The late afternoon sun of the last day of term smiled in glistening streaks across the gleaming scarlet body of the Hogwarts Express as it pulled into Platform 9¾, a billowing cloud of steam announcing its arrival. As it did so, a certain red-haired Gryffindor fourth-year became considerably more tense than he had been throughout the daylong journey. He knew that the step he was about to take, between now and twenty minutes' time when he'd be leaving the Muggle side of King's Cross for the summer, was risky, dangerous and absolutely crazy. He also knew that this was the fourth time he'd told himself "right, this is it," as the school train was pulling into the station, and yet so far, the task had remained undone. But this time was going to be different. This time there was no way he was going to lose his nerve. This time will, hopefully, be it.
Ron had it all planned out – he'd spent the endless games of Exploding Snap Fred and George had forced him, Hermione and Harry through over the afternoon, thinking it over – he'd catch Hermione on her own – there was no way Harry could be there – tap her on the shoulder and tell her he had something of great importance to tell her. As an introduction, he decided he'd discuss the closeness of their friendship throughout the years, despite all their rows, and how these disputes have changed nothing between them. Then, he'd list several of Hermione's countless wonderful qualities as a build-up and finally get to the peak (and the point), and declare the undying love he'd felt for her since the whole mountain troll fiasco in their first year. He had nothing planned for one of Hermione's several possible reactions - he decided he'd keep his response spontaneous.
Hermione rose elegantly from her seat and swung her schoolbag over her shoulder in her beautiful Hermione Granger way. Ron quickly got up and followed her through the compartment door, over the unconscious hex-marked Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, who were still lying in the corridor, and out into the noisy student-packed platform.
A deep golden-orange sun was slowly sinking behind the hills in the distance, casting a crimson glow over the station, and bouncing in dazzling flashes off the train windows.
"Fred, George, wait a minute!" Harry called the twins, as they made to follow Ron and Hermione out of the compartment.
Glancing through the compartment window, as he helped Hermione heave her trunk off the train and onto the platform, Ron's heart leapt. Harry seemed to be arguing with Fred and George about something, and considering how stubborn all three of them were, they were likely to be a while.
It's just me and her now, Ron thought, feeling delighted and terrified at the same time. Fate's on my side…now's my moment.…...here goes, he added, instantly feeling his insides knot themselves painfully.
"Um, Hermione?" he began, rather quicker and more breathlessly than the organized plan had intended.
Hermione, who was half-kneeling, zipping her schoolbag shut, straightened up to look at him, her eyebrows raised in a mildly quizzical expression.
"Yes, Ron, what can I do for you?"
She doesn't grunt "yeah", like everyone else, Ron suddenly realised…how perfect can you get?
She was most definitely perfect, no question about it. The word "perfect" had been added to every dictionary in the world for her sake only. It was her word. No one and nothing else fulfilled the adjective in its entirety, like she did. If nothing else, she looked perfect – her thick nut-brown hair sweeping in elegant waves around her face and shoulders, falling diagonally across the left rim of her forehead... her deep, understanding, warm eyes the rich colour of creamy milk chocolate… the vague smile that almost permanently lingered on the corners of her soft pink lips, the almost silky smoothness of her skin, free of teenage blemish… her figure (Ron, being a boy after all, couldn't help noticing) was just perfect – not overpowering or violently exaggerated like Fleur's, but rounded, modest and yet still impressive. Her voice was a beautiful tone of soft calmness (apart from when she was screaming herself hoarse at him)…even her clothes (apart from the Hogwarts robes she wore most of the year, in which she succeeded in looking stunning, too) were perfect - her sea-blue T-shirt, her deep purple skirt, the dazzling white of her socks and trainers – none of these were flashy or wild, but just plain, and so…her…as though she wanted to make it perfectly clear that she was not out to impress anyone…and this was all independent of her warm heart, her emotion, her laugh, her caring for all creatures great and small, her intelligence, her gracefulness and her own indescribable Hermione Granger charm, which Ron noticed in everything she did.
"Well, er, Hermione, it's…it's like this," Ron began. "There's…something I need to…something I want to te…something you ought to know," he decided lamely.
So far, the plan gave him a thumb's down for presentation.
"Well, go on, what is it?" Hermione laughed at the difficulty Ron seemed to be having, stringing two words together. Her laugh was short and quick, but it echoed in Ron's heart, emphasizing her perfection.
"Okay, well, you know…you know we're been friends for years," he said, quickly, deciding he should stick to the only plan he had, however corny it suddenly struck him as, "and well, I know we fight a lot, but…"
Ron's mouth remained open, though all that came out was a small choke. He chanced a quick glance at the compartment window, where Harry was still arguing with the twins, then looked back into Hermione's eyes and decided this wasn't working.
"I'm…I'm no good at this sort of thing," he admitted, shaking his head, "so what the heck, skip the intro and everything…I'll just get to the point."
"And what is your point?" Hermione inquired with a playful smile.
"My point…" said Ron slowly, his every nerve tingling with a dread of what he was about to say, "…is… that I lo - "
"You two ready?"
Harry stepped off the train, carrying his luggage and Hedwig's cage. Behind him, Fred and George stuffed something into their trunk as they followed him onto the platform.
"Harry!" said Hermione in mild anger, "Ron was just about to tell me something important!"
Ron's eyes met hers for a second, before he looked away, muttering, "I'll tell you later."
Hermione's pretty face wore an expression of inquisition, almost of longing… longing, Ron hoped, to hear what he had to say.
"Right, let's get this over with," said Harry briskly. "I hate going through the barrier in this direction."
It's okay, Ron thought, trying valiantly to encourage himself, nothing happened. I'll just wait for Harry to get in the Muggles' car, and then I'll tell her. No problem.
The three of them passed through the wrought-iron archway and into Muggle Kings Cross, where the Dursleys and Mrs. Weasley awaited them.
Ron chanced a glance at Hermione while his mother hugged Harry, wondering what she was going to think of him after he makes his move.
"See you, Harry," Ron smiled, clapping Harry on the back as the Dursleys began to leave.
"Bye, Harry!" said Hermione, and did something she'd never done before and…
Ron saw the scene that followed in horrified slow motion. Hermione leaned forward and kissed Harry lightly on the cheek. Absent-mindedly, Ron found himself taking a step or two backwards, away from them.
"What was that for?" Harry asked Hermione when she pulled back, although (Ron noted bitterly) the grin that grew on his face indicated he had no objection whatsoever.
"Women's right, Harry," Hermione smiled. "We have the right to vote, we have the rights to get equal jobs and we have the rights to kiss anyone we want."
"But…why did you?" Harry asked, the smile widening a bit.
"Why do you think?" Hermione replied. "Why does anyone bother kissing anybody?"
"You mean you…?"
"Oh, Harry, wake up!" Hermione snapped playfully. "I love you, okay? (Harry's jaw dropped, as, several yards behind him, did Ron's) " I love your bravery, your caring, your skill, your laughs… I can't help it, that's how I feel about you…"
In the two or three second silence that followed, Harry thought this over- Hermione had just told me that she loves me. She… is in love… with me…Okaaaaaaay, store that in the memory bank, we'll deal with that later – what about my feelings? Well, certainly I've never felt closer to any girl, never shared as much with any other girl, there's no girl I'd trust more, no girl I can relate to as much…in fact, if ever I had to think of anyone to fall in love with, I wouldn't think twice before picking Hermione…Therefore, logically speaking, I must be in love with her…
"Hermione, listen, I've never felt…" Harry began, but Uncle Vernon, fifty metres ahead o them, near the exit, interrupted.
"Hurry up, boy! We're waiting! We haven't got all day!"
Harry glanced at the Dursleys' impatient frowns and looked back at Hermione.
"Look, I don't have time," Harry said quickly, "I can't tell you everything I want to right now, but…"
His voice trailing off, he leaned forward and swiftly kissed her on her lips. Ignoring everyone around her, Hermione deepened the kiss.
Watching the scene from a distance of about a hundred yards to their left, stood Ron, stiller than a statue, his expression completely blank. His eyes were screwed up against the icy early evening winds that whipped his hair and billowed through his sweatshirt, attacking him alone - Hermione and Harry were sheltering each other. Only his eyes told the full story of what was happening inside. The blasts of cold air rent through his clothes, through his body and right into his empty insides. He had no heart left, no stomach, no nerves, everything seemed to have vanished in a very painful rush of sinking and squirming. Only humiliation, self-hatred, stupidity and a vow never to dream again, pulsed through him. He felt like a dead twig, meaningless, ignored and forgotten. He couldn't bear the unimaginable stupidity he felt. How could he have possibly even dreamed of Hermione sharing his love for her? Why would she want to? What did he have to offer? Weasley number six, that's all he was. And Harry's side-kick. Ronald Weasley, Constant Bodyguard Services Ltd. That was him. Nothing. Useless, ugly, pathetic… that's our Ron.
It wasn't until she placed a hand on his shoulder that Ron noticed Ginny standing beside him.
"You okay?" she asked quietly, a slight tremble to her voice, which Ron assumed was associated with the winds.
For moment, Ron didn't answer. Then he sighed and muttered, "Fine. Just fine. I've just lost the person I love most in the world to my best friend."
There was a moment's pause, then Ginny responded.
"So have I."
Surprised, Ron jerked his eyes off Harry and Hermione and glanced at his sister. She, too, was staring unblinkingly at Harry and Hermione, stiller than a rock, with and empty expression to match his, though obvious pain and humiliation was burning visibly in her eyes, too. Her long hair, billowing over her face in the winds, was the only part of her that was moving.
From that moment on, Ron saw her in a completely different light. The curtain of her constant being his baby sister whose age was irrelevant, since baby sisters never grow older, was suddenly whipped off. She'll be going into her fourth year in a couple of months' time, he suddenly realised and, blimey, she'll be fourteen in eleven days! That look in her eyes…she's going through everything I am…she…crikey!… she knows what love is! Poor kid – Hermione's her only friend in the world and she's just stolen Harry! Ginny's got no one…well, not any more, she hasn't. I'm going to be her best friend from now on!
"Come on, Gin," said Ron, putting a comforting arm around her and giving her a one-armed hug. "We don't need them. Let's go home."
And with one last pained glance at their lip-locked friends, the two youngest Weasleys left the station.
A/N More coming, never fear. Please review.