Rapidly covering more than two years in the HP universe, this is the story of Ron and Hermione's engagement. Not everyone is happy about it. Based on and inspired by the following lines in OotP.
"... And it might have been a good idea to mention how ugly you think I am too," Hermione added as an afterthought.
"But I don't think you're ugly," said Harry, bemused.
And thus, with some slashification in mind, the Ink series was born. Pairings include Ron/Hermione, unrequited-Harry/Ron, and unrequited-Ginny/Hermione. This is set in a bit of an AU, in which the war has been won and everything is lah-dee-dah (which happens in the rapid covering of the more than two years). This is Part One, Harry's side of the story. It's also a bit shorter than the others because, well, frankly, I'm just not that good at writing Harry.
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Afterward, he thinks about what he said to Hermione and wonders if he sounded completely stupid. The look on her face, of course – those brown eyes rolling just a bit, the patient smile on her face that transformed into an immediate, although not mean-spirited laugh – well, he supposes that that look said it all, really. All right, fine, so he did sound completely stupid. He tries not to think about that. Tries not to think about the way Seamus and Dean and even Neville, on occasion, spend their time groaning and sighing and giggling like girls over, well, girls, and how he feels like that part of him must be stunted. He's too busy staying alive for the sake of the wizarding world to worry about girls, and how is he supposed to concentrate on what to do about having a crush on Cho if he's afraid he won't be alive tomorrow to have a crush on her?
Anyway, he meant it, what he said – he certainly doesn't think she's ugly, the same way he doesn't think most of his friends are ugly. Ginny's not ugly. Neville's not ugly, although he could stand to cut back on the bangers and mash at dinner, but he can hardly compete with Dudley, and that's the most important thing, Harry smirks. Dean and Seamus aren't ugly. And Ron – Ron is most definitely not ugly, either.
What does he call Ron, anyway? He would say that Cho is pretty, that he fancies Cho, but he can't say that Ron is pretty, because Ron would deck him if he heard Harry calling him "pretty," and he certainly doesn't fancy him, because you just don't fancy your best mate. What do you say about a boy, a boy with flaming red hair and a nose that's still too long for his face, even after the three growth spurts in the last four years, a boy in hand-me-down robes who can't pick a most prized possession because he has five brothers and one sister and two parents who are all more important than broomsticks and books? Is he handsome? Is he cute? Is he – Harry has no bloody idea, really, and he shoves his star chart across the table and buries his unruly dark head in his hands, because it's impossible to think about stars and planets when you're still working on the definitions of the words "handsome" and "cute."
Sometimes Harry lies in bed late in the mornings, the curtains pushed back to let the morning sunshine stream into the high windows of Gryffindor Tower, watching Ron dress and brush his hair out of his eyes, standing before a full-length walking mirror that he's conjured up from somewhere in the castle. "What d'you think, Harry?" Ron asks, frowning critically at his reflection, which looks slightly taller and thin in the warped old glass. "Do these robes look awful on me? They do, don't they. They make my feet look too big. And my tie – " He frowns, straightening it, a little yank and tug at the place on his neck that looks very soft and white to Harry. "They don't make me look real great at all, do they?"
"I think you look great," Harry replies, looking up from the first volume of Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts, happy to have found a good, general, non-descript word for how he thinks Ron looks. Great – that's a suitable word, isn't it? Maybe not quite enough to say exactly how he feels about his best mate, but close enough …
Ron grins sheepishly and Banishes the mirror back to its usual resting place. "Thanks, Harry, mate. Now, listen, erm – don't tell Hermione I was, you know, using the mirror, okay? She might, uh, she might want to know why I, um, can't do a Banishing charm properly in class."
Harry can't help grinning; Ron's reasoning sounds utterly stupid, and he wonders if he sounded quite that slow talking to Hermione at dinner the other night. But he promises, smiling at Ron, because that's what you do for a best mate; you keep his secrets, and you also keep secrets from him.
Because it is a secret, isn't it, that Harry thinks his best mate is great-looking, that he likes to watch him while he flies on the Quidditch field, that he wonders what Ron's thinking about as Ron drifts off the sleep in the privacy of his own bed at night. It must be a secret that he's strangely jealous when Ron and Hermione finally stop squabbling and start kissing and dating, and that he's not jealous of Ron – he's jealous of Hermione.
It must be a secret because he doesn't know who in the world would understand. Bugger, even he doesn't understand. It doesn't make sense that he should think his best mate is cute, and handsome, and athletic, and wonderful, but somehow the only name that he can manage when he rubs the tip of his thumb over his cock is Ron's. He wonders if Hermione does the same to Ron, if she wraps her fingers around his cock and rubs gently, if Ron sighs her name, if he even thinks about anyone else. He wonders if Hermione puts her hand against Ron's chest when he comes, right over the place where his heart beats below the soft fuzz of red hair, the way he imagines doing.
It's a spring day at the end of their seventh year when Hermione and Ron ask him and Ginny to come into the common room, they've got some news. Harry and Ginny exchange quick, dubious looks and stand dutifully silent when Hermione and Ron tell them that they're getting married in a year and a half, that they've been engaged for two weeks, that they're so excited. Ginny gives him another quick look and then bursts into a spontaneous fit of tears, and Ron and Hermione go to hug her while Harry watches. He's grateful for the distraction, but he feels like there's a huge hole punched in his body where his stomach used to be, and now he wonders what it looked like when Ron pulled his heart from his body and handed it to Hermione.