It was just a typical day for Hermione Granger -- as typical as things can be for the Head Girl of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In Transfiguration, McGonagall had praised her for her substantial progress in learning the concepts of human transformation, and had expressed confidence that she might one day successfully become an Animagus. In Potions, her Banishing solution for the removal of superfluous appendages (such as rabbit's ears and tentacles) brought on by multiple hexes was the most potent and effective. In Defense Against the Dark Arts, she almost won against Ron, who was the best student in that subject since fifth year, when they were partnered in a simulated wizard's duel with a Death Eater (she being the "Death Eater"). And in Arithmancy, her equations had just proven that a cure for lycantrophy CAN be developed. It was only at dinnertime that her typical day began to fall apart.
As usual, it was Ron who had saved her a seat at the Gryffindor table. So she had to sit beside him, making her entire body tremble with his nearness. To distract herself, she started cutting up her steak into bite-size pieces. It only made matters worse. He leaned over and started eating the steak she had spent so much time, er, mutilating. She slapped his hand away from her food, causing her hand to come in contact with his skin. Big mistake. Needing another distraction, she reached out for a drink, and ended up taking his goblet of pumpkin juice, on which he had just cast a cooling charm when none of the professors was looking. He took the goblet back from her and drank from it, his lips touching the rim at the exact spot hers had touched. She almost groaned aloud, thinking of what would happen if their lips had touched instead.
Then he started teasing her for staring at him. Great. That was about the hundredth time that week he caught her doing that, and now he was laughing at her for it. So she pretended to laugh back at him for being an arrogant prat, but then, she just couldn't help reaching out to rub off a nearly invisible spot of dirt from his cheek. He teased her again, this time for fussing over him like his mum did, only she was too pretty to be thought of as a fussy mum just yet. Her brain froze. Did he just call her pretty? She looked into his eyes, and knew that he meant it, along with so many other things she couldn't read.
She was just starting to make him explain himself when Sally-Anne Perks sat down beside him and asked him to go with her next Hogsmeade weekend while giggling in a very irritating way. Ron turned to Sally-Anne (whom she called "giggle-head") and gave her what Hermione thought was his best smile. He expressed his regret at not being able to take up giggle-head on her offer, as he was on security duty along with Hermione, Harry, Ginny and the other prefects. The giggle-head then turned to her and gave her what she recognized as a condescending look, which seemed to say that Ron was forced to spend time with a bossy, know-it-all witch like her only because of his duties as Head Boy. Afterwards, Sally-Anne turned back to Ron, saying that she would love it if he'd let her buy him a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks when he was finished with his security duty. Ron good-naturedly replied that they would all probably be required to return to Hogwarts by then, and that they would have to wait and see how the day went before making any definite plans.
During this exchange, Hermione's hand unconsciously tightened around her wand, and she was five seconds away from hexing the giggle-head, when Viktor's eagle owl came flying into the Hall with a letter for her. She was extremely relieved to have an excuse to get up and walk away from Ron, even at the cost of feeling his eyes drilling holes into her back. 'What a prat! He makes me want to hex the girls he smiles at, but he still expects me to feel guilty for wanting to read Viktor's letter,' she thought bitterly.
She went up to her room and opened her window so Viktor's owl could come in and wait for her reply. Sighs and tears escaped her as she read the letter.
Dear Hermione,
Katrina has agreed to marry me! We will be married on the first of June, on her birthday. I don't want to wait any longer-- even the few weeks between now and our wedding day seem endless to me. I asked her yesterday, after reading your last letter for the tenth time. You were right, sometimes simply being honest is the best way to say what is in your heart. I hope you would take your own advice when it comes to dealing with a certain red-haired Quidditch Captain and now Head Boy.
Now that I am getting married, I think it would be all right to confess something to you. You were my first love. I almost admitted it to you that day by the lake, after the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament. I told you I had never met anyone like you before. I wanted to tell you right then that I loved you. But I didn't say the words, because I saw the look on your face when Fleur Delacour kissed Ron. That's when I knew I never had a chance.
Still, I went back to Hogwarts to finish my seventh year there, and to fight for you. But your eyes were on him always. I could have fallen off my broom from a hundred feet up in the air, and it wouldn't matter as much to you than if a Bludger had almost hit him. But when you told me of all the things you shared with him, I understood. He saved you from a mountain troll, sacrificed himself for you in a chess match, threw up slugs for you... I never did. And I never will, now.
I can't bear to know that you are unhappy. I've asked your permission so many times to write to Ron and tell him the truth, but you would never agree. It would have made things so much easier. But you always said it was better for him to recognize his feelings in his own time. You are so patient with him. Will you never get tired of waiting for him? He must wake up one day and realize how lucky he is to have you in his life.
I hope I have not upset you with what I have written. I am overflowing with happiness, and I just want you to be as happy as I am. If it takes strong words to make you reach out for your happiness, then I have done my part as your friend.
Think about what I am going to say to you now -- perhaps it will help you decide what to do. You are near the end of your seventh year, and still you are no closer to Ron than you were in your first year. Will you just part ways with him and leave him unaware of your love? I have already said this to you countless times, and I will say it yet again: from what I have seen of him and from what you have told me, I am certain he loves you deeply. But something holds him back from telling you this. You have tried to find out what that is. Perhaps it is as you have guessed: he feels unworthy of you. If that is so, then you must let him know that it is not true. You would probably think you don't know how to tell him that. If you cannot say it, then you must show him. Do not let the lack of words stop you from letting him know how you feel. It will not be too late if you act now.
I hope that in your next letter you will tell me you have followed my advice, as well as your own to me. Wish me joy, my dear Hermione, as I wish for you Ron Weasley's love and a life filled with happiness.
Always,
Viktor
She looked out of her window, which commanded a view of the lake and a portion of the Quidditch field in the distance. She took a deep breath, sat down at her desk and started to write her reply.
Dear Viktor,
I'm so happy for you! I know Katrina will give you everything you'll ever need. You two were made for each other. I felt it in the way you wrote about her. I wish I could be there to watch you exchange vows. You'll send me some photographs, won't you? I was looking at the ones you sent me before, and I must say, she is very beautiful. And the look in her eyes -- she loves you so much. But what I like best is the way you look at her -- she is your angel, isn't she? I'm glad you found her.
Oh, Viktor, I don't know what to say about your... confession. Please know that I never meant to hurt you. I didn't know the depth of your feelings then. But even if I did, we both know I couldn't love you in the same way. We met three years too late. Maybe if I had met you before I knew Ron... but this isn't the time to dwell on what might have been.
As for the rest of your letter: you're right. I should do something about it. I've never been one to just sit by and let things happen. It's just that... I don't want to lose him. If I told him how much I loved him, and things don't work out between us, I could lose his friendship, too. And if I did, my life would never be the same. It would be flat, dull and cheerless. For years, I have tried to figure out what to do. I've even used Arithmancy to help me solve this problem, but all that comes out is an endless string of numbers that doesn't mean anything.
He told me just before your letter came that I was pretty. I looked at him and I knew he meant it. I also knew he meant so much more than what he was telling me, and I was trying to make him tell me more, but then a girl from our year came up to him and started flirting with him. I would have done something stupid if your letter hadn't come right then. I knew he was jealous when I stood up and left him so I can read your letter, but I didn't care. I was jealous first. He stops to talk with the girls who flirt with him. He talks to them calmly and civilly, while he shouts at me and calls me barking mad or a know-it-all. Sometimes I just want to hex him so he'll have warts on his nose, and then no girl would want him... no girl except me. But then, I remember -- he talks civilly with other girls, but never goes out with them. He shouts at me, but he holds me in his arms.
Maybe I will follow your advice. I will let you know soon. I wish you all the joy your heart can hold, now and always.
Love from,
Hermione
She gave her reply to Viktor's owl and watched as it flew off. Viktor's letter hit her hard. She felt the truth of every word he had written about her. She also knew she would be losing a confidante. She couldn't intrude into his and Katrina's happiness by continuing to confide in him her heartache over Ron. That had been the reason why they had been steadily writing to each other for nearly three years. She just couldn't tell Harry or Ginny all the things she felt about Ron -- she felt too uncomfortable exposing her deepest feelings to people who knew them both well. Viktor had been helpful and sympathetic to her, and in turn, she encouraged him to write about his troubles to her. Over the years, they had forged a strong friendship. But it was only now that she realized the price he had to pay to be able to have that friendship.
It was unfair that Ron continued to be jealous of Viktor. And yet, what could she do about it, short of letting Ron read Viktor's letters? She had tried every way she knew to convince Ron that Viktor was just her friend, but to no avail. She should have been flattered, even happy, that Ron felt something for her, enough to make him hostile to any man who was close to her. But his jealousy gave her no satisfaction, mainly because of his silence and inaction, which in turn fed her doubt. Since Ron never said anything about caring for her more than as a friend, even in his worst bouts of jealousy, she questioned whether he really did feel anything for her other than friendship. She would have been overjoyed even if he did something stupid, anything at all, she wouldn't be so (as he said) fussy about it -- as long as he showed her he loved her. But what she got did not satisfy her. In fact his behaviour, annoyingly quarrelsome one minute and distractingly sweet the next, fueled her doubt even more. There were days when she was positive he loved her. But there were nights when she would just start to cry because she was sure he could never love her. So she continued writing to Viktor, and Viktor promptly replied, which fueled the vicious cycle.
She had to admit, her relationship with Ron became more complicated starting from the summer before their fifth year, probably due to what she had done. She remembered confiding to her mum that she was confused about what was going on between her and Ron. Her mum had listened carefully to her, making sympathetic noises about the argument Harry and Ron had had over Harry's becoming a champion at the Triwizard Tournament, and how she had to act as their go-between for what seemed like an eternity. Her mum had even smiled and nodded wisely over the fiasco about who went with whom to the Yule Ball, and the argument she and Ron had had afterwards. But then, her mum had stunned her by asking, "what do you think it means, dear?" How in the world was she supposed to know what it meant? Oh, who was she kidding? She knew exactly what it meant, on her part at least, but was too scared to admit it to her mum. But then again, she was never one to jump to rash conclusions (like Ron did) about anything. So she decided the best way to handle things was to, well, conduct a certain experiment. If the results tallied with what she was anticipating, then she'd know for sure, right? Oh, well. Whoever said those words about the best-laid plans of mice and men going awry (or straight to hell, she would have to look up the exact wording later) was a genius, after all.
She also remembered, with a blush, how she would go sunbathing in their backyard everyday after that fateful talk with her mum, just to give him the impression that she'd gone on a wonderful European vacation, when all the while her parents had preferred to stay at home and spend as much time as they could together. It was part of her plan then to smile mysteriously every time he asked whether she'd gone to Bulgaria, to torture him out of his mind. Then she and her mum had bought that gorgeous sundress so she could display her new tan when she went to the Burrow. She had even planned on arriving earlier than the time she was expected, just to catch him unprepared and laugh at him as he stared and stuttered. What she did not anticipate was that he had been degnoming the garden all morning, and was shirtless and thoroughly sweaty by the time she arrived. She took one look at him, standing there all dirty and flushed and disheveled, displaying skin and, er, body parts, she had never seen before, and promptly forgot to breathe. She knew that if she even attempted to hug him or say anything more than "hi, Ron" to him, she would make a fool of herself. So she tried to cover up the awkwardness she felt by ignoring him all day. But then, her eyes betrayed her. They would wander over to him when she was sure he wasn't looking at her. She couldn't help it, really. He looked so cute, all bewildered and frustrated and mystified by the change in her behaviour. He seemed to be on the verge of exploding whenever she spoke to him as if he was merely a casual acquaintance, instead of the best friend at whose invitation she was staying at the Burrow. She decided that she thoroughly enjoyed the sight of Ron squirming and seething because of her, so she acted that way with him for the rest of the summer until they arrived at Hogwarts again.
But there was one time during that summer when she lost her head. She noticed that whenever he got fed up with the way she treated him, he would go off with his schoolbooks, sit under the trees in the backyard, read for a while, and then fall asleep. Aunt Molly, missing him at dinnertime one evening, had asked her to look for him. She found him, not under the tree where he usually sat and read, but in the deep shade of the farthest tree from the house, hidden from view by the bushes. A sixth-year schoolbook in Defense Against the Dark Arts lay open beside his sleeping form. Curled up beside him, and also asleep, was Crookshanks. Even in the twilight, she saw how Ron slept so peacefully and looked so... so... adorable with his long, auburn eyelashes that seemed to flutter lightly with the breeze and his hair all tousled, just begging to be touched. Before she could stop herself, she had reached out and smoothed his hair back into place. She was shocked at how soft and velvety his hair felt under her fingers. She remembered thinking how content she would have been just sitting there under the stars all night, and stroking his hair until the sun came up. But then Crookshanks woke up and started to purr loudly, making him stir and finally wake up. So she had no choice but to tell him dinner was ready and walk back inside the house, barely speaking two words to him.
She sighed and looked at her watch. She had two hours before she was forced to go back down and face him to go on their nightly inspection. Time enough for her to look back and discover where she had gone wrong, and how events had brought her to this point in her relationship (or lack thereof) with Ron.