Hello!
I had a lot of trouble with this chap- trying to get Ron's thoughts to where I needed them to be was hard, so it has been a lot of deleting and rewriting- ugh!
Anyway, thank you all for reading, and I hope you are having/have had a wonderful day!
Thank you to the amazing Be11a, Cheesy, and Accio! It boggles my mind how helpful and amazingly kind it is for people to beta! Seriously, they're so nice to help! Go check out their fics as well for some stellar romione content!
We are STILL not yet past the first chapter of the original PS, and won't get there until the next chapter! I wasn't lying when I said I wanted to get more in depth with this one ;)
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The few weeks after his birthday passed by at a normal pace, but Ron couldn't get the gnawing thought out of his head that he was missing something- something important. He had a nagging feeling inside that was telling him that things had changed, even though nothing really had. School was the same, his friends and family were the same, and Hermione was definitely the same- going barmy and working herself into a frenzy over her schoolwork. Most days, he would go over to her house, if only for a little while, despite the fact that he wouldn't get much attention from her. He found that bringing his own homework and asking her for help got him a little more than if he didn't.
It was a beautiful Saturday morning. Ron had woken up a little earlier than usual and was in a pretty good mood. He had already eaten breakfast, and he was currently up in his room, laying some clothes on the bed and deciding what to wear before heading to Hermione's. He had just thrown on the least wrinkled of the shirts when his door was thrown open with no warning knock. George sauntered in, a basketball in his hands.
"Hey, Ronniekins, me and Fred are going to the park to shoot some hoops, you coming?" he asked as he spun the ball on his finger.
Ron shook his head. "Nah, I'm about to head over to-"
"Hermione's, yeah. Of course you are. I should have known you'd want to be with her and not your own brothers!" he said, smirking.
"She's my-"
"Best friend. I know. I've heard those words from both of you only about a million times." He took a few steps into the room and sat on Ron's bed.
"Well, it's true," Ron said, now feeling irritated. "I don't know what else you want me to say."
"I want you to admit that you fancy her, Ickle, but you're stubborn as a mule."
Ron sighed. "But I don't fancy her, George, that's the thing! You two take the mickey with both of us all the fucking time, but-"
"I dunno Ron," George interrupted. "I mean, I'm sorry we sometimes give you a hard time, but people who are 'just friends' don't act like you and Granger. They just don't."
Ron ran his fingers through his hair. While it was true that he didn't know of any other friends who acted as he and Hermione did, their relationship had always been unconventional. "We just- we're different, George. It's just the way that we are. I can't explain it."
"Do you truly not know?" George asked, his face serious as he studied his younger brother.
Ron didn't say anything, trying to figure out exactly what George had meant, but before he could, his brother was standing up.
"Alright, Ronnie, I'm going. See you later, I guess."
"Later," Ron mumbled back, barely paying any attention anymore, now deep in thought.
Could the twins be right? Could he actually fancy Hermione and not even know it? In truth, he had never let himself really think about that possibility- not once. He vehemently denied it when asked, but he had never seriously pondered it. He figured that the reason why he never had was because he didn't want to fancy his best friend. He didn't want things to change between them, and he knew he couldn't handle it if they did. She was the first person he could call his friend, and she was- blimey she was everything to him, and had been since he was eleven!
But he wasn't eleven anymore, was he? No, he was sixteen. He was old enough for a girlfriend, yet he had never pursued a girl. Although he, of course, found plenty of girls at his school attractive, he had not once wanted to be with any of them. But why was that? Was it because of Hermione?
He shook his head, pushing the thought away as fast as he could. There was a reason why he had never allowed the idea to enter his mind. It was too confusing- too odd, and he didn't want to dwell on it.
Still trying to shake the feeling away, he left his room and headed over to Hermione's house. When he knocked on the door, Jean Granger answered, a smile on her face when she saw that it was him.
"Hello, Ronald, how are you?" she asked as she stepped aside to let him in.
"I'm doing great, Mrs. Granger," Ron replied as he slipped off his shoes and set them next to the entry rug.
"You sure are growing up," she laughed. "It seems that you grow an inch every time that I see you! And I see you practically every day!"
Ron felt his ears redden a bit as he let out a chuckle. "I swear, I blame my mum's cooking!"
She laughed again as she shut the door behind him. "You can head upstairs, Hermione's in her room-"
"Doing schoolwork," they said in unison.
"Right." Mrs. Granger shook her head. "No need to tell you anything about my daughter because you already know it all."
Ron smiled, feeling a sense of pride that he did, indeed, know pretty much everything there was to know about Hermione. He made it up the stairs in seconds before stopping in front of her open door. She was hunched over her desk, her pencil moving over her paper unnaturally fast. As usual, Ron felt himself relax at the sight of Hermione, and he leaned against her door frame with a small smile on his face.
"Knock knock," he said.
Hermione jumped before turning towards him, her eyes widening as her hand went over her heart.
"Ron! You scared me!"
"Sorry," he laughed. "Didn't mean to."
She sighed. "I have to finish my English paper and then a few math assignments, and then we can go do something else. You mind waiting?"
"Do I ever mind?" he answered, already lowering himself to her carpeted floor. "I'll just- y'know- be here when you're done putting me last," he added, sending her a cheeky grin as she rolled her eyes.
"Why do I even put up with you?" she asked, already turning back to her work.
"Because I'm the only one who puts up with you," he answered, his long body now sprawled lazily across her floor.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," she muttered, not even bothering to turn her eyes away from her desk.
He chuckled, folding his hands behind his head in a makeshift pillow. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of Hermione's frantic work. He laid there for a while, thinking about what they could do when she was done when he realized that he didn't hear the sound of her pencil on the paper anymore. When he opened his eyes to check on her, he let out a gasp of surprise to see her on the floor next to him, her face only inches away from his.
"Hermione? Wh-what are you doi-"
"Shh," she cut him off by placing her small finger over his lips, rendering him silent. "I couldn't do any more work without finding out how it would feel to do this."
Before he could even take her words in, her lips were on his, and she was kissing him. Startled, it took him a second to respond, but then he was kissing her back, and it was bloody amazing, more amazing than he thought possible. He pulled her lower lip in between his teeth as his hands tangled in her hair while one of her hands was on his jaw, the other one on his chest. To his astonishment, her hand started to travel down, and when she reached the button of his jeans and started to undo it, he let out a moan.
"Ron?" she asked, but she sounded different and also further away from him than she should be.
His eyes snapped open, his chest heaving. He stared up at Hermione, who was still sitting in her chair, her body half turned as she stared down at him, her face a mixture of confusion and concern. He immediately bent his knees, hoping she wouldn't notice his hard-on.
"Are you okay?" she asked. "You sounded...hurt."
He gulped. "Y-yeah. My arm fell asleep- and I was just shaking it out and- sorry."
She smiled. "No need to apologize, Ron. I was just concerned. I'm on my math homework now, so getting closer," she assured him, again turning back to her work.
Relieved that her attention wasn't on him anymore, he took several deep breaths to calm himself, trying to be as quiet as possible.
Where the fuck had that come from?
It had felt so real. Even more than that, it had felt so right.
Why had it felt so right?
Why was he even here right now? George had invited him to shoot some hoops, but he had declined. And for what? So he could lie on Hermione's floor and do nothing? It really didn't make any sense! Why had he chosen to be with her over anything else? Why did he always choose her over anything and anyone else?
His mind went back to the thoughts that he had pushed away earlier. Did he actually fancy his best friend?
Trying to be inconspicuous, he looked up to stare at Hermione's profile. At the sight of her concentrating face, he felt the corners of his mouth involuntarily start to twitch up. Even though it annoyed him sometimes, he secretly loved it when she was so enthralled with something so much so that the rest of the world seemed to disappear. He couldn't help but smile further at the way that she huffed in irritation at the pieces of her hair that fell into her eyes, even as she repeatedly pushed them behind her ears. He studied the freckles on her nose that he had always found adorable. Unlike his own freckle-filled face, hers were exceptionally cute. His eyes roamed down her body, the body that had been a part of his wanking fantasies for years now, and with a jolt, he realized that yes, he did, in fact, fancy Hermione Granger.
Shit.
He shook his head and turned away from her to gather his thoughts. He clenched his jaw tight, his eyes going to the ceiling as he tried to quell his rising panic. His thoughts went back to several minutes ago when he had dreamed that she had kissed him, and he couldn't help but feel crushed that it hadn't been real at all.
Okay, so he fancied her. That was okay, right? No big deal. This was fine, something that he could get over. Mind over fucking matter, he thought.
But as he thought this, he knew that there was something under the surface, something more. So much more.
His next realization crashed over him like a bucket of ice water. His breath picked up its pace, and he tried not to jump up and run from what he had just realized.
He gulped. No. No fucking way.
He knew that it wasn't a question, though. As soon as the thought had entered his mind, it was perfectly clear to him. His feelings went beyond fancying, and beyond mere attraction. Ronald Weasley would do anything for Hermione Granger, and he was bloody in love with her.
He bit his tongue, holding back a groan. The wanking, the way that his insides twisted when thinking about her with anybody else, the way his mood lifted at just the sight of her. It all made perfect fucking sense, and he was a damn idiot for not seeing it before now.
He wanted everything with her. He wanted to be with her, not just for now, but for always. He had always known that Hermione meant so much to him, but he had never truly allowed himself to really think about why that was or the extent that his feelings ran.
He knew that he had just unintentionally opened up some door inside of him that he would never be able to shut again. Hermione was his friend and had always been his friend. Until this very moment, there had been some kind of a mental block that disallowed him from realizing the truth. Well, not anymore. He knew now that he would never be able to not know.
How the fuck had he not seen it?
'Because you know that you have no bloody chance of being with her like that,' a little voice in the back of his mind whispered, but he shook the thought away. Right now, he needed to come to terms with his feelings, not figure out what he was going to do about them. One step at a time.
He forced himself to calm down some before looking back up at her again, and the feeling that rippled across his chest as he did so only solidified what he knew for certain.
He loved her- everything about her.
This wasn't supposed to happen. How could this fucking happen?
This was fucking deep. Deeper than what Ron had ever allowed himself to imagine. He envisioned her in a wedding dress. He saw her holding a ginger baby in her arms as she smiled at him. He saw them growing old and grey together- happy.
Bloody fuck.
He was sixteen fucking years old! Not once had he thought seriously about anything like marriage or children! The entirety of his thoughts on the 'future' up until that point had to do with sports, upcoming parties, and weekend plans. Not marriage, and houses and babies!
As if sensing his inner turmoil, Hermione turned to look at him, giving him a small smile. "Almost done, Ron," she said softly, and for once, he didn't smile back. He just gaped at her.
She didn't notice, though, because she had already turned back to her work.
This was a lot- no, this was too much. His brain was in overdrive after the onslaught of his inner revelations. What would happen now? Would he be able to act the same way around her? This was why he had never allowed himself to think about it- to never question what she meant to him. Instinctively, he knew that he had been trying to protect himself from what had just happened, and now he only had himself to blame. Well- himself and that damn dream.
He was broken out of his distress when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to see Hermione crouched down next to him, her eyes studying him curiously.
"Ron, I've said your name like five times. What are you thinking about?"
He knew that he must have looked like a twit just then, as his eyes were wide and his mouth open as he looked back at her.
"I…." he trailed off, not able to form another word.
"Well," Hermione grinned at him. "I think I've finally managed to bore you to insanity."
He gulped, knowing that he better fix up his act- and now. "Yeah," he mumbled. "You finally did it."
She squinted her eyes. "Ron, why are you acting so weird?"
He managed to grin, hoping that she would buy it. "Like you said, Hermione, you've finally bored me to insanity."
She scoffed but returned his smile. He stood up, offering his hand to help her up as well. Once he pulled her up, he didn't let go of her hands as he stared at her face, looking for any signs that she felt even remotely the way that he did. She was staring back at him, looking as if she were waiting for him to say or do something.
"Let's go for a ride!" he exclaimed, breaking the tension.
"Sure," she agreed. "It is a nice day outside, might as well."
"I'll go get my bike and meet you out front," he said, running out of her room without waiting for a reply.
When he reached the inside of his garage, he leaned his head against the wall and let out a shaky breath.
"Calm the fuck down," he muttered to himself. "This is Hermione. You know, the girl that you have talked to practically every day for years."
He let out a sigh as he ran into the house real quick, grabbing a couple of apples before heading back out to get his bike. Hermione was already on the sidewalk waiting for him. Without a word, she took off, and he hopped on his bike after her. When he reached her, they rode side by side, and Hermione started summarising a book that she was reading, meaning that she was non-stop chatting as Ron nodded every once in a while to show that he was listening, even though his mind was somewhere else entirely. They made it to the park and hooked their bikes to the bike rack before walking to the benches and sitting down next to each other. He handed her one of the apples before taking a large bite out of the other.
He eyed her from the side as she leaned back, her body relaxed, and her eyes closed as she faced the sun.
She was so goddamn beautiful.
"Hermione?" he finally asked.
"Hmm?" she answered, not bothering to move or open her eyes.
"Why are we best friends?"
"Probably because you forced me into it," she immediately answered with a smile.
"No." Ron shook his head. "I'm being serious. Why me?"
She opened her eyes to look at him, her brows furrowed.
"Well," she started. "You're funny. The funniest person I know, and you make me laugh like no one else can." He nodded at her, wordlessly telling her to continue, and she smiled as she did so. "You may act tough sometimes, but under the act, you actually have a heart of gold." Ron grimaced at that as she went on. "You are fiercely protective of people you care about, including me. You are thoughtful, you pay attention, and you always know when I've gone too far over my head with schoolwork. You give the best hugs, and grudgingly, I'll admit that your pulley system idea was pretty cool."
Ron felt his chest expand in adoration.
"Do you think that- that other people see me like that?" he asked.
She shrugged. "Well, if they don't, then they aren't really looking."
"Hmm."
She elbowed him. "Did I reassure you enough?"
He smiled. "Perhaps."
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Later that night, Ron was tossing and turning in bed, unable to get to sleep. He had not been able to think of anything else since that afternoon, and he felt that he really was reaching dangerous levels of overthinking.
'Falling in love' his arse. He hadn't 'fallen' in love. He had crashed into it, going 100 miles an hour, with no warning whatsoever. When had it even happened? He had no idea, and frankly, it didn't really matter because the end result was the same.
So, what did this mean for him? Was he going to act on it? Tell her?
He scoffed. No. Of course he wouldn't. That would make things awkward as hell because she definitely didn't feel the same for him...did she?
Thinking, he shook his head. No. He knew that she didn't. And really, why would she? He was nobody special, not like her.
She was brilliant, more than brilliant, actually. Ever since Ron had befriended her, he had heard the same thing many times. Hermione was going somewhere. She was hardworking, determined, intelligent, polite- she was pretty damn near perfect. Frankly, he had always felt extremely lucky that she even gave him the time of day to be his friend.
He knew, had always known, that one day she would end up with someone, well, someone not like him. A bloke like her, most likely. A smart businessman running his own company or something like that. Probably ridiculously handsome, definitely not ginger, and definitely not pale and covered with freckles.
He turned around in bed, giving his pillow a few punches out of frustration. He didn't even know who the bastard would be, but Ron hated him already. Just the thought of Hermione marrying some pompous arsehole was enough to make him feel enraged.
Ron was sure that he'd be invited to the wedding, but would he be able to actually handle going? Probably not.
"Sonofabitch," he groaned, sitting up in his bed and throwing his legs over the edge.
Exasperated, he ran his fingers through his hair. He stood up and started pacing his room, unable to hold still. After a moment, he walked over to his window and ripped the curtain open to see Hermione's curtain closed and her lights off. It was late, and Ron knew that she would be asleep. He had a strong urge to talk to her because he felt like he was going insane, and he could hardly deal with all of this. But of course, he knew that he couldn't tell Hermione. He couldn't. Fuck, he couldn't even confide in anyone because Hermione could never find out. Ever.
He clenched his eyes shut tight, willing himself not to cry. What was happening to him? Ron Weasley didn't cry- especially over girls. But Hermione wasn't just a girl, and he knew it.
For the first time, Ron experienced the heartache of a romantic kind, it felt like a sucker punch to the stomach and it was the worst feeling he had ever experienced. He had never felt good enough in any areas, but this was another blow, like he was being kicked when already down. He felt totally and utterly defeated.
Pulling the curtains closed, he made his way back to his bed to lay down but didn't fall asleep until several hours later when exhaustion finally won him over.