The mysteries of love are never as mysterious as they appear. Yet, for all the things I know, all the books I've read, and all the things I've done, it is still a mystery to me as to why I left him, pitifully on the grass. He was just sort of, lying there. Now I'm hiding just beyond the Quidditch field, with my hands all dirty and my cheeks splotchy from simultaneously crying and running as fast as possible. I don't feel well. My mind doesn't feel well. My poor, trodden heart doesn't feel well.

I know I should go back, I could see what he wanted, and I wanted it so badly as well! Argh… how frustrating. I peak behind the stone wall of the castle and see him sitting with his legs crossed, fuming. I can't tell whether it is at me, or if he is angry with himself. Slowly, the bottoms of my well-worn shoes scrape the ground as they follow one another forward, one by one. I inch towards visibility and cry out.

"Ron!"

He turns so quickly I think I hear his back crack. This makes me smile, and I stand there, like an idiot, biting my lip. Urging myself to go onwards and tell him, well… I'll figure that out when I get there.

…………………………………….

My god. I should never have done that. I cannot believe I did that! Oh, the frustration! I had her so close, and then she was gone, like a fleeting breeze. Or a track star, judging by her speed. Am I really that revolting? I know I'm no Harry, but I've got the "fiery hair," and the "tall, leanness," going for me, right? Damn the opportunities that I completely slaughter.

It's right in the middle of this little rant that I hear my name. My back cracks I turn around so quickly and I'm surprised my head doesn't fall off to see who is standing there. Somehow, I know everything that is and everything that was in that moment that I nearly faint from the blood rushing to my… you know.

"Hermione?"

"Oh, Ron, I'm sorry. It's just that…"

"Say no more, Hermione. I completely understand. I was totally out of line and you have every right to be upset." I don't know where this half apology comes from, and I wonder if she'll believe it, even if I can't.

"No, you don't understand. You see, I have a confession." Her eyes get so damn big that they swallow me up whole.

"Ron, I didn't want to run. I just got scared is all. I, uh, don't really know how to explain…" And she trails off again, leaving a gaping silence that stretches across the void between us.

And I wait.

Nothing comes.

I feel awful making her stand there with her cheeks growing redder and redder and her legs crossed, her hands clasped on her stomach, and a waning smile on her lips. I feel myself rising uncontrollably, slowing coming up to a stand. Unbidden (as usual), my body glides to her, just a few feet away, crossing the void. I awkwardly nuzzle my nose against hers and then kiss her with an energy I didn't know I possessed. She tentatively places her hands on my back, pulling herself into my body as if battling between her passion and her internal inhibitions. I relish the touch, feeling her heat all the way from where her knees knock against mine to her breasts hugged against my own chest to our lips. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as that embarrassing extremity of mine rises of its own accord, Hermione's entire body stiffens the slightest bit and I try to pull back as best I can. Oh, God! I don't know what to do! I eventually take the cowards route and put space between us, breaking off that kiss.

Finally everything comes into focus. Hermione's eyes, which seemed so smart and predictable, look stilled and hopeful. It didn't even occur to me before this little, ahem, episode how attracted I am to her. She is completely my opposite. I guess that means we fit, in a way. It never occurred to me before, that this may be why we bicker like siblings. I supposed we've always, innately known that we work well together. Sometimes my philosophical strokes of brilliance shock me.