Part Three: Isn't It Obvious?
"Ron!"
The redhead turned around to view one Harry Potter running down the corridor to catch up with him. He stopped in his tracks as Harry, still running madly, hurried even faster to walk with him.
"So," Harry began once he caught his breath, "how are things?"
Harry had been springing up vague questions on Ron like this one as of late. What Harry meant by this, he did not know.
"Fine," he replied.
"And how's Hermione?" And then Harry would ask him a more specific question, such as in this case. Truth be told, Ron had not been able to get a moment alone with her, for she was ever-dashing off to research or study in the library.
"All right, I guess. Weren't you just with her, for help on your Charms essay?" said Ron sharply.
"Oh, yeah," Harry replied, frowning slightly.
"The jig is up, Harry—what's going on? Every time you see me, you seem to ask me about her. I might be slow, but even I'm not that thick!"
"I have my reasons," said Harry authoritatively.
"Which are?"
"Merlin, you're blind!"
Ron raised a questioning eyebrow at this comment.
"You…and Hermione…" Harry hinted, finally cluing Ron in.
"Well, what about it?" Ron asked sheepishly, his ears turning slightly red—a dead giveaway that something was definitely going on between Hermione and him.
"Isn't it obvious?" Harry asked enigmatically.
Ron looked at Harry strangely. "Obvious?"
Harry sighed impatiently. "You like Hermione. Hermione likes you. Everyone knows that, Ron, and I tell you this with all sincerity."
This was news to Ron. "You've got to be kidding me," he said. "How could everyone know what we're feeling inside?"
"You make it apparent, with your constant bickering and what not."
"Then I guess I'm surprised people haven't started making bets about us."
Harry only laughed uneasily at Ron's observation. As they rounded the corner, they ran into Zacharias Smith and Justin Finch-Fletchey, who were counting Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts.
"So that's two Galleons and four Knuts from Susan Bones, and then ten Sickles from Ernie McMillan—oof!"
"Hey Harry, Ron," Justin managed to get out, trying to hide the money from Ron's view.
"We—er—were just—"
"That is to say—"
"Spill it, guys," Ron said at last.
"We're collecting for—um—St. Mungo's?" Zacharias suggested.
"Oh, fine—Ron, we were wondering, around this time last year," Justin began confessing, "just when you and Hermione would get together…"
"And so were the rest of the Hufflepuffs," Zacharias added. "Er—and the Ravenclaws…"
"The majority of the wonderers were of Gryffindor, but we had a decent number of Slytherins counted in—"
"In what?" Ron pressed.
"In a bet," the two Hufflepuffs said simultaneously.
"Well," Ron said edgily. "Guess that answers my question." He turned on his heel and strode away from Harry, Justin, and Zacharias.
"What's up with Ron?" Justin asked Harry. "I thought he'd have a worse reaction than that."
"Quite a simple story," Harry allowed. "One I won't share, for not even I truly understand it. How much is it I owe you?"
"Only a Galleon; you were one of those who predicted it would happen by the end of the summer. Hey, have you seen Colin Creevey lately? He put in quite a considerable wager for Hermione's birthday last year…"
Hermione was sitting down in her home away from home—the library, reading Advanced Potion-Making very intently. So intently, she only noticed Ron had sat down next to her when he carelessly dumped his book sack on the only clear spot of her table.
"Hi," she smiled. Under normal circumstances, Hermione would have reprimanded him for nearly messing up her school things, but she didn't see such an argument-inducing comment to be fit in a time she was actually getting along with Ron. And getting along is a nice change, Hermione thought.
"Hey," Ron greeted her back. "Just got away from Harry—he's been interrogating me mercilessly lately."
"You too?" Hermione was not surprised.
"Yeah." Both laughed nervously, and quiet overcame them for a moment, until Hermione brought up something that had recently been on her mind.
"Erm…Ron?"
"Yes?"
"Did you still want to go to Slughorn's Christmas party…together?"
This took Ron by surprise. "Uh—of course!"
"All right then," she resolved.
After a few minutes, when Hermione had turned back to Advanced Potion-Making, Ron asked, "What do I wear?"
Hermione giggled faintly. "Your dress robes," she replied.
"Oh, okay…"
"I just thought it was sort of obvious…"
"Er…right, obvious." Ron felt himself heat up as he remembered all Harry had told him.
"Is there a problem?" Hermione asked in concern.
"No," Ron said, a bit more defensively than he had intended.
"No need to snap, Ron," she reminded him.
"I wasn't…" The constant bickering. Merlin, Harry.
"You weren't what?" Hermione pushed.
"I didn't mean to snap, sorry," he apologized lowly.
"It's okay," Hermione forgave him, resting her hand on top of his, which was lying on the table—quite the bold move on her part.
The tips of Ron's ears tinged red for the second time that day as she began tracing the outlines of his palm with her thumb absently, reading up poisons in her book all the while.
He couldn't very well concentrate on the book he had pulled from his bag when she did that…it was indescribably distracting. Not that Ron minded being distracted right then. In fact, he could think of nothing else he'd like more. Yet he had a damn good idea of how he wanted to be distracted, and hands were only a small part of what he wished to do with Hermione.
The trouble, though, was asking Hermione. Yes, she might want to, but she was so anal about her school work…
Merlin, Ron mused, I've kissed her before; why am I still nervous around her? How hard could it be to do it again? What if I bite the bullet and go for it? What's the worst that could happen?
Ron looked around the library warily. The only person there, it seemed, was Madam Pince, who was checking books in at her desk.
He turned back round to see Hermione packing her things up, previously having let go of his hand.
"I finished the chapter," she explained. "Coming?"
He was still sitting in his seat, looking a bit dumbstruck. "Uh…sure," he agreed shakily, realizing that he finally would have the chance to tell Hermione—or rather, show her—what exactly was on his mind on the long trip to Gryffindor tower.
They exited the library side-by-side and took a left. The absence of Hermione's hand in his was becoming more and more distracting to Ron with every step they took down the dimly-lit corridor. It was more distracting even, than actually holding it.
"Hermione?" She turned to him, her now-glossy curls bouncing as she did so.
"Yes?"
"I was w-wondering…"
"Yes?"
He couldn't very well say it! Did he even have to ask? Oh, what the hell.
It was a different kiss than the last time, in Ron's opinion. It was better—perhaps he was getting better…
Hermione broke the kiss abruptly. "Sorry, Ron," she said hastily. "I've just remembered I need to see Professor Flitwick about the Charms essay—"
"—that's not due for a week," Ron finished. "It can wait, can't it?"
"No, I don't think so…"
"Merlin," Ron said in disbelief, "if I didn't know you better, Hermione, I'd say you were trying to avoid kissing me."
Hermione laughed nervously. He's catching on! Not good. "Well—erm—I'll be going up to Transfiguration, then—"
"I thought you were going to see Flitwick?" Ron reminded her sharply.
"Yes, right, so—"
Hermione was halted in her speech as Ron grabbed her round the waist with one arm and clasped his opposite hand over her mouth.
"You," he began, "are not going anywhere until you explain to me just why you've been avoiding the issue of kissing me as if I were the plague."
This was quite thrilling to Hermione—very…rousing (she flushed slightly pink at this notion), actually, being held nearly flush against her not-so-secret love of five years.
"Um," she started. How do I tell him that kissing him isn't as pleasurable as I thought it'd be?
As it turned out, Hermione didn't have to tell him. "It's my kissing, isn't it?" he asked, his face falling.
When Hermione only looked to her feet shamefully, Ron knew the answer. "Guess nothing can help that," he shrugged, letting her go and starting to walk away.
"Oh, wait, Ron!" Hermione cried to his retreating back.
He twisted half-way around. "Yeah?"
"It's not that I don't fancy you—you know I do—but—"
"But I bloody fail as a kisser in your mind. I don't have any experience," he said disgustedly, sinking against the wall of the corridor.
"Not quite," Hermione told him in a small voice. He shook his head in disagreement and turned it away from her.
She knelt next to him and cupped his face in her hand. He wouldn't look at her. "Don't shut me out, Ron," she warned him sternly. "That's the last thing we need—and definitely the last thing Harry needs."
When her attempts at reconciliation with Ron didn't work, Hermione dropped her hand to her side helplessly.
Fine, she grumbled to herself. I suppose I'll have to take matters into my own hands.
Oh, what the hell?
Hermione kissed Ron with as much feeling as she could muster. It's not so bad…
She heard footsteps fast-approaching and broke away from Ron, blushing. He was grinning like an idiot, but when Lavender Brown came into view, his smile faded.
Lavender was giving the couple before her a look of pure loathing. "Well, well, well…this is going to be interesting," she said with relish.
"And what," Hermione said, standing up to her full height threateningly (she had a good two inches on Lavender), "do you mean by that, Lavender?"
"Oh, I think you know, Hermione, that I , of course, must report the fact you and your classmate were partaking in a snogging session right in the middle of a corridor to the whole of Gryffindor, including Professor McGonagall," Lavender quipped, tossing her golden mane back sassily.
Hermione was about to retort when she noticed something peculiar about her opponent. Indeed, many of Lavender's pores were sprouting pus-filled pimples all over her perfectly-painted face. Hermione had to bite back a hearty laugh as Lavender, too, realized what was happening to her.
"Ew! Ew! Get them off me!" she screeched, running up the nearest staircase, most likely ascending to Gryffindor tower to find Parvati, who, Hermione was sure, could put Lavender right again. Hermione turned back to Ron to see him doubling over with mirth.
"Fred and George," he choked out in explanation for Lavender's current facial mishap.
"Ron!" she gasped. "She'll certainly tell a teacher."
"She hasn't got any proof I've done it to her," he reminded Hermione.
"But what of her threat about our snogging? We shouldn't have; what kind of example are we as prefects?"
"For starters, Lavender seems to have a bad case of short-term memory loss. For another thing—I believe you were the one who was snogging me when Lavender caught us." He smirked at her, knowing that for once, he was the right one.
"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione shrieked exasperatedly. "Well, I suppose that is true," she added in a quieter tone after some consideration.
Ron smiled yet again. "Of course, that's my story if Lavender actually does remember to tell McGonagall."
"You really are impossible, you know that?"
"I think it's why you like me so much."
"And what makes you think I fancy you that much?" Hermione wanted to know.
Ron smirked again. "Oh, it's just a bit obvious."
Hermione rolled her eyes, and he took her hand once again as they began walking to the Great Hall for supper. Little did our favorite couple know, much would happen next week at the Slug Club's holiday get-together, all under the influence of butterbeer.
A/N: Long-awaited, I know. Lots of stuff has been happening, most of which I have no control over. Thanks for the great number of you who have encouraged me that kissing shouldn't be that important, and that I should wait for the right person, and the right time. I totally love y'all! This part of the ficlet is quite a bit longer than the others so far, so I'm hoping y'all will enjoy it. This is also the SECOND TO LAST part of "If Things Were Different." So, stay tuned for the next and FINAL part…yeah, no idea when it'll be out… Patience, my young padawans.
Love,
Christine
P.S. Hilary, you know me too well, don't you?