and she was definitely never going to let Ron see her with hair like that. Besides, she was nearly seventeen years old. She didn't want to look like a sponge for anyone, much less Ron. And so she'd just have to stick with putting her hair in messy buns and ponytails, then ask Ginny to go swimming again the next day. For now, she'd just tangle herself in the sheets and try, try, try to fall asleep. Because if she didn't get to sleep soon, she was probably going to go mad. The heat was hell, and Hermione didn't know how Ginny dealt with it. Ginny, who snored almost as loud as her brother, was already asleep. Hermione had gotten used to the snores while she had been in the hospital wing sleeping right next to Ron. That wasn't the issue. It was the goddamn heat. Groaning to herself, she turned over in her cot, wondering if she should go home and get a fan for Ginny's room. It wouldn't work, actually. The Weasleys didn't have electricity. They could do everything by magic. Besides, there was another major flaw in the plan: Hermione didn't want to go home.

There was something about the Burrow that literally sent shivers up Hermione's spine. Maybe it was the fact that it was so much different than her own home. Maybe it was the fact that everyone there was warm and loving and obviously cared about her. Maybe it was the delicious meals and humble structure. Or maybe it was the fact that Ron had grown up there, and whenever she was there he was there too. If Hermione had to take a bet, it would be on the latter. She could just imagine little Ron running around the place, chasing after Ginny or being chased by Fred and George. She could imagine him with the teddy bear he'd described in second year, loving it so much before it was turned into a spider by his brothers. She could imagine that acid pop burning through his tongue and him trying to make an unbreakable vow with Fred. Of course, it wasn't like she'd ever seen a baby picture of Ron. She had to imagine what he had looked like when he was younger, because all of the Weasleys' photos had been stored away so that they wouldn't be damaged. The only thing in a picture frame in the Weasley house was the newspaper article that held a picture of all of them from when they'd gone to Egypt. Hermione, while disappointed about this, thought it was rather wise. If she were Mrs. Weasley and had seven children, she would have tucked everything out of harms way as well. Even Mr. Weasley was prone to accidents on the rare occasion. He did love his Muggle stuff.

Hermione loved the way Mr. Weasley had her sit next to him at dinner and explain simple things like stoves and microwaves and CDs. It was so fascinating for him and so amusing for her. She loved how Ron would sit next to her and watch her and Mr. Weasley with an expression that could only be described as endearment written all over his face. He loved it when she bonded with his father. She just wished she knew why. Although she had a little idea. It had all started when Ron had seen her in her bathing suit for the first time the day that she'd come to the Burrow. She had been feeling so self-conscious, walking down to the lake alongside Ginny with a slip pulled over her tankini. Of course, when she'd seen him with his shirt off it had been an absolutely monumental occasion for her. He was Ron Weasley, and his chest wasn't horribly hideous, and this just served to prove to Hermione that he was the perfect man for her. Not that she would have fancied him any less if he'd had an ugly chest... or at least, she didn't think so. The beautiful thing about Ron was that he wasn't the most handsome man in the world, but he was gorgeous to her. Hermione so badly wanted to find someone who thought she was as unconditionally amazing as she thought Ron was. And when she'd pulled her cover-up off and dived into the water and then emerged, the look on Ron's face had told her that she just might have found that person.

A few weeks ago, she had thought that the idea of Ron Weasley having feelings for her was not only absurd, but impossible. It was simply too good to be conceivable- when had Hermione ever gotten that lucky in her life? She'd been blessed with brains, not looks, and she had never before had reason to regret that. Even as she came to terms with the fact that Ron probably didn't fancy her, she still didn't regret it. She was supposedly the smartest witch of her age, and she wouldn't trade it for anything. Not then, anyways. But after Ron had spent the better part of two hours goggling Hermione in her bathing suit, a little bit of hope was starting to blossom inside of her. After all, maybe realizing the fact that she had breasts would make him like her. Maybe seeing that underneath her robes she wasn't horribly disfigured help him realize that she was a girl. It was making her heart soar with excitement. And that was probably why Ginny had finally been able to get Hermione to admit it out loud.

They'd been sitting in Ginny's room, chatting, and then Ginny had begun teasing Hermione and trying to get her to give it up. Finally Hermione had just told her. For the first time in her life, she'd said the words out loud. The words that she'd thought so many times but never spoken, because she knew that if she did it would further her heartbreak if a relationship with Ron never happened.

"I fancy Ron."

It had been a liberating moment, full of blushing and giggling and Ginny throwing pillows at Hermione as if this would get them even for Hermione denying it to Ginny for such a long time. Of course, that hadn't been the best part of the vacation, nor had it been the most embarrassing part. Those titles belonged to something that had happened at dinner. They'd been tucking into their delicious spaghetti dinner (Hermione doing her damnedest to be neat, while, next to her, Ron seemed to forgo all manners for his mother's cooking). He'd looked up at his mother and said something with his mouth open that sounded an awful lot like,

"Whomph mago ednd orgfe at dgin ali?"

"What?" Mrs. Weasley asked, nonplussed. "Ronald Weasley, I have no idea what you just said. Don't talk with your-"

"He said 'when are we going to see Fred and George in Diagon Alley'," Hermione filled in without even bothering to look up from her food.

There was a clatter as almost every single fork dropped onto its plate. Hermione looked up to see all of the Weasleys staring at her in shock, including Ron and excluding Ginny, who had collapsed in a fit of silent laughter.

"You can understand him when he talks with his mouth full?" Fred yelped. "Only mum can do that, and even that's only part of the time!"

Ron and Hermione both turned bright red and looked determinedly away from each other.

"Impressive," Mr. Weasley said.

They turned back to their dinner after a few more moments of gawking, and Hermione let herself look across the table before tucking back into her food. Ron caught her eye and gave her a heart-stopping grin, a grin that was full of admiration but also a fragment of shyness. She loved it.

And now Ginny had long ago fallen asleep, and Hermione was too high on life to even think about sleeping. Finally giving up on sleep, she got out of bed and padded to the door of the room. Quietly opening it, she slipped out, then hurried down the staircase into the family room. She was surprised to find a light on in there, and her last few steps were more cautious. She quickly poked her head into the room, leaving the rest of her body behind the wall. The scene she was met with made her heart melt and a smile cross her face. Ron and Mrs. Weasley were seated on the couch, rifling through a box of something, chatting and laughing.

"Hermione!" Ron said suddenly, looking up. "Hi."

"Hi," she said, allowing the rest of her body to follow her head into the room.

"Can't sleep, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked sympathetically.

"No, I'm afraid not," Hermione admitted. In a second, Mrs. Weasley had gotten up and gone into the kitchen. Ron smiled at Hermione and awkwardly patted the couch next to him. She sat and watched as Mrs. Weasley came back into view, brandishing three glasses of iced pumpkin juice. She handed Hermione one first. "Thank you," she said gratefully.

"Thanks, mum," Ron replied, sighing as the cool liquid touched his throat. "This is brilliant."

Mrs. Weasley took a sip of her own juice.

"You're welcome," she said lightly.

"So what's that?" Hermione asked, pointing to the box and hoping she wasn't asking anything too personal. To her surprise, Ron turned bright red.

"Mum, don't-" he started, but Mrs. Weasley cut him off.

"We're looking at baby pictures of Ronnie," she said affectionately.

"No way!" Hermione said, discarding all appropriate conduct as she practically threw herself over Ron to see the pictures in the box. He made a high-pitched squeaky noise in the back of his throat, causing Hermione to realize that he now had a perfect view down her shirt, and she quickly pulled back, clearing her throat. "Can- can I see some?"

"NO!" Ron shouted instantly, but Mrs. Weasley beamed at her and took out a picture.

"This is Ron the day he was born. He was so red, wasn't he?"

"Yes!" Hermione chuckled. Ron moaned and buried his head in his hands. Absently, Hermione patted him quickly on the back before snatching her hand away.

"And this is Ron the first time he crawled. This is Ron being held by Bill, and Charlie, and Percy, and Arthur. And this is Ron eating his first bite of cake... and this is him eating his first chocolate frog... and this is him chasing after one of the chickens... this is him when he walked for the first time... this is him at his first degnoming... this is him laughing, we can't remember what it's from... this is him holding baby Ginny... this is him in his first pair of robes... this is him listening to a cannons game... this is him riding his first broom, oooh, Ronnie, look how adorable you were!" Ron looked like he wanted to sink into the ground and stay there forever. Hermione looked like she was trying to restrain herself from grabbing him and kissing him. "Oh, look!" Mrs. Weasley screeched, pulling a picture out of the box. "Ron, it's your first day of Hogwarts! The day you and Harry and Hermione met. Oh, look, you've got dirt on your nose. See? See?"

She turned around to look at Ron and Hermione, but saw that they were simply sitting next to each other on the couch staring at each other, their mouths open very slightly and their eyes both a little darker than usual.

"Uh huh," said Ron absently, and Hermione gave a slow nod that had nothing to do with anything that Mrs. Weasley was saying.

"Er... goodnight you two," Mrs. Weasley said quickly, and then she sprung up from the couch and left the room.

Ron and Hermione didn't seem to be aware of anything but each other. They just sat there staring at each other, until suddenly the dust from the pictures became too much and Hermione let out the tiniest of sneezes.

"Bless you!" Ron said instantly, and this was immediately followed by a soft,

"Thank you!"

More silence. Now neither of them would dare look at the other.

"Sorry about that," Ron said, eyes on his rather large, sock covered foot.

"No, it was great," Hermione said a little to quickly. "You... you were a cute kid."

"Seriously?" Ron asked, and Hermione's heart skipped a beat at the hopefulness in his voice. "Well, someday I'm going to see your baby pictures."

"That's simply not happening," Hermione told him. She knew why she'd sat through Ron's baby pictures, and it definitely wasn't because her feelings for him were platonic in any way. So if Ron sat through her baby pictures it would mean...? "I was a hideous child."

"No you weren't," Ron said without thinking.

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked, and he flushed red.

"You could never be hideous."

"And why not?" Hermione asked, now looking a little amused.

"Because you're... oh, blimey, don't make me say it, Hermione!" Ron said desperately, disbelieving of the fact that he had talked himself into this corner.

"What?" Hermione demanded.

"You're beautiful, okay?" Ron spat at her, and then he catapulted himself off of the couch and up the stairs.

Oh God, Hermione thought, curling her legs up to her chest and staring after him, I'm in trouble, aren't I?