CHAPTER FOUR

"And I'm too young and too old. Too old to know that fears don't have to really exist, and too young not to be tormented by them…"
Richard Harris, CAMELOT

AN: All right. The "Ron's Real Feelings" burble has changed so it's more plausible. I'm trying to make this as in character as possible and I know none of you are going to accept Ron's shyness lying down. So here's what I want you to consider when you're reading this: Ron is uncomfortable around girls, especially pretty girls or girls he feels strongly about (think of how he dealt with Fleur Delcaour.) Imagine you're Ron, and suddenly you're falling in love, and it's the scariest thing that's ever happened to you because you have never felt like this before. What would you do? Embrace with a smile on your face and a song in your heart? Pfft. Not if you were someone as bumbling as Ron, who, let's face it, is not in the running to be the next James Bond. (Anyway, whoever heard of a ginger haired James Bond?) The point is, before the Botox face lift of this story, I got a lot of reviews complaining that Ron is being an ass. He's not, he just scared.
Also, it's two am and I really need sleep, so if the above spiel (which I'll probably re write in the morning) sounds bitchy, it's because I have about six assignments up my ass. I love you all, really. When I'm not tired.

Ron still didn't feel quite calm by the time they reached school. He kept seeing the picture in his mind- of Malfoy, twisting Hermione's wrist around until it must have hurt like hell, and Hermione's shocked face, staring up at Malfoy. It made him feel sick. What Malfoy had done was violation. It was abuse! Ron could admit readily there were times when the gentlemanly conduct he had been brought up with escaped him, but not even he had gone so far as to hurt a girl. It just wasn't done. He spent most of the train journey wishing Harry and Hermione hadn't held him back. This time, Malfoy had gone too far. To violate a girl- and not just any girl, his girl, Hermione- it made Ron see RED.

"I can't take this," he found himself muttering as the train pulled into the station at Hogsmeade. "Nope, I can't take it."

Hermione put a hand on his wildly jigging leg in an effort to soothe him. Ron wished she wouldn't, because it had the opposite effect. "Oh come on!" he snapped, leaping to his feet and beginning to pace. "How can you let me let him get away with this. It's just not- I mean- he's gone too far!"

"Ron," she said quietly, "He didn't hurt me. The fact that you care this much is enough."

Harry, who had been staring out the window, holding Crookshanks the cat on his lap, turned quickly to look at them with a grin. "You're taking it pretty well."

"You would too if you knew he cared this much about you," Hermione laughed, taking Ron's hand. Her own hand was soft and tiny inside his large one, and he meekly sat down again, feeling a bit stupid. But Hermione tended to do that to him as well- she could very easily crush him with one or two well chosen words or a raised eyebrow. She could make him feel about three inches tall.

"Go on then," Harry said, "would you stick up for me if Malfoy grabbed my wrist?"

"I'd be worried if you couldn't stand up for yourself," Ron answered. Calm down, he forced himself. He managed to take a deep breath and force down his fury, but it was hard when Hermione's hand was on his leg as it was. It was hard to feel calm when his heart beat faster at her touch.

"Why would I want to stand up for myself when I've got big strong Ron Weasley to protect me- or do your services only extend to beautiful girls?" He shrugged when Hermione punched him in the arm. "I'm just being honest."

Ron's ears felt hot as old entrenched fears stirred in his heart. Oh, he knew Harry and Hermione would never betray him- the thought had never even crossed his mind- but ever since they had become friends, Harry and Hermione had always had something Ron could never quite catch. They had a mature, grown up, neutral- healthy- relationship. In comparison, Ron felt as though his relationship with Hermione was a small nuclear device. He grunted in answer to Harry's question, feeling decidedly put out. In the corner of his eye, he could see Harry and Hermione exchange their oh-he's-in-one-of-those-moods glance.

"Hey," said Harry, to break the silence, with a sparkle in his eyes that was distinctly reminiscent of Dumbledore, "speaking of protectors- or lack thereof, maybe-guess what I heard when I went to the bathroom?"

"What?" said Ron and Hermione in unison.

"Crabbe and Goyle failed their exams- they're not coming back to Hogwarts!"

"What?!"

"Are you sure?' said Hermione. "Who did you hear it from?"

"Pansy Parkinson," said Harry. "She was yelling it at Malfoy and the compartment door was open. The whole corridor would have heard."

"Pansy was yelling at Malfoy?" repeated Hermione gleefully. "That makes a change from kissing his arse!"

"Hermione!" Ron cried, shocked, even though Harry laughed. It wasn't like Hermione to swear or be malicious- especially in the same sentence. "You think they're broken up, Harry?"

"If they were going out in the first place, certainly, she was very angry…." said Harry. He paused to stroke Crookshanks behind the ears and then thoughtfully continued. "So I suppose Draco- by the sounds of it- doesn't have his friends or his girlfriend any more."

"Or his status, or his power, or his wealth from what I've heard," Hermione put in.

"Or his scruples, or his dignity," muttered Ron.

"But then, he never had those," Hermione reminded him. "So I guess that all Draco has left going for him are his looks." Something very nasty squirmed in Ron's stomach while Harry did an imitation of someone throwing up.

"Oh, please, Hermione, I thought you had better taste- at least, until you started going out with Ron."

"Ah, ha, ha," Ron said sarcastically, throwing his shoe at Harry's head. It missed and bounced off the window, hitting Crookshanks in the head instead. There was a momentary distraction in the following brouhaha which involved Crookshanks's claws and certain sensitive parts of Harry's lower body- needless to say, Harry wished Ron had waited until Crookshanks had left his lap before hitting the cat with a shoe. But Ron still felt something in his stomach that was not to be ignored, and would not go away as they grabbed their trunks from the overheads compartments and boarded the horseless carriages that would take them to Hogwarts. "Looks like rain," Harry remarked, noting the clouds that had crept up on the sun. "Okay," Harry said, grinning at Hermione once they were in a carriage. "You don't really think Draco Malfoy is handsome, do you?"

"He is…tolerable, I suppose," Hermione answered thoughtfully. "But, any attractiveness he might harbour is immediately cancelled out by his hideous personality."

"Hideous!" repeated Ron gratefully, "you think he's hideous?"

"Of course I do," Hermione answered, giving his hand a squeeze. Ron felt guilty for a moment- had she sensed his doom-laden feeling? In any case, it felt better now, and he held onto her hand tightly as they walked into the Great Hall together. When he spotted Draco Malfoy giving them a frosty gaze, he put his arm around her shoulders protectively. Hermione gave him a surprised smile and responded gratefully, by cosying into his side. Ron's heart gave a little shudder.

It was times like these he thought that maybe he should let her in on his little secret.

Hermione didn't know it, and he himself hadn't known it until she came to stay at the Burrow, but Ron was in love. Smitten, head over heels, fallen so deep he was up to his ears in it. Not even he knew the extent of how much he loved her- but he knew it was far beyond any comprehensible reach. Of course he knew he loved her- he always had, they were best friends, after all. And he knew that she loved him. But this was different, this was something very real, very tangible, and very terrifying.

Of course you have to remember that Ron was only sixteen years old, barely a young adult; not only that, he was a boy. He was an earnest young lover but feeling the way he did just made him terrified. Was it really normal to think of her so constantly? He fancied the way he felt was the equivalent to flying as high as he possibly could into the air on a broomstick that had no bristles and no way of landing. Despite all the adventures and near death experience he had had in his sixteen years, he felt this one was scariest. But it wasn't so much the way he felt that was scary- it was the way she felt.

Far too often were the times when he thought that she would much rather they'd stayed just friends. Far too often were the times when he would lose sleep worrying, thinking, analysing. It was strange- until he and Hermione had started dating- if he could even use that word- he had never thought twice about anything he said to her.

But now everything meant more. Everything was loaded with innuendoes and the air between them was thick with unspoken words. He was more honest with Hermione than he was with anyone else he knew- he had told her things that he had never pictured himself uttering aloud. And yet he couldn't tell her this. Not as long as there was any doubt in his mind as to her own feelings. There were times- like right then- when she seemed to want to touch him- to hold him and kiss him and hold his hand and let everyone know he was hers. Those were the moments when Ron was most inclined to draw away- for fear of confusion, rejection, anything. It was ridiculous. She was his best friend in the whole world and he was terrified of her. Any day now, he was likely to let it slip and then everything would be blown to pieces. He knew without a doubt that Hermione would be scared off by his intense feelings.

And he compared their relationship to a small nuclear device? Hah. Try hydrogen bomb.

*

"Miss Granger! Master Malfoy!" was the delighted exclamation that heralded their first Arthmancy lesson of the year. Hermione looked up, surprised. Professor Vector was standing over her desk, with the gleeful expression that only Arithmancy seemed to conjure up on her face. "You'll never guess what!"

"What?" came the disinterested drawl of Draco Malfoy to Hermione's right. Hermione looked over. She'd been so preoccupied when she'd wandered into the Arithmancy classroom that she hadn't realised she'd chosen a seat right next to him. An involuntary groan escaped her, and Draco's bright blue gaze immediately turned onto her face. Hermione just rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. It would be an inconvenience to have to sit next to him all year, that was all. Just an inconvenience. Don't let him get to you.

"What is it, professor?" she said brightly, turning back to her second favourite teacher.

"You'll never guess it, Miss Granger, but for once you have been matched mark for mark!" Professor vector continued excitedly, waving a piece of parchment in each hand.

"I wouldn't have guessed," murmured Hermione, not especially liking where the professor's excited announcement was leading.

"But you'll be happy to know," Professor Vector continued, laying a piece of parchment down in front of each of them, "that the marks you both got were the highest marks I have ever had the pleasure to- well, mark!" She gave a delighted laugh. "Well done, both of you! Now, I'll just get the lesson started." Because the Arithmancy class was so small, Professor Vector liked to keep her lectures informal and involved. In fact, including Hermione and Draco, there were only eleven Arithmancy students in sixth year, most of whom had already filed in and taken their seats by this point.

Hermione picked up the paper she had just been given, which was filled with an unfamiliar, elegant handwriting. The name at the top of the page read "Draco Malfoy"- and the mark read "350 percent". Three hundred and fifty was the highest mark you could get for an OWL and it was the mark Hermione had gotten for her Arithmancy exam. If the parchment she was reading wasn't part of her imagination- Draco, too had gotten 350. She turned quickly to glance at him- rather unfortunately at the same time he turned to look at her. She looked away again, back to his exam. His answers (though it cost her a lot to admit it, even to herself) really were rather good. Certainly nothing like she would expect from Draco, whose marks were never spectacular and whose only real acclaim within the school came from his family name- and, sometimes, a rather good performance in Quidditch. I wouldn't have given this three-fifty though, Hermione thought scornfully. She felt his gaze on her and she turned to face him uninhibited.

"Well done," she said coolly, passing him his exam.

"And to you," came the flat reply. He slid the piece of paper over to her on the desk, and she had just put her hand on it to slide it back over her way when he tapped her fingers with his, prompting her to pull away. "I liked this answer," he said, pointing to number six. "Really clever," he added, after a pause.

There was something in his voice that made Hermione turn her head. She knew the tone but she was afraid to think it. Wasn't it…wasn't it…Admiration? From Draco? It was. She swallowed. "I liked your number eight, actually. I found that one difficult, and…" she trailed off, realising what she'd just done, which was admit a failing to Draco, which was a cardinal sin. But then, Draco did something completely and utterly unbelievable.

He said, "So did I, actually."

Hermione turned to stare at him with her mouth hanging open. It was unheard of. Draco had just admitted that he had actually had trouble with something. He was accepting her compliment with modesty and grace, and none of his usual smug character. But before Hermione could decide whether or not she was dreaming, he had shoved her paper towards her in his usual ungracious manner and turned to stare at the front of the classroom with a sulky expression.

"So sorry my slimy Mudblood hands are in the same atmosphere as yours," she murmured out of the side of her mouth. "If you don't like it you can move. Preferably to another planet."

"Actually, Granger, I was just wondering if you have some sort of alarm system hooked up to you," Draco said softly, "I mean, if I so much as breathe near you, Weasley will come running, won't he?"

"Actually, Malfoy," Hermione said mockingly, trying to keep her voice as quiet as possible, "while Ron objects to you breathing in general, I'm sure the reason he came running yesterday- if that is indeed the incident to which you are referring- was because you were physically abusing me. He'd do the same for any girl who was being physically abused by you."

"Physically abused…" Draco repeated in a disdainful mutter. "Face it Granger, Weasley just doesn't like other boys so much as looking at you. I mean- he doesn't even like Potter being too close to you."

"Oh!" Hermione said sarcastically, and rather too loudly. Professor Vector paused in what she was saying.

"Is there something wrong, Hermione?"

"No Professor, I just…dropped my quill. Carry on." Hermione ducked gratefully under the desk for as few moment to hide her blush. The problem with having a smaller class was that exposure to the other students was extremely personal and painful. It looked as thought things were going to get quite painful, actually, if she had to sit next to Draco all year. She sat up straight again with a burst of confidence. "Oh, so now you know everything about Ron and Harry and I, do you?"

"Only as much as anyone else who isn't blind can see," Draco said. Hermione hadn't been looking at him but the extremely amused to tone his voice prompted her to turn and stare at him. he was smirking at her. Hermione stared.

He's just trying to get a rise out of you. Don't let him get to you…

"You're pathetic," she said, turning back to the front of the classroom, making it clear that the conversation was over.

"I'd rather be pathetic than in denial. You must know that you're going out with a complete prat."

Don't let him get to you! Hermione's mouth opened in an angry response as a push of fury leapt up her throat. She quickly shut her mouth and turned away again, gritting her teeth.

"Can't defend him, eh?"

Hermione gave a shudder of anger. "Just leave me alone, Malfoy." Yes, good. You know that he's only doing this to get to you.

"I wouldn't dream of physically abusing you, if that's what you're worried about, Granger."

"I'm not worried," she snapped, "I just want you to leave me alone!" He laughed, and she turned once again to glare at him. Not a trace of malice was on his usually spiteful pale face. He just grinned at her. And it was, she realised with a start, the first time she had ever seen him grin so…happily? Properly? What was the right word…intimately?

Curious, she thought, the difference it can make to a person's face…when he smiles…

"What's so funny?"

"You. You're bothered." He put his finger to his lips as she opened her mouth to protest. "Shhhh."

Hermione looked to her right to receive a glare from a classmate trying to listen to professor Vector's lecture. This is stupid, she realised, I'm letting Malfoy distract me form what's important. I can't let him get to me like this. But despite a renewal of her vow to concentrate rather than listen to his poisonous words, she would remember what he whispered to her next for a long time.

"But perhaps…" he said, "not bothered enough."