Author's Note: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, and all the other Potterverse characters do not belong to me! (Unfortunately)
The first time Hermione wanted to snog Ron senseless was after he'd been felled by the White Queen, when she was twelve. Or, more to the point, she wanted to snog him sense-ful – and yes, she knew that wasn't a word.
It happened when she ran over to Ron, after she'd left Harry in the room with the fire and the bottles, and she had to force herself into not screaming his name and holding his body to hers. She touched his chest with a hand that shook, trying to feel his heart beating, don't be dead, Ron, please don't be dead, and felt a steady beat.
She exhaled the breath she'd been holding and peeled back an eyelid as she'd seen her dad do once at the dental practice - a patient had collapsed and she'd been sitting in a corner doing homework. She'd asked him about it later, and he said how he'd been checking that the eye was responding to light, because if the brain was injured, like in a concussion, the pupil would not shrink.
Hermione decided his brain was fine, though – well, as fine as a boy's brain could ever be – when she noticed the pupil contract at the light, and tried shaking his shoulders to bring him round. "Ron? Ron, can you hear me? Ron, wake up!" He didn't so much as move and she let his shoulders go, feeling that it wasn't doing any good. "Ron! Please, Ron, wake up!"
She was halfway to sobbing when she noticed his lips, slightly parted, as if he'd been frozen while saying something, and she half-wondered, if I were to kiss him, would he wake up then? She stopped the idea before it fully formed – she was not, could not like Ron in that way, he was her friend, her best friend, and anyway, she was only twelve.
She shook his shoulders again. "Ron, for goodness' sake, wake up!" she screamed at him.
He twitched slightly at the sound, before opening his eyes slightly and squinting at her. "'Mione?' he slurred. 'Where's Harry? What's going on?"
She stood up, holding out her hand so she could help him up, and refused to acknowledge the sensation of having spangles in her fingers as he grasped her hand. "I'll tell you on the way. C'mon, we have to hurry!" She tugged his arm around her shoulder and put hers around his waist, noticing that he pulled away from her. "Ron, what the hell is wrong?" She didn't usually swear, but this was an emergency, and it was obvious that he couldn't walk without help.
He shuffled his feet slightly. "Well… y'know… you're a girl."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "For goodness' sake, Ron, we haven't got time to worry about girl germs! C'mon, we'd better hurry." He shrugged in reply, and put his arm back around her shoulder.
They walked, her supporting him, out of the Chess Room, and Hermione tried to forget the thoughts – thoughts both wonderful and terrifying – that she'd had about him while he was unconscious.
And she did.
(Mostly.
