Maybe
Ron sat in the lounge chair by the fire in the Common Room, looking at a Chudley Cannons magazine. At least that's what it looked like he was going. He was really just watching her. She was curled up on the couch across from him reading. She was always reading, but he didn't mind. It gave him a chance to look at her without worrying about getting caught. She was always too absorbed in her books to notice.
He loved to just watch her be herself. All of her little quirks mesmerized him. Like the way a single curl was always wrapped around her finger when she was reading, or when she was thinking hard, or when she was distracted. And how her eyes got really round and started moving at top speed when she got to a good spot in a book. Or how she bit her bottom lip when she was nervous. He could go on forever. Even her bossy attitude and tendency to know everything were perfect to him. She was perfect to him…for him. She just didn't know it yet. But maybe he'd tell her. Maybe tonight would be the night.
Hermione sat reading a book, but she couldn't remember which one. She wasn't concentrating very well. She never did when he was around. She could feel his eyes on her. She didn't know why he would be watching her. He wasn't just looking at something. He was watching. What could be so interesting about her reading? It made her nervous, but, in a way, she liked it. She liked the attention. Especially from him.
There was something different about him. He didn't make her feel the way Harry did. Just being around him made her nervous. She got these butterflies in her stomach, and no matter what she did, they wouldn't be still. Everything he said made her blush. Maybe he felt the same.
"Hey 'Mione," Ron said finally.
"Yes?" she answered. This was it. He was finally going to say something, tell her how he felt.
"Um…" he paused. "Wanna play a game of chess?" he asked her. She looked almost confused, but then nodded her head. Oh well, maybe next time.