Lack of Confidence

Disclaimer: the typical stuff – I do not own Harry Potter, thank you very much.

By soul release

Ron Weasley.

A completely normal guy with ruddy hair and blue eyes and a personality so insensitive that it could make one's brain crack. Not exceptionally intelligent in certain areas, including how to decipher a girl's behavior and emotions and the subjects that spread across the magical education. Gets annoying sometimes, making me rant at him endlessly for leaving his homework till the last minute, and as all boys do, cares deeply – I mean, deeply – about Quidditch. Thick- headed, too, but all guys are like that. Basically, he's just a normal guy.

Then why do I have feelings for him?

I've been asking myself this question for two years ever since I knew I liked – I mean, like like - him. I mean, he's got all of these issues and problems that can make my head spin. He's completely unconfident – I mean, he has no self-esteem whatsoever, either that or he has a very unhealthy one. In addition, he can be such a big prat sometimes; he never thinks twice, often making thick-headed or obvious observations or comments, and is prone to irritate others with his exasperating habits. He's so insensitive, juvenile, and …

I glance Ron as he yawns noisily in his chair in front of the Gryffindor common room fire. The fire illuminates his carrot-colored hair and reflects the brilliant azure of his eyes. Shuffling his feat a little, which is another small habit of his, and wrinkling his nose and in the process making the freckles that dust his face even more pronounced, he turns back to his Potions essay – "Describe the uses of dragon heartstring" – that is filled with cross-outs and ink blobs with a quill poised in his hand.

…And perfect…

He's so loyal, faithful, devoted and stubborn – which I am not sure is a good quality, but I admire it anyways. He is passionate; he cares about those who he loves deeply – hopefully, I'm one of them. I admit that he gets jealous sometimes, but that's natural for all human beings. Okay, maybe he isn't positively perfect like a Prince Charming ready to rescue his beloved pulchritudinous Princess in fairy tales such Sleeping Beauty or Snow White – I mean, those are corny and artificial - or particularly handsome or clever, but he's Ron…that's what makes him positively adorable…he's also…

…And he's also my best friend…plus, Harry that is…

I turn back to my Ancient Runes paper but only to find myself unable to concentrate. The ancient scroll writings of Egyptian wizards fade from my mind, and my mind once again dwindles on the thought of Ron.

Best friends aren't supposed to like each other, I keep on thinking darkly; I have been lingering on this thought for the past two years every time my thoughts neared about confessing my feelings for him or when I felt myself staring at him for what seems like the end of eternity. It isn't the fact that I like him that troubles me, but what will happen if he finds out that his best friend is hopelessly in love with him. This is the reason why I keep on questioning myself, why do I like him? And maybe actually realize it was a complete miscalculation in the beginning…and that my Prince Charming is actually someone else.

Consider this: what if he finds out only to find that I like him? It isn't normal for somebody to suddenly discover your best friend staring at you with passion and affection. It could turn awkward – what if he doesn't like me and finds it too awkward to reject me through words? We would no longer be friends because the silence would be too…too unnatural? The sacrifice is just too much…and for that, I cannot tell anyone anything…and what if he does like me but we cannot work it out? The friendship will be ruined because they'll be too much hate that will separate us?

But I want to tell him what I feel. It has been a sort of thing that has been exploding within me for practically ages…I want to tell him that I love him. I admit; I have a secret desperation for him to like me too. Suddenly, I envision myself confessing to him as in one of those cheesy soap operas with tears welling in my eyes. I say very softly, "Because I love you…" and he'll smile back with tears of happiness and embrace me and kiss me and respond with his lovely voice, "I love you too…" just like a fairy tale.

I am thinking absolute nonsense.

Aiehs means shield; mazd means reverse; heeslmk means heal…these translations drift in my head, but none of them are really sinking in. I peer over my translation chart with my focus sliding out fast – all I really can think of is him with his brilliant blue eyes, his cheery smile, and his adamant and clumsy self. My eyes once again settle on him, feeling his warm presence…

There's no way that this'll work…

Hermione, concentrate on more important things such as your homework! You daydreamed four times in class because of this and got imperfect scores too! Stop dwelling on things that you know will never be possible, I told myself harshly.

A tear blotched my ink writing. I found myself crying, first a little then in endless sobs.

For the first time in my life, I feel helpless, not because of homework, not because of this family issue or about a boyfriend breakup, but because I cannot get my feelings straight! I am torn – I want to confess my feelings, the ones that I have kept bottled up for ages, but yet, I cannot do it because the I'll lose a very important friendship…It just all seems so complicated…so complex…my emotions are twisting and twisting into a labyrinth…It's a hopeless situation…being stuck here and not knowing what to do! I hate being so confused…and afraid…

I want to tell him. I want to tell him. I want to tell him how I feel…

My tongue tastes the bitter saltiness of my own tears, and my cheeks are red and wet from the tears cascading down. I feel myself crying hard, feeling a deep sense of regret, confusion, and anger that I haven't felt for years. This is the end, Hermione, you're going to destroy your friendship with Ron, spend the rest of your life moping around, and daydream endlessly about unrealistic fantasies. Yes, I hear a small, sarcastic voice at the back of my head, you've got everything under control, dear…

But I want to tell him. A voice interjects.

Stop it, it's never going to work. Be realistic. Another stronger, more sensible voice speaks.

"Are you alright Hermione? Blimey – why are you crying?" I hear Ron's voice echoing distantly in the background. His turquoise eyes are wide as he peers at my face with an expression of genuine concern on his own face. Through my blurred tears, I see Ron with his freckles dusted on his nose, looking extremely puzzled but yet, incredibly…perfect…I want to tell him…

No, says a even stronger voice, I won't let him find out…

Fighting back the tears that continue to stream, and shoving my books hurriedly into my bag, I escape through the portrait hole, biting my lip and not looking back…

*

That was stupid.

I look at night sky from my place in the balcony; it is a lovely place, particularly when the sky is clear. Thousands of precious night gems twinkle the sky with elegance and brilliance, mirroring and lighting up the darkness. But my thoughts are a long way from the stars.

I shouldn't have cried – I mean, what if he realized something from my dazed look and me staring at him? I nearly told him my feelings…for him…and that could've resulted…something I've feared most…something more disastrous than war…I nearly told him…

I just couldn't keep it in anymore. It was like this twisting sensation that I endured, almost trying to force its way out of me; I felt as if I was going to confess everything I had attempted so hard to conceal. I just suddenly had this false sense of hope that everything was going to work out alright – we'll start dating and going to Hogsmeade like Seamus and Lavender, be boyfriend and girlfriend, be married and have kids.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? That was the stupidest fantasy I have ever had.

But then again, why couldn't have I told him? I mean, he has dropped off some clues, hasn't he? He was envious of me going to the ball with Viktor – or Vicky, so he calls it – and several other events…

He was jealous of Viktor alright – I can recount it perfectly. I walked by Ron, who sat alone throwing dark looks at people everywhere with Padma sitting behind him, annoyed, when Viktor went to get me a nice peach fizz, and he shot me this look of pure venom. And there was this other time when I brought up Viktor, and Ron instantly demanded to know what happened to him with a disgruntled expression plastered on his face. Oh yeah, and I can't exactly forget when he wanted to have the giant squid swallow up Viktor. And this other time when he kept on asking me with a determined face on who I was going with just because I refused him.

Which means…judging from my analysis, he likes me?

No, it can't be true. He might've gotten jealous, but he never, ever dropped any hints of him liking me; maybe he was just jealous that I got to know Viktor better. Basically, he never confessed anything or hinted in any obvious manner of him liking me. Plus, either way, this situation will never work because there are simply too many risks.

Hermione Granger, why in the bloody hell are you thinking about this? You know it's hopeless; you're giving yourself false hope. This is so darn stupid. You should be worrying about more important things, such as homework for instance. I mean, when was the last time you have not daydreamed in class.

But Ron is important; in fact, he is the most important thing in my life…

I want to sit here and cry again, but obviously, to my dismay, it won't help. This is a hopeless case, and I know it, no matter how much I refuse to accept it.

I hear timid footsteps in the background, and instantly, I twirl around to face the trespasser. I subconsciously wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, just in case there are actually tears; then, I feel myself freeze, literally. Staring back at me is a pair of brilliant eyes of deep sapphire.

"Hermione?"

It's Ron.

He looks perfect in the silver moonlight that reflects off his sky blue orbs. His hair is the same as ever – red and fiery – but looks silky so that I desperately want to touch it and ruffle it. For the past seven years that I have known him, his height has reached sky-high – no, just kidding – but tall enough to tower me by five, five or six inches at least. He at least has some muscles now, so he isn't exactly dangling, rangy Ron from the long, long time ago of fifth year. Back then, he was a stick, but now he's perfect. I secretly roll my eyes – how many times have I said that?

"So, what's up?"

I look at him, more like craning my neck to see his face – okay, maybe not craning – trying to look puzzled. But I know what he means. He's catching on to my…feelings for him…

Just tell him how you feel.

I feel scared. Terrified, horrified. How does he know I'm here?

Don't be scared; this is just Ron, you know, the Ron you used to laugh and talk with, your best friend…

I try to breathe calmly, rethinking that thought, but instead, I'm hyperventilating instead.  Oh, simply wonderful, a voice in my head says sarcastically. Seriously, I'm practically jumping up and down, with cold sweat soaking the back of my blouse – I'll need to clean it up later.

"You haven't been acting yourself lately…"

I freeze. What if -?

" I mean, you've been going daydreaming lately. Sometimes, I look into your eyes, and you're completely dazing off. What's with you? It's been practically ages since you've told off Harry and I for leaving our homework till the last minute."

"Well, have you?" I eye him suspiciously.

"Er – no," he replies hastily, looking positively adorable. "Well, that's not the point…"

"The point is, I want to know what's wrong…"

"Well," I answer, stalling for time.

"Well, what?"

I know now that he's determined to understand my dilemma. Part of me is annoyed, positively irritated at the fact that he's forcing me to speak the truth, yet part of me just goes off into a day-dreamy, blissful state, just simply falling more deeply in love with his genuine concern. But either way, I know he'll never, ever be able to understand my situation. Despite all his concern, he's still the typical thickheaded Ronald Weasley who inconsiderably badgered me on my relations with Viktor and is stubbornly overprotective of his sister.

So I stare at him, pursing my lips, which is an old habit of mine.

"You wouldn't understand." I tell him.

But his feet remain firmly planted in the ground, and his expression is stern.

"Try me."

Why can't I tell him? I'll just make everyone involved in this dilemma anonymous.

No, it'll be too obvious.

I struggle with myself for a moment – then, opening my eyes, I've reached a conclusion.

"Well," biting my lip again, I face him, "well, I like this guy." I couldn't help but add emphasis.

Ron gaps at me, but closes his mouth. Is the jealousy I see, such as the many times before? Either way, he nods mutely to allow me continue.

"But he's a good friend of mine…" I speak, a bit lamely.

"So you're afraid that things will go awkward, right?"

Even if he does not understand whom I'm talking about, I'm still astonished with his reply. Perhaps, not so thickheaded after all…

He understands.

"Yes."

Silence.

Suddenly, he turns to me sharply, his expression serious (perfect, too).

"Go for it" are his words.

I gap at him soundlessly. Part of me is amazed at his serious response – trust me, it isn't everyday when Ron Weasley comes up with a brilliant reply – and the other part is bursting with happiness and complete comprehension, drawing up to the fact that he understands. Even if he doesn't know the person I've been crushing on, which is Ron of course, he wants me to tell him. This is perhaps the happiest moment of my entire life, even besides being top grade student in my year at Hogwartz.

"Because if he's really you're friend, he'll understand."

I am speechless; I can feel my heart soaring high.

Forget about awkwardness or the risk of losing friendship because those can be regained if the person you admire is Ron Weasley.

I love him more than ever.

He's perfect.

Less of consciousness, I lean forward…

*

The End

*

This is my first Harry Potter story – so review, pretty please?

I know it's a load of fluff, but I tried my best on trying to make Hermione sound like Hermione.

There's probably a slight problem with the tense. Oh well, I'll change that later.

        - soul release