AN: Oh god, it just gets WORSE. Stop reading. Stop reading NOW.
The morning dawned with a white winter sun and a suspicious amount of silence. Ron blinked and sat up- he had fallen asleep on the armchair. A few seconds of nothingness ticked by in his mind before the events of the previous night swarmed back to him. And he had no idea how to feel.
Surely he should feel happy? The girl of his dreams had kissed him. She had kissed him. Or maybe he should feel incredibly stupid. After all, he had pushed her away. But how would he have been able to live with himself if he had let her? Who knows where it would have led to, with Hermione in the state she had been in? In despair, Ron slumped, resting his forehead in his hands, trying desperately to will his headache away. Why did this have to be so complicated? Surely if he liked a girl, surely if his feelings were as strong as he thought they were, it would be second nature to walk up to her and say it? "Hermione, I think I…" Of course not. Because Hermione wasn't just any girl. She was Hermione- and that's where everything went pear-shaped.
"Oh good, you're awake." Harry, startling Ron out of his thoughts, had appeared at the foot of the stairs, pulling a sweater over his head.
"What's the time?" croaked Ron. "Where is everyone?"
"It's ten. Your mum, Ginny, Lee, Henrietta and Charlie have gone to clear up the mess left over from last night. Your dad and the twins gone to see of your relatives at Ottery St Catchpole. They're taking a Portkey out from Stoatshead Hill." He paused for a moment to roll down the cuffs of his oversized jumper. "And Hermione, Colin and Angelina are still asleep." He leant against the arm of the sofa and looked seriously at Ron, who sensed something was up.
"Everything okay?" he mumbled, feeling slow and seedy compared to Harry, who had already washed and dressed.
"Yeah. Listen, I'll talk to you later, but the thing is, Sirius is coming."
Ron was suddenly a few watts more alert. "He is? What do you mean?"
"He's Floo-ing into a the house of an old friend of Remus's in Ottery St Catchpole and he's meeting me in the orchard- nothing's wrong, we're just going to catch up," he added, at Ron's nervous expression. "I'll be an hour or so- can you just make sure no one goes wandering out there? You can tell Hermione what's up when she's awake. Is that okay?"
"That's fine," Ron said, nodding. "Give him my best, yeah?"
"Sure," Harry said, his grin no doubt the product of anticipating a meeting with his godfather. "See you in a bit." He disappeared out the back door, leaving Ron alone with his thoughts. He managed to drag himself upstairs eventually for a shower and a change of clothes, but it provided little to no burst of inspiration for his train of thoughts. His mind's eye seemed to be stuck on one picture- that of Hermione's face when he had pulled away last night. It was at once beautiful and painful, and he wondered if he would always remember the pain in her eyes and feel regret. Maybe the previous night had been his only chance to kiss her. Maybe now that Hermione had sobered up, she would tell him what he was certain she was feeling- "I'm sorry Ron, but I just don't like you."
As it happened, he was fairly sure that must be how she was feeling. How could she not be when he had treated her so appallingly in their past years of friendship? He couldn't suddenly turn around and expect her to forgive him just because he happened to have feelings for her. Friends forgave each other, yes, but what if he wanted to be more than friends? The possibilities of what she might say to that prospect were painful. Ron threw himself back down on the armchair, his mind reeling.
Opening the front door to the Burrow that morning was by far the bravest thing Hermione felt she had ever done. She had enjoyed about two seconds of perfect unreality that morning after she'd woken up. And then memories of the previous night had hit her in the face like a ton of bricks. I kissed him. I KISSED him. She wanted to cry, but tears refused to come. She wanted to scream, but it would hardly be fair to wake up Angelina. She wanted to die, but she had left her wand inside. What if Ron was in there? It didn't bear thinking about. Eventually the pressure in her bladder and pressure in her mind had prompted her to get up out of bed- although no sooner had she done so than she wished she hadn't.
"Oh!" she gasped, as what felt like a thousand knives began twisting themselves into her skull. She grabbed wildly at the dressing table to steady herself, her hand nearly slipping off on a crumpled piece of parchment someone had left there. No wonder he mouth felt like sandpaper and her brain head been pulsing with a dull ache from the moment she opened her eyes. No wonder the light peeking through the tent flap seemed a million watts too bright. No wonder the butterbeer had tasted funny.
"Fred and George," Hermione muttered, as her stomach lurched when she attempted a few steps towards the tent flap. "I thought they seemed a bit eager to serve me drinks." No wonder she had been able to drop off to sleep the previous night, when, in all reasonable circumstances, she should have been unable to even close her eyes with worry. I kissed him…Being drunk was not something she indulged in often. In fact, up until the wedding reception, the only alcohol she had ever drunk had been a sip of champagne once every New Year's Eve. Certainly never enough to get her as tipsy as she had been the night before. Certainly never enough to compel her to do what she had done to Ron. "Arrrrgh," Hermione said through gritted teeth, standing outside the front door of the burrow. She was holding her hands over her eyes, using the small cracks between her fingers to guide her- the sun was far, far too bright.
She still had in her hand the piece of parchment form the dressing table, and she used it as a makeshift shield from the sun.
And who should she see upon walking into the house but the purveyor of her angst. Unfortunately the purveyor of her angst looked so exceptionally lovely and vulnerable as he turned to look at her when she came in it was all she could do not to burst into tears on sight of him.
"Hi," he said, after they had both stared at each other for a moment. Obviously he remembered the kiss too. (Of course he does. He broke it off, remember?) Suddenly he smiled. "How's the head?"
For about three seconds, a wonderful normality swooped between them. This was how things ought to be- goading each other- not sharing drunken kisses on the armchair that Ron was seated on at that very moment.
"You knew I was drunk," Hermione accused, shutting the door gently behind her.
"It was hard to miss," Ron said gently. Hermione suddenly felt quite sick. She hadn't even considered the fact that everyone was watching her get tipsy.
"Oh no…" she groaned, leaning her head against the doorway.
"Are you all right?"
"No. I think I'll go and have a shower."
Ron came to a decision while she was upstairs, and that was to address the problem directly. By problem, he meant their relationship. And even though just the thought made his palms sweat like they never had since Quidditch tryouts, he was so sick of things the way they were- the constant analysing of every move she made, the unending train of thought that would inevitably end up with Does she like me too?, the agony of not knowing what she was doing every single second of the day- he was so sick of it that he was willing to throw away his any qualms he might have. Sort of.
She came downstairs eventually (it must have been Ron's imagination, but to him it seemed like a far too long shower) her hair in crinkly waves once again, droplets of water still clinging to her neck and ears. He stood up as she entered the room, and the movement didn't go unnoticed by her. She stopped dead at the bottom of the stairs, and stared at him. "I think I'll go and make some coffee. You want some?"
"Um, yeah, 'course."
She shuffled out of the living room into the kitchen. Ron could hear her pottering about, hear her bring the kettle to boil with a tap of her wand, and thought for a moment that he wouldn't have the courage. Then he caught sight of the photo above the fireplace, the one of him and Bill, and he thought of Percy, sneering at them from the ashes, and he thought At any moment it could all be taken away. Everything he loved about Hermione, everything that infuriated him or entranced him; everything that frustrated him and bewitched him, all of it could be taken away at any moment. He wouldn't be able to live if it all went away and she didn't know how he felt. She had to know how he felt. He thought of their kiss on the armchair and felt heartened. Maybe there was hope for them.
He walked through to the kitchen. Hermione was leaning against the counter staring into her mug of coffee, the weak sunlight shone through the window onto her chestnut head. In her white dressing gown and blue striped pyjamas, she looked just as beautiful as she had in her bridesmaid's dress.
"Ummm…" He hovered uncertainly at the doorway. She looked up at him for one second to give him a furtive smile, then her gaze shot back down to her coffee.
"There you go," she motioned with her head to a steaming mug on the counter next to her. He went over and picked it up. Maybe he didn't have to say anything. Maybe all he had to do was put his arms around her and do what he wanted to do. In the morning light, everything was clear and he could see his way. He didn't feel lost anymore.
"Hermione," he said. Something in his voice obviously invited her to look at him because slowly, she tore her eyes away from her coffee and turned her gaze on him.
This is it, she thought, something's going to happen. After everything that we've been through this year it's all going to come out. His bright brown gaze was infused with such an intensity that Hermione had to look away again. She suddenly remembered her conversation with George last night, fuzzy and confusing. " God, Hermione, it's nothing to be ashamed of…you two treat each other so appallingly there's only two options: you either hate each other or you love each other." She remembered what she'd realised last night and her stomach turned over. She loved him last night at the party amid the dresses and the bright lights. And she loved him in the morning, with his hair rumpled and in the white sunlight. She thought about their kiss on the armchair, and was immediately disheartened. Surely if he didn't love her last night, when she was looking her best, he wouldn't ever love her? "Hermione," he said, reaching over and taking the mug from her hands, placing it gently onto the counter. "We have to talk."
"Ab-about what?" she tried.
Ron stared at her. "Don't be like that." He was shaking his head, slowly. "You know."
"I know." She owed him the truth at least. "I can't. I don't know what's going on, or what to say. I can't talk to you, Ron."
"Hah!" a breathless exclamation. "So you meant it, then? What you said on Christmas Eve- about how our whole friendship has been a waste of time?"
"Mean it?" Hermione spluttered. "Of course I didn't mean it!"
"Then why are you throwing away this chance to salvage what we have?" Ron said, sounding annoyed.
"I'm not, I just-"
"Hermione, please- I'm not that stupid." He was definitely annoyed now. "If I'm- what was it you said?- laboring under a misapprehension- then just tell me right now, please."
Hermione was completely at a loss for words for about three seconds. "Ron- I'm not- I mean- look, it's not that I don't want to talk-"
"Then let's talk." And so saying, he grabbed her under her arms and hoisted her onto the kitchen counter.
"Ron!"
"Look at me, please."
She did, and to her own detriment; he was still wearing his intense expression, only this time it was worse because he reached out and took her hand. He was so affectionate that Hermione's eyes watered. Why did you pull away?
"Last night- when you…you know, when we…um…" He was going red. Hermione laughed despite herself.
"I kissed you."
"Yeah!" Ron exclaimed. Then he paused. "I pulled away."
"Yeah," Hermione echoed sadly. Her heart was pounding so hard she felt dizzy. Ron was brushing his fringe distractingly out of his face and she knew he was about to say something that would change everything.
"Look, Hermione…" he said, and then stopped. His mouth was opening and shutting like a fish.
Why can't I say it? Ron felt it with practically every pore, so why couldn't he just blurt it out like he had so many other stupid comments in the past? That one about his friendship with Hermione being nothing was a winner. Oh, as was the comment about her making up stories about him and Parvati when all she had been trying to do was help. Yes, he'd said some pretty godamn stupid things in the past, and if his feeling for her were equally ridiculous, why couldn't he just blurt it out? "There's too much to say?" Hermione inferred, looking at his (obviously) stupid expression. Ron nodded.
"Yeah." He paused, thinking. "What's that way you told me to think things out?"
"Laterally?"
"That's the one," he said. "Let's talk it out, laterally. From the beginning." He paused again. "It didn't start with that kiss you know. I think…there's been things going on between us since…well, forever. So, um, let's sit down, and talk it out."
Hermione was holding her breath. "Things?" she said finally, after Ron had fixed her with an interesting gaze for a few moments. He was the one to look away this time.
"Things," he mumbled. "I just…dunno how to say it…"
"Well, you wanted to talk," she said, hardly daring to hope. He looked up and grinned at her.
Ron felt slightly better for her poking fun at him. It made things feel- well, normal. But he didn't want normal anymore because normal had been so tinged by his feelings for her that it wasn't normal. It was sort of a limbo between old feelings and new feelings. Feeling as though they were on the edge of a revelation, he moved forward and put his hands gently over Hermione's, which were resting on the counter. He leant against her knees with his stomach. Surely he didn't have to say anything? But Hermione was waiting for him to say it, and he had to.
"Okay," he said, after a few deep breaths. "Right."
Say it…please, say it. Say what I need to hear from you. The pressure of his stomach against her knees made her feel braver- something was definitely about to happen. And why should Ron have to be the one to make it so?
"I know what you mean!" Hermione suddenly blurted out. The words Ron had been about to force out died in his throat.
"You do?" he said (squeakily). She nodded breathlessly.
"Things…between us…" she stammered. That seemed to be all she could say. She blinked helplessly at him. "Ron-"
"Okay! Okay!" Ron said, suddenly infused with a new courage, "I can say it, don't worry- Hermione," he said, then took a few more deep breaths. He squeezed her hands tightly. "Are you ready? I'm going to say it."
"Yes," she said.
"Really? Because after I say it- everything's going to change."
"Say it, for heaven's sake, say it!" she laughed. "You of all people should know I'm not averse to change."
"But- between us?" Ron said, shaking his head. "I mean- things have been sort of- this way- for so long, and for things to change, I mean- we should take it slow, of course, and-"
"Ron," she said, silencing him by putting three soft fingers over his mouth.
"It's like you said the other day," Hermione said softly. "Things are changing. The world is shifting and it's going to keep on shifting. We're not going to be able to stop it." She fumbled in the pocket of her dressing gown. She was breathless. "But it would be nice if we could watch it change together." Ron's eyes widened as he realised what she meant.
She brought out two crumpled pieces of parchment from the pocket of her dressing gown. Ron stared. One of the pieces was his letter that he'd written to her on Christmas Eve. The one he hadn't been able to finish reading aloud. "And maybe," she said, "You don't need to say it because you've already written it down…" She smoothed out the paper and read from it. "Dear Hermione, you must be tired of hearing it now, but I'm sorry. I know what I did wrong this morning and I know that realising that it was wrong too late is also another thing I've done wrong. Even another thing I've done wrong is not appreciate you properly- or at least, not let you know just how much I appreciate you. The reason I never told you how much I appreciate you is because I never thought I would be able to put it into words. You've done more for me than anyone else I've known ever has in the time I've been alive and no amount of thanking you will justify it." Pause. When she read again, her voice was much softer. "You have changed me. I've changed for you. I don't know how much that means to you, but it means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me. You're the only person in the world who would ever be able to make me feel the way I do. I wanted you to know this because…" she paused again, her eyes cloudy. "The world is changing, and it's going to keep on changing. We won't be able to stop it, but it would be nice if we could watch it change together. What we have is more than just friendship and I wish that I could take back all the times I put it in jeopardy. I promise that I'll do everything in my power to make sure it doesn't happen again. The only thing I ask you to do is make sure that you don't change- the wonderful person you are is enough for me. Love, Ron." She looked up at him- Ron could feel his face burning. Had he really written that? It was very unlike him.
Perhaps it was all part of growing up…
"But I have changed, Ron," Hermione found herself saying. She put down his letter and then picked up her list- the one she'd made so many weeks ago. The one that she'd been altering and changing as the situation between her and Ron dictated. And, with the feeling that she was finally surrendering her heart, she handed it to him. His eyebrows shot up into his fringe.
Ron read the list with disbelief. How long ago had she written this? It had been folded up, crumpled up and smoothed out many times over. The list of facts about himself and Hermione looked like it had been modified and re-modified over and over again. Most likely over the space of a few weeks, as well- all the inks were different colours.
"I wrote it when you started going out with Parvati," Hermione said hopelessly, "and since then I've just kept it and changed it. It was supposed to help me find my bearings."
The final copy of the list read.
Fact Number 1: Ron is my friend.
Fact number 2:I was jealous of him and Parvati.
Fact number 3: Which possibly means that he's more than a friend.
Fact number 4:I am not, as yet, happy about that fact.
Fact number 5:I think it's because I'm scared.
Fact number 6:Ron is amazing and so far removed from "shallow" its not funny.
Fact number 7: He confuses me.
Fact number 8:He didn't deserve what Parvati did to him.
Fact number 9:I don't want to get hurt. Or hurt him.
Ron looked up and stared at her with amazed eyes. "Hermione- you really wrote this all that time ago?"
"It was a bit different then," Hermione laughed. She was feeling teary. There was so much emotion surrounding it all, thinking back on those stupid few weeks where Ron was going out with Parvati reminded her how it all started. Lying on each other in front of the entire common room, running out of the Three Broomsticks because she couldn't bear seeing Parvati and Ron holding hands, arguing with Parvati in the Great hall, and then again in the common room, fighting with Ron constantly during that time, and then, chasing harry, who was chasing Ron, seeing Ron spin around a clip harry on the side of the face, having her heart break for him because seeing him hurt as much as he had been was painful. And then Parvati and Ron had broken up, and she had gotten closer to Harry, and closer to Ron. The lines of friendship between them blurred considerably during that time- when they worked late into the night together and spent practically every minute of the day at each other's side. And Ron had defended her in front of everyone, took a hit in the face from Parvati for her, had harboured her on his lap all the way from London. And then both must have realized it- that they weren't friends. They never could be friends. What they had was more. So they had been fighting again, out in the snow- Hermione had even hit him, called their friendship a waste of time- and then last night everything that was whirling around them had come to a stop when she kissed him.
"Ron- if what you wrote in that letter is true- if you really think that I'm more than your best friend- then why…why did you pull away last night?"
Ron swallowed. "Well…why did you kiss me?"
She opened her mouth and closed it again. Ron grinned. "I think I can guess Hermione." He swallowed again. "Look- the reason I pulled away is for the same reason that you kissed me in the first place."
"I don't understand."
He pushed his stomach closer to her knees and brought her hands up so that he was holding them just in front of her heart. "What we have- whatever it is- means too much to me to let you start it off when you weren't yourself. For all I know you could have been making a drunken mistake. And also- if this is something- of this is for real- I couldn't let our first kiss be…you know, all weird. You really did look beautiful last night Hermione, but the person I've grown to have feelings for is you. Not someone in make up and a pretty purple dress." Hermione felt tears leak out of her eyes but she didn't care. Ron was saying exactly what she'd need to hear from him- since forever. He put his hand up to wipe away her tears and continued. "It's not that I mind when you do dress up- of course not!- but I think you look beautiful all the time. And God- it's not like I wanted to pull away. But I couldn't let you do something that might have been a mistake. You'd never forgive yourself." He grinned again and Hermione laughed. "Whereas I could forgive you quite easily. So tell me right now, Miss Granger…" his face hadn't a trace of the grin left on it. "Was it a drunken mistake?"
She took an agonising few seconds to answer. Ron thought his heart was about to explode. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his, like she had on that day when she followed him down to the lake.
"Ron," she whispered. "You of all people should know that I never make mistakes."
There was nothing Ron to do but hug her, which is what he did. He wrapped his arms around her so tightly she gasped, but laughed delightedly when he pulled her off the kitchen counter and whirled her around. Their first real hug.
Hermione's feet were only dangling a few inches from the floor but she felt as though she was flying. This was wonderful- nothing she had ever felt could compare to the feeling she had now, in Ron's arms. There was nothing of the analysing, the worrying, the agony that she had felt while she had been falling for him- this was easy, this was amazing. It cost her nothing to put her feet back on the ground and to wrap her arms tightly around his waist, to bury her face in his warm sweater, to be enveloped in his embrace. Why, it was as easy as falling off the Eiffel tower.
It was all Ron could do not to run outside and yell her name so loudly the whole world could hear. His heart was bursting with tenderness. She was so beautiful and he had her in his arms- it was an amazing feeling. She ran a hand up his back, pleasantly firm, and then lifted her head from his chest. Ron felt as though someone had lifted his head from his shoulders and filled it with air.
"I think I can say it now," Ron said breathlessly. He bent his head low, so he could say it to her face. Even with her in his arms it still took a few more deep breath before he could finally put to words the way he felt. "This may sound a bit stupid," he began, "and I may be stating the obvious…." Say it, he willed himself. It was much easier to say when her eyes were looking right into his. "Hermione, I…." This would be so much easier if my voice stayed in the one key, he thought furiously, sturggling to continue. "I'm really, really…stupid for you."
"Really?" Hermione breathed. Her heart was spinning. She was far too clever not to know what he really meant. "I think we're both stupid," she said, struggling not to laugh. "But you know…that's what being- I mean, that's what we're all about. We're both really, really stupid."
Ron grinned. They laughed, and shared another warm embrace. Ron continued talking into her ear. "I mean it Hermione. All this time we could have just...admitted it. We could have gotten rid of all that stale air between us and…"
"Done this?" Hermione said. She agreed, personally. It was stupid. They were both stupid. To have let it hang in the air for so long, when they could have been in each others arms was ridiculous.
Ron laughed breathlessly as she drew back to look at his face. They both knew what was coming next.
The kiss. It had to be perfect. And god, it was. It was just as warm and wonderful as it had been the night before, but this time, he didn't pull away. He wouldn't have pulled away for the world. He had just admitted to Hermione the depth of his feelings and it was impossibly amazing to kiss her. She pulled her arms around his neck, drawing him closer. Ron slipped his arms down to the small of her back so that it was easier to lean over her, the better to kiss her. She was a good deal shorter than him but he wouldn't have traded her for any girl in the world.
Their kiss deepened- Hermione felt as though her head was filled with fizzy air. Ron's arms encircled her warmly as they slipped down lower to the small of her back. With that support she was able to lean back in his arms. She trusted him completely. It was her first real kiss. (And no, she didn't count the time Rory Smythington snogged her in the playground on her first day of school, or the nervous peck on the lips Viktor Krum had given her after the Yule Ball last year.)
Ron sensed she wanted to break away, so he straightened and loosened his embrace. They were both breathless. Hermione had drawn her hands back from around his neck so that they rested on his chest. She stared up at him with her velvety eyes- she looked (Ron's mouth went dry) almost frightened. "Are you okay?" he said softly, realising his heart was beating a mile a minute as though someone had just given him a fright, too. "I'm sorry- did I do something wrong, I-"
Hermione shook her head. "This is so…stupid." And so saying, she grabbed the collar of his sweater and pulled him down to her. The kiss was much firmer than their first, and as she brought her hands up to slide her arms around his neck, she ran her hands through his hair, trailing gently down his back. Ron lifted her from the ground again, and they kissed in the kitchen with the white sunlight sparkling down on them. It was stupid. (It was love).
Unfortunately, everything abruptly came to and end when George appeared in the kitchen, having just arrived home with Fred and Mr. Weasley, and gave an excited squeal, and yelled over his shoulder. "I knew it! Fred- you owe me six Galleons!"
