A/N: Aagh! ::Is going through fluff withdrawal:: Need fluff! ::collapses
but is quickly revived by Fred and George(hehe):: This chapter will be
fluffy, hopefully…if you can call it that. BTW, I got so many more reviews
than I expected for that last chapter!! Thanks SO much! (BTW, circinius and
wmlaw; you two are two of my favorite authors! I'm so happy you took the
time to read my insignifigant little ficcy!)
A/N #2: There's also a sentence or two of French in here. Please excuse my lack of accent marks, as I don't have a keyboard that does that. And I know my conjugation and spelling are bad, for anyone that can read the language. Blame it on my French teacher ::glares at Mr. Schmidt, who gave her a 'C' in French 3-4::
Disclaimer: Everything familiar belongs to J.K. Rowling.
I know you mean well
But looking at you, one can't tell
You've got changes to make
'Cause the way you treat me just ain't right
Always fronting on someone
but never think about the damage you've done to me
And it's about damn time I talk about it
Everytime I do for you
You turn around and make me feel like a fool
with your actions
So much for the words
Baby, I love you
But now I've wised up, girl
It's time for me to go
You better think about it
'Cause I'm here to let you know…
-'Don't Say,' Jon B.
"Stay with you?" Hermione repeated faintly. She didn't want to think of what could happen if she stayed there, alone, with Ron. Too many possibilities..."You don't have to go through all that trouble, Ron. I'll be fine at the Leaky Cauldron."
"It's no trouble." Ron eyed her, crystalline blue eyes watching her awkwardly tucking her hair behind her ears and smoothing her jacket down. "And what's the big deal, anyway? You said there was nothing between us; what would spending the night under the same roof matter?" She didn't say anything in response, only shrugged.
"I suppose." Glancing at him, she continued. "But then again, I could just fly home."
Ron snorted. "No offense, but I wouldn't trust you on a broom after that trip to Diagon Alley. You could fall into the Atlantic or something."
"Merlin, Ron, don't patronize me."
"I'm not patronizing you, I'm just watching out for you." At this Hermione shut up; it would be churlish to continue arguing with him any longer.
"All right then, if you put it that way." She looped her arm through his, much to Ron's surprise. "I'd be glad to stay with you."
"Hmmrgh." He made an indistinct sound, the tips of his ears slowly turning red. "Good."
*********
"Alors! Ma maison est a gauche de la rue de la Montague." Ron pointed out the cluster of apartments nearby.
"Tu parles Francais?" Hermione was surprised.
"Erm...what I just said was all I can say in French." He grinned sheepishly. "And 'Merte!' because I knew a French transfer kid from school." He pulled a set of keys from his pocket, stopping at the doorstop of one apartment.
"Ah, tu est tres, tres bete."
"Eh?" Pushing open the door, he held it open for Hermione to preceed him. "What does that mean?"
She smirked. "You don't want to know." She untucked her arm from his and looked around. "Pretty nice place." It wasn't anything grand, just a roomy flat with a nice view out of the living room window.
"Yeah, I try." He pulled off his cloak, rubbing at the back of his neck. Kicking his shoes off, he then proceeded to plop onto the couch. "Make yourself at home."
The words were rather ironical to Hermione. Had her answer to Ron's question all those years ago been different, this probably WOULD have been her home. She had to admit, it wasn't what she would have expected of Ron. She thought he would be another Arthur Weasley, working at the Ministry and tinkering around in his tool shed while his wife raised a gigantic brood of kids. Not that she didn't admire what Arthur and Molly had done with their lives, but she knew it wasn't for her.
'And it probably isn't what Ron wants, either.' Hermione was shocked by her train of thought.
"I thought you were on my side!"
'I have your best interests at heart, love.'
"Don't call me love."
'What's with you and your strange antipathy towards anything vaguely resembling love?'
"Don't say the word!"
"What word?" Ron had gotten up from the couch, watching her with a strange mix of fascination and horror written on his face. "Don't tell me you've started talking to yourself."
"Was I talking to myself?" She shook her head. "Maybe I'm just tired." She didn't want to have to deal with everything that could happen if she allowed herself to stay here, with him. "Where's the guest room?"
"It's over there." Ron gestured to one of the doors in the hallway. "But are you really that tired?" He cast a wary look at the rapidly blackening sky outside.
"It looks like there'll be a storm tonight," she hedged in reply, making towards the previously mentioned room. "I'd better get to bed before it gets too loud." Before she could get there, however, Ron blocked her path, fingers closing around her wrist. She tried to shake him off, glaring up at him.
"What is it about me that repulses you so much?" He asked, eyes flashing. "You look almost frightened. Or do you not want to know what might happen if you stay here with me?" Hermione gasped almost inaudibly. Ron had inadvertently stuck a chord, and it made her lash out.
"What the-hell-are you talking about? Unlike most of the other women in your life-"
"There are no other women in my life!" His voice, louder and angrier than before, countered her statement. "Don't you get it? There's never been any other woman who's touched me the way you did, Hermione. No other woman was...well...was you-"
"Spare me the sentimentality, please." She jerked her wrist out of his grasp violently. "I don't want to hear any of this. I know you started to show an interest in me during Fourth Year. But it was nothing, it was an infatuation and that's what it probably still is. You thought, 'well, she's my best female friend, we get on well enough, I have the best chances with her. Why the hell not?' Now that you've found who you are, you've become a successful person. Find someone who can actually satisfy your needs."
"What makes you think you know what I need?" He asked harshly.
"Because I've known you since you were a snot-nosed little First Year at Hogwarts! You need someone who'll be there for you twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Someone who'll laugh at all your jokes, raise all of your kids, attend all of your little journalist galas, and pick up after all of your messes. Sorry, but that's not me."
Ron had been listening to this with an increasingly angry expression on his face. "So that's what you think I want?" She nodded curtly. "And you get all of this based on your friendship with me?" Another nod. "Then I think you don't really know me at all." She gaped at him, mouth slightly open. "Think about it, Hermione. You last took leave of me in Seventh Year. I was what...eighteen, nineteen? Obviously I was immature. And insecure. And you're right, that's probably what would have been best for me at the time. But what you just described to me is definately not what I need now. And God knows I've tried to have a go with those types of girls." He stepped closer to her. "Let me tell you what I need." She tried to step to the side of him, to get away, but he wouldn't budge. "I need someone who would sacrifice their life to save me, and someone who I would gladly lay my life down for. Someone who understands my insecurities and shares her own with me. Someone who would stand her own ground in an argument, just because she believed that she was right and I should know." A wistful smile flitted across his face before it straightened again. "Someone with curly brown hair that gets bushy the second it's dried out...who helped me study for a test the night before it was scheduled, even though she had already done it, just so I could pass. Someone who cared enough about House Elves to keep plugging for their freedom even when no one would listen. Someone who's horrible at chess, but keeps on trying to beat me, just so she can say she's done it." Hermione felt light-headed, almost dizzy as she listened to him. "I need YOU, Hermione. I need you so much it's killing me." She fought back the insatiable longing that was compelling her to succumb to this fervent plea, choking it down. A strangled sound escaped her throat, but nothing else for a while. Then she spoke.
"Ron, please...please don't do this. It's not right for either of us." Before he could interrupt, she continued. "Have you ever read Confucius?"
"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"
"Just answer my question."
Ron looked puzzled, but still answered, avoiding her gaze. "Yeah. Yeah, I have."
Hermione ran her fingers through her hair, confused with the myriad of emotions coursing through her. "Then you've read this proverb. Immature love says 'I love you because I need you.' Mature love says 'I need you because I love you.'" Her voice trembled as she spoke, but she soon regained her composure. "I can't commit to what we have, Ron. I want to, but I can't. It's unhealthy and unstable and it's not what I want." Slowly, slowly his eyes looked up to meet hers. She looked away.
"You're doing this to me again?" There was no reply for a while. Then she spoke.
"I think...I think I'm going to go to bed now." The door shut softly behind her, leaving Ron to stand alone, flabbergasted and more than a little frustrated.
A/N #2: There's also a sentence or two of French in here. Please excuse my lack of accent marks, as I don't have a keyboard that does that. And I know my conjugation and spelling are bad, for anyone that can read the language. Blame it on my French teacher ::glares at Mr. Schmidt, who gave her a 'C' in French 3-4::
Disclaimer: Everything familiar belongs to J.K. Rowling.
I know you mean well
But looking at you, one can't tell
You've got changes to make
'Cause the way you treat me just ain't right
Always fronting on someone
but never think about the damage you've done to me
And it's about damn time I talk about it
Everytime I do for you
You turn around and make me feel like a fool
with your actions
So much for the words
Baby, I love you
But now I've wised up, girl
It's time for me to go
You better think about it
'Cause I'm here to let you know…
-'Don't Say,' Jon B.
"Stay with you?" Hermione repeated faintly. She didn't want to think of what could happen if she stayed there, alone, with Ron. Too many possibilities..."You don't have to go through all that trouble, Ron. I'll be fine at the Leaky Cauldron."
"It's no trouble." Ron eyed her, crystalline blue eyes watching her awkwardly tucking her hair behind her ears and smoothing her jacket down. "And what's the big deal, anyway? You said there was nothing between us; what would spending the night under the same roof matter?" She didn't say anything in response, only shrugged.
"I suppose." Glancing at him, she continued. "But then again, I could just fly home."
Ron snorted. "No offense, but I wouldn't trust you on a broom after that trip to Diagon Alley. You could fall into the Atlantic or something."
"Merlin, Ron, don't patronize me."
"I'm not patronizing you, I'm just watching out for you." At this Hermione shut up; it would be churlish to continue arguing with him any longer.
"All right then, if you put it that way." She looped her arm through his, much to Ron's surprise. "I'd be glad to stay with you."
"Hmmrgh." He made an indistinct sound, the tips of his ears slowly turning red. "Good."
*********
"Alors! Ma maison est a gauche de la rue de la Montague." Ron pointed out the cluster of apartments nearby.
"Tu parles Francais?" Hermione was surprised.
"Erm...what I just said was all I can say in French." He grinned sheepishly. "And 'Merte!' because I knew a French transfer kid from school." He pulled a set of keys from his pocket, stopping at the doorstop of one apartment.
"Ah, tu est tres, tres bete."
"Eh?" Pushing open the door, he held it open for Hermione to preceed him. "What does that mean?"
She smirked. "You don't want to know." She untucked her arm from his and looked around. "Pretty nice place." It wasn't anything grand, just a roomy flat with a nice view out of the living room window.
"Yeah, I try." He pulled off his cloak, rubbing at the back of his neck. Kicking his shoes off, he then proceeded to plop onto the couch. "Make yourself at home."
The words were rather ironical to Hermione. Had her answer to Ron's question all those years ago been different, this probably WOULD have been her home. She had to admit, it wasn't what she would have expected of Ron. She thought he would be another Arthur Weasley, working at the Ministry and tinkering around in his tool shed while his wife raised a gigantic brood of kids. Not that she didn't admire what Arthur and Molly had done with their lives, but she knew it wasn't for her.
'And it probably isn't what Ron wants, either.' Hermione was shocked by her train of thought.
"I thought you were on my side!"
'I have your best interests at heart, love.'
"Don't call me love."
'What's with you and your strange antipathy towards anything vaguely resembling love?'
"Don't say the word!"
"What word?" Ron had gotten up from the couch, watching her with a strange mix of fascination and horror written on his face. "Don't tell me you've started talking to yourself."
"Was I talking to myself?" She shook her head. "Maybe I'm just tired." She didn't want to have to deal with everything that could happen if she allowed herself to stay here, with him. "Where's the guest room?"
"It's over there." Ron gestured to one of the doors in the hallway. "But are you really that tired?" He cast a wary look at the rapidly blackening sky outside.
"It looks like there'll be a storm tonight," she hedged in reply, making towards the previously mentioned room. "I'd better get to bed before it gets too loud." Before she could get there, however, Ron blocked her path, fingers closing around her wrist. She tried to shake him off, glaring up at him.
"What is it about me that repulses you so much?" He asked, eyes flashing. "You look almost frightened. Or do you not want to know what might happen if you stay here with me?" Hermione gasped almost inaudibly. Ron had inadvertently stuck a chord, and it made her lash out.
"What the-hell-are you talking about? Unlike most of the other women in your life-"
"There are no other women in my life!" His voice, louder and angrier than before, countered her statement. "Don't you get it? There's never been any other woman who's touched me the way you did, Hermione. No other woman was...well...was you-"
"Spare me the sentimentality, please." She jerked her wrist out of his grasp violently. "I don't want to hear any of this. I know you started to show an interest in me during Fourth Year. But it was nothing, it was an infatuation and that's what it probably still is. You thought, 'well, she's my best female friend, we get on well enough, I have the best chances with her. Why the hell not?' Now that you've found who you are, you've become a successful person. Find someone who can actually satisfy your needs."
"What makes you think you know what I need?" He asked harshly.
"Because I've known you since you were a snot-nosed little First Year at Hogwarts! You need someone who'll be there for you twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Someone who'll laugh at all your jokes, raise all of your kids, attend all of your little journalist galas, and pick up after all of your messes. Sorry, but that's not me."
Ron had been listening to this with an increasingly angry expression on his face. "So that's what you think I want?" She nodded curtly. "And you get all of this based on your friendship with me?" Another nod. "Then I think you don't really know me at all." She gaped at him, mouth slightly open. "Think about it, Hermione. You last took leave of me in Seventh Year. I was what...eighteen, nineteen? Obviously I was immature. And insecure. And you're right, that's probably what would have been best for me at the time. But what you just described to me is definately not what I need now. And God knows I've tried to have a go with those types of girls." He stepped closer to her. "Let me tell you what I need." She tried to step to the side of him, to get away, but he wouldn't budge. "I need someone who would sacrifice their life to save me, and someone who I would gladly lay my life down for. Someone who understands my insecurities and shares her own with me. Someone who would stand her own ground in an argument, just because she believed that she was right and I should know." A wistful smile flitted across his face before it straightened again. "Someone with curly brown hair that gets bushy the second it's dried out...who helped me study for a test the night before it was scheduled, even though she had already done it, just so I could pass. Someone who cared enough about House Elves to keep plugging for their freedom even when no one would listen. Someone who's horrible at chess, but keeps on trying to beat me, just so she can say she's done it." Hermione felt light-headed, almost dizzy as she listened to him. "I need YOU, Hermione. I need you so much it's killing me." She fought back the insatiable longing that was compelling her to succumb to this fervent plea, choking it down. A strangled sound escaped her throat, but nothing else for a while. Then she spoke.
"Ron, please...please don't do this. It's not right for either of us." Before he could interrupt, she continued. "Have you ever read Confucius?"
"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"
"Just answer my question."
Ron looked puzzled, but still answered, avoiding her gaze. "Yeah. Yeah, I have."
Hermione ran her fingers through her hair, confused with the myriad of emotions coursing through her. "Then you've read this proverb. Immature love says 'I love you because I need you.' Mature love says 'I need you because I love you.'" Her voice trembled as she spoke, but she soon regained her composure. "I can't commit to what we have, Ron. I want to, but I can't. It's unhealthy and unstable and it's not what I want." Slowly, slowly his eyes looked up to meet hers. She looked away.
"You're doing this to me again?" There was no reply for a while. Then she spoke.
"I think...I think I'm going to go to bed now." The door shut softly behind her, leaving Ron to stand alone, flabbergasted and more than a little frustrated.