Three
Once we had waved good-bye to Harry, we began heading towards Hogsmeade. Something was in the air that made me even more excited. I had no idea that something like this was going to happen. In fact, I had spent the summer praying for it. I guess I had prayed right.
Anyways, as we walked on, Ron was marveling at everything the stores at Hogsmeade had to offer – Zonko's Joke Shop, which was where Fred and George spent all of their time; Honeyduke's Sweet Shop, whichwas where we spent most of our time; and of course, the Three Broomsticks, where we went later on to get some Butterbeer.
We walked into the small pub and instantly,I smelled cheerful and happy, a drunken smell. It wasn't uncomfortable, but warm and inviting. We went up to the bar and waited for someone to come and serve us. An attractive lady arrived after a few moments and asked, "Welcome to the Three Broomsticks, I'm Madam Rosmerta. What can I get for you?"
Ron stuttered a little before I elbowed him. I could tell that he was falling for her. I hated her for that, but I decided to make a joke out of it, just to piss him off.
"Er, two Butterbeers, please, miss," he stammered.
"Coming right up," she said, and walked off.
After she had gone, I turned to him, smirking broadly and said, "Ooh, Ron, what dirty thoughts are running through your mind right now?"
"What are you talking about Hermione? I'm perfectly fine," he retorted.
"Yeah, sure. I've seen love struck guys before. You're sitting there, your mouth half open, and you can't talk." I reached out and felt his palm. "Yep, you're sweating, too."
"Oh, shut up, Hermione. It's not like your palms haven't ever sweat before," he snapped as she came back with the Butterbeers. If Ron had only felt my palms right then, he would have easily been able to prove himself right.
"Here you go, you two lovebirds," Rosmerta said. I put on my best horrorstruck face.
"What?!" Ron cried.
"No, no, no. You must be mistaken. There is no way I would ever go out with Ronald," I said quickly.
"Sure, whatever you say," she said, sneering. She turned around and walked away, still grinning at our innocence.
"Honestly, how on Earth could she go meddling into our relationships like that? How rude!" For added affect, I muttered under my breath, "Ew!" Ron, however, remained silent.
When we were about to leave, I pulled out my purse to pay for the Butterbeer, but Ron stopped me, by placing his hand on mine.
"It's alright. It's on me," he said, reaching for his money.
My heart still pounding, I said, "Oh, come on, Ron, you don't have to pay for me. It's not like we're dating or anything."
Ron said nothing, but continued to count out the money for the two tankards.
Once we had left the pub and were well out of earshot, I whispered, "Honestly, Ron, you didn't have to pay for the Butterbeer. I can completely handle it myself. Besides, that only further proved that we were going out."
"Just chill out, will you? All I did was pay for a three-sickle Butterbeer! Why does it matter?" he hissed.
"It just does, alright?" I hissed back. I was, of course, inwardly flattered, but he couldn't know that.
"Come on, let's go over here. I have to talk to you for a minute," he said in barely more than a whisper.
"Oh-kay . . ." I trailed off. He grabbed my hand and pulled me over to a small clearing in the forest, so far away that the babble of the wizarding town could barely be heard.
"Alright, let me set something straight. I do not fancy Madam Rosmerta! Sure, she's nice-looking, but it's not like I'd have a chance anyways! I'd have a better chance with someone like . . . someone like you, even!" he said.
"What, are you saying you don't think you have a chance with me? And anyways, do you even want a chance with me?" I asked, sounding a little more excited than I wanted. I knew where this was going – I was just trying to steer it in the right direction.
"No, I didn't say that! I just said . . . that even if I did want a chance, which I don't, it would be easier to get with you than with her, which is saying something!" he stated.
"Well, why would it be hard to get with me in the first place?"
"Because, Hermione, just because. I mean, how do you think our friendship would be affected if Harry found out? He'd feel left out – not that he wants a love trio or anything, but how would you feel if your two best friends were going out with each other? Especially if we started spending a ton of time together.
"And also, there's the Malfoy factor. He hates me as is, because of what my Dad does, and he hates you because you're a Muggle-born. Think about how horrible it would be if he found out about us going out.
"And what if we broke up, especially if it was because it was a fight or something? Things like that will make two people never speak to each other again. What would that do to our friendship? Harry would be caught in the middle of us sitting there, not speaking to each other. He would be the neutral party, and we might even start to hate him because he associates with the other. Don't you get it, Hermione? It just wouldn't work."
I sat there and stared at him for a moment before saying, "Wow, Ron. That sounds like something I would take the time to think out."
"I know – I thought about it a lot," Ron said. Then he slapped his hand to his mouth and murmured, "Shit, I probably shouldn't have said that."
"No, probably not," I replied, hands on my hips. He closed his eyes and muttered something under his breath that sounded like more curses. So I continued, "But don't feel bad. I've thought about it a lot, as well."
He opened his eyes. "What?"
"I've been wrestling with the idea for about a year now, and the thing is, I think you're right. But I can't help but think about you all the time," I said, all very quickly. I was afraid that if I didn't say it all at once, I'd run out of gas.
"You mean . . . you've felt the same way the whole time?" he asked, completely stunned.
"Perhaps a bit longer," I confessed.
"Have you told anyone?" he pursued.
"No."
"Not a soul?"
"None besides my own."
"Why me?"
"Because."
"Because why?"
"Because, alright?" I said, almost screaming. "It's just something about you. It's, like, your quirky cuteness, I dunno. Well, also, I guess it might just be because there's nothing more attractive to someone than something they can't have. And I guess I've known that the whole time, but I've tried to block it out of my mind.
"You've always been there – except for those first few months when you hated me in the First Year – but even then, you came to rescue me when I was about to be clubbed to death. And I mean, Harry's great and all, but he's not my type. I guess that you could say opposites attract, Ron, seeing as we pretty much are opposites."
"I guess you could say that . . ." he said. He took a step closer to me. My heartbeat quickened. He reached out and took my hand. Laughing, he said, "Your palms are sweating."
In that one moment, it was like everything around me had changed. It no longer mattered what the risks were. I no longer cared who saw, or what they thought. I simply stepped closer to him, just as he had done to me, took his hand, and said, "So are yours." And you know what I did then?
I kissed him.
And he was damn good at it. And I was perfectly happy. That is, until I heard the leaves rustle in the trees behind us.
I pulled away from him and snapped my head around to see who it was. "Who's there?" I called. No one answered. No one popped out from behind the trees.
Ron squeezed my hand. Gently, he touched my cheek and turned my head so I was looking back up at him.
"Never you mind, Hermione," he whispered. And so I didn't. Again, I kissed him. And again, he was damn good at it. And again, I was perfectly happy, until I heard more leaves rustling.
"That's it, who's there?" I shouted, making him jump. This time, however, someone did pop out from behind the trees.
"Neville, what are you doing?" Ron yelled.
"I'm sorry!" he said apologetically. "I just heard people yelling earlier, and I came to see who it was, and by the time I got here, you weren't yelling anymore, and you were kissing instead, and . . . wait a second – Hermione? Why were you kissing Ron? Does Harry know about this?"
I ran up to Neville, so quickly that it made him jump, and said, "Listen, Neville." I pointed my wand at his throat, to make myself seem a bit more menacing. "Harry will not hear a word of this, will he?"
"You wouldn't curse me, would you?" he asked, shaking. I felt bad for the kid, so I lowered my wand.
"Of course not, Neville. I just wanted to emphasize the importance of this. But if you let one word of this slip to Harry, I will curse you, got that?" I said.
"Got it," he said, still shaking. "But what I don't understand is why you two were kissing."
At this point, Ron stepped in. "Hmm, let's think on this one. Maybe because we like each other?"
Neville raised his eyebrows, but said, "Alright, I get it. It just seems a bit weird to me. I mean, what happens if Harry finds out?"
"He won't, though," I said, calmly at first. However, at the end, I added menacingly, "Will he?"
"Of c-course n-n-not!" he stuttered. "I'll j-just leave n-now."
"You do that," Ron said with a dissmissave wave of his hand. Neville threw us one last questioning look before turning and sprinting away.
I turned back to Ron. "Did you see his face when you pointed your wand at him?" he asked.
"Yes, and quite frankly, I feel a bit sorry for him. I hope I didn't scare him too much," I said.
"Not too much," he replied. We continued walking towards each other, and when we met in the middle, he wrapped his arms around my waist and said, "Now, where were we?"