CONFESSIONS
by: Wicked.Awesome
Disclaimer: I created none of these character or places.
The air surrounding Hogwarts was sweet smelling and warm. The wind was soft, but subtle, as it made its way weaving through leaves on trees. It tickled at flowers and animals and enveloped any students who were wandering outside before moving along with a comforting woosh.
Ron Weasley, a tall, freckle-faced boy with slightly wild red hair and an intense look in his usually carefree eyes propped open the huge front door to the looming castle. He waited for his long-time friend and fellow seventh year classmate Hermione Granger to walk through, and was immediately calmed by a loving envelopment of warm air as he stepped away from the door.
"It's beautiful out tonight." Hermione said offhandedly, hardly looking at her surroundings. The 17 year old looked preoccupied. Not because of the upcoming exams, even though her unruly hair was pulled into rushed braids for easier studying, but because Ron had randomly asked to speak with her. Alone. Outside. Without Harry. She rubbed her hands together and looked up at her friend.
"Yeah, beautiful…yeah." Ron cleared his throat, then he absently reached out his hand towards Hermione's back to usher her down the steps with him, but he awkwardly stopped the gesture and dropped his hands to his sides. "Let's walk."
Hermione's mind was reeling, as any regular teen girl's would. She kept gazing up at Ron periodically as they walked from the castle, and only lasted half a minute before opening her mouth. "Is something the matter?"
"Wha—oh, no. Nothing's wrong." Ron's mind was reeling. He didn't know how he should bring it up. He didn't know what he'd say after because he didn't know how she'd react. He was never good with this kind of stuff anyways…oh that wind was feeling good.
"Well then, why did—" Hermione was a straight to the point young lady. She was flustered with things she didn't know about. And she didn't know anything of what Ron was playing at, at that moment.
"Hermione?" Ron said with an easy calmness. He had stopped walking and had reached out and caught Hermione's hand to stop her.
"What is it Ron?" Hermione asked softly. The air was having an odd effect on the two classmates. The wind was soothing, calming, settling. Nervousness and worry were things blown away by the breeze.
"Can we just…walk?" Ron asked simply.
Hermione blinked. The simple request weighed heavily on her. A distinct feeling surged through her, that if she agreed, she'd come back to Hogwarts a much different Hermione. She would have said no, but everything about that moment was tempting; the air, the gorgeous Hogwarts Grounds, Ron's hand holding hers.
"I think so…" Hermione dreamily stated in a way not at all Hermione-like.
They walked in that dreamy state, surrounded by beauty, holding hands gently. They continued all the way to the lake. They followed the water to the edge of the Forbidden forest, which was lit up looking enchanted, and then went up towards the Quidditch pitch, skirting the Whomping Willow.
Ron and Hermione avoided eye-contact. Neither was really ready for this level of intimacy. The music of nature surged, and then would quiet down, beckoning someone to speak. Hermione would not trust herself to talk, and Ron wanted to be in a comforting spot, the Pitch.
They slowed down simultaneously as they wandered near the entrance to the Pitch. Hermione knew something was about to happen. The naïve girl didn't know what though, her expertise was in facts. Ron was hardly prepared to talk, but the soft warm breeze encouraged, supported, pushed, tempted, and forced Ron into talking.
Finally, the boy and girl were in the middle of the Pitch. Finally Ron and Hermione turned towards each other. Finally Ron cleared his throat one last time and was ready to speak. Finally their eyes met, and everything around them grew silent. This moment was theirs.
"Hermione—" Any wise sweet words Ron might have had planned flew the coop at that moment. Looking into Hermione's brown, innocent, truthful, beautiful eyes, he managed to get right to the point. "—I like you."
"Well of course you do. I like you too Ron." Hermione answered instantly, slight confusion overtaking her features. Ron's face brightened, but then Hermione withdrew her hand from his and frowned. "You're one of my best friends."
Ron's face fell. He shook his head slightly. "No. I mean, yes, but…Hermione, I like you."
Hermione's eyes narrowed a bit. And Ron's heart was near to breaking. "Hermione, I want to be able to look at you whenever I want and not worry about getting caught looking. I want to be able to share that big comfy chair near the fireplace with you. I want to be able to hug you when I want to, I want to know all your secrets that for some reason I don't know already, I want to—"
"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed. Ron was snapped back from his vision of being with Hermione, and he was struck silent at the wide-eyed confused look on Hermione's face. Ron, determined to ignore his blush, eyed Hermione warily, waiting for her to go on.
Hermione offered the only thing that she found sort of disagreeing with what Ron was proposing to her. "We're so different."
Ron's eyes fell. He clasped his hands together in front of him. Then he clasped them together behind him, and finally shoved them in his pockets miserably. Hermione, his Hermione, had just made him want to run under the bleachers and never come out again. He kicked the sand gently and whispered. "I know we're different. If anyone knows how different we are, it's me."
Hermione was rooted to the spot. She had never before in her life seen Ron this way. Idly wondering why she was feeling slightly dizzy, Hermione realized that she was holding her breath. Hastily, silently chiding herself, she let it go. She shook slightly as Ron's voice grew and he started talking again, slightly faster.
"You're everything a person should be, and all I am is in the way all the time. Hermione, you're perfect. I know you're perfect and I know I'm not, but I wish I could be, even just for a day, so you'd think well of me. I wish there was just one day where I wouldn't be stupid, or look horrible, or say something ridiculous, so that you wouldn't point out what's wrong with me. For one day."
Hermione's throat was closed up tight as Ron absently bared his heart and soul to her. "I'm sorry…"
"See, but that's it Hermione." Ron's intense eyes pierced Hermione's face, his own face flushed as he rambled about something he'd never really thought about before, "I don't want your apology. I am thankful to you. For some ridiculous reason I'm not mad that you're like that. It makes me think that I can fix it. Fix me, so I could grow to be good enough for you."
"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed. Her hands flew to cup her face, desperately hoping that she hadn't made Ron feel that way, "You don't—"
"Let me finish. Please, let me finish this." Ron's eyes fell to the ground again as Hermione forced her mouth shut. She owed that much to him at least. "So, I've been trying to get better. Ever since last year I've done most of my homework, and I study for tests. I didn't give up on potions, even though I was ready to shove a cauldron down Snape's throat, because you said it was important. I even followed that bloody exam study schedule you made up for me. But I've still never gotten one perfect score on anything. It's always, almost an 'O' level, or five out of six, or 98.5. So even though I try to do all this to be worthy of you, I know I'll never be perfect. I'll always be almost there."
"I'm sorry that I dragged you from your studying just to tell you that I pretty much failed you. I guess that tonight, the night before the first day of our last exams at Hogwarts, I was hoping I'd have one more chance, if not to be perfect then to have something that is perfect to call mine."
Ron finished softly as the warm breeze picked up again. He glanced up at Hermione, but quickly away again. It hurt too much to watch her looking at his vulnerable self with her wide brown eyes and their wet eyelashes and her quivering bottom lip. It hurt too much to not have the right to comfort her in that state.
Ron turned slowly, waiting painfully, hopefully, for Hermione to stop him. To say his name, touch his arm, yell at him, do anything. Stepping slowly away, his heart aching horribly in his chest, the soothing air took up its place, caressing, relaxing, easing the pain.
A hand on Ron's shoulder pulled him to a stop, and an emotional Hermione stood in front of him, her cheeks wet. "I'm sorry I ever made you feel that way."
Ron shrugged, looking away from Hermione. This wasn't what he'd hoped she'd stopped him for. He tried stepping around Hermione, but she caught his arm and forced him to look at her.
"I am no more perfect then you are, Ronald Weasley." Hermione's determined face broke, and she flung her arms around Ron, holding tight to him as she whispered this last phrase, the soft warm breeze loftily carrying the words to Ron's ear, "And I've always been yours. Always."
The two classmates, friends, lovers, teens, emotional wrecks, whatever you may want to call them, lived and breathed that beautiful afternoon air. The air, after enveloping the couple in a warm embrace, rejoicing in young love, soared from them. The air flowed easily over the bleachers, racing itself to be the first to touch the grass, to rustle leaves in trees, to find its way somehow into the castle itself, to see if there was anything else to be rejoiced in inside. Hitting the castle's looming wall, the breeze scampered its way up. It eyed a balcony, then a window left opened, only to race in with a mighty gust to envelope a person inside needing the soothing presence of the warm air.
But That Is Another Story, And Will Be Told Another Time.
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