Ron Weasley was never one to get along easily with people. In fact he rowed with people more than anyone else he knew and usually ended up on the worse end of the battle. Most of his rows occurred with Hermione Granger, the bossy know-it-all who was Head Girl and quite a bookworm.
Maybe that was where all the problems started. After all, Hermione Granger was his best mate. Or one of them, the other position belonging to "The Boy Who Lived". Out of the three she was definitely the smartest and the most determined. She could answer any question even greasy Professor Snape threw at her and she could face even the toughest Manticore with just a swish of the wrist. And yet, Hermione was the one he constantly wasn't getting along with.
It may have been because of the way he felt about her. She wasn't like the other girls that roamed about the school with their cleavage constantly showing or giggling whenever a boy walked by. In fact, Hermione acted less like a girl than anyone with her extremely baggy clothes and simple hair. Maybe that was why he was drawn to fighting with her…or maybe it was just because he fancied her.
Ron had come to the point of agreeing that he fancied her. Harry had brought it up once in a talk over a game of chess, pointing out the way that Ron seeked out rows with her just to see her flustered sometimes. Ron wasn't too sure when he had fallen for his bushy brown haired friend…but he was long down the road by now.
His room wasn't particularly the best place to hide after a vigorous row with Hermione. After all (unlike the girl's dormitory) the boy's was easily accessible to anyone who chose to venture to it. The stairs didn't form a slide and the doors didn't lock. Even the best charms wouldn't keep Hermione from coming up and continuing their argument, yelling at him for being a "righteous prat" and things of the sort.
The knock on the door proved just that as Hermione came barging in, her cheeks crimson from evident anger as she threw herself on the bed opposite Ron, "Honestly Ron must you always run away from our fights?"
"When you look like that…yes Hermione I must." Ron retorted, throwing a pillow at her, "Besides, we weren't having a row. You were just yelling at me because I called Parvarti Patil a nice person."
"That's because she is simply a tart." Hermione said, crinkling her nose, "Do you only think she's nice because she walks around with her shirts half down?"
"That is a fine portion of it." He replied blushing.
"Honestly Ron you have the emotional range of a teaspoon!" She wailed, "You don't know a good girl when you see one." He stared at her, at the way her eyes were fuming over and yet clouded by something else. Was there a twinge of jealousy behind all of that anger? Was Hermione's anger about Parvarti really stemming from somewhere else or was he just imagining that she might possibly…
"Hermione I always see a good girl." He stated shakily, attempting to calm himself down.
"Name one Ronald Bilius Weasley. Name one girl you have EVER noticed that wasn't a complete and utter tart."
"You." Hermione seemed to stop with her jaw open as if she had been ready for a reply, closing it slowly as she realized what it was he had just said. She stared at him a moment before regaining herself and throwing the pillow back at him, hitting him just against the side of his red hair.
"Don't take the mickey out of me Ron."
"I'm not Hermione." He stood and stepped closer to her, his eyes falling to hers as he sat next to her, "You're the one girl that has always been around for me no matter how much of a prat I was or how badly we fought. You were willing to listen to my problems regardless of our past and always lent a shoulder for me to cry on."
"That's because I'm a good friend." She whispered.
"Let me finish. You have the most amazing personality I've ever seen Hermione. You're fun to be around and outgoing and love to speak your mind even when it has the chance of getting you into a whole lot of trouble. Yeah you're bookish and slightly bossy but I love that about you. The one thing I've always admired is your ability to not judge by looks but by character and not judge people by their mistakes but by their actions to fix them. Merlin knows I make mistakes enough and you've always forgiven me."
"Ron…"She started before he grabbed her hand, holding it with his.
"Hermione you're more beautiful than Parvarti could ever be because not only are you literally beautiful, you have the mind and the spirit that make you the best person I have ever met. You, not Parvarti, are the nicest girl I know. I wouldn't love you so much if you weren't."
Ron didn't realize the slip of words until she had pulled her hand away and had grown awfully quiet sitting next to him. He had told her he loved her…really told her…and now she was sitting and refusing to meet his gaze. It was true he supposed, along the way he had fallen in love with the girl, but the silence was horrible and chiseling his heart very slowly.
"Hermione?" He asked cautiously.
"You don't mean that." She whispered to the ground, becoming very interested in her some-what dull trainers, "You don't mean that Ron." His temper rose a bit as he moved to kneel in front of her, his fingers lacing up the sides of her cheeks and resting at the curvature of her neck, just at the base of her ears.
"I meant every word." He said simply, staring into her eyes. He had never realized how delicate they were, like honey drops, and how they filled with emotion and sparkled with tears when her moods changed. His gaze dropped to the bridge of her nose and down to her lips, which were small but dainty. Her tongue danced across them and wet them until they shone, his eyes flickering back and forth between her own and her lips as he sat with his fingers on her face, simply smiling at her.
He wasn't sure who moved first, but the next thing he knew he was growing closer to her face and his eyes were closing on their own accord. His lips barely brushed hers in the faintest of kisses but he could feel his blood boiling as electricity coursed through him. Her fingers wrapped around his neck and into the tufts of hair there as she pulled him into the kiss, pressing her lips more firmly against his. His own arms moved to her waist and played with her back, loving the shivers that were running up and down his own as he felt her skin beneath the thin fabric. Her tongue tentatively reached out to touch his lips and he opened them to allow her tongue to sweep in a taste his mouth. He did the same, loving every bit of her mouth and the fact that it tasted like cinnamon. He moaned inadvertently into her mouth and she pulled away from him, her lips red and swollen.
"Ron…" She breathed, her eyes fluttering closed.
"Hermione I'm sorry…I shouldn't have…" He went to move but she pulled his hand down, stopping him.
"Ron…I just wanted to say…..I love you too." She whispered before pulling him back into an earth shattering kiss that left his knees weak. He kissed her back until they fell against the bed (whose bed Ron still wasn't certain) and kissed for longer than he had ever kissed anyone else in his entire life. The remainder of the night would be spent loving, touching, learning, and becoming something more with each other and in each other's arms.
Ron smiled at his wife who was lying beside him in bed, her arms wrapped around him and her very large belly pressing against him warmly in the cool winter air. She was due in March, only a month away, and Ronald Bilius Weasley would be a father. He would never forget their first kiss that night and all that it led to through the years for the couple. He planned on telling his son or daughter all about their mother and the way they used to bicker and argue and how a simple row had caused a life long commitment of love and devotion.
He would always remind them that love could be found in the most unnatural of places. He would always tell them that their mother, his Hermione, was won over a simple row and a slip of the tongue.