Ron has never been one for waking up early. In fact, before the Horcrux hunt, he always tried his best to be the last person to get out of bed. But now, with the war over and the endless stretch of time ahead of him, sleep eludes him, and he often finds himself awake well before dawn.
At least he gets a chance to experience the stillness that surrounds the Burrow. Although what feels like a hundred people fill the ramshackle farmhouse, there is a comforting quiet, interrupted only by the dawn chorus. The chill on the breeze reminds him that September is barrelling towards them, and pretty soon, he'll be starting Auror training.
He's excited about the opportunity. Not many people get the chance to join the academy without graduating from Hogwarts. But over the past few days, a creeping realisation has been taking over his gut, making Ron feel sick with worry.
With September's arrival will also come Hermione's departure.
Although they currently have no responsibilities, his mum has provided an endless list of chores, forcing the young couple to steal snogs in hidden-away corners of the garden and steal tiny bits of conversation whilst folding laundry. They've not been allowed the chance to talk, not properly, and there's so much Ron wants to discuss with Hermione.
Like the fact that he loves the way she chews on her lower lip when she's reading, how her hands slam onto her hips when she's pissed at him, pushing out her breasts in a way that makes him want to race over to her, forget their argument and kiss her senseless. He longs to tell her how much he yearns for her, even though there's only a flight of stairs and the door of his sister's bedroom separating them. He even wants to tell her about how he's dreamt about her soft body every night since they arrived at Shell Cottage (although perhaps there are some aspects that he should probably keep to himself).
But most importantly, Ron needs to tell Hermione that he's head over heels in love with her.
The realisation came months ago, enhanced by the proximity of sharing a tent with her. Of course, the feelings had stirred a lot earlier than that, probably years ago, but being apart from her (and Harry, of course) over Christmas made them come bubbling to the top.
Ron stretches his long legs out with a loud yawn, letting the early morning sun shine on his face and the wet grass tickle the arches of his feet. Footsteps crunch over the gravel behind him. His stomach gives an excited lurch at the thought of who his visitor might be, and he holds his breath as everything he longs to say to Hermione exits his brain rapidly.
He doesn't want to be a bumbling mess, not around her. He's spent countless hours talking about stupid shit with her over the years, yet now, his mind is empty. But he needs to say something, or she'll think he's an idiot and dump him straight away.
Can you dump someone when you're not even sure if you're together?
"Morning!"
Ron tries to mask his disappointment with a friendly smile as a steaming mug of hot coffee is placed in front of him, and his best friend eases into the seat opposite.
"Expecting someone else, were you?" Harry raises his eyebrows across the table at Ron.
Ron's not sure what happened when Harry walked into the Forbidden Forest to face Voldemort, but ever since Voldemort destroyed the Horcrux inside Harry, the specky git has been more in tune with other things going on around him, including the feelings of his friends.
"Sorry, I just thought you might be—"
Harry laughs as he scratches at the stubble on his jaw. "Hermione? Yeah, I can tell. Well, sorry, but there was no sign of life behind Ginny's closed bedroom door when I walked past it just now."
"Reckon it's probably for the best anyway." Ron takes a sip of the beverage, closing his eyes as the bitter taste of coffee fills his mouth. Harry makes good coffee. At least that hasn't changed. He knows the right amount of sugar and milk to add. After swallowing, Ron mumbles, "Seems like the world is fighting to keep me and her apart."
"You mean the two of you still haven't talked?"
"We haven't had a chance. There are too many people around, and Mum keeps on coming up with stupid chores for us to do. And when we're not helping her, we're at Hogwarts."
"Yeah, same for Ginny and me. But you just have to find a way, you know?"
Nausea swirls in Ron's belly at the thought of Harry and Ginny getting any sort of alone time. He swallows another mouthful of coffee before he chokes on it.
"It's probably too late now. Hermione is off to school in a few weeks. She's not going to want a boyfriend hanging around when she's trying to concentrate on her exams and shit."
Harry rolls his eyes, then sets them on Ron, scrutinising him in a way that only a best mate can. The green is intense, and Ron forces himself to look away before they burn right into his soul. Harry leans forward, lowering his voice before saying, "Now you know that's bullshit, right? That witch is head over heels for you. I don't need Ginny to tell me that."
"I-yeah-but…" Ron struggles to form a coherent story as his heart thumps against his ribcage.
"Anyway," Harry continues, "Wouldn't it be better to tell her even if the timing is wrong than to never tell her at all?" All of a sudden, he springs to his feet, a loud swear escaping his lips as his knee bangs against the metal leg of the table. "Hermione, good morning. Here, take my seat. I just have, uhm, something to do up at the house."
Cursing under his breath, Ron shoots Harry a look worse than Avada Kedavra before attempting to calm the frantic thoughts filling his mind. Panic bubbles in his chest, threatening to spill over in a stream of words that he knows won't make sense.
Harry smirks back, then tips his head towards his best friend in a way that says, 'you're welcome' before hurrying away. Hermione replaces him, the sight of her wild curls and sleep-filled face calming Ron somewhat. He lets out a shuddering sigh, taking a moment to gather his ponderings.
Ron needs to be brave. He's a fucking Gryffindor, after all.
Stretching his hand across the table for hers, he finally says, "Morning 'Mione, did you sleep well?"
Maybe Harry is right; there's no time like the present.