Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own anything in this story besides the plot – everything else belongs to the brilliant J K Rowling.
A/N: This is just a fluffy Ron/Hermione shipper written just for kicks; hope you enjoy it, and R/H forever!!
Voices In Their Heads
Chapter One: What's Wrong With Him?
Ron Weasley walked down to the common room alone. It was Sunday morning and, as usual, he hadn't bothered to rise along with his roommates.
As he reached the bottom step he sighted his two best friends, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, sitting together near the fireplace and laughing at a drawing by talented artist and fellow classmate Dean Thomas. The drawing depicted the hated former Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and Headmistress, Dolores Umbridge, being slaughtered by an army of menacing Chocolate Frogs. At the sight of Harry and Hermione laughing together, Ron experienced a rather sudden pang of – was it jealousy? But what reason would he have to be jealous? Unless – no, couldn't be. Shaking off the thought, Ron greeted his friends.
"Morning, Ron," Hermione said, smiling at him. "Are you feeling all right? You look a little bit strange."
"Stranger than he normally does?" grinned Harry, ducking to avoid the Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Bean that Ron flicked at his head.
"I'm fine," insisted Ron, feeling his ears starting to turn red and hastily changing the subject. "What's that?"
He was pointing at an envelope sitting on the arm of Hermione's chair. Hermione at once looked uncomfortable and mumbled, "It's just a letter, nothing important –"
"Who from?" Ron asked quickly, even though he thought he knew the answer.
"Viktor," said Hermione quietly, not looking at Ron. Harry glanced between the two of them, a bemused look on his face.
"Oh. And what did dear Vicky have to say?" Ron asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm and the expression on his face conveying clear loathing of a certain Bulgarian Quidditch player. Hermione glared at him.
"Ron, why does it bother you so much that I'm in contact with him? We're just friends, Ronald. Pen pals. Nothing more. Nothing less."
Ron was somewhat relieved to hear this coming from Hermione's own mouth. At that moment, he realised that something he had been trying to deny in his own mind could not be ignored any longer, something that had almost been blurted from his own mouth after the Yule Ball. He fancied Hermione. He was just going to have to accept it.
Tell her, said the voice in his head, the voice that was always there, nagging him to do the right thing … the voice that, oddly enough, sounded somewhat like Hermione herself.
I can't tell her, another voice said. This one was his own voice, the stubborn one that always argued with the sensible one.
You can't keep going like this, fancying her in secret, nagged the Hermione voice. Besides, what if she fancies you, too?
This was getting ridiculous. He was arguing with his own head, and besides, Hermione would never like Ron any more than she liked Viktor, or Harry. "Shut up," Ron muttered to the voices, unaware that the words had actually left his mouth this time.
"Sorry?" Hermione's voice said, real this time. "What did you say, Ron?"
"W-what? Oh," Ron stuttered, realising he had been ignoring the other two for quite a while. "I said, erm, that's okay, then. I mean, if you're just friends and stuff. I mean, it's not like it would really, erm, matter, if you were more than … I just reckon he's a git, but I mean, it's okay …"
Ron, realising he was beginning to sound like quite a git himself, shut up.
Harry was staring at Ron with a very bewildered grin on his face, wondering what the hell was wrong with him.
Hermione wondered the same thing.