Chapter 8:

Aftermath

Disclaimer: I own nothing you know, love, or recognize.

A/N: This is it guys, end of story number four. I hope that you all enjoyed it! I've still got plenty of ideas to run with, so let's hope that I get a jump on those quickly! As always, thank you for reading!

After two o'clock, Ron had lost all sense of time. Hermione's voice was still ringing through his mind, as he was sure it would do for the rest of his life. Hermione. It stunned him that even after the events of the night he still got the chills when he thought about her, when the slightest thing reminded him of her.

Ron sat in the Common Room watching the dying embers of the once friendly fire. How he hoped that his friendship with Hermione would not die as the fire was threatening to do. After all, their friendship, that's what was most important to him. No matter what happened between them, romantically or not, Ron hoped that their relationship would always exist on good terms. And still, her voice, angry and menacing floated through the depths of his soul, lingering and taunting him with their true meaning. She was angry with him, and was going to take some time for her to get over that. Shifting in his seat, Ron became uncomfortable when confronted with the thought that it might take longer than he anticipated. A week or two would be a desirable length of time for them to get over what had happened, but he feared that it would take much more time than that.

Ron lay down on the couch and pulled his dress robes over his lanky, thin body. When he closed his eyes, he saw Hermione yelling at him. He quickly jerked them open, and once more, her voice was echoing through his head. But then it hit him, and suddenly, Ron realized the importance of the row he had shared with Hermione that night. Yes, her voice was ringing throughout his head, but it wasn't until that moment that he actually listened to the words she had said…

As Ron relived his fight with Hermione that night, he understood that she did like him, more than she liked Harry or Viktor or any one else. She was telling him that it wasn't about one night, one little date with an international Bulgarian quidditch star, no it was about all the insignificant, normal days that they shared together. It was about the way he made her smile on the way to Charms, not about getting dressed up and taking her out for a special night. It was about picking out the perfect seats at the table in the Great Hall and passing her the butter before she asked for it out of habit. No, it wasn't about getting to know her once in fancy clothes and dancing awkwardly. It was about making themselves comfortable together on a regular basis. And they already had that, he and Hermione. They already knew each other well enough to realize that it was more than just friendship that they had, but not enough to find each other boring. Why did it take such a fight for Ron to see that they were more than just friends and that they both felt it? Shouldn't he have noticed it every day they were together, every glance that they shared?

This realization made Ron happier than he had been since the ball's existence had been brought into his life. Because now he knew. He knew that she really was His Hermione. He knew that she wasn't going to leave him, no matter who entered her life. And most importantly, Ron realized as he shifted into the couch for a more comfortable position, he knew next time there was a ball, she wanted him to ask her first.