A/N: Wow, for only posting this last night, I got some really great reviews! :o) OK, yes, I've decided to write a second chapter. I don't know if it'll be the end or not. OK. Here we go.
(Oh yes, this shall be in Hermione's POV, starting from when she ran off at breakfast)
Chapter 2
I didn't want to cry. He didn't deserve to have the power to make me cry. I never quite understood why I analyzed (and probably over-analyzed) everything he said or did. In fourth year, when the two of us had had that big row over Viktor, I had gone to bed and, after crying my eyes out for an hour, had gone back in my mind and tried to figure out just what he meant with every word, every action.
It's just that he's so unpredictable, unreasonable, and just plain irrational, that no matter how hard I tried to figure out what he meant, the further the answers seem to become.
At this point, I had found myself in the Gryffindor common room, which was, thankfully, empty, as breakfast was still being served. I walked up to my room and sank down on my bed, willing the tears not to fall.
But they did.
I was rendered helpless for the better part of an hour as everything he had said came running through my mind.
"Sorry, 'Mione…Oh, I just thought 'Mione was…prettier…No, I didn't exactly…but I mean, it is rather long and it always makes me think of Hermy, and..."He must have meant that my name was ugly…and who could blame him? Compared to Lavender's and Parvati's, it was like putting an onion next to a rose.
It only made me angrier that I cared this much. Why, in first year, I had actually cried in a girl's bathroom because Ron had said that I was a nightmare. I didn't even know him back then…
Only well enough to have a crush on him.
Oh, I admit, it was rather ridiculous. So for the first three years, I…sort of ignored it, and hoped it would go away. I honestly thought that it was just a silly little crush and that it would pass.
Then, in fourth year…things changed. Every time I saw him make a fool out of himself whenever Fleur Delacour was around, it made my blood boil. And it wasn't even just because she was a Veela; it was because it was clear to me then that Ron only went for the prettier girls, like Padma Patil. The harder I tried to ignore my feelings for Ron, the stronger they became, until I made that stupid comment about asking me before someone else did, and not as a last resort. Honestly, I was practically throwing it in his face, and he either didn't understand what I was saying to him (unlikely for most, as I was basically telling him I liked him, but Ron is a different story altogether) or he just chose to ignore the insinuation and pretend nothing had happened.
And that's a mostly accurate description of 5th year, and so far, for 6th. Somehow, Ginny had found out, which meant Harry did, but I hoped no one else knew. Of course, this was entirely likely.
And here's the real killer: it's not just a crush anymore. I ignored it, shunned it, and did just about anything to keep it under wraps. But as I watched Ron grow from an awkward, unsure boy to a relaxed, confident man, my feelings grew as well until it was undeniable.
I was in love.
I didn't understand how it could have happened, because I was usually so careful about these sorts of things. I knew that Ron and I weren't right for each other. We were so…different. He was into Quidditch, and I dedicated all of my time to my studies. Some might say that I was too serious, while he liked to have fun. But…it was there. I couldn't
renounce it any longer because I was sure it might kill me if I did.
But even though I had admitted it, admitted that whenever he smiled at me, I found it just a bit harder stand up straight, admitted that his curly, red hair made me want to run my fingers through it, admitted that sometimes, when we were sitting on the couch together in front of the fire, I got this unreasonable urge to lay my head on his shoulder…it all didn't matter. Because he clearly did not feel the same way about me. If he had, he had to have gotten all of the hints I had dropped him over the past 3 years. No. I wouldn't believe what Harry and Ginny kept telling me—they were just putting false hope in my heart. And I did not need more of that.
I might not be able to ignore my feelings, but I knew then that I could never act on them.
A few hours later, I had washed my face and felt somewhat ready to go back downstairs again. Hopefully Ron had gone to Hogsmeade with Harry and Ginny, and I could study in peace.
I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked over to the door, checking to make sure I had everything before opening it—
And suddenly, I was lying flat on my back…with Ron Weasley on top of me.
"Ron," I said through gritted teeth, "what are you doing?"
"I—er—well, I—came up here, to…apologize and…"
"How did you even get up the staircase?" I asked out of curiosity.
"I climbed up the banister after the second time I fell down that slide-thing," he said sheepishly, turning red.
"Oh…" I said, suddenly realizing that we were very, very close indeed. I was looking straight into his crystal-blue eyes, which I discovered was a mistake, as I felt very, very weak then. I could smell soap, the particular scent I had come to associate with Ron. He looked very uncomfortable all of the sudden, and carefully got off of me.
He offered his hand to me, but I shook my head and got up on my own. Merlin only knows what would happen if he held my hand—I'd probably try to kiss him and look like a complete fool.
"So, you came up here to apologize, then?"
*Ron POV*
I gulped and looked at my feet, unable to look at her after what had just happened. I knew that if I hadn't gotten off of her I would have probably kissed her right then and there, and somehow, no matter what Ginny and Harry had said, I couldn't believe Hermione would love a guy like me. I was poor, a troublemaker, and not at all brilliant. How could she love me when Harry Potter was within reach? Sure, apparently now he wasn't available (Mental Note: Give Harry a talk and also inform brothers of Ginny's new boyfriend), but I knew I was no prize.
"Yeah, I…I
did," I muttered. "You know I don't think your name is ugly, don't you,
Hermione?"
She sighed. "I don't know…I'd
probably even agree with you."
Suddenly outraged by the fact that she thought her name was ugly, I found the courage to look her in the eye.
"How could you say that?" I exclaimed. I'm pretty sure this caught her off guard. "Your name…it's…beautiful."
"Ron, you don't have to say that," she said quietly.
All of a sudden, I couldn't bear to see her in pain. It was like I just had to make her see that her name was beautiful. Maybe if I'd stopped to think for a minute, I would have realized that what I wanted to do was to tell Hermione that she was beautiful. But I was caught up in the heat of the moment, and anyway, I was never that adept at realizing my feelings (clearly shown in the story of my life).
Feeling brave enough to stand closer to her, I walked towards her and lifted her chain with my finger so that she was looking at me.
"Hermione…" I murmured. "You're beautiful."
She looked up at me, and I felt this overpowering sense of contentment, like it didn't matter that I wasn't rich, like Harry, or smart, or anything like that. It just felt like it was acceptable to be me.
To her, anyway, and that's really all that mattered.
*Hermione POV*
I stood there, within reach of him. I could have reached up and hugged him, for what he had said.
But I was frozen. I couldn't move. His eyes sort of held me there, and my knees locked.
Unfortunately, I knew I had to break the wonderful, emotion-filled silence. I had to tell Ron…it was now or never, and, now that this had happened, if I didn't tell him I'd go mad.
"Ron…" I said softly. "I have to tell you something."
He looked confused, but followed my lead and sat down beside me on the bed.
I sighed, hoping that I wouldn't ruin my life (and possibly his) with my confession.
"Something happened in fourth year to me that I've kept bottled up inside me for the past few years. It's been torture, really, and I haven't told you, not because I didn't want to, but because I didn't know what you'd say or how you'd react."
"It's about Krum, isn't it?" he said angrily, slamming his fist into his open palm. "I'll kick his bloody—"
"Ron!" I interrupted, getting frustrated already. "It's got nothing to do with Viktor. Will you just listen to me?"
"Sorry," he mumbled.
"Anyway, Harry and Ginny know, and I think it's only fair that you know, too."
He began wringing his hands just slightly, and I knew he was getting nervous. Quite regrettably, I couldn't tell him that it was good news because he might not think of it that way.
"You see…ever since fourth year…I've had…well…feelings…for…"
I trailed off, hardly believing I was about to do this.
"Hermione?" Ron said gently. I turned to look at him. "Are you all right?"
"I'll be fine…in a second," I answered, taking a deep breath.
"Ron, I've had feelings for…well…you."
There. I'd said it.
I glanced at him. He was staring straight ahead, unmoving and, so it looked, unaffected by what he'd just heard.
"Well, I'll…just be going," I said, making to leave, hopefully going to find someplace where I could cry by myself. I'd imagined hurt, and I'd imagined terrible pain, but I don't think I could have ever prepared myself for this.
"Hermione…wait."
I whirled around to find Ron standing right there, an unmistakable emotion in his eyes.
"I…well…I have feelings for you, too," he said, grinning. I swayed and almost fell over, but Ron caught me and I wrapped my arms around his neck.
I would have to remember to thank Harry and Ginny.
