Request: Ohmygod if you're taking requests I would love to see your take on "I could give you fifty reasons why I should be the one you choose." from the Fearless prompts! Hey Stephen has been my fav fearless track since i was like 10
Hermione waited at the portrait hole, her foot tapping an impatient pattern against the cold stone floor. Of course, Ron was late. Some things never changed, especially with that boy. He could always be relied upon for certain things—tardiness, untidiness, and his potty mouth.
She'd tried desperately to swap Prefect rounds with Ernie just to avoid doing them with Ron, but Ernie had turned her down. The eight swaps before were perfectly acceptable, but apparently, the ninth request was the limit for Ernie McMillan.
It was inevitable that she would eventually have to get back to doing her duties with her best friend, but Hermione wasn't quite ready for the ice between them to thaw. Too many things had happened for them to just return to how their friendship used to be. Not yet. She also wasn't too keen on spending time with Ron while he was all loved up with Lavender.
Pushing the thought of the two of them snogging out of her mind before she threw up, Hermione turned her attention to the thunderous roar of footsteps on the dormitory stairs. Ron emerged from the doorway, his tie wonky, his hair messed up and his robes almost falling off his shoulders.
"It's about time," she huffed.
Ron skidded to a stop in front of her and flashed Hermione his biggest lop-sided grin, making her stomach churn at what he might have been up to that had made him so late and given him reason to smile that way.
"Well, there's no point in standing there and scowling at me. That's not going to change the situation. Are you ready to go?"
She didn't want to nod, or smile, or say yes, yet at least two out of the three things happened as Ron gestured towards the exit. That was the power he had over her. Hermione rearranged her face back into a frown as she followed him out of the common room.
⁂
Ron's chipper mood continued for over half of their shift. The pair didn't utter another word, but knowing he was there bouncing along like a puppy dog beside her was enough to push Hermione's irritation levels to the max.
Pausing for a quick break at the portrait of the two lovers on the fourth floor, she dropped to a knee to sort out her shoelaces. As she did, Ron gazed up at the picture, a frown appearing on his face. He was concentrating hard, and Hermione could almost hear the cogs turning in his brain.
"Why do you think Lavender likes me, Hermione?"
His voice was small and quiet, a far cry from his usual loud, boisterous tone. Did she hear something, or was it the wail of the wind against the stone walls? Hermione lifted her head to find Ron staring down at her, his blue eyes shining in the torches that lined the corridor. Doubt clouded his face, a look she'd grown used to over the years she'd known him.
Hermione took her time to digest the question, chewing it over in her mind. She didn't want to answer Ron and fuel his apparent love for Lavender. But she also didn't want him to feel worse or stoke the doubts she knew occupied his mind.
Fortunately, he continued to talk, mistaking her silence for the continued frost that had kept them apart from the past few weeks.
"I know, I know." He sighed and nudged his foot against the wall like a petulant child. "Since that Quidditch game and the moment Lavender kissed me, it feels like I have to make a choice. My girlfriend or my best friend."
His words were brutal, and her heart ached for how they used to be. What he said only enforced the paranoia that crept into her mind in the dead of night when she felt the lowest over how far she'd drifted from Ron. Hermione was going to lose him to Lavender.
I could give you fifty reasons why I should be the one you choose.
Even if they could only be friends, Ron was the best person in her life. He was the only person she could spend all night talking to, and she would never get bored of him. For the best part of a year now, all she could think about when she was alone with Ron was grabbing him and kissing him senseless. Every time he said her name, it sent hippogriffs racing through her belly and caused heat to pool between her legs. They were strange but exciting new feelings, and nobody else had ever made her feel that way.
The list goes on and on, but other worries have invaded her mind. Now she's concerned that Lavender is not telling him these things. Surely one of the essential tasks as Ron's girlfriend is to make him feel good?
Ignoring his statement, Hermione decides to circle back to his question instead. The words catch in her throat in a hard knot at first, forcing her to clear her throat.
"Lavender likes you because you're witty, and sometimes, you can be quite nice to people. You're loyal and a good friend."
"Yeah?" Ron chuckled, then shoved his hands into his pocket. "We're not being good friends at the moment, though, are we?"
Ron's movements made Hermione finally notice the small cuts that peppered his lower arm, woven around the brain scars from the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. A wave of shame crashed over her, leaving behind the overwhelming remorse that has given her nightmares since she attacked him.
The brief thaw in their feud reminded her of why they were currently acting frosty towards each other. Although the guilt remained, she couldn't bring herself to apologise to Ron yet. He was the one who wronged her first, after all. She'd invited him to attend Slughorn's party with her, but in response, he'd snogged Lavender. He should be the one to say sorry first.
"No, we're not Ron," Hermione snapped before straightening up. "And doing prefect duties together doesn't resolve that either."
Without another word, she continued her path down the corridor. Ron's eyes burned into the back of her head, and she could just imagine the pitiful look pasted on his face, but she didn't dare turn around.
The moment was gone. Hermione had chosen not to say sorry, and Ron definitely hadn't apologised. The pair were at a stalemate, and who knew when they'd next get an opportunity to sort things out.