A/N: And here we are with chapter the third! To answer some of your questions, the italicized sections represent flashbacks of the trio's sixth year at Hogwarts recounted from Ron's point of view. The non-italicized sections represent 'present day'. When you see 'you' in the story, it refers to Hermione. Essentially, Ron is writing/telling this directly to Hermione, which is why it's written in first person, and (quite evidently) why she is the second person. Also, I've tried to reduce my paragraph lengths, but really this is the best I can do folks; I'm notorious for my long sentences (my spell check hates me for it) and long paragraphs happen to be part of the deal. However, if you're merely having difficulty reading because of the ff.net font, the illustrious sgrquill has told me that printing-out the chapters before reading them helps get rid of that weird glare, so you might want to try that.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, etc. are the intellectual property of JKR; no infringement is intended.
Chapter 3
I never had an actual plan as to how I was going to tell you. I'd like to think that it was because I'm an easy-going bloke, but really the reason I never formed any kind of logical plan was because I was scared out of my bloody wits. If I had a plan then it meant that I would have to go through with it, and if I actually went through with it, I opened myself up to all sorts of horrific disaster scenarios. In those few weeks before school had started again, I used to wake-up in the middle of the night in cold sweat, my heart ramming against my ribcage, my breathing coming to me in gasps. You know that dream where you realize you're in the middle of a crowded hallway wearing nothing but your knickers? Well my nightmares were a thousand times worst than that one. Had I had the choice, I think that I would have picked being locked-up in a box filled with spiders rather than tell you how I felt about you.
I suppose that now that I know the outcome of that particular encounter that it was pretty silly of me to be so worried about your rejecting me. Still, at the time, had a Bogart crossed my path, it wouldn't have turned into something hairy and leggy, it would have turned into you, laughing in my face and telling me that you just couldn't be friends with someone so stupid as to believe that you might actually consent to be seen with the likes of me. It used to tear me up that I couldn't tell you how I felt, but the fear that you would tell me you didn't feel the same way always put a stop to whatever it was that gave me the urge to just scream out from the rooftops how crazy in love I was with you.
Even though we weren't together romantically, the boundaries of our relationship had still changed some over the years we'd known each other, and most of those changes had occurred after fourth year. I remember a time where we would have screaming matches and practically pull each other's hair out, but as we'd grown, our fighting style had grown with us. We still bickered over every possible thing but it was more of a game now than anything. It used to drive Harry bonkers to be in a room with us, because he never knew whether or not we were actually fighting. I think the fact that I usually sported a huge grin was clue enough that it was just good-natured arguing. Oh, but you used to get so riled-up sometimes, and I have to say that more often than not, I used to provoke you a little just to see you get all flustered. Your cheeks would turn bright pink and your eyes would start glowing. You would get impatient with me, but with everything around you as well. More than one poor unsuspecting soul got snapped at while we argued, but what always got the brunt of your irritation was your hair: the more we bickered, the more aggressively you would push it out of your face. You know, I used to wish that I could be one of those wayward strands because then I'd know the softness of your skin, the warmth of your lips. I used to wish a lot of things, but knowing how your lips would feel beneath mine was always what it came down to. Of course, at the rate I was going, it would never happen.
I always looked forward to September 1st because even though it meant the start of term, and homework, and potions, it also meant seeing you every day. Kings Cross was filled with people as it always was, and it seemed as though Platform 9 ¾ had never been so crowded. I have to admit that I was feeling a little claustrophobic that morning amidst all those bodies, but being over six feet has its advantages, and at least from where I stood, I could get some fresh air. I have to admit that fresh air wasn't the only thing on my mind, though. Finding a certain brown-haired witch was on the top of my list of priorities. Who would have thought that I would be so engrossed in scanning over the crowd trying to locate you that in the end it would be you spotting me first. I was still staring intently into the distance, squinting my eyes to try and make clear the blur of people coming and going when I felt a slight poke in my ribs followed by Harry's greeting of "there you are, I thought Ron was going to make himself blind looking for you in this crowd." I reminded myself to thank Harry for his tact. Though I hadn't formally told him of my feelings for you, he'd still found ways to drop (rather big) hints in our conversations, and though I knew that he knew and he knew that I knew that he knew, there'd been an unspoken arrangement between us that the subject wasn't to be brought up—of course that really didn't stop Harry from working around this arrangement, which he'd frequently done over the past month. Personally, I think that he just liked to see me squirm.
Hearing Harry's voice, I turned just in time to see the two of you hugging, and to see you ruffle his hair as you placed a kiss on his cheek. I don't really know when you'd gotten into the habit of kissing Harry, but it had become a regular occurrence and it didn't sit well with me. After all, you never kissed me on the cheek, and granted you couldn't reach that high (which probably accounted for those lacks of kisses) I still really hated it that Harry got to be kissed and I didn't. I must have had a bit of a frown on my face, or maybe I'd even been reduced to a pouting idiot at that stage, because when you turned in my direction you took one look at my face and let out a quiet laugh. What was it with you and Harry laughing at me lately, anyway? Was I really that funny? But I couldn't have cared less at that moment, because while you were laughing, you'd also pulled me down for a hug; I took the opportunity to take-in everything about you, the way you felt so small in my arms, the way your hair smelled, but when you grabbed me by the front of my shirt and got on your tiptoes, when you tilted your face up to kiss my cheek, my mind went absolutely blank. Albeit, it was a very chaste kiss, but instinct made it so that I turned my head in your direction, and instead of landing squarely on my cheek, the corner of your lips just grazed my own.
I don't know if you noticed as I was consciously fighting the urge to bring my hand up to that spot on my lips that seemed to be tingling; still, when I looked your way, I thought that your cheeks might be just a little rosier than usual, and looking in Harry's direction, I had to fight a completely different urge—that of lifting my hand in what you would think was a very rude hand gesture—as he was making kissy faces behind your back. Instead, I chose to ignore him and cleared my throat as I ran my hand gruffly through my hair in an attempt to keep it occupied (my hand that was).
"Hi," I addressed you, trying my best to come up with a casual smile, but that kiss was still imprinted in my head, and the grin that graced my face in its wake was anything but casual.
"Hi," you said in return, hints of a smile tugging at your lips, "are you excited? The reading material alone is so much more involved than it was last year," you began, and my grin only grew. Just as I always turned the subject to food, you always turned it to school. Maybe it was because it was the first day and that I'd had a whole summer without your lecturing me about studying, but it really didn't bother me as much as it might have ordinarily. Instead, I merely smiled and nodded, and listened to you talk about the subjects you hoped would be broached during the year. Meanwhile, the crowd had begun to thin-out as students boarded the train, and we all three began to walk nearer towards the platform while you continued to list the names of the books you would have to check out of the library for further reading.
Back in first year, I would have been the first to refer to you as swotty, but as the years had gone by, I was the first to admit that you'd changed a lot from the eleven year-old I'd met on board the Hogwarts Express. Your studies were still extremely important to you, but Harry and I no longer had to confiscate your books to make sure you didn't overdo it. That in itself was a great accomplishment.
"I think this one is empty, you two," Harry's voice came from in front of us as we made our way through the train corridors, and you stopped discussing alternate remedies for Bubotuber pus burns as we followed Harry into the empty compartment. I spotted Mum and Dad from the window and we all three gave them a quick wave as the train started moving, and as they slowly faded out of sight, we took our seats. Harry and I sat across from each other, but you stood for a minute as if deciding between us. When you finally lowered yourself down next to me, the surge of triumph coursing through my veins was huge. I could feel Harry's eyes on me; more importantly, I knew that if I looked at him I would see the laughter bubbling just below the surface, would see the corners of his mouth twitch in amusement. He was my best friend, but he sure could make a guy feel self-conscious.
"Are you okay, Harry? Your lips are twitching," you said from beside me, and I swallowed back the guffaw that threatened to escape my throat. Ha! It would serve him well for putting me on the spot back in the train station, and for finding such amusement in a situation that was perfectly normal. After all, we were all friends; in fact, we were all best friends. What was wrong with your sitting next to me in a train compartment when the only other empty seat would have been next to Harry? Honestly, the twins had corrupted him beyond repair.
"Er, I'm fine; I was just…thinking of something Fred and George did last night," he said, obviously lying through his teeth in an attempt to hide what he'd truly been thinking.
"Oh really, what did they do?" you pushed, and I swear if the earlier kiss hadn't shaken me to the core, I would have taken you by the shoulders and kissed you full on the mouth. As it was, I was just enjoying seeing him squirm, but even though he'd teased and prodded to no end during those last few weeks at the Burrow, I still held some sense of loyalty towards him and decided to come to his aid.
"You know Fred and George," I told you as my mind groped for something with which to elaborate, but my mind had drawn a blank the second you'd turned those caramel eyes on me. Thankfully, though, I didn't have to answer as the compartment door slid open. For a moment, I almost expected Malfoy to walk-in, flanked by his two henchmen, as he always seemed to appear at least once during our ride to Hogwarts, but it was only a first year who'd walked-into the wrong compartment by accident, and once he'd left we were alone again.
"Didn't you bring any books with you?" I asked, not only in an attempt to turn the subject away from its original course, but also genuinely surprised that you weren't immersed in one of those thick volumes you'd been speaking of earlier. Looking at you more closely, I noticed for the first time the dark circles under your eyes, and you seemed a bit paler than usual. My brain seemed to choose that particular moment to rope my mouth into saying something ridiculously stupid: "You look awful," I remarked, and though it really was meant as a casual observation, I knew that it was a dumb thing to say to anyone.
"Well you sure have a way with words, don't you?" you replied icily, staring me down as you lifted your chin haughtily. I loved that chin and how easily it would fit between my thumb and forefinger.
"It looks good with your eyes," I found myself almost whispering, and the look you'd been giving me melted instantly as you registered the meaning of my words. I'd never given you that kind of a compliment before, never told you that you looked beautiful, never commented when I thought you looked nice in a piece of clothing, and here I was doing so in the most unromantic of places while our best friend looked-on in disbelief. Never mind that I had absolutely no idea where the words had come from in the first place, or that Harry was sitting across from me snorting as he tried not to laugh, I might have kissed you then, and I don't think you would have resisted. It seemed that the entire train had disappeared, and I could have sworn that our faces were moving closer to each other as if guided by some magnetic force. If it hadn't been for Harry (quite deliberately) clearing his throat, I might have kissed you, but as it was, I was glad that I hadn't because the way you'd turned your head to stare at the seat in front of you and the way your cheeks had suddenly turned bright red, I was beginning to become self-conscious again.
"You do look a little bit tired, Hermione," Harry said, obviously changing the subject and instantly renewing my faith in him.
"I didn't get any sleep last night," you admitted with a sheepish grin, "I was too excited to go back, and I spent the entire night reading," you said, which explained why you weren't reading now; even you had your limits. I could have come-up with a comment about your studying, Merlin knows I had dozens floating through my head, but before any made their way from my brain to my mouth, you'd stretched your arm over your head as your other hand covered your mouth and you yawned, curling your legs underneath you.
"Why don't you try getting some sleep?" Harry asked you, and I was glad it was he who'd made the suggestion as had it come from me it would have given Harry endless ammunition with which to tease me over the next few days. I could just imagine him telling everyone who would listen about how I'd been fussing over you when for the last five years I'd found every occasion possible to complain about you.
"I can't sleep on the train," you shook your head as you yawned again, and rubbed your eyes in a manner reminiscent of a small child ready to go down for a nap; I found it positively adorable. "Besides," you dismissed, "I don't have a pillow," you said, and I could practically see the gears in Harry's head turning. I'd be lying if I said that my first thought hadn't been to offer myself as a makeshift pillow, but at the same time I knew that if I did that, my reputation would remain intact for all of five seconds before it became common knowledge that I'd gone soft on a girl—sure, we were sixteen, and had long outgrown the age of cooties, but that didn't change the fact that if word had gotten out, I never would have been able to live it down. It would have been different had we been a couple, but as it was, no one even knew--except Harry who'd been walking around with a smug look on his face all month--that I'd even been considering that as a possibility for over a year, and I really didn't want to have to deal with Seamus, Dean, and Neville getting in on the action when just having Harry to deal with was already so close to driving me completely mad. As if reading my mind, Harry grinned what only I recognized to be a particularly mischievous grin (had he had red hair and been slightly stockier, he could have been one of the twins) and gestured towards me. My opinion of him immediately changed for the better when I realized what he was about to do.
"Just use Ron," he told you, "with all the jellied sweets he's been ingesting all summer, he's the closest thing you'll find to a pillow on the train," he grinned, and I felt the overwhelming urge to grab him by the shoulders and kiss him full on the mouth—well maybe not to that extent, but you know what I mean. After all, I was being volunteered by someone else, and never mind that I was more than willing to lend you my services, if word happened to leak, I would for all intents and purposes be in the clear. I tried my best to act normal, not to seem over eager as you seemed to weigh what Harry had just suggested in your mind, but when you were caught by another yawning fit, you seemed to have come to a decision.
"Do you mind?" You asked me, and I did my best to act nonchalant as I shrugged and smiled.
"Not at all; besides, you need the rest," I smiled, and you scooted closer to me. For a moment, neither of us really knew what to do, but after an awkward moment I lifted my arm around your shoulders and you scuttled underneath it, resting your head in the crook of my neck. I was certain that you could feel the rapid pulse at my neck, hear the beating of my heart in my ribcage, but you didn't mention it, and before I knew it, your even breathing told me that you were fast asleep. So much for your not being able to sleep on the train, I thought to myself, smiling. Of course, Harry happened to catch that grin and took it to mean something entirely different.
"You can thank me later," he grinned in front of me, and it was really the first time he'd been so direct in his comments about you, so in the spirit of things I decided to be just as direct in return.
"Oh, bugger-off, you," I told him, and he laughed as you slept-on.
A/N: The next chapter is the one you've all been waiting for—Ron and Hermione finally get together!! Of course, as this is written as a kind of flashback on things that have already happened, they've theoretically been together all along, but you'll actually see how it happened. Hope y'all enjoy.
