DISCLAIMER: I owneth nothing. I owneth only a few books, and a houseplant.
A/N: Chapter Three - The fluffiest bit of fluffy McFluff that was ever fluffed in the fluff filled world. After the '*' it's Ron's PoV.
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"So, how did Hermione react last night?" Harry whispered as quietly he could.
Ginny looked around furtively to make sure no one was listening in. "I think I've convinced her. It wasn't too difficult; I knew how to get to her. And Ron?"
Harry sighed. "He's going to need a little more convincing if you ask me."
Ginny grinned. Harry couldn't help but noticed how pretty her smile was when she smiled - Focus, Harry, he told himself. Ron and Hermione, remember?
"Well, maybe that note I gave you will help," Ginny said. "Anyway, I've got to get to class. Snape will kill me if I'm late." She ran off down the hall, leaving Harry to walk to transfiguration on his own.
Once he reached the classroom, a few people had already arrived. He spotted Hermione, sitting at the front with her nose in a book, something that didn't surprise him in the least. A few minutes after Harry had sat down, Ron walked in and took his seat beside him.
"Here," Harry said, pushing the letter towards Ron, just as Professor McGonagall started the lesson. "It's important." Ron gave him a questioning look, but took the note anyway. It was a while into class before he got the chance to read it. And after he eventually did, it had a greater effect on him than Harry had expected.
*
As I sat in Transfiguration, I came to a conclusion: Harry was right. Even though we're only 15 years old, this bloody war could steal our lives away any day of the week. There may not be a tomorrow for some of us. Yeah, I know, I'm being utterly pessimistic, but it's still the bloody truth.
And that's not even the part that worries me most. What scares me is that I've never told her anything. I've never told her adorable she looks when she's trying to solve a tough problem. I've never told her how angelic she looks when schoolwork catches up to her, and she falls asleep on my shoulder in the Common Room.
I've never told her how much I admire her courage, her honesty, her compassion for anyone and everyone. I've never told her how great a friend she is to Harry and me. I've never told her how much she means to me, both as a friend and, maybe, as more than that.
I've never told her how it cheers me up to hear the sound of her voice. I've never told her how mum always smiles knowingly when I talk about her around the Burrow. I've never told her about the strength she's always given me. I've never told her 'Thank You' for everything she's done for me. I've never told her about the rush I get whenever she's close to me.
I've never told her how much I love her.
And that's what scares me more than anything - even dying. What happens if I never get the chance to tell her how I feel? What if Harry's right about how she feels? And I never get the chance to tell her . . .
There's so much I've wanted to say. Things like, you're beautiful, you're brilliant, caring, kind-hearted, open-minded, resolute, and a hell of a lot more.
I don't really know why I never have. I guess, maybe it's because I'm afraid. Afraid of opening up a big old can of worms, as the Muggle saying goes. Afraid of letting my feelings out, of ruining our friendship, of . . . well, of not having my feelings returned. It's a big risk.
Why am I even thinking about all this in the first place? Well, I guess since Harry's 'talk' last night, it's been bugging the hell out of me. You, know I bet he and Ginny have planned all this. I've seen the looks they've been giving each other lately.
And then, this morning, Harry hands me this parchment, with a message on it. Says it's important. So I read it, at the beginning of class, and it has given me even more to think about.
It read:
"To weep is to risk appearing sentimental. To love is to risk not being loved in return. To believe is to risk failure. But risks must be taken, because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing at all. Those who risk nothing, do nothing, have nothing, are nothing. Without risks, you cannot learn, feel, change, grow, live, love."
I'm telling you, Ginny gave it to him. With all that sappy crap she reads when she thinks no one's looking . . .
Makes no difference where he got it though, it still struck a chord. It got me thinking, and me thinking isn't always a bad thing, you know.
So, I've resolved to tell her. It's a big risk, but I figure it's an even bigger one for her never knowing. Maybe it'll turn out all right, you never know. But I know I'd feel better with her knowing.
So, maybe something will come of all this. Maybe not. But, in either case, I'm going to try.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Read Holes, by Louis Sachar! Way better than this! But I still wouldn't say no to a few reviews!!! ;-) Thanks!
. : * PDT * : .
A/N: Chapter Three - The fluffiest bit of fluffy McFluff that was ever fluffed in the fluff filled world. After the '*' it's Ron's PoV.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"So, how did Hermione react last night?" Harry whispered as quietly he could.
Ginny looked around furtively to make sure no one was listening in. "I think I've convinced her. It wasn't too difficult; I knew how to get to her. And Ron?"
Harry sighed. "He's going to need a little more convincing if you ask me."
Ginny grinned. Harry couldn't help but noticed how pretty her smile was when she smiled - Focus, Harry, he told himself. Ron and Hermione, remember?
"Well, maybe that note I gave you will help," Ginny said. "Anyway, I've got to get to class. Snape will kill me if I'm late." She ran off down the hall, leaving Harry to walk to transfiguration on his own.
Once he reached the classroom, a few people had already arrived. He spotted Hermione, sitting at the front with her nose in a book, something that didn't surprise him in the least. A few minutes after Harry had sat down, Ron walked in and took his seat beside him.
"Here," Harry said, pushing the letter towards Ron, just as Professor McGonagall started the lesson. "It's important." Ron gave him a questioning look, but took the note anyway. It was a while into class before he got the chance to read it. And after he eventually did, it had a greater effect on him than Harry had expected.
*
As I sat in Transfiguration, I came to a conclusion: Harry was right. Even though we're only 15 years old, this bloody war could steal our lives away any day of the week. There may not be a tomorrow for some of us. Yeah, I know, I'm being utterly pessimistic, but it's still the bloody truth.
And that's not even the part that worries me most. What scares me is that I've never told her anything. I've never told her adorable she looks when she's trying to solve a tough problem. I've never told her how angelic she looks when schoolwork catches up to her, and she falls asleep on my shoulder in the Common Room.
I've never told her how much I admire her courage, her honesty, her compassion for anyone and everyone. I've never told her how great a friend she is to Harry and me. I've never told her how much she means to me, both as a friend and, maybe, as more than that.
I've never told her how it cheers me up to hear the sound of her voice. I've never told her how mum always smiles knowingly when I talk about her around the Burrow. I've never told her about the strength she's always given me. I've never told her 'Thank You' for everything she's done for me. I've never told her about the rush I get whenever she's close to me.
I've never told her how much I love her.
And that's what scares me more than anything - even dying. What happens if I never get the chance to tell her how I feel? What if Harry's right about how she feels? And I never get the chance to tell her . . .
There's so much I've wanted to say. Things like, you're beautiful, you're brilliant, caring, kind-hearted, open-minded, resolute, and a hell of a lot more.
I don't really know why I never have. I guess, maybe it's because I'm afraid. Afraid of opening up a big old can of worms, as the Muggle saying goes. Afraid of letting my feelings out, of ruining our friendship, of . . . well, of not having my feelings returned. It's a big risk.
Why am I even thinking about all this in the first place? Well, I guess since Harry's 'talk' last night, it's been bugging the hell out of me. You, know I bet he and Ginny have planned all this. I've seen the looks they've been giving each other lately.
And then, this morning, Harry hands me this parchment, with a message on it. Says it's important. So I read it, at the beginning of class, and it has given me even more to think about.
It read:
"To weep is to risk appearing sentimental. To love is to risk not being loved in return. To believe is to risk failure. But risks must be taken, because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing at all. Those who risk nothing, do nothing, have nothing, are nothing. Without risks, you cannot learn, feel, change, grow, live, love."
I'm telling you, Ginny gave it to him. With all that sappy crap she reads when she thinks no one's looking . . .
Makes no difference where he got it though, it still struck a chord. It got me thinking, and me thinking isn't always a bad thing, you know.
So, I've resolved to tell her. It's a big risk, but I figure it's an even bigger one for her never knowing. Maybe it'll turn out all right, you never know. But I know I'd feel better with her knowing.
So, maybe something will come of all this. Maybe not. But, in either case, I'm going to try.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Read Holes, by Louis Sachar! Way better than this! But I still wouldn't say no to a few reviews!!! ;-) Thanks!
. : * PDT * : .