((A.N.: A little plot bunny appeared and started jumping up and down on my
head, refusing to go away until I wrote this. Here is the result.
Ron/Hermione, takes place in Book 4, the night of the Yule Ball.))
Hermione Granger couldn't sleep.
She stared at the ceiling until Lavender and Parvati's giggles faded into soft snores, leaving her alone with the night and her thoughts. She sighed quietly. Would he ever understand? He could be so terribly daft at times.
Everybody she talked to was positively convinced that he had feelings for her. Everybody, that is, except for Ron himself, she thought bitterly. He was a total prat, absolutely insufferable, so why did she like him so much?
It's only hormones, she told herself, nothing but a simple chemical imbalance. This will be over in no time.
Unfortunately, try as she might to justify it scientifically, her heart insisted on doing back flips every time he flashed her that trademark Weasley grin. No amount of reasoning could stop her from wanting to touch that fiery red hair, to lose herself in those perfect eyes.
No! Bad thoughts, Hermione, bad! She blushed and glanced nervously around the room, as if afraid that her dorm mates could read her mind.
She heaved a sigh. Apparently, even her anger this evening hadn't helped to get the message through his thick-if gorgeous-head. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and went to sit by the window, leaning her chin in her hands and gazing wistfully out at the night sky.
...........
On the other side of Gryffindor Tower, Ronald Weasley scowled at the same sky.
Girls will never make sense, he decided fiercely. All he had been trying to do was protect her from that child-molesting Bulgarian, and she had blown up in his face. He was sure that any relationship between her and Krum was illegal in several countries. Hermione would know where; he would have to ask her in the morn-he crossed his arms sullenly as he realised that he wouldn't be able to ask Hermione about this particular matter, in the morning or any other time.
Why had she gotten so angry with him? He had merely done what any best friend would do in his situation.
Then why didn't Harry seem to mind? asked the nagging little voice in the back of his head.
Well, he's got a lot on his mind. I mean, being the champion's got to be hard, innit?
But Hermione did look awfully pretty tonight, persisted the voice.
She looked just as pretty as she always does, Ron replied to himself, then turned a brilliant shade of red as he realised what he had just thought.
No! Bad Ron! These are not things to be thinking about your best friend, he reprimanded himself. He just hadn't wanted her to get hurt by that bloody prick of a Quidditch player. Stupid git. Thinks that just because he's famous, he can have any girl he wants. Well, not Hermione! She deserves someone better. Someone like me. No! Bad! He tried desperately, and unsuccessfully, to repress his thoughts.
Resisting the urge to go and bash his head against the wall, Ron flung himself onto his bed and attempted to come to terms with the fact that he was falling for a certain bushy-haired friend of his.
..........
Harry Potter warmed his toes in front of the common room fire and chuckled softly to himself, wondering how long it would take his two best friends to figure out what the rest of the school already knew. Something told him he was in for quite a wait.
Hermione Granger couldn't sleep.
She stared at the ceiling until Lavender and Parvati's giggles faded into soft snores, leaving her alone with the night and her thoughts. She sighed quietly. Would he ever understand? He could be so terribly daft at times.
Everybody she talked to was positively convinced that he had feelings for her. Everybody, that is, except for Ron himself, she thought bitterly. He was a total prat, absolutely insufferable, so why did she like him so much?
It's only hormones, she told herself, nothing but a simple chemical imbalance. This will be over in no time.
Unfortunately, try as she might to justify it scientifically, her heart insisted on doing back flips every time he flashed her that trademark Weasley grin. No amount of reasoning could stop her from wanting to touch that fiery red hair, to lose herself in those perfect eyes.
No! Bad thoughts, Hermione, bad! She blushed and glanced nervously around the room, as if afraid that her dorm mates could read her mind.
She heaved a sigh. Apparently, even her anger this evening hadn't helped to get the message through his thick-if gorgeous-head. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and went to sit by the window, leaning her chin in her hands and gazing wistfully out at the night sky.
...........
On the other side of Gryffindor Tower, Ronald Weasley scowled at the same sky.
Girls will never make sense, he decided fiercely. All he had been trying to do was protect her from that child-molesting Bulgarian, and she had blown up in his face. He was sure that any relationship between her and Krum was illegal in several countries. Hermione would know where; he would have to ask her in the morn-he crossed his arms sullenly as he realised that he wouldn't be able to ask Hermione about this particular matter, in the morning or any other time.
Why had she gotten so angry with him? He had merely done what any best friend would do in his situation.
Then why didn't Harry seem to mind? asked the nagging little voice in the back of his head.
Well, he's got a lot on his mind. I mean, being the champion's got to be hard, innit?
But Hermione did look awfully pretty tonight, persisted the voice.
She looked just as pretty as she always does, Ron replied to himself, then turned a brilliant shade of red as he realised what he had just thought.
No! Bad Ron! These are not things to be thinking about your best friend, he reprimanded himself. He just hadn't wanted her to get hurt by that bloody prick of a Quidditch player. Stupid git. Thinks that just because he's famous, he can have any girl he wants. Well, not Hermione! She deserves someone better. Someone like me. No! Bad! He tried desperately, and unsuccessfully, to repress his thoughts.
Resisting the urge to go and bash his head against the wall, Ron flung himself onto his bed and attempted to come to terms with the fact that he was falling for a certain bushy-haired friend of his.
..........
Harry Potter warmed his toes in front of the common room fire and chuckled softly to himself, wondering how long it would take his two best friends to figure out what the rest of the school already knew. Something told him he was in for quite a wait.