Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related subjects. Except for a copy of each of the books, a poster from the midnight release of book 6, black glasses frames from the same, and a devotion to Ron/Hermione XD
A/N: -passes out sugarquills- There ya go! Suck on them while reading this A/N…(a.k.a.: Hang on, this is long)
Sorry it took me so long to update, I kind of realized right after I posted the first chapter that I was going on vacation and couldn't post…and then when I got back, our internet was down. Just so you guys know, this story probably won't be much longer, two chapters at the most.
This chapter is mostly Ron thinking (about Hermione), so I hope it's not too boring. It is a necessary "plot" point.
Oh, and I know I changed the last sentence in my "previously", I wasn't quite happy with it XD
Sorry! Have to add this: démodé means "out of fashion", just so you all know. I'm sure you could have figured it out though ;) Now (finally) on to the second chapter!
Quality Time
Chapter 2: Can't Be Krumkins
By FF-Rules
Previously: "Because we're friends, Ronald," Hermione stated simply, adding the slight hint of exasperation she always applied to his full first name.
It took Hermione fifteen minutes to correct what Ron had done of his essay, and another fifteen to tell him the important parts for the rest while he copied them down. Glancing over it one last time to be sure it was right, Hermione was startled to hear Ron voice his appreciation.
"Thank you, Hermione. At least one of us is smart."
The last part was more of a mumble, but nevertheless Hermione heard it. She also caught the note of bitterness, and it made her look up. Ron's hair was aflame in the light of the fire, and he was looking down at his clasped hands.
"You're smart, Ron! I mean, you might not get the best grades, –" Here a dry "thanks" was heard " – but if you would apply yourself to your studies…"
The young witch went off on one of her rants/lectures while Ron sighed and waited for her to take a breath.
"All right, Hermione. So basically, if I try, I can be one-hundredth as good as you."
Brown eyes looking away in embarrassment, as well as a soft blush appearing on Hermione's face at the compliment, she faltered for only a moment before turning to reassure her friend.
"You are smart, Ron. You just need to believe it."
A reply came, and it sounded uncannily like "I do if you do," but Hermione brushed it off. It was so out of character for Ron that she was sure she must have heard wrong. In fact, this entire thing had been unlike Ron. She wondered briefly if something else was bothering him, but also put it aside.
"C'mon. How about a game of Wizard's Chess while we wait?"
If Hermione's intention had been to boost Ron's spirits, she did a good job – by losing five games in a row. The grin back on the redhead's face, the two teens settled back comfortably on one of the Gryffindor couches. They had grown accustomed to waiting up for Harry when he had detention. With all he had gone through, sometimes it was nice for the boy-miracle to vent his anger at things he sort of had control over, or at least didn't effect the entire wizarding world. Such as being treated unfairly by Snape.
The fire was warm and cozy, no doubt lit by house elves. The cushions were still as fluffy as they were when the couch was new. Ah, the magic of magic.
It had been a fairly long day, but Ron wasn't anywhere near tired yet. Especially not in the current situation.
It had never been more apparent to Ron that Hermione was the girl for him, than at that moment. He was casually glancing at her, trying not to draw attention to himself. He watched as she looked outwards, but at nothing in particular; clearly thinking. If Ron was curious at all about what that may have been, he gave no conscious thought to it. He simply enjoyed seeing her there, beside him, her legs crossed and fingers absently playing with the hem of her sleeve.
Sure, Hermione's robes were a little démodé, and her hair was quite bushy sometimes, but he would bet anything that it was incredibly soft, and looks weren't everything. She was beautiful in his eyes; he liked her just the way she was.
Hermione was smart, bloody brilliant, as Ron would say. 'So why doesn't she know I fancy her?' Ron found himself thinking. Or maybe she knows, but she doesn't feel the same way so she's ignoring my hints.
Given, Ron is a boy, and his "hints" may not always be construed as such. How is Hermione to know that when he smiles at her and Harry in the morning, before breakfast, that he means it just for her? Most girls would just think it was the thought of food. But Hermione isn't most girls! Ron thought vehemently, to ease the panic that had risen within him. Of course he was doing everything right. Just because she was the sharpest witch in their year and should have been able to figure it out by now didn't mean anything.
After originally trying to deny his feelings for one of his best friends, Ron then moved into suppressing them. He hadn't understood it then, and he hardly felt more prepared now. Too bad it was becoming harder and harder with every passing day. Every time Hermione entered the room, he felt a thrill run through him, a brief flash of adrenaline that sent his heart thumping just a little bit faster. And every time they made physical contact (accidentally, of course) the sensation tripled. He wasn't sure why, but the acceptation that he felt more for her than just friendliness had made him almost cautious around her.
He still had pointless rows with her, to conceal it, but he never meant anything he said. Not that Ron ever won their fights. Maybe because he was always noticing how cute Hermione looked when she was frustrated?
His musings continued as the object of his thoughts pulled out one of her numerous books and tucked her feet up under herself.
This was the usual course their evenings took. Hermione buried her nose (more like her head) in a book, while Ron finished whatever homework he had left. When they knew Harry had detention, the redhead often left something on purpose, much to Hermione's chagrin. Since Harry's "confinement" with Snape had been on such short notice, the only thing he had had left was the Charms essay, which Hermione had already helped him finish.
Thus Ron was content to think about his brown-eyed girl who-was-just-a-friend friend and steal covert glances at her.
Maybe she's avoiding confronting me about my advances because she's not sure what I mean. Ron's heart gave a leap of hope, but he quickly became pessimistic again. Who am I fooling? Hermione isn't like that. She's too outgoing… I must be daft. I reckon she fancies someone else. But who? Can't be Krum. She swears they're just friends. Besides, she hasn't written to 'Vicky' in ages. Ron tried to reassure himself as a wave of jealousy threatened to make him say something to her about it again.
It had taken a long time for Ron to admit his feelings. He didn't understand them, so they couldn't be important, right? Now he was older, and a little bit wiser. At least that's what Ron liked to think. So maybe, just maybe, he was jealous of Krum. And maybe, just maybe, he acted like a prat sometimes because of it. He couldn't help it if Hermione deserved better! Oh. Right. Ron didn't think it was Krum his best friend fancied.
A terrifying thought suddenly came to him. Bloody HELL! What if it's Harry!
Ron couldn't suppress the look of horror that came across his face. He tried to relax again, forcing his muscles to loosen and to appear calm in case Hermione looked up. All he had to do was logically think it out, like he had done with Krum. Then he would see Hermione couldn't like Harry. The only problem was, the more Ron thought about it, the more likely it seemed.
Who was it that Hermione always worried about? Harry. Who had known about her kissing Krum? Harry. Who was she waiting up for right now? Harry!
Part of Ron tried to rationalize and explain away these worries, but the rest of him, a much bigger part, was already panicking.
Something horrible was stirring in Ron, and he didn't like the feeling one bit. All of his feelings could mean nothing to the only girl he had ever fancied. The look of horror apparently stuck on his face, Ron turned an unseeing gaze from the fire to the person reclining lazily beside him. Someone he had thought he knew.
A/N: Cliffie! At least, I tried. I think this chapter is better written, even though it's mostly Ron thinking. Tell me if you agree and please review! I need criticism…and compliments It keeps my (over-inflated) self-confidence up. I'll give you a Krumkin! Then you can eat it and Krum will be gone forever!