A/N Phew! I realize you've been waiting for this for a long time. They say that the older you get, the quicker time passes you by. Well, folks, I've got to be about a hundred and fifty, because these past few weeks have just flown by. I just hope you haven't all forgotten about this lowly story, and just in case your minds are a bit fuzzy after all these chapterless days, I've included the last part of the previous chapter to kickstart those memories a bit. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, etc. are the intellectual property of JKR; no infringement is intended.
Chapter 5
"Get out," you said, pointing to the door.
"No," I answered; following instructions had never been my strong suit.
"Fine, then I'll leave," you replied, trying to get around me, but I wasn't finished yet, and I blocked the doorway. "All right, then; you want me to stop repeating myself? Well here's something I'm only going to say once," you said, marching up to me and getting on your tiptoes in an attempt to meet me eye to eye, though you were still looking-up quite a few inches. Your face was so close to mine that I could feel your breath at the base of my throat, and whatever anger I'd had completely vanished and was replaced by something else—longing.
I longed to grab your face and kiss you, to run my hands through your hair, to feel your arms move up and wrap around my neck. I wanted to wrap you in my arms and never let you go. Of course, that would be a little difficult with your telling me I was the worst being on earth, which was exactly what you were screaming at me right then (but with much larger words). I tried to listen, I really did, but your being so close that I could smell the soft scent of your hair and feel the heat radiating from your body, so close that I could see the flecks of gold in your eyes did something to me, and I snapped. I couldn't hear what you were saying, and frankly I didn't care anyway. For the first time in two years, I took control of my own destiny and threw caution to the wind; I brought my face down those last few inches, wrapped my hands in your hair, and kissed you with all the pent-up energy I'd held in check all this time.
I was crazy; I knew it, you knew it, and if Lavender or Parvati happened to walk in—which, knowing my luck, was inevitable—then they'd know it too. Of course, at the moment, my brain wasn't processing very well; in fact, it seemed to be stuck like a broken record (I had never fully understood that old Muggle saying, but I was definitely starting to see value in it, now) on one single thought: "I am kissing Hermione Granger…and she hasn't inflicted bodily harm yet." Indeed, if anything, I wasn't even half as surprised with myself for having finally lost control as I was with you for not having hit me over the head with a washbasin yet. True, you weren't actually doing much of anything: though my eyes were closed, I had the distinct impression that yours were open—to the size of saucers—probably in shock, or revulsion. I couldn't really decide which, but I was aiming for an amalgamation of the two: you were shocked at the revulsion you were feeling…or were you repulsed by your shock? Well, anyway, though I hadn't elicited a negative response from you, I'd failed to elicit any kind of response, and that frankly couldn't be any good either.
It also has to be said that while my head was sorting through a plethora of thoughts and notions, it was doing so at a staggering speed for, point in fact, not more than a split second could have elapsed since our lips had made contact. Kissing you was different from what I'd imagined it. It had to be said that I had never actually kissed anyone before—contrary to what I'd led the blokes to believe, of course. After all, I did have a reputation to uphold. Sure, Sally-Anne Perks had had a bit of a crush on me in fifth year, and had kissed me under the mistletoe at Christmas(which, as I remember, hadn't gone over so well with you), but surely that didn't count, and having your mother or sister kiss you was definitely out of the question. Still, it was bizarre to feel someone else's lips under mine. They were kind of…wet and squishy. Incredibly soft and sweet, yes, but the feeling was still foreign to me. Of course, it really didn't help that I could still feel you staring at me through my closed eyelids. It was your lack of reaction that made me pull away, albeit reluctantly. I didn't want to let you go; I'd finally realized all my dreams combined for the past year and a half, and had effectively gotten over the pesky hurdle of how exactly to tell you how I felt. Still, feeling you frozen in front of me brought back terrible memories of when you'd been Petrified in second year, and that was no way to remember my, our, first kiss.
For a moment I was seriously considering the notion that maybe there was a Basilisk behind me—we were, after all, in the girl's toilet—and that you'd been Petrified again. Of course, had there really been a Basilisk behind me, you would have been dead, not really Petrified. Still, there you were, standing in front of me looking at me with wide eyes. I wondered if your lips were tingling as mine were then, and I saw the first sign of life from you when you pressed them together, probably to verify that what you'd just thought had happened, really had. I couldn't bring myself to say anything. I wanted to shout for joy, to apologize, to shake you back to reality, but I really wanted to kiss you again. Never mind that the thought was the most irrational I'd had all morning…and let's face it, I'd been having some pretty irrational thoughts as of late…I'd had a taste of how wonderful it felt to hold you in my arms, and I wasn't about to forget it any time soon. I especially didn't want to wait another two years before I had the opportunity to feel—this—again.
The second sign of life I registered was when you blinked once, twice, your eyes going back to their normal size, though now your mouth was hanging open slightly, only reinforcing my desire to kiss it. I should have said something, I should have apologized for putting you through what was obviously a horrific experience, but it seemed that my breath had lodged itself in my throat, and even if I had actually wanted to say any of those things, I wouldn't have been able to. You were slowly coming out of your trance, and I closed my eyes, hanging my head in resignation.
"What took you so long?" I thought I'd heard you whisper, but of course that couldn't be right. What you'd probably said was "that was just wrong," or something along those lines.
"I'm sorry?" The statement was as much a question as it was an affirmation. Did I regret kissing you? Definitely not, but I did regret the fact that it had obviously pained you so; I was about to say as much when I felt the painful contact of your fist against my tricep. I was beginning to resent the fact that Harry and I had ever attempted to teach you to defend yourself in case of emergency, and especially so the fact that we'd taught you the importance of 'following through'. You might have been small, but you were also freakishly strong, and the welt that was no doubt beginning to develop on what had once been my arm was testament of that fact.
"Oh, get off it, Ronald Weasley," I suspected you were trying to scold me, but your voice had an oddly breathy quality to it.
"But I don't—" I began, though the words had stuck in my throat as you'd lunged your arms around my neck and had brought my head down, abruptly catching my lips with your own; "—understand," I pitifully finished when you released me. What was happening? I hadn't the foggiest clue, probably because my brain had ceased all functions. It was a wonder if I could even remember my name—I think that it started with an 'R'…didn't it?
"Oh, Ron," you rolled your eyes, but you had a huge smile on your face. I have to admit that I'd been holding back the same smile since you'd just thrown yourself on me, but frankly, I was too confused to do anything other than state the obvious.
"You just kissed me," I said, and you rolled your eyes again, in that way you do when I'm questioning something that's supposedly so obvious.
"You kissed me first," you replied. Well gee, thank you for that, Hermione; that was just the most helpful answer you could have given me—honestly! What kind of cryptic answer was that!?
"Well I know that!" I replied, exasperated, "but that doesn't change the fact that you kissed me…just now; I was here, I know," I said. Obviously kissing you twice in the same day had done irreparable damage to my brain. Such a large surge of joy had short-circuited any ability I might have once had to form a coherent thought.
"Oh, Ron." You laughed it this time, that breathy, careless laugh that always makes shivers run down my spine, and makes my heart swell and the butterflies in my stomach go mad. You were still laughing quietly when you wrapped your arms around my waist and hugged me, much like the way a two-year old might hug a puppy. My arms instinctively wrapped around your small frame, and I tucked your head under my chin, smelling the delicate scent of your shampoo and feeling the softness of the brown strands against my skin.
"What just happened?" I whispered, closing my eyes and enjoying the moment…for I was certain that at any second I would wake up and find that it had all been a wonderful, wonderful dream.
"I think," you said, still hugging me, your head against my shoulder as it had been when you'd slept on the train. Again, I was certain that you could hear the frantic beating of my heart against my ribcage, but still you seemed to ignore it, "I think that you've just come to your senses," you finished, and I couldn't help it; I burst out laughing.
I could practically feel you frowning, and when you extricated yourself from my arms and looked up into my face, I was rewarded with the knowledge that I'd been correct in my assumption; of course, I was laughing too hard to revel in the knowledge for too long. Apparently, however, you didn't seem to find this very amusing because the more I laughed, the deeper that frown got until you had a neat little wrinkle above your nose, and your arms were stubbornly crossed in front of you.
"What do you mean, I've come to my senses?" I asked, and I could tell that you were holding back the desire to roll your eyes once again.
"Well it's obvious that you've finally realized that I mean more to you than just a friend," you said matter-of-factly. Only with us would a first romantic encounter be reduced to petty bickering of the sort. Though I was slightly surprised, I couldn't say that I was unhappy about the turn of events. Arguing with you like this brought a certain sense of comfort to an otherwise bizarre situation. After all, we were still standing in the middle of the girl's toilet and I had just kissed you, after which you'd kissed me. On both occasions, the receiving party had been too surprised to do much more than stand there, absolutely shocked out of their wits, and so we hadn't actually kissed 'each other' yet; but, if this was going where I thought it was going—though one must remember my inability to form a coherent thought, so who knew what was really going to happen—then I couldn't wait, especially when I considered the fact that if a half kiss could derail me so fully, then a full kiss would be indescribable.
"Well I think the truth of the matter is that you've just realized how you felt about me; obviously that kiss must have triggered some sort of reaction in you, after which you kissed me," I said. What were you on about, anyway? I hadn't 'just' realized anything. If anything at all, I'd known about my feelings long before you'd known about yours (and that was what you were saying, wasn't it? That you had feelings for me in return? I swear, it's at times like these where I wish women came with an instructions manual, or at the very least with a mind-reading option).
"Oh, come off it, Ron; you're just upset that I knew how you felt about me before you knew it yourself," you said, rather haughtily, and I snorted.
"Now that's where you're wrong, Hermione Granger, because I've known about my feelings about you for years, and there's no way you could have figured them out, anyway; I hid them much too well," I replied, and it was your turn to snort—and as unladylike as it was, I have to say that it was also incredibly endearing.
"Of course I knew; you can't really think that I hadn't noticed," you said.
"Oh, you did not," I said.
"I did!" you replied, obviously trying to beat me at this new game of wits.
"Oh, really? Well if you knew, then why didn't you do anything about it, then? If you were so certain of my 'more than friendly' feelings towards you, why didn't you say anything?" I asked. Ha! Well, now, that would teach you!
"Well if you were so certain about the way you felt, then why didn't you tell me sooner?" you asked in return.
"I asked you first," I defended. So we weren't being the most mature about the situation, but I wasn't going to be the first to throw-in the towel on this one. I was much too stubborn to let you win a fight as important as this one.
"All right, so maybe I wasn't as certain as I may have led you to believe, but you boys are so complicated; it's a wonder you understand yourselves, let alone each other. Men should come with a user's manual, really, a book to tell women how to interpret their behavior." You said, and I was completely thrown that you'd given-up so easily, let alone that you actually thought blokes to be complicated; that was just laughable. Besides, you were always the one person I could count-on for a good bicker. "Oh, stop looking so smug already," you smiled, taking a small step towards me. "Now will you just kiss me again before I hex you for thinking me a Death Eater?" you grinned, your eyes twinkling, and it only took a split second for me to decide to drop the Death Eater comment, and oblige you.
And that was the start of it all; I still can't believe that we'd both been harboring these secret feelings for each other and that we'd never actually out and said anything until then, that it took me two years to finally break down and kiss you. Those were the first of what would be many kisses, but even over the years, every time I kiss you, I can't help but feel as if it's the first time. You still haven't lost that effect on me. I'd like to think that despite the difficult times we've been through over the years, the turmoil that comes naturally with growing up, the bumps we've encountered in our friendship, our relationship, that it was that initial hurdle that was the most difficult. It would be unrealistic for us to have gone through a lifetime together without having had to overcome difficulties; after all, life is just that, isn't it? A series of difficulties that one must overcome in order to move on. With you by my side, those hurdles were easier to overcome, and I'd like to think that there were less of them than I might have encountered had I continued-on without you.
If telling you how I felt was the hardest thing I've ever experienced, then telling Harry about us was maybe the next hardest. How do you tell your best friend that his two best friends are still his two best friends, but that they've become more than friends themselves? It's not that I thought Harry wouldn't understand, after all, he'd been giving me pushes (if not shoves) in that direction since the 'Viktor Krum incident,' still I just didn't know how to broach the subject with him. Maybe that's why we waited so long to tell him, I don't know, but at the same time, having that time alone with you, that time where we felt adventurous because we'd be 'sneaking away' to be by ourselves, that was an integral part of our relationship, and probably one of the fondest periods of my life.
