Daft Idiot

He didn't know why they had ended up on top of the Astronomy tower. He dimly remembers following her, chasing her, because she would not leave him - not tonight, not on their last night here. Not when he could lose her, so easily; she could slip away and he would be empty.

He was breathing hard - it was a long run to the tower - but it was raining, a freak June rainstorm. He wiped the rain from his eyes, pushed his hair back, and looked around - but where was she? Had she turned off somewhere, taken a secret passage he didn't know – lost him, lost him forever?

This isn't happening, he thought dazedly. He didn't remember why they started fighting - why did they ever start fighting? - but it had ended with the image of her face bright red, her hair wild, her eyes wide and furious.

"You're ridiculous!" she shouted. "Petty and ridiculous!"

"I don't think it's ridiculous at all! He's sending you love letters - "

"They are NOT love letters!" She ran her hands through her hair in frustration, her cheeks tinged with pink like they did whenever he got her angry.

"Right, because I'm sure he ends every casual little note with 'Hugs and Kisses'," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"What does it matter? I don't say those things to him, what does it matter if he says them to me?"

"I don't think you should be writing to him anymore," he said stubbornly.

"What, are you going to forbid me from writing to him?" she said, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Maybe I will."

A hush fell over the room, the kind of silence that's deafening. He knew he had made a mistake - a heart-stopping, blood-curdling mistake - and so did everyone else.

"Well," she said calmly, and she strode from the room, slamming the portrait hole behind her. Before he knew it, he was chasing her, calling her name, but she was always a step ahead.

Fuck, he thought, clenching his fists as the rain soaked his back. If he hadn't - if he wasn't so - "Fuck!" he shouted, kicking a stone pillar. Pain shot through his leg and he growled, feeling daft and ridiculous and wet, and all he wanted to do was find her and tell her he was sorry, so bloody sorry.

"You are an idiot."

"Yeah, thanks," he spat, grinding his teeth as she stepped out from behind the pillar he had just kicked. She was wetter than he was, her face closed, betraying nothing. Her hair hung limply down to her shoulders, sticking to her cheeks. Her face was red and her teeth were chattering and she looked perfect, absolutely perfect in his eyes.

"Is your foot all right?" she asked.

"Yeah, I think," he said. He put weight on it and his knee buckled. "Er, maybe not."

"Why'd you kick it, anyway?" she said haughtily.

"Because I was angry," he blurted out. She stared at him unblinkingly, so he continued, "At you. At... at myself."

"Why were you mad at yourself?"

"Because I love you, all right?" he yelled. "And instead of just - instead of fucking saying that, I get mad at you and shout and screw everything up, as always. And you know why I do it? Because I'm terrified."

"Of what?" she asked slowly.

"Of what? That you might, I don't know - not feel the same? That you might leave me and go running off with Vicky - "

"Oh, Ron," she said.

"No, don't say anything," he said. He wanted to finish - to finish something before he lost his nerve, because he might never be able to get it back. "I know I'm an idiot, probably the biggest idiot in the world, but you always made that all right, you know? You always help me, and I just keep mucking it up over and over again and I'm so afraid that one day, you're going to get sick of me. I know there are a million blokes out there who would do better by you, who are smarter than I am or whatever else, but I know there's nobody out there better for me than you."

"I - "

"And whenever I get scared, I say stupid things, you know that!" he went on. "So instead of telling you, hey, it freaks me out when some other bloke sends you letters because you might decide you like him more, I do what I usually do - I shout at you in front of the whole bloody House and it all starts all over again, with me being a daft moron and you hating me - "

"I don't hate you."

"Why wouldn't you hate me? You should hate me, you know, because I - "

"Because I love you!" she shouted at him.

He froze. Everything he was going to say flew from his mind and his mouth hung open. The rain dripped into his eyes, and he watched her standing there, looking desperate, raindrops clinging to her eyelashes like crystals.

"You do?"

"Of course I do, you idiot," she said tearfully, throwing herself into his arms. He slowly pulled her close to his chest, her head tucking beneath his chin, just like they were supposed to – because they fit. She kissed his neck, her lips cold, goosebumps popping out on her arms. The sky threw buckets of water at them but they did not care, wrapped up in each other.

"Wait, can I - can I do this right?" he said, pulling away from her. "And not, you know, yell it at you?"

"All right," she said, smiling.

"Um. Okay." He took a deep breath. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she whispered.

"Cool," he grinned. He took a step forward and winced. "Right, then, hospital wing?"

She shook her head and laughed, opening the door to the inside of the tower, warm and inviting and always, always there. "You are a daft idiot, do you know that?"