A/N: Don't shoot me, I was bored again. This one-shot is from Ron's POV. My first POV fan fic. I don't like, you probably won't either, it's cheesy and stupid. Kay. Uhm, enjoy?

I've been considering asking her if she has considerd therapy for her bossiness. But I figured I'd spare Harry, and save that row for a later date. She's been snapping at me more and more these days.

I half wonder if it's because of some womanly problems. We're in our sixth year. You'd think, by now, Hermione would show a little gratitude, and treat me like an intelligent human being, and not an all out prat.

There are a few good aspects to her though. Like, whenever I need help with homework, I can smile my Weasley smile, and she falls victim to me immediately. She's actually quite cute when she's explaining things, or working on some elaborate essay.

But then again, the way she always picks a fight with me.

"Hermione-" I say to her a bit sternly, " are you still making those riddiculous knitted hats? They look more like oven mits to me."

She rounds on me, "They are certinaly not riddiculous! And what would you know about knitting? I suppose you've taken it in as a hobby?"

I sigh, and we argue for another ten minutes until Harry finally gets sick of it, and yells at the both of us to shut up, or take it somewhere else.

I plead that it was all Hermione's fault, and that if she weren't such a bossy know-it-all, the argument would've never started in the first place.

Hermione gives me her best, say-one-more-thing-about-me-and-I'll-never-help-you-with-your-homework-again, look and I immediately stop speaking.

So, we sit in the common room for another hour, in complete silence, when in through the portait hole climbs Parvati and Lavender, who are in a giggling fit. I roll my eyes and whisper to Harry, "This time, they've just been kissed by two seventh years in Ravenclaw."

Harry and I laugh, and Hermione scowls. I notice though she is scowling at Parvati and Lavender who have just confirmed, that indeed, they had been spending their time off from classes, being kissed by two seventh year Ravenclaws.

Harry slips me a galleon and I laugh quietly to myself. My attention though, is quickly returned to Hermione, who has stopped knitting, and is looking rather gloomy.

I tap her gently on the knee and whisper to her quietly, "alright?"

She looks up at me with her chocolate brown eyes and gives me her best fake smile.

Too bad that I've known you so long Hermione. I can tell your fake smile from your real one anyday.

Harry stands up, and says that he's going upsatairs for a little nap before dinner, and leaves only Hermione and myself in the common room. Lavender and Parvati have giggled themselves all the way up to the girl's dormatories.

Finally, I shake my head and return my voice to normal, "something's wrong Hermione."

She gazes into my eyes once more, and I feel my heart melt. An innocent strand of brown curl has fallen into her face, and I, absent mindedly, reach up and tuck it behind her ear where it originally was.

Her cheeks gain a little redness, and I can't help but chuckle some, as my ears turn a bright red.

Whatever is posessing me to be so affectionate, surely only comes over me when I'm around her.

Finally, after a few moments of silence, she confirms my beliefs.

She speaks softly, a hint of sadness in her voice, "Not that it is my top priority to be pretty and to have a boyfriend-" I stifle a laugh, noticing how she always puts books, and learning first. "- but I can't help but notice how pretty Parvati and Lavender are, and how they've had a kiss, and have boyfriends. I'm just plain old Hermione. I'm not pretty, I've never been kissed."

She pouts slightly, and though it's barely noticable, I happen to catch it.

I feel more heat rushing to my ears as I look deeper, almost longingly into her eyes. I can't believe that she is telling me these things. She's not pretty? How could she, for an instant, think she was not pretty.

I am shy though, and have to nearly swallow all the courage I can muster just to say, "You're pretty Hermione."

I nearly faint. I can't believe I just said that. I know I sounded like a complete git, and so I look away quickly, finally breaking the eye contact that we had shared for more than five minutes.

I see, out of the corner of my eye, that she is staring at me in disbelief, and I recover myself by adding, "Lavender and Parvati probably had to pay those Ravenclaw boys to kiss them." I look back at her and notice that she is giggling at my comment. I grin lopsidedly at her, and I find myself tucking more hair behind her ear that has fallen in her face.

My thumb catches a bit of her skin, and it tingles from the softness. Her skin is smooth, and appears almost fragrent. She doesn't notice though, and I play it off by dropping my hand back into my lap, as if nothing happened.

"Thanks Ron. I'm so glad you're my friend," Hermione says weakly, I can tell that she is distressed upon something that she's just said, but what? Does she really not want me to be here, comforting her? Does she not want me to be her friend?

I feel disapointment rising in my blood, and this pain, as if my heart might break.

"No problem…" I find myself trailing off as I look at a dusty portrait of an old man hanging on the opposite wall as myself.

There's silence now, and it's growing uncomfortable. I look back at hermione, who speaks before I get a chance to.

"Ron…" she inquires.

"Yes?" I answer back, giving her my best Weasley grin.

The fire is illuminating her features, making her look breath taking.

I did not even notice that it was lit, until just now, when I truly looked at Hermione.

Had she lit it?

"Ron, have you ever fancied someone?"

What an odd question. Especially coming from Hermione. Do I-? Of course I've fancied someone- or rather, I fancy someone.

"Yes," I reply shortly and she looks into my eyes as if her world had come crashing down.

"Oh…"

Her eyes seemed glistened with tears. One falls down her cheek, and my heart breaks. I can't stand to see her cry. I reach up, and wipe it away with the back of my finger. Her cheeks turn red once more, and I can't help but smile.

I am finding it hard to think clearly at the moment, so without doing much of it, I slide my hand from my lap and pick up her small, smooth one that is lying so conviently in her lap. Her eyes widen some, and she looks into my eyes again.

"Ron are you ok-" I put a finger to her lips, and rub her hand gently with my own. I fancy you Hermione Granger. My beautiful, smart witch. She smiles widely, and her tears dissapear.

Was it something I said? Maybe I am a prat, for I have no clue what I've done to make her stop crying, and make her smile.

Surely it isn't because I'm holding her hand?

I look slightly confused, but she doesn't notice. I laugh to myself for being such a git, and realize that maybe Hermione fancies me too.

Duh Ron.

So we sit here, contently, holding each other's hand and listning to the fire crackle.

Then I realize, I don't just fancy you Hermione Granger. I love you.

A/N: A short one-shot, Ron's POV. This was my first POV, and hopefully my last. I'm just so lazy, and have been putting off updating, "Surviving with Ron Weasley".

Ah Well.. RR if you must.