Chapter 7

It was Christmas Eve. The holiday spirit was happily hanging in the air. Things were going so splendidly for some people that it was obvious the season had touched their hearts in some way.

Harry and Ginny had been spending an unusually large amount of time with each other. Ron hadn't realized it before because of all of his Hermione problems. He had his mind on so many other things that it didn't occur to him that his best friend was constantly on his sister's side.

Staring at the large Christmas tree in the common room on Christmas Eve, he was in deep turmoil. Things were not going the way he wanted at all. He had admitted to himself that he was in love with Hermione, now all he had to do was tell that to her. He didn't know how.

He had gotten Harry a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans, Fizzing Whizbees, and a trick scarf from Zonko's that could be bewitched to advertise any saying the wearer wanted.

He had completely spaced when it came to what to get for Hermione.

This was yet another thing he was feeling guilty for. Through all of his immense instability with the Hermione situation, he had overlooked getting her a Christmas present. He had no time to make one, and all he could do was wait for the next night to roll around. He would have to explain to her what had happened, and maybe confessing that he was in love with her would be enough.

"Merry Christmas to me," he whispered, leaning forward and staring into the fire. His eyes were burning from the dry heat of the flames, but he ignored it. He had begun to cry out of desperation in his heart as well as frustration.

Harry clambered into the common room after a long Quidditch talk with Ginny. He stared at his friend and then frowned, sitting next to him. "Ron, what's the matter?"

"I've got a lot on mind is all," he answered half-heartedly.

"Can I take a guess at what you've got on your mind?" Harry asked, looking toward the fire that Ron was so intently gazing into.

"No, because you'll embarrass me by guessing right," he said softly. Harry nodded in agreement and sat back in his chair. "What did you get her for Christmas?"

Ron's cheeks flushed red and Harry knew it wasn't because of the fire. "I… well, um… funny thing…"

"You didn't get her anything?" Harry's eyes popped wide open as he stared at Ron in amazement.

"It didn't cross my mind… I mean… I bought yours weeks ago but I never knew the perfect thing to get Hermione, and now with what's been going on…" he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

"I can understand," Harry said, brushing his messy black hair out of his eyes. "She'd be hard to shop for, in your, um," he coughed, "circumstances."

"Harry, I don't know what I'm going to do," he confided in his friend. "She's always in my thoughts. She's all I think about. I know how I feel about her. Getting it out of my mouth and accepting it is the hard part."

Harry's emerald eyes traveled quickly up to the door of the common room nervously.

"And it's Christmas Eve, one of the most special nights of the year, and here I am, lost in this complete confusion. I don't even have a present for her, for crying out loud!"

Harry sniggered. "I can't believe you forgot her present."

"Hey, shut up!" Ron barked at him.

"I'm just saying… it's odd that you forgot about her present, of all people to forget about. You don't have any idea what to get her?"

Ron bit his lip nervously. "I was thinking about talking to her tomorrow."

"Merry Christmas," Harry muttered, chuckling to himself.

"Shut up," he said again. "I was thinking about telling her something."

"And a Happy New Year," Harry said again through stifled laughter.

Ron leaned over and punched Harry hard in the arm. He only muttered an 'Ow' through his amusement. "I'm serious. What I had to tell her was sacred."

Harry finally understood and stopped laughing. "For Christmas?"

"Yeah. I have nothing to offer her," he said, this time sounding more dejected than he ever had before.

"Well, you have yourself," Harry said uncomfortably.

"What do you mean, myself?"

Harry shifted in his seat uneasily. He obviously wasn't secure talking about Ron and Hermione's possible relationship yet. "Uh… well you uh…" he stammered. Ron watched in a sort of amusement, waiting for an answer. "You… have yourself to give to her in no way you've ever done that before. I mean…" Harry struggled once again for the words. "You love her right?"

Ron's big blue eyes widened in surprise. "What?"

"You love her. Am I right?"

"Uh… well… I don't know… um…" Ron was taken aback that Harry had said it so forcefully.

"It's a simple question, Ron, do you love her or not?"

Ron looked at his hands. It was just hours before when he had admitted to himself that he loved her. Saying it out loud would be a different story.

"It's obvious even if you don't say it," Harry pointed out, finally settling into the chair. "It has been for so long now."

Ron sighed heavily, covering his face with his hands. "I need a break."

"Weasley, you are on break," his friend reminded him.

The red head smiled, staring at the fire again. "I know."

There was a sudden relaxed stillness in the air as the boys said nothing and let the spirit of the room overtake them.

"Where is she, by the way?" Ron asked Harry.

Harry shrugged. "I was sure she was still sleeping a few minutes ago… but I'm not so sure anymore."

"Why?" Ron frowned.

Harry said nothing and pointed behind Ron. Hermione had appeared out of the stairwell. She was fully dressed and Ron gasped for breath. She looked devastating, wearing black pants and a deep purple turtleneck sweater. Her hair was exactly how Ron had always liked it, pulled back into a half ponytail. He stood up instantly.

"I'm awake," she croaked tiredly. It was obvious she had just woken up.

Ron rubbed his sweaty palms on the legs of his trouser and opened his mouth to speak. "Uh… uh… Her-Hermione," he said, stating the obvious.

Hermione, having finally found out what her heart truly wanted her to notice, was more at ease in front of Ron. She had much to tell him, but she wasn't going to talk to him with Harry watching. She had to pick a better time. She didn't want Ron to know she was going to tell him something.

She smiled widely and noticed his nervousness. "Good morning, Ron."

Ron's cheeks blushed a pale shade of pink as he turned to look at Harry quickly. Harry was smirking at him, but encouraged him with his eyes.

"Have you two eaten breakfast yet?" she asked. Now she was starting to become nervous. Ron, for some reason, looked great that morning. Wearing only a deep orange sweater with a dark blue and white checked button up shirt underneath it. He was wearing jean pants and kept nervously scraping his palms along the legs.

"N-No, I haven't," Ron answered before Harry could open his mouth. Harry had not eaten either; he had awaken and gone straight to the Quidditch field to meet Ginny. To answer, Harry only shook his head, enjoying the scene before him immensely.

"All right then," she walked toward the couch where Ron was standing. Her heart thudded inside of her chest. "Shall we go?"

Ron nodded, gulping. Harry stood up obediently as Hermione walked through the portrait hole, leading the way to the Great Hall. Ron stuck faithfully behind.

After having a large and very slow breakfast, the trio made their way back to the common room, talking quietly. They were interrupted by Ginny.

"HARRY! HARRY!" she yelled, holding a stack of papers in the air. "Oh, good morning, Hermione, hey, Ron," she greeted, out of breath. "Harry," she said, shoving the stack of papers at him. "We got it!"

"We got what?" he asked, looking down at the papers in his hands. "This isn't…"

"It is!" she was beaming and Harry's face lit up with joy.

"What?" Ron and Hermione screamed in unison.

Ginny and Harry laughed as he hurriedly browsed through the papers. "It's the order from the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry of Magic. We asked for a request for Quidditch cup badges on our uniforms and new brooms."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a quick, confused glance. "And this is good?"

"Of course!" Harry screamed. "This is fantastic!"

Ginny was on her toes, she was so happy. Harry grabbed her arm suddenly, and with fervor in his eyes she had never noticed before, he shouted, "J, let's go strategize!"

"Lead the way, Wood!"

They both fled the corridor, leaving Ron and Hermione staring at each other absently. There was silence and tension. Ron finally spoke.

"Shall we?" he asked, gesturing toward the library. For the first time in her entire six years at Hogwarts, Hermione grimaced at the mention of the library.

"What do you say we go to the common room? I'm feeling in the mood for chess," she said, giving him a congenial smile.

He looked at her admiringly and followed her lead back up to Gryffindor Tower. They gave their password to the Fat Lady ('kneazle!') and entered through the portrait hole. Hermione settled comfortably into a corner table as Ron went to fetch his chess set.

Should I do it now? Hermione thought suddenly to herself. Should I tell him right now… should I just get it over and done with? Should I wait? I should wait. No, I should stop putting it off and tell him now.

And just as she was contradicting herself, Ron's large feet thudded on the stairs. He had reappeared with the chessboard and was smiling brightly.

He had been in his room, thinking seriously about the way things were going for the two of them. Hermione was being wonderfully pleasant and he was more than willing to comply with whatever she had to say. He would have gone to the ends of the earth just to keep her happy.

And it was when he thought this that he really smiled for the first time all week. An immense weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he still only had one thing left weighing on his conscious.

Tell Hermione.

They set up the chessboard and their pieces, and then began. Within five minutes, Ron obviously had Hermione licked. It never failed to astonish her how good he was at chess. It was almost as if he were one of the chess pieces himself, standing in the middle of the field…

But he had done that already.

"What is it?" Ron asked, seeing Hermione's big goofy grin. He too, had one on his face.

"Nothing," she said, wistfully as she moved a pawn.

"No, come on, tell me." His tone was gentle and soft. Her body tingled with warmth and delight.

She sighed heavily as Ron continued to completely take over the chessboard. "I was thinking about first year."

Ron looked at her, surprised and then smiled himself. "Yeah, that was something."

Hermione only stared ahead at the pawns, and suddenly her thoughts came tumbling out. "You're just so good at chess… You never fail to impress me when we play or when I watch you and Harry play. It makes me think that you truly have the mind of a chess piece. And then I remembered that you kind of did."

Ron gazed up at Hermione lovingly, moving to remove one of her pawns just as she did so as well. Their hands touched for a moment and a spark of electricity shot through their hands. They lifted their eyes slowly to each other and then back down.

"Sometimes I wonder where this concentration goes when you have to apply it to schoolwork as opposed to chess," she laughed.

"Check mate," he whispered and then reset the pieces. "Don't ask. I just don't care as much, I suppose."

Hermione couldn't believe he could be so apathetic. Here was a young man who obviously had passion and intelligence that he didn't feel like applying. He could have been so much more if he had really cared to try. She voiced this to him and he only shrugged.

"It's not really easy when I try and push myself to my 'full potential,' " he stated. "I have three extremely smart older brothers… Fred and George… and then there's Ron. I'm just the youngest boy in the family, not much more."

Hermione's heart fell. That was all he thought of himself? Nothing more than the youngest son? That was it? That was as far as he wanted to push his full potential?

Again, she opened her mouth to speak but was cut off when someone suddenly walked into the common room. It was Ginny.

"Have either of you seen Harry?"

"We thought he was with you," Hermione replied, frowning.

"I lost him," she said, frowning as well. "What are you doing?" she asked, changing her tone to that of excitement and curiosity.

"Knitting scarves," Ron answered, moving one of his pawns cleverly.

Ginny narrowed her eyes at Ron. "Ha, ha."

There was once again quiet. Ron was concentrating on the game, whereas Hermione stared into his face. He was so handsome. She was completely amazed by her own reactions to his changing expressions. His wrinkled forehead, his piercing blue-eyed gaze, his large but soft hand caressing his chin in thought… it all sparked such an unbelievable interest in her that it felt like her senses were suddenly on fire.

He looked up cautiously before moving a pawn. He saw Hermione's large and confident brown eyes staring right at him and as he caught her gaze, she nervously looked away. Smirking to himself, he watched as she focused on what to do next. Strands of her endearingly curly hair were falling onto her soft, pink cheeks. Her bright eyes scanned the board as she tapped her long, thin fingers on the side of the table, holding her head up with the other hand.

Hermione finally looked up to move her pawn and stared straight on into Ron's eyes. He was taken aback at the sheer magnitude of feelings and emotions spilling from them. No matter how much time he had spent hoping she shared the same sentiments as he did, it scared him.

He stood up quickly and fumbled for words to say. "I… uh… Ginny, whatdya say we go look for Harry together?"

Hermione's jaw went slack. Ron turned to her quickly. "Hermione, you want to come?"

She kept her mouth open, intent on bellowing at him for jumping up and wanting to leave her alone in the common room. But she thought better of it, closed her mouth, and nodded.

Ron followed Ginny out of the portrait hole as Hermione slowly ambled behind, arms crossed, staring at her feet as she marched on. Ron continued to look over his shoulder at her and didn't know what to do or say. It was obvious that the pleasant mood they had been in was gone. He had blown it in a flash.

Harry was sitting on the floor in the library, drawing up new, creative Quidditch plays he wanted to try out. He saw Ginny and instantly brightened up. "I was looking for you," he said breathily.

She sprawled out on her stomach in front of the large poster board of a pitch Harry had. "I was looking for you, too."

"I came up with this great new play," he answered as if he were speaking to himself. "See, the Beaters are going to come up from both sides of the opposing Chaser. One's going to hit the Bludger to the farthest Chaser to throw this one off, and then the second one will straggle behind while the Bludger comes back up…"

Harry's ramblings trailed off to Ron and Hermione's ears. Hermione was staring at the back of Ron's red head. It was pointed downward and his hands were now shoved in his pockets. She finally decided that if she wasn't going to be serving any greater purpose, she was leaving.

Hearing Hermione's shoes clicking on the floor as she stormed away, Ron turned around and raced after her.

Catching up to her quicker than he had anticipated, he grabbed her arm gently and neither of them missed how quivers of excitement traveled through their bodies at this gesture. "Hermione," Ron whispered.

"What?" she whispered back, not looking at him.

He pulled her closer in hopes she would look up and he'd be able to say something, anything to her that was on his mind and heart. She still looked away, averting his eyes at all costs.

"Hermione," he whispered again.

She wrenched her arm from his grasp, backing up a couple of steps. "Does it scare you, Ron?"

"Does what scare me?" he asked, almost understanding what she meant.

She rubbed her arms as if trying to keep in some warmth. She looked toward the wall and back up at Ron. Misty tears were lingering in her eyes as she answered.

"New feelings, things you never thought you'd feel in the entire world. Does it scare you?"

After a long moment of silence, he again whispered, "To death."

Hermione said nothing but turned around and headed back to the tower. Ron stepped forward and reached out to her, but didn't follow.

It wasn't until dark that Ron returned to the common room. He had spent all day in the library with Harry and Ginny giving his advice as a spectator on Quidditch tactics. He had only stolen away from them to eat and go talk to Hermione… or at least tried to talk to Hermione. He knocked on the door of the girl's dorm, but she had only screamed, "Go away Ronald Weasley!"

Harry and Ginny were now in the courtyard, practicing some of their new moves as Ron sat alone in a comfortable armchair in front of the fire. He was so entranced in his thoughts that he failed to notice Hermione standing right next to him.

"Ron."

He nearly jumped out of his chair and stared threateningly at her. "What do you think you're doing, trying to scare me to death?"

"No," she said, sitting down on the couch, folding her hands. She looked as if she had something to say. "I wanted to talk to you."

He raised his eyebrows. "I couldn't talk to you about three hours ago and an hour before that and an hour before that, but all of a sudden you want to talk?"

"Yes."

Ron knew better than to try and outwit Hermione. She had him beat in that capacity.

"What do you want to talk about?" he asked with a great heave, staring at the fire.

"Ronald, look at me."

Her voice was so calm that it gave Ron a series of chills that traveled down his spine. It didn't seem like whatever she had to tell him was good.

"What I asked you earlier… does it scare you to have new feelings… I was more or less asking myself the same question. I can answer it the same exact way that you did. I'm scared to death of these new and real feelings I've been having." Ron gulped. "I didn't want you to come in earlier because I was trying to sort everything out. I've been trying to do that for so long that I was on edge constantly."

Ron gave a snorting noise and smirked at Hermione. She in turn did not smile back. He became grim again.

"It only occurred to me why these constant fights have been bothering me so," she then got up and walked over to him. He stood up suddenly and instinctively remained rooted to his spot. She crossed to him; coming closer and closer until he was sure that her eyes were so close he could see right into her soul.

He swallowed hard. "And why is that?"

She didn't know what else to do. She was doing everything she had rehearsed out in her head. She was going to kiss him. Yes. She was going to kiss him.

She couldn't. Staring up at him now it was completely ludicrous to want to do it. He looked scared out of his mind.

"I think that, um," she started, feeling some kind of lump form in her throat. "I think I might be, uh…" she lowered her voice to an almost inaudible hush. "I think I'm in love with you."

Ron had heard her plain as day, and while he was ecstatic to know that he wasn't the only one in on the feelings, it scared him more than ever to hear her actually say it out loud. Which road did he take? Did he confess his undying love to her, telling her that he had been in love with her ever since he had seen her that first year on the train? That even though he had always been rude to her and acted like he couldn't stand her, really he was harboring tense feelings for her? That when he got that first glimpse of her during fourth year at the Yule Ball, he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her? That the only reason he was in such turmoil was because he was just as desperately in love with her as she was with him, if not more?

No.

He backed away from her, his eyes wide. He was too scared to speak. She frowned. "Ron? What's wrong?"

"I… I…" he started but nothing even wanted to come out at this point. She had said it. 'I think I'm in love with you.' Was he dreaming or had she said it out loud to him just now?

"Ron…" she asked, approaching him.

He tripped over chairs to get away from her. She stopped and stared at him, crossing her arms defiantly. She suddenly had regained her spark and he knew what he was in for. He couldn't help but run though. The farther he got away from the statement, the sooner he would realize that he wasn't being crazy. They couldn't be in love with each other… he'd lose her.

"Ron!" she screamed now, and Ron jumped at it. He had turned a disgustingly pale shade. Hermione was appalled. "You are so selfish!"

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

She was enraged. Throwing up her hands and beginning to pace, she screamed, "You're acting so immature. I tell you something that's been just sitting on my mind for so long that it's driving me mad and all you can do is trip and stumble on yourself?" Ron said nothing. "WELL?"

"I can't… I can't answer you… I don't know how…"

"Well, here's a start. 'I'm glad you told me how you feel Hermione, but I'm not in love with you. I don't feel that way about you.' That's a good one."

"I can't say that."

"Why?"

Because I am so in love with you I want to scream. "I can't say that," he repeated, wiping his profusely sweaty palms on his pants.

"Oh, Ron," Hermione said in both an irate and shaky tone. Ron started to feel his heart fall into the pit of his stomach. "I can't go on… I can't just sit back and pretend that I don't have feelings for you and that I haven't had them long enough to know what they are anymore. I was afraid that if I didn't get this all out of the way, I'd just die under the pressure. I expected something back… anything… I didn't get my hopes up, but I tried. That's all that matters… but you tripped over yourself and bumbled… how am I supposed to react to that?"

Ron couldn't find the right words to answer her. "I don't know, Hermione. I understand what you mean by getting it all off of your chest. But I don't understand what you mean when you say you can't go on?"

Hermione stopped in front of the fire and stared at it like she was trying to freeze it. "I've admitted my feelings for you, and I now know that if I don't get any positive outcome, I'm not going to be able to just let the feelings lie."

"W-What are you talking about?" Ron was now very scared.

"You can't be in love with your best friend."

Ron went pale. "What are you saying?"

"Ron," she approached him now and he could see, to his shame, that there were tears spilling in shiny rivers down her cheeks. "I can't just sit in front of you for the rest of my life and know that I'm in love with you and can't have you. I won't do it."

He frowned. "Are you blackmailing me into something?"

Hermione's fury returned. "Excuse me?"

"Are you saying that if I don't respond to this positively you'll just take back our friendship? Six years, Hermione? SIX YEARS! How can you do that? It's not fair!"

"NOT FAIR? NOT FAIR!" Hermione was enraged. She pulled out her wand and pointed it fiercely at Ron. He backed up in shock and fear. "I'll tell you what's not fair, Ronald Weasley! Staying up in my dorm every night while I'm trying to get my homework done but realizing I can't because all I can think about is you. Crying endlessly every single time we get into a fight. Caring about you when you are sick to the point that I've spent hours on the toilet in the lavatory. Walking around with this lingering over my head when I knew in some way, shape, or form, I'd be shot down for it. Carrying an endless fear of admitting my feelings to you and then worrying that if anything were to work out between us, we'd lose it and then I'd lose you. That's not fair, Ronald. After standing here, telling you how much in love with you I am and hearing nothing from you, I'm expected to pick back up the pieces of my shattered heart and act like before? It won't happen."

She let her arm down back to her side and backed up a little. She was crying hard now and as she stared at Ron, a single tear fell from his eye as well. The moment she saw that, she knew that he shared the same feelings… but was too scared to admit it. Yet that was no excuse for the way he was acting.

Ron reached out to her but she backed away disgustedly. "When you have time for me, Weasley, I may or may not be willing to let you into my life."

And with one final look, Hermione fled the common room and went to the dorm. Ron couldn't remember the last time he had cried, but he knew he was in for it tonight.

Walking up the stairs toward the girls' dorm ten minutes later, he pressed his ears to the door and heard muffled sobs on the other side. Hermione was doing it again… crying because of him. How would he ever win?

Feeling tears of his own resurfacing, he put his back up to the wall and slid all the way down, leaning his head on the door and thinking to himself, If only I had one more chance.