Stuttering
She sat at her desk absentmindedly chewing on the end of her quill. She was staring at the piece of parchment in front of her, like she'd been doing for twenty minutes. It was an
attempt to write to her best friend and the secret love of her life. So far she'd gotten to the date and the greeting. She took the quill from her mouth and dipped it into the ink well. 'How
are you?' she wrote. 'I'm doing great. How's your summer been so far?' she continued. Very good. It was all very normal. There was nothing there to give away what she tried so
desperately to hide.
Yes, she hid it. She couldn't very well tell him, now could she? Well, technically, she could, but then things would change. That would be bad. Unless, that is, he loved her, too.
But that was completely out of the question. First of all, they were best friends. Best friends didn't fall in love. Except in her case. But she didn't ask to fall for Ron. It just happened. It
was all rather unfortunate, really. And second, Ron would never fall in love with her because he was Ron. The can't even get along for five minutes. It was simply unfathomable.
Anyways, back to the letter.
'Mine has been alright, I guess. A little bit lonely. I guess that's just me being used to Hogwarts and the Burrow. I can't wait until I get to come stay there. A week still seems so
long. Maybe it's just because I'm about to die of boredom. There really is nothing to do here. I've already finished all my homework. Speaking of which, how are you coming along with
yours? Well, I guess I've taken up enough of your time. Look forward to hearing from you soon.' Now to sign it. Sincerely? No, too formal. Your friend? Still not personal enough. Love?
It could work. Maybe he won't take it like that. Friendly love. Yes, that's it. 'Love, Hermione.' She reread the letter and put it in an envelope, sealed and ready to be sent.
Ron was laying on his bed, staring at his ceiling when he heard a tap on the window. He say up on his bed and looked out the window. He recognized the owl to be Hermione's,
and his heart jumped up in his throat. He leapt off the bed and raced to the window to retrieve his mail. He gave the bird a treat and it flew off. Resuming his position on the bed, he turned
the letter over in his hands. His eagerness faded almost instantly. He was contemplating actually opening the letter. He wasn't too excited about setting himself up to get let down again.
Hermione's letters were always the same. Very friendly. They were exactly the letters you expected from your best friend. So why was he always disappointed? It was just that
sometimes he would catch her looking at him, the way he looked at her when no one was watching. And he would think that maybe she felt for him what he felt for her, and he would look
for some hint of how she felt in her letters. But they were always the same, and he was always disappointed.
Maybe this time he just wouldn't' read it. Save himself the trouble of getting his hopes up for nothing. But if he didn't write back she'd be upset. He hated to upset her. Maybe
he could just write back without having to read it. No, she'd know. He couldn't avoid reading her letters forever. He just had to face the facts. Reading her letter was inevitable.
He sighed and tore open the envelope. He scanned the page, which was full of her neat, perfect handwriting. It was all the usual stuff. He finished reading and went to fold up
the letter when he froze. He looked back at the last line. 'Love, Hermione.' Love? That was a new one. His eyes grew wide, and his mind started racing. Then, it went totally blank. She
loved him? But maybe he was overreacting. She probably didn't mean it like that. It was just a friendly love. Besides, there was nothing else in the letter to suggest otherwise. Dang. He'd
gotten his hopes up, again.
He sighed and sat down at his desk, pulling out a piece of parchment and a quill. Now, what to say. 'Hey, Hermione. I got your letter. Thanks for writing. My summer has been
alright. Pretty dull, too.' He reread it and grimaced. He always sounded so idiotic on paper. He ran his hand through his messy red locks. He was seriously debating whether or not to say
something. He was tired of hiding it. It put his through too much pain. 'Well, I haven't exactly started my homework, yet, but I will as soon as I get done writing this, so I'll have some of
it done before you get here. Listen, Mi, there's something I've been meaning to tell you, but I can't do it in a letter. So we'll talk when you get here, okay? Don't worry, nothing's
wrong.' -lie- 'Well, I guess I better start that homework if I'm going to get and done before you get here. Love, Ron.' Well, there it is. He gave the letter to Pig and sent it on its way.
Hermione sat on her bed rereading Ron's letter for the fifth time. He said he had to tell her something, but not in a letter. She had immediately jumped to all sorts of horrible
conclusions. Until she read the next line that said nothing was wrong. She was puzzled. What could it b? she got out a clean sheet of parchment and scribbled her reply. 'Ron, you know
you won't get any of your homework done until I get there. I know you better than that. What could you possibly need to tell me that you can't write in a letter? I hate surprises, and you
know that! Well, I'll be there in two days, so I guess I'll find out then. Love, Mi.'
She loved to write that. It just came so naturally. She stuck the letter in an envelope and sent it to Ron.
Ron woke up two days later to the sun shining in his open window, almost blinding him. Today's the day. He drug himself out of bed and hopped into the shower. He got
dressed, feeling refreshed, and headed downstairs for breakfast.
"Good morning, sunshine," Mrs. Weasely said, giving her youngest son a kiss.
"Mornin', Mum," he said, stifling a yawn.
"You can't still be tired. I let you sleep in, and you've already had a shower," she said, giving him a stern look.
"What time is it?" he asked.
"Half-past noon. Hermione should be here any minute," she answered. His stomach tied itself in a huge knot. She would be here soon!
At that moment, they heard someone land in the fireplace. They stepped into the living room and saw a curly brown head stepping out of the fireplace. She dusted off her
clothes, looked up, and smiled.
"Hi," she said, simply.
"Oh, hello dear! How have you been? You look simply wonderful!" Mrs. Weasely said, running over to her and smothering her in hugs.
"Thank you, Mrs. Weasely. I've been doing good. You look very nice, too," she replied. Mrs. Weasely stepped back and observed her surrogate daughter, practically beaming.
"Ahem," Ron said, trying to attract a little bit of attention to himself. Mrs. Weasely looked from Hermione to Ron.
" Well, I guess I better go start lunch. I'm so glad you're here, dear," Mrs. Weasely said, then turned and went back to the kitchen.
"Hi, Ron," Hermione said.
"Hi," he answered.
"How are you?" she asked.
"I'm good, you know," he replied.
"Did you start your homework yet?" she asked.
"Um, no," he said. She laughed.
"I knew you wouldn't. but it's okay. I'm here now!" she said. He smiled at her.
"Yeah, you are."
"So, you said you had something to tell me?" she said as more of a question than a statement. Ron suddenly found his shoes to be the most interesting thing he'd ever seen.
"Ron?" she snapped him back to reality.
"Oh, right, sorry. Um, well, maybe we should go talk upstairs in my room," he said, motioning towards the stairway. She nodded and he led the way to his room. She sat on the
bed, but he stayed standing.
"Well, you see, the thing is," he started.
" Yes?" Hermione urged him on.
"I…I mean you…well…we…um…sometimes…I well…you and me…we…" the blush was rapidly creeping over his face, " when I…and you…but the letters…I need to know,"
he finished, looking at her expectantly. She just stared at him dumbly.
"You're not making any sense, Ron. What do you need to know?" she asked him, her heart racing. He took a deep breath and tried again.
" I need to know if you…well…me…I mean…we…no…" his eyes pleaded with her, "not really…I just thought maybe…someday…but -" in and instant she had left the bed and
pressed her mouth to his, shutting him up. She stepped back and looked up at him. His eyes were wide in shock, and he was gaping at her. She smiled.
"Yeah, that was it," he said, a grin spreading across his beet-red face. Hermione burst out in a fit if giggles. " What's so funny?" he said, in a hurt tone.
"I've never heard you stutter so much."