Finding the Courage


Ron was lying on a narrow cot, crammed into Harry's pathetically small room at the Dursleys', staring at the ceiling. It was actually smaller than Ron's room at the Burrow, if such a thing was possible.

He was supposed to be researching, reading this horrifically boring, musty old book on Helga Hufflepuff that Hermione had taken out of the large library in Diagon Alley. Ron could only get through approximately two paragraphs at a time before his brain shut down and flat-out refused to do anymore. Then, before he knew it, he was thinking about something else. Usually Hermione.

That was what Ron was doing now, lying on his back, with his hands behind his head, thinking about Hermione. More specifically, he was thinking about the only thing he could concentrate on lately. What the hell he was going to do about the frightening revelation he had two weeks ago at Dumbledore's funeral?

A million scenarios flew through his mind, detailing various responses Hermione might have to Ron telling her he was in love with her. Her imaginary reactions ranged from disgust followed by the total destruction of their friendship, to euphoria followed by full-on shagging. He didn't delude himself the last fantasy was in any way realistic, but it was certainly an enjoyable way to spend an afternoon.

"Ron, have you finished the Helga Hufflepuff text?" Hermione called in a tired tone as she stepped into the small room, flinging the door open and fixing him with an annoyed look.

Ron jerked up at the sound of her voice, trying not to shrink from the scowl that had become increasingly common over the two weeks they had spent at number four, Privet Drive. They hadn't originally intended on staying that long, but reconsidered after Harry's relatives, terrified at the mere idea of living in the same house as an of-age witch and wizard, quickly took off for an extended holiday, leaving the entire house to the three of them.

One would have thought, with all the time alone, Ron would have had plenty of opportunities to work things through with Hermione. Well, she seemed to think so anyway and as the days passed without much 'alone time,' she became increasing angry and frustrated. And she made no attempt to hide who she was irritated at.

Normally, Ron would say that Hermione was overreacting, being irrational. He'd say, clearly, it was not his fault. Except this time, it probably was. Ron had been putting a ridiculous amount of effort into not being alone with Hermione. It seemed ever since he'd realized how he felt he had no idea what to say to her. Maybe it was because, oh yeah, she scared the shite out of him. Even worse than before.

"Ron!" she screeched, coming over and violently slamming her hand down on the book that had slipped and was now covering his lap. Hermione had better be careful there. If they were ever going to have much of a future that was not an area she'd want to damage. "Have you been reading this at all?"

"Um … yes … I, um … I did … I was …" Babble, babble, mutter, mutter. That was all that came out around her anymore.

"You're napping!" Hermione accused, in a tone that suggested she had just discovered that Ron had become a Death Eater.

"No! No, I was …" He was wide-awake. Wide awake and thinking about her, in not altogether innocent ways. Frantic, he grabbed his wand. "I was practicing silent magic. See." Ron stared at the book repeating Wingardium Leviosa in his mind. He was surprised when the book twitched. Not bad.

Hermione gave a growl of disgust and snatched the book from his lap.

"What?" Ron asked with false innocence. "It's important to practice---"

Hermione didn't allow him to finish. "I'll be in my room," she snapped, turning and flouncing through the door with one last angry glower.

Ron stared after her, feeling utterly incompetent, completely pathetic. Groaning, he buried his head in his hands. He was such a git. Now what was he supposed to do?

The door slammed and he jumped, his eyes jerking over to see Harry leaning against the door staring at him with a disapproving glare, not entirely unlike Hermione's. Damn, Ron forgot he was even in the room.

"What did you do now?" Harry demanded.

"What?" Again, Ron tried his innocent-voice. Maybe it would work better with Harry.

"Don't give me that shite!" Harry spat with disgust.

Reckon not, then.

"You and Hermione are rowing again," Harry accused with a weary sigh. "If we're all going after the Horcruxes together, I can't have you two at each other's throats. You were fine at Dumbledore's funeral. What the hell happened?"

Ron squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and threw himself back onto the cot with a groan, but only managed to hit his head on the wall instead. The bloody thing was far too small for him and he couldn't Transfigure it because the room was too damn tiny and he couldn't exactly ask Hermione to enlarge the room, so ... Goddamn it. "Nothing," he muttered, rubbing his now bruised head.

"Ron," Harry hissed.

Why was Harry bothering him? He usually kept a careful distance from Ron and Hermione's … whatever the hell this was. "Really, nothing happened. I haven't done anything, not since the funeral," he muttered.

And that was precisely the problem. Hermione was clearly expecting something and all she was getting was nothing. Because despite all her talk about brave men, Ron was a big fat coward.

Harry rolled his eyes. "So what happened at the funeral, then?"

Ron realized he was in love with her. Is that what he wanted hear? Ron almost laughed at the mere idea of admitting that to Harry. The two boys never talked about girls. Harry, at most, asked a few superficial questions. He had tried to patch up his and Hermione's rows before, but in a very neutral, non-confrontational way.

For the first time, Ron almost felt as though Harry were taking Hermione's side. Not that he shouldn't take Hermione's side. She was in the right. This time. But, how the bloody hell did Harry know that? As far as he knew, Ron could be the victim here.

"Nothing happened at the funeral," Ron lied. Then feeling guilty, he admitted, "Well, I did kiss her."

"At the funeral!" Harry squeaked, disgust evident in his tone. It intensified Ron's shame. He certainly had the timing of the century.

"Not a full snog or anything," Ron defended. "It just … it just happened." It had just felt like the thing to do. "It was more about comfort than anything," he muttered. But there had been implication behind it, meaning. At least on his end, there was.

"So Hermione's upset because …?"

"Well," Ron said with a grimace, "I imagine it's because I haven't mentioned it since."

Harry groaned, collapsing next to him and making the stupid cot buckle precariously. "Ron, mate … er … you know I'm not one to give romantic advice."

Ron laughed, or maybe he choked. One or the other. He couldn't help but think that the only place Harry would have acquired any experience, to give said advice, was through his sister. That thought wasn't going to make him relax. Though, he wasn't exactly comfortable getting romantic instruction from anyone. Maybe that was the problem.

"I don't want to interfere," Harry continued. "You're both my best mates, but bloody hell, Ron, you obviously fancy the girl. She sent a pack of crazed canaries after you, she fancies you so much. So, what the hell's the problem?"

Ron grunted in response, flinging his arm over his eyes and wishing he could simply disappear. Anything but answer that question.

"What was that?"

Growling, Ron yelled in frustration, "I'm a bloody coward. That's the problem."

Harry had the gall to laugh. "Well, obviously," he taunted. He was worse than his wretched brothers. "But what are you afraid of?"

Ron laughed bitterly. Had Harry met Hermione? Was there anything more frightening? He was scared of being with her. He was scared of never being with her. He was scared of being with her and then losing her. There was no way out.

"Goddamn, Ron---"

"You're one to talk," Ron attacked, not able to stand the scrutiny any longer. "You fancy Ginny and broke up with her. What's your problem?"

Harry turned red and Ron immediately regretted his words. He understood what the problem was and it was no laughing matter. He shouldn't have---

"That's not the same thing," Harry barked.

Ron knew that as well, but like a cornered animal with no way of escaping, he lashed out irrationally. "How do you know it's so different? You don't---"

"I know I want to be with Ginny and if I could be with her, I would," Harry snapped, making the first overt declaration he had ever made to Ron. "But I'm the bleeding Chosen One and I really don't fancy getting her killed, not to mention the fact that I need to concentrate on killing an unkillable wizard. Is that why you aren't with Hermione? Because if it is that doesn't make one bloody lick of---"

"I know!" Ron cut off the tirade, feeling even worse. "You're right," he muttered, dragging his hands over his face. How could he compare his petty insecurities to what Harry was going through? His reasons were far from noble and as for trying to concentrate … well, Ron couldn't possibly be more distracted than he was now.

Harry took a deep breath and nodded. He was looking away from Ron now, his expression carefully unreadable. Ron read it clearly as pain. Bloody hell, he was such an arse, but at least he'd distracted Harry from---

"So, what are you afraid of?" Harry repeated, even more firmly.

Shite. Was he ever going to give it up?

"Are you worried that it won't work?" Harry asked, turning back to him. He looked a bit defeated. Ron should have never brought up Ginny. "That it will hurt our friendship? Because, honestly, that is the only reason I can think of."

Unfortunately, Ron could think of about a million more. He shrugged. "A bit." But, that was an understatement. Hermione leaving him without even her friendship was the worst of his fears. The worst he could put into words anyway. It would almost be better if they just stayed friends. If he could stand it, that was.

"Well, that's just daft," Harry pronounced with irritation, surprising Ron. "We've both seen the damage not dating can do to your friendship."

Ron didn't want to talk about this. He didn't want to talk about that winter. He felt trapped as though he were suffocating. "It's more than that," he forced out.

"If it's---"

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Why was Harry torturing him? "Being in a relationship is scary, ok," he admitted in a rush. "Scary." God, he was pathetic.

"What do you mean, scary?"

Harry looked confused. Of course, the great Harry Potter would never be scared of something as simple as a relationship. "It's just … intense," Ron mumbled.

"Lavender---"

Clearly, Harry didn't get it. "No, not Lavender," Ron said, frustrated. "It's different with Hermione, but even with Lavender ... You saw how crazy she got about commitment and feelings and shite."

Frowning, Harry seemed to be grappling with the idea. "So … you're afraid that Hermione will get that way as well?"

"No … yes … no …" No wonder Harry didn't understand. Ron wasn't even following his own train of thoughts. "With Hermione it would be about commitment and feelings and shite. That's the problem." Please, let him understand.

"I don't understand."

Of course, he didn't.

"Ron, isn't that how it's supposed to be?" Harry asked, clearly confused. Was life so simple for him? "I mean when you fancy a girl, that's what it's like." He had a depressed look on his face. It was an awful lot like his martyr-look.

Great, the guilt for bringing up Ginny resurfaced. Ron squeezed his eyes shut tight. It looked like the only way out of this conversation was through it, as horrifying as that sounded. "It's about more than just fancying," he admitted hoarsely.

"What do you mean more?"

And they called Ron thick. "I'm in love with her, ok?" Ron all but screamed. Instantly, he regretted it. Crap, what if Hermione had heard him? "Are you happy now?"

Harry didn't look happy. In actuality, he looked down-right terrified and a touch green. Good, now maybe he could start to understand what it was like being Ron. "What? How? I mean … Shite, Ron. How do you know?"

"I just know," Ron ground out, reaching to grab a discarded pillow from the floor. Maybe, he'd try one of Ginny's old tricks and just hide behind it until everyone left him alone. He wondered if it only worked when one was six.

"But, bloody hell, Ron …" Harry continued. It seemed, he was as tenacious as Hermione today, seizing the pillow and yanking it away from him. "Love? I mean, when did you figure---?"

"A couple of weeks ago," Ron muttered, contemplating making a run for it.

"But how---"

"Dunno."

"But---"

"Damn, Harry! Since when do you want to talk about this shite?"

Harry became very still, finally looking as uncomfortable as Ron felt. "I don't. I just … I don't …"

He never finished the thought. Whatever he was going to say, hung, unfinished, over one of the most awkward silences of their friendship. Just when Ron thought that the conversation was finally, blissful over, Harry started up again, asking softly, "So, if you're in love with Hermione, why don't you---?"

"We've been over this," Ron moaned. How many times did he have to admit that he was a coward?

"Are you afraid she doesn't feel the same?"

"Yes! But it's more than that."

"Like what?" Harry wasn't usually this relentless. It was not a good look for him.

"It's like if we get together … It's just that there would be a lot riding on it. It would be for keeps." It would be a lot to mess up. And Ron was good at messing stuff up.

"Oh … You mean like Hermione would want to be together forever?"

Ron shrugged.

"Or like you would?"

He groaned, closing his eyes again.

"Do you … do you want to be with Hermione forever?" Harry persisted, in a small, awed, almost frightened tone.

"Well, I sure as hell wouldn't want to break up," Ron snapped.

When he met his best friend's eyes, there was a challenge there. Harry was right. He needed to do something. So, why wasn't he moving?

After long moments of silence, Ron broke the staring contest, fixing his eyes across the room. Finally, Harry asked almost casually, "So what does it feel like? Being in love?"

Ron choked, squeaking out, "I dunno!"

"You must know, if you feel it. Does it feel like the love potion did?" Harry asked eagerly, too eagerly. There was an undertone of anxiety in his voice.

"No. Well, maybe a bit. I dunno, Harry. I reckon, I do think about her a lot." As in all the time. Lately, anyway.

"Then …"

This was too much. "Why are you so interested?" Ron threw back heatedly.

Harry got a panicked look on his face, denying quickly, "I'm not."

There was something strange about Harry's reaction. A slow smirk traveled over Ron's face. "You're trying to figure out if you're in love with Ginny," he stated with awe.

"No! No!" Harry said vehemently, but far from convincingly. "Just forget it."

Harry sprang from the cot with newfound energy and began skittering around the room looking for something to do. Harry reminded Ron of Hermione when she was nervous. Ron found himself smiling for the first time in hours. Suddenly, he was feeling like sharing.

"It's as though," he began, "you want to be with her all the time, even for the stupid stuff. It feels wrong when she isn't there, as if something's just … missing. You want her opinion on everything. Even when you know you aren't going to like what her opinion is. You start thinking her faults are cute and you stop wanting them to go away. And somehow she makes you feel, when you are with her, as though you can to be a better person."

Obviously, Ron had spent too much time thinking about this, but his friend's obvious distress seemed to cut through the embarrassment. Looking up at Harry, he asked, "Does that help?"

Harry went stony mid-speech and was now standing half-turned away from Ron. "Yeah," he said in a small voice, "that helps." He fell onto the edge of his own bed with a contemplative expression.

There was something in Harry's distracted, somewhat terrified expression that made Ron feel better. He wasn't the only one afflicted. Harry was in love with Ginny, who'd have thought? Ron smiled.

Then, abruptly, Harry stood, turning to look at Ron with a determined, almost angry look. "You need to tell her," Harry announced heatedly, his fists balled.

"What!" Ron cried, sitting up straight. Harry had clearly gone around the bend.

"It's not fair to Hermione," Harry declared, with even more fury, advancing on Ron.

"I told you---"

"I don't want to here any more of your coward shite. I'm sick of it." Harry reached out and grabbed Ron's shirt, pulling him to his feet.

He didn't have to use much force. Stunned, Ron went limp. When he gained his bearings, anger flashed through him. Who did the little prick think he was? With a sharp shove to his chest he disengaged Harry. "No!" he yelled, refusing to be bullied into doing something so important.

"Goddamn it!" Harry came back at him like a thing possessed, balling both hands into Ron's shirt, yanking him forward. He might be shorter than Ron, but Harry was surprisingly strong. "Stop being a bloody coward and tell her right now!"

Ron locked his arms around Harry's shoulders and they struggled for several minutes before Harry managed to fling them both out of the door. In response, Ron toppled him to the ground and they wrestled on the hallway carpet. "I'll tell her when I'm bloody ready," he gritted out.

Harry's face was so red it was almost purple. He bellowed, his face only inches from Ron's, "Tell her or I will, you poof!"

Ron froze, half-pinning his friend to the floor. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me," Harry spat, then taking advantage of Ron's distraction, gained leverage and sent them both rolling and knocking into the wall.

Immediately, they heard Hermione's voice call, "What is going on out there?"

Ron panicked, losing his concentration. But Harry just hissed, "If you can't find the courage, I'll find it for you." Then before Ron could pull himself together, Harry flung him away and scrambled back into his room, slamming the door shut. The lock clicked behind him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Ron yelled, standing and rushing to the door.

"I'm not letting you back in until you tell her."

Ron growled, jiggling frantically at the doorknob. What would happen if he kicked the door? "Fine, I'll sleep on the sofa then," he yelled. It was better than that ruddy cot anyway.

"I've got your wand," Harry called back.

His head fell onto the door in frustration. "Screw you, Harry!"

"Tell her or I will."

"What is going on out here?" Ron's head snapped over to see Hermione standing in the guest room door, looking anything but pleased. Yeah, this was exactly the right time to tell her.

"Nothing, nothing," Ron mumbled. She frowned at him and he tried to look nonchalant, lounging against the locked door.

"Fine, then. Whatever you say," Hermione huffed with annoyance and just a touch of hurt, before turning on her heal and retreating back into her room.

Ron watched her go, taking in the defensive way she held herself. Find the courage. Goddamn it. Taking a deep breath, he followed Hermione.


Hermione carefully closed the bedroom door behind her, trying not to slam it, trying not to cry. These days, she always seemed to be seconds away from bitter, disappointed tears. Ron was such a … such a … she didn't have words harsh enough for what he was. Sometimes, she just hated him. Really, she did.

Why had she pined over him all this time was truly beyond her comprehension. After months of dancing around on the delicious precipice of something wonderful, Hermione had finally thought they were ready. The connection at the funeral seemed to take them that extra step.

Ron had kissed her, for heaven's sake. Maybe it was just a friendly kiss, one of comfort. It certainly wasn't passionate. But he'd said … he'd implied it was so much more.

It was just too cruel. He was cruel. They hadn't been alone since. And not because there hadn't been an opportunity. No, Ron was avoiding Hermione like the plague, which wasn't easy in one small house. He barely talked to her and never touched her.

Hermione couldn't believe that they were back to no touching. To be teased for months with those wonderfully soft, practically constant touches, and then nothing ... They weren't even touches. They were caresses. She was sure of it and now it was over and it wasn't fair and she hoped Ron Weasley would burn in hell for doing this to her.

"Hermione," the treacherous prat called from the other side of the door, opening it hesitatingly. Great, now Ron shows up. Fresh from a row with Harry and with no place else to go. Well, she wasn't going to make it easy for him.

"Yes," Hermione snapped, rather irately. Purposefully, she sat down on the roomy guest bed and crossed her legs. She splayed a book out in front of her and stared at it intensely, though she couldn't get her eyes to focus on the words.

"Can I …?" Ron started to ask for permission to enter the room, then seemed to realize it would not be forth coming. He wasn't stupid. He came in anyway. Looking pale and nervous, he closed the door behind him. Hermione frowned and watched as he cautiously came over and sat on her bed.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked with clearly feigned casualness.

"Research," Hermione said shortly. Then added with a mean snarl, "What you are supposed to be doing."

"Right," he muttered, almost to himself. His face was twisted into a mask of discomfort as he stared off absently, his leg bouncing in a telltale sign of anxiety.

Hermione kept her expression carefully guarded, as she looked him over. "What are you doing here, Ron?" Two weeks ago she would have been thrilled to be alone with him, now she was … She didn't know how she felt anymore.

"I …um …" he babbled. Same old Ron. Hermione was sick and tired of it.

"You had a row with Harry," she accused, matter-of-factly. "He locked you out and now you're here."

"Um … no …" Ron kept his eyes to the ground as he said softly. "Well, yes, but that's not why I'm here. Not exactly."

Hermione sighed, her shoulders drooping. She wanted to stay strong and throw Ron out. But she couldn't, she wanted him too much. Feeling defeated, she asked, "Then, why are you here?"

"I, um … I need to talk to you?" It was a question. Pathetic git.

Her jaw clenched with frustration, could Ron never just say what was on his mind? "About what?" Hermione snapped.

His eyes jerked over. "Important things. This isn't easy, you know," Ron said heatedly, blushing. What had happened to the boy who played with her hair so boldly in the common room, without a tint of pink on his cheeks?

She stared at him, her heart speeding up in anticipation. There was no doubt in Hermione's mind that she would just be disappointed again, but apparently she didn't care because she carefully closed her book and moved to sit next to Ron on the edge of the bed.

Ron swallowed, starting, "Hermione …" Taking a deep breath, he turned toward her. Bending one knee to rest in front of him on the bed, he looked at her through lowered lashes. "I, uh … you know I hate it when you're hacked off at me."

Hermione almost laughed. How was she supposed to know any such thing? Ron didn't look all that distressed this winter. But she mimicked his pose, turning toward him. She lied, "I'm not angry---"

"Yes, you are. I mean, I understand. I mean …" Ron trailed off with a frustrated grunt. Then, suddenly, he reached out and grabbed her hand. Hermione stiffened, the simple touch seeming insanely intense after weeks of nothing.

His fingers started to play with hers and it felt fantastic. Oh, thank heavens. For a moment, Ron seemed fascinated by the way his fingers moved over Hermione's, but then again, wasn't she?

"It's just that it's really awful when you won't talk to me," Ron whispered and Hermione bit her cheek to keep from snorting in disbelief. Ron had been the one avoiding her. "This winter … it was just awful."

The anger started to leave her; Ron's soft touch melting her and taking away her resolve. Why was it always so easy for him? The sod. "Yeah, it was," Hermione agreed in an equally soft voice.

"I don't want to go through that again," Ron breathed huskily. "I don't want to lose you."

After he said it, Ron seemed to be holding his breath. He chanced a look up at her and Hermione tried to smile reassuringly. Please, no more games. "I don't want to lose you, either."

But if anything, Ron only seemed to get more anxious. "Our friendship is really important, I … Hermione, I don't want any … I don't want a relationship to come between us again. Any relationship."

Hermione felt as though she had been punched. Her stomach sank and her eyes stung. Why did she keep letting Ron do this to her? "Is that what you wanted to tell me?"

"I … no … I just needed … Before I tell you, I … Can you promise me that we'll always be best friends? That nothing will come between us?" His eyes pleaded with her.

She was going to vomit. She really, really was. Hermione yanked her hand away and stood, needing to get as much physical distance from Ron as possible. He was asking her for permission to date. This was almost worse than Lavender. How could he? After the kiss and the flirtation …

Hermione crossed her arms tightly and lifted her head defiantly, determined not to cry. "You are free to date whomever you want, if that's what you mean." She poured every drop of venom she had into her words.

Ron stared up at her, slack-jawed. "No! I mean … No, that's not what I---"

"What do you mean?" Hermione demanded angrily, losing the battle against her tears. "You talk in riddles and metaphors and I think I know what you want, but then you turn around and do … do this." God, she hated him.

"No!" he said, louder this time, bounding to his feet and advancing on her. "You don't understand. I said it wrong. I----" Ron tried to grab her, but Hermione backed away shaking her head rapidly.

"I understand perfectly." She was starting to feel hysterical, her precious control deserting her. "You want to be able to date whomever you want and to know that reliable old Hermione will always be there, pining for you---"

"That's not what I---"

"---you want to get off with Lavender or some Veela at the wedding---"

"Hermione!"

"---and to know you're best friend will---"

"Goddamn, Hermione will you listen---"

"---always be---"

Ron let out a growl that was frightening in its intensity. Grabbing her harder than he had ever done before, he yanked her toward him roughly. Hermione was at a loss for what he intended, until his hand closed over the back of her head. She barely had time to think, oh dear---

Then his lips slammed down on hers. Wide-eyed with shock, but still royally hacked off, Hermione struggled, pushing at his shoulders. But Ron didn't budge. Instead, he wrapped his other arm around her waist, lifting her against his chest so that her toes just grazed the floor, and continued to attack her lips savagely.

Hermione only had about five seconds worth of resistance in her anyway. This was Ron. Soon, she couldn't actually remember why she was fighting him. She whimpered and went limp, her hands curling over his shoulders. Ron moaned in response and slanted his lips over hers in a disturbingly-skilled sort of way.

Then she was thinking, oh dear god, Ron was kissing her, why the hell wasn't she responding? She cautiously moved her lips, in wholly unskilled manner. Tentatively, she caught his roving lip to suck on it gently.

Ron seemed to like it, though, growling and pulling her closer. After that, the details went a bit blurry. It didn't matter that she didn't know what she was doing. Hermione followed his lead, nipping and sucking and, yes, even biting with a fire that was rapidly getting out of control.

When Ron tore away, Hermione whimpered in confusion and followed his lips with hers, trying to maintain contact. Damn his height. Why did she have to fancy someone so damned tall?

"I was trying to say," Ron said, panting harshly, attempting the ridiculous task of finishing a conversation that had been wiped completely from her memory. "That I wouldn't want to lose you to a relationship---"

"But---" Hermione protested, struggling to remember exactly what they had been talking about.

Ron quickly slapped his hand over her mouth. "A relationship with you, Hermione. You and me. Us." After he said it, the fear returned to his eyes and Ron swallowed audibly, his hand falling away from her lips.

"You and me?" Hermione asked tentatively, her mind quickly catching up now that his grip on her was loosening. Was he implying …? No! She'd had enough of deciphering his implications. This time, things needed to be spelled out, explicatedly.

Ron was slowly turning red. His arm fell from her waist as he muttered, "Yeah." Turning away, he scrubbed his face with his hand and threw himself back down onto the edge of her bed, his shoulders slumped. "I, um … sorry about attacking you and stuff…I just … you wouldn't listen and …"

The wheels in Hermione's head started to turn, finally working up to her usual speed. She went over what Ron had said before, with this new context. He was worried that a romantic relationship would hurt their friendship. Was that what the last two weeks were about?

Ron was looking for reassurance. But of what? That if they got together they could always go back to being just friends? Could Hermione honestly promise him that? His friendship meant a lot to her, but … she had passed the point of no return long ago.

Looking down at Ron's anxious form, Hermione drew herself up and crossed her arms protectively. "Ron, I didn't think I can promise that if we get together and it doesn't work, we can still be best friends." His eyes jerked to hers, with a look that can only be described as terror. Stealing herself, she continued, "In fact, I ... I'm not sure if I can be just your best friend now."

"What?" Ron gasped with horrified disbelief. "But you and I and Harry, we---"

"I know," she interrupted, tears in her voice. Hermione wrapped her arms more tightly around herself and blinked at the ceiling. She understood the consequences. "I'm not saying I won't be there for Harry … or you. I just … I just can't change how I feel. I've tried, Ron. To be honest, I don't even remember the last time I thought of you as just my friend."

Desperately, she swatted at her eyes. Ron was staring at her with a strange new intensity, his body coiled tight.

With another deep, and unfortunately shaky, breath Hermione continued, trying to maintain eye-contact, "My friendship with you has never felt the way it did with Harry. How can I go back when I don't know where back is? It seems I've always wanted more." Her voice cracked. This was becoming unbearably hard. But how could she expect Ron to be direct, if she wasn't?

Oh god, she was being too direct. Hermione was telling him the opposite of what he wanted to hear. She was ruining everything.

But then, Ron was on his feet, reaching for her, grabbing her arms, pulling her to the bed and … beaming at her? Hermione frowned into his smiling face as he eased her down and ran his hands almost reverently over her arms. After two weeks of not touching her he couldn't seem to stop, running his fingers over her shoulders, her back, her face.

What the hell was wrong with him? Then to Hermione's utter amazement, Ron leaned in to kiss her again. Was he completely mad?

Pushing away, Hermione gasped, almost hysterically, "What are you doing? I just told you … I said I couldn't do as you asked."

Ron's smile just got broader. The daft git. "I know."

"Then why are you smiling?"

"Dunno," Ron said gleefully.

And they said girls were hard to understand. Hermione wanted to hit him. "But you said you wanted to be able to go back."

"I said I didn't want to lose you." Ron's eyes seemed to have become fixated on her lips, causing liquid heat to settle low in her abdomen.

"Ron," she whined. Hermione hated when things weren't logical. How was she supposed to know what to do? "That doesn't make sense." She even stamped her foot for emphasis. Ron's eyes lit with delight and he laughed at her, the stupid---

Then he was kissing her again. What had she been saying? He had the most magnificent lips … Oh, dear heavens.

Hermione shoved him back, breathing heavily. Why wouldn't he let her think? It was as though Ron were purposefully trying to keep her mind hopelessly muddled. "Ron, can you make sense, please?"

He sighed, pulling back, his hands falling away from her. Finally, Hermione could think again. Then, of course, she wanted to hit herself as the first thing she thought, with her newly clear mind, was that she was that she was a complete and utter idiot. Why, oh why, did she continually put up roadblocks to the thing she clearly wanted most?

Staring forward, Ron took a deep breath, and began, "When a bloke---"

"No!" Hermione cried with horror, jumping to her feet. "No! No more 'blokes.' No more 'smart girls.' No more metaphors, or hints, or pretense that I think I understand, but really don't---"

"You understand," Ron protested, standing as well.

Hermione laughed hysterically. She wished she had the same confidence in herself. "Because I'm a 'smart girl,' is that right?"

"Exactly." Ron looked so eager, as if that explained everything. Well, it didn't.

Hermione took a step back. She needed room for the tirade she felt building. "Well, this smart girl can't take it anymore. She wants it all spelled out. You and me. Ron and Hermione. Just tell me how you ruddy well feel about me."

Ash white, Ron stuttered, "I … I … I …"

"Just tell me!" she bellowed.

Turning, instantly, beet red, Ron screamed back, "I'm bloody in love with you, all right!"

Hermione could only blink at him, her mouth hanging open in what she was sure was a highly unattractive manner. "Excuse me?" she whispered, absolutely certain that she had misheard him.

"I'm in love with you," Ron muttered softly, unable to look at her.

Oh. Well. Then she hadn't misheard. Wow. Was this really happening? It didn't seem all that … Hermione just hadn't been expecting that. It was more than she had hoped for. She---

"Are you happy now?" Ron asked miserably, once again dropping to the bed, burying his face in his hands.

Hermione nodded in response, although she knew she probably should say something as his eyes were covered, but that would take too much concentration. It occurred to her that she should sit. So, she did. Yes, that was much better. Standing took all sorts of effort.

Mumbling into his hands, Ron said, "I'm sorry, if I---"

"No. No," she protested, her voice light and oddly distracted. "I'm glad you told me." Ron looked dejected. Hermione certainly didn't want that. She managed to pull a hand away from his face and entwine their fingers. "I just wasn't expecting that, is all.'

Hermione had thought about being in love with Ron, of course. Certainly, she'd fantasized about him confessing his love for her. He'd never been screaming at the time. Though, it did seem strangely fitting for them.

She had even wondered if she was in love with him, but dismissed the idea. Love was something that came later. There was a natural and logical progression in a relationship. First fancying, then love, then lust … or was it the other way around? She didn't know what she was talking about, did she? There was nothing logical about love. And there definitely wasn't anything logical about Hermione's relationship with Ron.

"Are you sure?" she asked carefully.

"Yes! I'm sure," Ron snapped. "Do you think I would have said it if I wasn't?"

Hermione bit her lip, thinking it over. "No, I don't suppose you would," she said, almost to herself. Turning to him again, she began, "How---?"

"Don't ask me how I know," Ron cut off, irately. "'Cause I just do, ok?"

"Ok," she whispered. This clearly wasn't easy for him. Actually, it was quite brave of Ron to say that at all.

"You don't have to say it back," Ron blurted out, though he sounded angry about it.

"I wasn't … I mean …" Hermione was starting to feel a bit giddy as everything started to sink in. Ron had kissed her. Ron had said he loved her, loved her. Yes, definitely giddy. "If you're sure that you love me---"

"I'm sure!"

"---and apparently you are. Then I suppose," Hermione said thoughtfully, "I must be in love you as well." Tears pricked her eyes and warmth infused her as she said it out loud. Suddenly, she was completely certain. "Seeing as you couldn't possibly fancy me more than I fancy you, it just stands to reason---"

Hermione was broken off by Ron's incredulous laugh. "You're mental!"

"I am not," she protested, stung. Hermione was trying to tell Ron that she loved him, a revelation she had only just made to herself and, to be honest, was just getting used to.

"You are," Ron insisted. "You can't rationalize this."

Hermione bristled. "Of course I can. It's simple logic. If you love me, and I fancy you more than you fancy me, then the only possible conclusion is that I love you."

Ron sputtered, his blue eyes bright and ready for an argument. "Look … first of all, you do not fancy me more than I fancy you."

Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Of course, I do."

Ron drew himself up, looking her in the eye challengingly. "How do you know? I happen to fancy … love you quite a lot."

Hermione couldn't help but smile, feeling unduly hot. "Even so, I think this year has proven that I care more. I pined for you for months while you were off snogging Lav---"

"But I only kissed Lavender because you kissed Krum and because you thought I was a loser who---"

"I did not!" Hermione broke in indignantly. She had never thought any such thing. Why would Ron say that?

"You thought I couldn't win a Quidditch match on my own and you said Harry was more fanciable than me."

"I did not!" Hermione repeated more forcibly. "I said he was fanciable, not that I fancied him. And it had nothing whatsoever to do with you."

Ron scowled at her. "It was implied."

"No, it wasn't!"

Now, he rolled his eyes. "Regardless, the Lavender thing would have lasted a total of one night if you hadn't thrown that canary fit."

"Which you deserved!"

"So, clearly," Ron continued forcefully, ignoring her, "the whole Lavender incident just proves that I love you, more."

It was Hermione's turn to sputter incredulously as Ron stared at her, smug, as if to say 'top that.' Only how could she top utter nonsense? "You're daft," she accused, laughing at the sheer idiocy of it.

A wide grin covered his face, only proving her point. "Well then, we're both daft." With that, Ron reached behind her head and roughly pulled her in for another kiss.

This time, Hermione couldn't think of one good reason to resist. So, she didn't. Instead, she let Ron take the lead, following him instinctively, without thought. Which was good because all she could think was, oh dear god, she was kissing Ron. She was finally, finally kissing Ron.

And he was really good at it. Hermione didn't even want to think about how Ron got that way. But then his tongue grazed her lips and there was no more thought at all, just a moan and an increasing heat low in her belly.

Hermione sifted her hands into his hair and pulled him closer, increasing the pressure as she gave up on trying to breathe. Ron growled into her mouth, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her until their chests collided. It felt amazing. Her breasts ached where they pressed against him, never having felt so sensitive.

She crushed herself to him with more force, barely noticing Ron align their lips and guide hers open, just before slipping his tongue inside. And not just a little inside, but deep and penetrating, sending a sharp lightning bolt of pleasure straight to her groin. Hermione gave a little squeak of surprise, wrenching back.

"You, ok?" Ron asked with a rough voice, struggling for breath. His eyes were half-closed and his hair disheveled as he cupped her cheek. Just looking at him made Hermione a bit dizzy. Wow. They were really here. Wow.

"Fine," she gasped, surprised at how breathless she sounded. Hermione swallowed and was relieved when she was able to say in a normal-sounding voice, "I just wasn't expecting … You just keep surprising me today, that's all. You're awfully good at this."

Ron's smile was blinding. It reached straight to his eyes and Hermione was rewarded with an unveiled look of adoration that made her knees weak. It was a good thing she was already seated.

Hermione laughed for no good reason. "Maybe I should thank Lavender for teaching you how to do that."

Ron shrugged. "She didn't teach me so much as let me practice with her."

She frowned a bit at that. "You could have practiced with me---"

He cut her off with another hard kiss. "I'll be sure to do that from now on," Ron whispered against her lips, before slanting his mouth over hers again and getting right back into the heat of things.

This was where the new, bold, confident Ron came out. Hermione rather liked him. Though, as a particularly talented flick of his tongue sent a shiver through her, Hermione realized that she was going to have to be careful. He could devour her.

Then Ron opened her mouth again and proceeded to do just that. Well, maybe being devoured wasn't so bad. Hermione let it go on for a few more seconds before easing away, and saying breathlessly, "Give me a minute." She pressed her hand to her chest, feeling her heart race.

"Hermione?" Ron asked softly, as though something strange had just occurred to him. "You have done this before?"

She stiffened a bit. Was that criticism? "Not really," Hermione admitted, unable to look at him.

"But," Ron said with disbelief, "Ginny said you snogged that … snogged Krum."

That made her look at him. Scowling, Hermione gasped, "Ginny? Oh, I'll hex her---"

"So, you did snog Krum?" Ron persisted.

"Well, yes. We kissed several times, but not like …" She waved her hand in a way that was supposed to be dismissive, but it came off more nervous then anything else. Hermione was clearly starting to get flustered. "It was never with you know…" She said the last in a whisper.

Ron grinned in a way that made her want to smack him. "With tongue?" he supplied. Hermione nodded, blushing furiously, which only made him grin widener. The prat. "You can say it, you know. We were just---"

"Shhh," Hermione cut off in horror. "You don't talk about it."

Ron laughed in that delighted way. It was hard to be angry at him when he was looking at her as though she was … loved. "So, this was your first real snog," he pressed.

Ron was clearly loving this. Hermione rolled her eyes. Well, she'd knock him down. "Well, McLaggen …" Fury wiped the laughter from Ron's face and she instantly regretted saying anything. "But I gagged and ditched him for the rest of the party," she assured, honestly. The possessive scowl didn't leave and she sighed, "I took care of it."

After a moment, Ron grunted in a resigned way. "Well, I reckon none of those people matter anymore. We're together now."

Hearing Ron say it, brought about an instantaneous flood of emotion that left her spinning. It was brilliant. But even so, Hermione couldn't stop herself from teasing, "Oh, are we, now?"

Ron's eyes flashed and he smiled. The look on her face must be giving her away. Hermione really must try to control her happiness. Huskily, Ron stated, "I told you I love you. You told me you love me. And we snogged … with tongue." He gave her a look that dared her to argue with what he clearly believed to be irrefutable evidence.

"But---"

Again, Ron cut her off with a kiss. After a few seconds, Hermione pulled away, asking with a laugh, "Are you going to kiss me every time you don't like what I'm saying?"

Ron's smile was huge. "Hey, that's an idea."

Hermione didn't get out more than a mumble of protest this time. Ron decided to be even more aggressive with his dreaded tongue. His hands were kneading her back. It was heavenly. But shouldn't they get a few things straight before her brain went completely numb?

Ron groaned in disappointment as she turned her head away, breaking the kiss. He wouldn't let her pull out of his arms though. Panting, Hermione asked, "But what about being afraid that this will ruin our friendship and Harry needing us---?"

Ron moaned, whining, "We covered this. You said it would ruin our friendship if we didn't get together."

Hermione blinked at him. That's what he had taken from their conversation? And how did he figure it was covered? "Well, I suppose I implied---"

"So, clearly there is only one solution," Ron broke in impatiently, pulling her still closer. He seemed to be getting frustrated by their position sitting next to each other. He was squirming and staring at their legs. There was only so close they could get in this position. Thank heavens. Otherwise, she wouldn't be able to think at all.

"And that is?" Hermione prompted, before Ron got too distracted.

"We just can't break up. You know, for the sake of our friendship."

Hermione almost didn't catch what Ron was saying as his hand had settled on her thigh. "What? You mean … forever?"

He paused in his delicious wandering, glancing at her face briefly, but long enough for Hermione to see him blush. "Something like that."

Hermione had no idea what to say. Her throat had closed off anyway. So, instead, she took a page from his book and crushed her lips to Ron's, earning a moan of appreciation.

Ron broke away several delicious minutes later, looking into her eyes intensely. "So, are we together now?"

She laughed, sniffling a little besides. Hermione thought her face would split in two, she was smiling so wide. "Yes, we're together now."

"Finally!" Ron exclaimed with a sigh of relief.

"Whose fault is that?" Hermione threw back, but she soon forgot what she was saying as Ron gave up on their position and tackled her to the bed. Oh my. She gasped.

Immediately, Ron came up onto his elbow and looked down at her, worried. "Is this ok?"

Hermione smiled at his concern, nodding. "It's ok. But, heavens, Ron. When you finally find your courage you don't fool around."

Ron laughed, a wonderful happy sound. "I have a lot of time to make up for. I wasted too much of it looking for that courage."

Something in his eyes stole Hermione's breath even quicker than he his kisses. "But you found it," she whispered, her voice oddly airy and ephemeral.

Staring at her with a frightening heat, Ron ran a slow hand over side, down the curve of her waist to rest on her hip. Huskily, he breathed, "It's been here all along."

Once again, Hermione found herself blinking back tears. "Oh Ron, I … I always knew you were brave."

Ron froze, then seemed to be blinking rapidly, making Hermione wonder if he were fighting tears as well. "Well," he rasped, his voice still deeper, "you always were smarter than me."


Author's Note:

Yay! Currently doing happy dance. Finally, I get to write something where Ron and Hermione (or any other couple for that matter) actually get together and are happy. But it's not over, still have the Harry epilogue left, and then I will have officially completed my first story. I can go back to torturing everyone in Of Hearts and Heroes. Mawahaha.

Of course, I can't forget to thank the brilliant women who help me get my work together, GigiC, MissBrooke06, Hope813, and especially, my over worked, underappreciated beta, kjcp. Thanks for everything.