Ron awoke as he usually did at an early start, stirring and groaning as the noise of the other boys of the dormitory getting up and ready for the day. He stretched before snapping his eyes open, it was a Saturday, after all, and Saturdays usually meant he got a well needed and well deserved lie in, but not today. Even though he loved visiting Hogsmeade, he did love his bed in the moment more and therefore found it rather difficult to extricate himself from the bed.
"Come on, Ron!" Harry called as he opened one of the curtains from around Ron's four poster.
"Alright, alright. Why are you in such a hurry?" Ron asked tiredly as he pulled on his trousers, wondering if Harry had been spending too much time with Hermione to pick up her bossy tendencies.
Harry moved closer to Ron and checked around the room to ensure no one else was listening, "Cause Slughorn'll be at the Three Broomsticks, and I don't want to miss the chance to speak to him." He all but whispered. Ron just nodded and proceeded to finish getting dressed.
Breakfast was filled with an excited air as everyone who was in their third year or above chatted about visiting the colourful village that sat beside the school grounds. Ron filled his face with a full breakfast, Harry had a few bacon and eggs and Hermione had her usual porridge, decorated with blueberries.
"So, what are you going to say to Professor Slughorn?" Hermione asked Harry, she seemed like she was itching to find out more about Dumbledore's desire to retrieve memories from this particular teacher.
Harry shrugged. "Well, I hadn't thought about that actually. I can't just ask him right there and then about the-" Harry paused to ensure there were no eavesdroppers before moving closer to Ron and Hermione "-ya know." He finished, Ron only had to think for a moment before remembering vaguely about Harry mentioning some pieces of dark magic - or was it just one thing? It was all a bit confusing.
"Reckon he knows much about them, then?" Ron asked, lowering his voice too.
Harry shrugged again. "I don't know, but Dumbledore is sure that Slughorn's memory has been tampered with, and the only way to find out the truth is for Slughorn to give us, give me the proper version."
"Tampered with?" Hermione asked concernedly. "It seems like he's hiding something, Harry. You should be careful."
"Frankly, there's only so careful I can be, Hermione!" Harry snapped.
"Oi!" Ron warned, looking to see if Hermione was at all hurt by his outburst. She just looked back to him with reassuring eyes but Ron still looked annoyed back at Harry.
"Sorry, Hermione." Harry said, looking rather sheepish.
"It's fine. I just think we all need to be careful about who we choose to trust these days." Hermione reasoned. Both Harry and Ron nodded glumly.
"These checks are so bloody pointless." Ron grumbled as they slowly moved through the queue of people awaiting to be approved by Filch to surpass the school's exit. The whole security of the school had gotten increasingly heightened with the return of You-Know-Who. Ron understood of course, but his impatience hadn't always remembered that.
"They've got to." Hermione reminded him softly what she knew he realised.
"I know." Ron mumbled. "Sorry that he was a bit of a dick this morning." He added, motioning Harry who had been taken aside by Dumbledore.
"He's got a lot on his plate. He always does." Hermione reasoned with a weak smile as she turned to Ron.
"I know but you were only trying to help. He shouldn't have-"
"It's fine, Ron, really." Hermione insisted, Ron would've argued back again if she hadn't given him a half hug which dampened his annoyance. "How's Quidditch going?" She asked as they moved further up the queue.
"S'alright." Ron answered vaguely, shoving his hands in his pockets. Hermione gave him the look she so often used that he knew meant she didn't believe him for a moment. "Just don't think I'm good enough to play for the team, there were better people who tried out." He sighed.
"No there wasn't." Hermione countered quickly. "They may have been good, but you were better." She promised. He could feel his own lips curve into a smile as he warmed at her words. Suddenly, he forgot all of his previous concerns about Quidditch as he looked down at her soft eyes, then down to her softer lips, which he had to rip his gaze away from. He cursed himself for letting his gaze drop, he knew she only saw their relationship as platonic, he knew she would hex him right there and then if he tried to do something as ridiculous as kiss her, but the pit in his stomach mocked him all the same as he stepped back from their close proximity.
Hermione ordered three drinks for herself, Ron and Harry and sat at the table where Harry could get a clear view of Slughorn. When their drinks arrived, there was little conversation as Harry watched their Potions master sit at the bar and waffle jovially to anyone who would listen. Although she would admittedly rather be beside him, she was happy to have Ron opposite her, in her general view. His warm, freckled face made her feel comforted somehow, despite the world of things going on around them.
Eventually, Hermione noticed Harry's face light up as Professor Slughorn finally made his way to them, he got Ron's name wrong but he didn't appear that fazed, despite his grimace, as their teacher waffled to Harry who was lapping all of it up tactically, Hermione was soon distracted by the sight of Ginny and their fellow Gryffindor sixth year, Dean sharing a booth in the corner, quite, comfortably - one could say. Hermione couldn't help but smirk although she did find it rather foolish that Ginny was with Dean when she was clearly obsessed with Harry. However, she didn't have much time to think over the matter before Ron, too, had noticed what she was staring at and swore under his breath. Hermione kicked him, albeit lightly, under the table to remind him he was still in the presence of a professor, but frankly, Professor Slughorn never paid much attention to Ron and rather luckily he didn't begin now.
Harry decided to leave the booth with their professor as he, rather enthusiastically, wanted to introduce Harry to all of his friends that sat at the bar. If Harry had anything to say about how Slughorn was using him as a way to show off to a bunch of pub-goers, he didn't say anything. And sooner than later, Hermione and Ron were the only two left at their table.
"What's the matter?" Hermione asked, noting Ron's clearly angered expression. She knew the answer of course, but it was so silly to be annoyed over it for so long she nearly didn't want to believe it.
"Bloody Dean groping my little sister, in the middle of the bloody pub for everyone to see! That's the matter!" Ron fumed.
Hermione rolled her eyes at his overreaction. "Don't you think that's a slight exaggeration? They're all the way in a separate corner!"
"So? They're still at it!" He argued back.
"So? As much you might want to, Ron, you can't lock your sister away forever, she's bound to want to do these things. Do you think she'd have anything to say if she walked in and saw me and you-"
"Saw me and you what?" Ron interjected.
Hermione's cheeks reddened and realised that the last part of her sentence would be quite awkward to spell out. "You know, doing what they're doing." She finished sheepishly, wishing that the floor beneath them would just open up and swallow her whole existence.
Ron calmed down and seemed to even study Hermione for a moment. She determinedly refused to look at him, though, suddenly hoping that Slughorn and Harry would return and he would forget completely about her verbal mess.
"So - uh - where do you want to go after this?" He asked awkwardly, seeming to want to break the thick, tense air.
"Oh, um, I don't know. It's a bit cold, to be honest." She stated with the same awkward tone, but happy to have something, anything to talk about that could divert them away from what had just let slip.
"You do look freezing." He chuckled.
"Gee, thanks, Ron." She joked sarcastically, the awkward air seeming to defuse as quickly as it came.
"Want my jumper?" He asked. Hermione couldn't believe how nonchalantly he spoke. This was the problem with Ron, he could be really sweet and they'd share moments like this where he'd hold her hand on the train, or offer his jumper as if it was something that normal friends should do. Obviously, they were better than just friends, they were best friends, the very best. But Hermione would find it rather strange if her and Harry started holding hands and moving that close to each other on the ride to Hogwarts, or if Harry had offered his jumper so casually. But why did the air feel so awkward when Hermione implied, albeit accidentally, that they could be participating in something as intimate as another couple, when they were sharing and doing things that other couples would do? This was all too confusing, Hermione decided. How, she was unsure of. It was only a boy, and that boy was Ron of all people, her best friend. Why were things so difficult to judge or work out? Advanced Arithmancy she could do, Ancient Runes, with ease but when it came to assessing whether her best friend was feeling half of the same things she was, her mind roamed completely lost. She'd try and snap herself out of it, reminding herself that the idea that he was thinking along the same wavelength at all was nothing but preposterous. But he held her hand, he initiated so many hugs - that definitely lasted far too long to be at all platonic, offered her his jumper as if it was a regular thing he did. But maybe that's why he was so comfortable doing all of these things, he only saw them as friends, therefore he needn't think twice about the closeness, what did it matter if they were just friends?
Hermione had been in such a trance of confusion and contemplation that she had nearly forgotten where she even was, until Ron added, "you don't have to, you just look cold."
"But won't you be cold if I have your jumper?" She asked tentatively, the part of her heart that screamed with excitement at the thought of wearing something that would probably smell of him telling her off for sounding so reluctant to accept it.
"Nah." He shook his head. "Only a short walk back." He dismissed, taking off his coat to pull off the infamous, burgundy Weasley jumper, with a golden 'R' embroidered on it.
Hermione accepted it tentatively, which made Ron give a small, self deprecating chuckle. "It's not the best, but it'll probably keep you warm, at least."
"No, no it's not that." Hermione clarified, looking down at the jumper that she could already inhale the glorious scent of. "It'll be amazing, it's just-" She stopped herself by biting down on her bottom lip. Could she tell him of her confusions? Would that just make everything weird? Would he become angry at her fast conclusions?
"Just what?" He probed.
"Nothing." She said quickly, and then proceeded to take off her own coat and put on the maroon article. Maybe it was just the thought of wearing the jumper, let alone the actual jumper itself, but Hermione felt instantly warmed, and as silly as it sounded, safe, as she pulled her hair out of the back.
"It's a bit big." Ron laughed.
"It's perfect." Hermione stated, a little too honestly. "Oh, Harry's coming back." She noted quickly, she assumed if Ron saw her without her coat, that she no longer needed, he might ask for his jumper back so instead, she pulled the jacket back on herself as she stood and waited for Harry.
"Alright? How'd it go?" Ron asked casually.
"Fine." Harry shrugged, looking rather bored. "But you'll never guess who I saw leaving the girls' bathroom." He added quickly.
"Who?" Ron and Hermione both asked in unison.
"Malfoy." Harry all but whispered.
"You're seeing things, mate." Ron scoffed.
"I'm not. I promise." Harry countered, impatiently.
"What would bloody Malfoy be doing in there?"
"I told you, Ron. He's up to something. I know he is." Harry persisted.
"I mean it is a bit sketchy, but that might be just because he is a bit sketchy, what would bloody You-Know-Who want with Malfoy?" Ron asked as they walked along the road back to Hogwarts. Hermione would've chimed in, reminding Harry to stay on task and not worry about what Draco Malfoy was doing, but she was growing rather tired of having the same argument, and rather too content in just following behind, breathing in Ron's jumper.
The boys' conversation trailed off to the usual topics that involved mainly Quidditch. Hermione wondered how long they could seriously talk about one sport for, but they seemed to be giving it a good go. The pleasant conversation soon came to an abrupt halt as the boys and Hermione stopped at the sight of another Gryffindor, Katie Bell's limp body on the floor. Her friend, Leanne cried out something along the lines of she visited the girls' bathroom whilst at the Three Broomsticks and hadn't acted the same since. Harry turned to Ron and muttered, "I told you," before the three of them edged nearer to assist Leanne.
Ron looked back and held his hand out to Hermione, who, albeit pleasantly surprised by the action, took it, gratefully. She wasn't entirely sure why he had decided to latch on to her hand, Hermione assumed it was because they were edging closer to a situation that clearly wasn't safe, but the idea of him wanting to protect her made her heart warm even further.
Ron crashed on to the dark red sofa that sat in the middle of the common room. He sighed as he rubbed his forehead, eyes closed in exhaustion and frustration.
"How did it go?" Hermione asked from her armchair as she continued to finish her Transfiguration essay despite the fact that the boys had just returned from Quidditch practise.
"Awfully." Ron sighed.
"No it didn't!" Harry claimed, a little too quickly for it to be an organic, honest response, Ron thought.
Hermione looked up from her work for the first time since they arrived and looked between the two, kitted in their Quidditch gear. "What happened?" Hermione directed the cautious question to Harry, but Ron was none the wiser with his eyes still shut.
"I played rubbish."
"That's not true, Ron." Harry argued but used a soft tone.
"Isn't it?" Ron asked sadly, finally opening his eyes and looking his best mate in the eye.
"No." Harry answered, firmly. "You just need to believe in yourself more!"
Ron scoffed. "Our first bloody game is next week, I'll be rubbish, just like I was tonight, just like I was last practise and the one before that."
Harry just sighed, clearly tired of repeating the same conversation over and over. Hermione, who was yet to weigh in on their exchange, studied Ron as his attention was directed to the loose bit of thread that strayed from the gold detailing of the maroon sofa. "Why do you think you were rubbish, Ron?" She asked softly, despite her blunt question.
"Cause that's how I played." Ron laughed, thinking the answer was rather obvious and the question very unnecessary.
"But you don't always think you've played rubbish. Despite how the last few sessions have gone." Hermione reasoned. Ron looked up at her then, but he had nothing to add. He didn't really understand where she was going with this, so he let her explain further. "From what I can gather is that, when you think you're playing well, you try harder. And when you think you're just rubbish, you don't even try to prove yourself wrong. It's quite simply, really." Ron looked back down sheepishly. "You need to have more confidence in yourself, Ron." Hermione finished with a serious look etched on her face.
Ron remained silent, as did the other two, before Harry yawned and looked at his watch. "I better go." He stated as he stood up and stretched.
"A lesson with Dumbledore?" Hermione asked, Harry just nodded sleepily before waving, tiredly, and leaving through the portrait hole. "He's far too tired to be having a lesson with Dumbledore." Hermione noted, looking at the clock that sat on the wall above the fireplace.
Ron did feel sorry for Harry, having to trek all the way to the headmaster's office and then having to endure an hours lesson before trekking back to Gryffindor Tower. Nope, Ron did not envy him in the slightest. He was every bit just as knackered as Harry was and couldn't wait to just go up to bed and close his eyes until the morning. "We don't have watch tonight, do we?" He asked, dread in his voice. Ron usually loved the patrols, it meant that he and Hermione could have some time alone, because, as much as he loved Harry, he often craved the times where it would just be he and Hermione. But tonight he was so tired that he wasn't even confident his legs could take him as far as the dormitory.
Ron knew straight away that they were, just by the way she seemed hesitant to answer. But there was a faint glimmer of hope that he held on to until he possibly couldn't. Hermione nodded slowly with an apologetic look on her face. Ron groaned and crashed his head into the back of the sofa.
Hermione chuckled. "If you're that sick of me, you only have to say." She teased.
Ron opened his eyes halfway and smirked back. "It's not that, I'm just knackered."
"You don't have to come." Hermione suggested. "It hardly takes two people to walk aimlessly around the corridor-"
"No, no. I'll come." Ron insisted, more conviction in his voice than he truly believed. He was exhausted, but he didn't want to miss his chance to be alone with Hermione, the opportunities were so very rare. Maybe that's what he could partly blame his exhaustion on, even though most of it was due to the almost daily Quidditch practises, his mind had also always been conflicted as of late, and it was driving him insane. He knew he had feelings for Hermione, he's known it, albeit deep down, for three years. But it also pained him to know that she could never feel the same. He deemed it quite miraculous that they were as close as being best friends. He knew it would be frankly insane to ever assume she could feel anything more. She had spent a summer writing love letters to Viktor bloody Krum, for Merlin's sake. Why would she settle for him when she could have anyone, absolutely anyone, she wanted? The thoughts ate away at Ron as he lay in his bed at night, as he stood in the shower doing something whilst also thinking about - just - her - despite the fact she would hex him to Africa if she found out what exactly he was up to. But when he was with her, these thoughts seemed to disappear into the shadows. All he could properly think about when he was sitting beside her was literally just her. Focused on little but what she was doing. Even if he wasn't really hearing or keeping up with what she was saying, he would listen, if only to hear the sound of her voice. He laughed at his own pathetic state, oh how the twins would make fun of him if they could hear his thoughts. But they never would. No one ever would.
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked again, as she stood from the chair and collected her various notes and quills that were spread across the coffee table that sat in the middle of the furniture. "There's really no ne-"
"I want to." Ron persisted, shooting up despite how tired his legs were.
Hermione considered him before answering, "Okay. But if you're in a foul mood by the time we come back, I get to say that I told you so." She smirked.
"Ha ha." Ron joked back sarcastically.
"I'll be right back." Hermione gestured at the pile of notes and books in her arms before making her way to the girls' dormitories. Ron felt the urge to self consciously sniff his armpits, which to his irritation, smelt awful. He looked around the room, dumbly for something that could possibly mask the smell. By absolute luck, he found a random bottle of aftershave sat on one of the tables that lined the walls. He rushed over and sprayed himself frantically before returning back to the few steps that lead to the portrait hole.
"Ready?" Hermione asked him as she came down the stairs. Ron nodded as he watched her draw nearer. She was gorgeous, he thought. She wasn't wearing anything different to her normal school robes, but he still thought she looked utterly gorgeous, no matter what she wore. He wondered in his mind when his perception of her had really met that turning point, where she was no longer just his good friend, best friend, Hermione, and now someone he wanted to pry the robes off of. He cursed his pervy desires, she was literally just in her uniform, he reminded himself.
As expected, the lifelessly silent hallway was deserted, they shared small talk about anything that came to relevance, but Ron could feel his exhaustion wearing on him and wondered how long he would be able to keep his eyes open. "Can we sit for a minute?" He asked, motioning with his head towards the staircase that they were passing.
"We're supposed to be patrolling the corridors. There's no way we'd be able to keep an eye on the whole hallway from here." Hermione stated. Ron knew she wouldn't come easy at breaking the rules, something he loved yet disliked about her.
"Come on." He groaned. "You said yourself it was aimless."
"Ron!" She snapped as she looked up and down the corridor for any professors.
"Oh, yeah, cause all the teachers spend their free time strolling up and down the fourth floor." He replied sarcastically. "That's why we're here, remember?"
"Exactly! We can't just laze about! We have a job to forfill!" But before Hermione could finish her sentence, Ron had made his way to the floor, resting his back on the banister of the wooden stair rail, legs stretched across the top step. "You coming, then?"
Hermione muttered something under her breath which sounded a bit like, 'unbelievable', but Ron ignored it as he watched her descend opposite him, sat with her back straight, arms folded and feet firmly placed on the second step of the staircase.
"Relax." Ron yawned. "What's the worst that could happen?"
Hermione just glared at him and shook her head disapprovingly. Ron rolled his eyes and sat up himself so he was closer to her. "Come on." He said grabbing her hand so her arms weren't so sternly folded. "This is hardly the furthest we've gone to break the rules." He chuckled, briefly thinking about all he, she and Harry had done since stepping off the Hogwarts Express in their first year.
Although she still seemed largely unconvinced, she relented slightly as he held her hand in his own. He looked down at her dainty fingers, and felt his heartbeat despite the simple action. He really was pathetic, he thought. Without really thinking about it, he started playing with her bracelet.
"My Mum gave that to me." She said in a soft, quiet voice. They were sat so close, Ron knew it wasn't a good idea, if she couldn't hear his pounding heart then she must've been deaf. He looked up at her face, she was equally focused on the bracelet that he was still absently playing with. "I haven't told them anything." The whispered confession perplexed Ron for a moment, until he guessed she was talking about everything that had happened at the Department of Mysterious not five months ago. Small moments like this with Hermione seemed to make him simply forget everything.
"Why didn't they want you to come back this year, then?" Ron queried.
"They could tell something was wrong. They knew that the incidents happening everywhere had something to do with, with our world, even if they didn't know the exact ins and outs." She explained, still looking at her bracelet. "If they knew anything about V-, You-Know-Who returning or anything that happened last year, they would never allow me to come back." Hermione admitted, guiltily.
"They wouldn't understand, they couldn't." Ron reasoned, he knew how easily she could blame herself for things that she couldn't control. She panicked and worried about things that Ron, like most, didn't bat an eyelid towards.
"I'm still lying to them." She argued, her voice still low and sad. Ron sighed and looked back at her bracelet that he was still holding onto. He felt foolish for having no words to offer her, she was clearly upset about how little involvement her parents had in the wizarding world, despite the fact she rarely spoke about it, or them at all. Swallowing the fear that what he did next could receive a bad reaction, he took her hand in his and rested their, now conjoined, hands on his lap.
"It'll be okay." He finally muttered, weakly. He knew his words were empty. Truthfully, he had no idea what would be okay, if anything would be, the future was so uncertain. But what he did know in that instant was that his heart ached at the sight of seeing Hermione in such despair.
They sat in silence, Ron watched their hands together, it was rather comical how much they differed in size. She leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder. Ron rested his head on hers, in response, reminding him of their train journey on the way to Hogwarts. He didn't know whether it was his lack of energy, or the fact he was sitting so close to Hermione, but Ron didn't feel that he would ever want to move from this exact spot.
Hermione sniffed and Ron feared for a moment that she was crying, but before he could investigate, she asked, "Are you wearing..after shave?"
"Uh...uh, yeah." He responded nervously. "D-d'you like it?" He cringed at his own awkwardness.
"I prefer your usual scent." She answered firmly.
"What? Sweat, mud and grass?" He laughed, disbelievingly.
"Well, it's just you to me." She chuckled back.
"And you like that?" The incredulity still evident in his voice.
"Well, obviously, Ronald."
He couldn't see her but he could tell she was rolling her eyes. He lifted his head, and so did she, until blue orbs met brown. Their faces inches from each other. Ron was pretty sure his heart was about to go into cardiac arrest, that or he'd suffocate from the thick atmosphere of the air around them. Without realising, he felt himself leaning in further to her, and if he wasn't going insane, he thought she was edging in closer, too. Her lips parted and they leaned in further to the point where their foreheads touched. But, of course, no grand moment in Ron's life could happen before he ruined it. Maybe it was nerves, maybe he just was a git, but he whispered. "I love being your best mate."
And then, it was over.
"Best mates?" Hermione all but whispered, and Ron snapped his eyes open, the spell breaking. Suddenly aware of their closeness, he jumped back and looked away, releasing their hands.
"S-sorry." He stammered, still looking away.
"No, it's fine." Despite the overture, Ron could tell she was lying. "Best mates." She repeated, exasperatedly, standing up and smoothing down her skirt from where it had ruffled whilst she was sat.
Before Ron could gauge what had happened, Hermione was walking quite sternly, down the hall, her arms folded. Ron stood up and rushed to follow her, his long strides enabling him to keep up with her quite easily.
"Are you okay?" He asked tentatively, but Hermione didn't look at him. He thought it was a long shot that she would even answer.
"I'm fine." She maintained, but through gritted teeth. Her pace quickened, and Ron realised that he had said something really stupid. Panicking, he noticed an empty classroom and pulled Hermione into it.
"Let go of me, Ron!" She demanded, but Ron just shut the door and locked it so she couldn't leave. "Do you really think I can't just use the same magic to open it again?" She fumed.
Ron turned around to face her, "I know." He sighed. "Course you can. But please don't." Hermione's scowl remained, as did her folded arms, but she didn't object. "Have - have I said something?"
Hermione seemed to consider him before speaking, as if she didn't know how to say what she was about to. "I just, I'm confused, Ron." She sighed, annoyed.
"Why?"
"Because you were leaning in to - to kiss me but then you go and call me your best friend!" She cried, incredulously.
Ron sighed and shook his head, he really was a git and he didn't even know it. "I'm sorry." He attempted. "I dunno what I was thinking."
"Maybe you did." Hermione sighed, Ron just raised his eyebrows. "I mean, would what we - what we nearly did, would it be that clever? As you said, we're best friends."
"I wish I hadn't opened my bloody mouth." Ron sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. "Have I ruined everything?"
"No." Hermione laughed. "Of course not."
"So we're still best friends, then?"
"The best." Hermione assured. Ron knew that what had just happened should've been discussed further, they nearly kissed for Merlin's sake. But he thought best to leave it.
They walked back together to the common room before saying their goodbyes. Ron was happy to finally see his bed, his head was pounding. He crashed to his bed, all the other boys were asleep, not that Ron had the energy to acknowledge. He let out a sigh as he recounted the evening and what could have just happened. He replayed their short conversation over, Merlin, he was confused. Are they really just going to ignore what had happened? Is that what she wanted? Of course it was. He sighed again.
'The best'. Her woulds echoed through his mind