Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or its characters.

A/N: This is one of my old stories that I've edited a bit. It made the cut, so I wanted to upload it again. I hope you enjoy. CB

Adulation

Sitting in the tent with Harry and Ron, listening to the wireless, and pretending to read, Hermione almost broke the silence. Almost. She was still mad at Ron for leaving them, or she pretended to be. Really, she was just glad that he was back safely, and hurt that he had left at all. The pain was the dominant feeling.

She knew that whatever he and Harry had been through just before they had returned had shaken Ron, but had made their friendship stronger. Sighing softly as she adjusted the book in her lap, she felt two pairs of eyes on her, but ignored them. Soon, the boys went back to what they were doing. Sparing a glance, Hermione saw they were playing Wizard's Chess. Smiling, she turned back to the pages of her book. It was good for them to have some relaxation.

She had only read a few lines, before her eyes were drawn back to Ron. Pretending to read, she watched him out of the corner of her eye. He had already changed into his pajamas, and the tight sleep shirt clung to his form. His back muscles were clearly defined, leading into broad shoulders. His biceps peeked out from the short sleeves, and led to muscled forearms. His strong arms led to warm hands and long fingers. Hermione found her gaze drawn to his hands as he picked up the remains of one of Harry's pieces from the chessboard.

Blinking, she flushed as she realized her thoughts. Turning back to the pages of her book, she wondered when Ron had become a man. She'd been attracted to Ron for a long time. She'd been his best friend longer, and had seen the changes in his physique. But, she wondered, when had he slipped from the body of an attractive boy into the body of a handsome young man?

When she realized that the last few rays of sunlight were dwindling, she closed her book, and stood up.

"I'll take the first watch," she offered.

Ron began to protest, but she silenced him by raising her hand. Keeping the hurt she still felt when she looked at him from her voice, she kept it soft and calm.

"It's all right, Ron. I want to take the first watch."

"If you're sure, 'Mione." He said her nickname carefully, as though she would rip the permission to use it from his grasp.

Harry agreed, stretching as he stood. "Well, I think I'm going to turn in."

As Hermione walked out of the tent, she heard Ron protesting, and Harry's answering affirmation that Ron had already beaten him, so a few more minutes wouldn't make any difference.

Taking a seat just outside the tent, Hermione looked up at the stars. Most were obscured by the treetops, but a few managed to wink at her. Sighing softly, she shivered. It was still freezing out, even with layers of clothing. She had only been sitting a few minutes, but with the cold seeping into her, it didn't take long for her teeth to start chattering.

She hadn't heard a noise, so it surprised her when Ron sat beside her, with enough distance so she wouldn't be uncomfortable if she was still angry, but close enough that she could feel the heat seeping from his body. Draping his heavier coat over her shoulders, he smiled softly. Pulling it tighter around her shivering form, she was glad of the added warmth, and his scent which enveloped her.

They sat for several long moments before Ron broke the silence.

"I'm really sorry that I left, Hermione. I just…I was…jealous," he finally admitted.

Ron now held her full attention. She turned to face him. "Jealous? Of what?"

"Of Harry."

"Why," she asked, eyes narrowed as she demanded an answer..

"I'm just Ron. And he's Harry bleeding Potter, isn't he? I dunno. It seems silly now. But…then…" He trailed off.

Hermione picked up on what he was trying to say. "You've always been jealous of Harry, but the locket made it worse."

He nodded, looking down at his feet. Hermione sighed. Inwardly, she was furious. But outwardly, she remained calm. She knew jealousy, though she was reluctant to admit it. Rather than allowing her anger to get the best of her, she chose to alleviate Ron's fears. It was probably time that she said something about why he was better than Harry. After all, if one of them didn't make it out of this war, she'd always regret not saying something.

"Well, that's just stupid, Ron."

At the hurt look on his face, she hastened to clarify. "You're just as good as Harry, if not better."

He looked at her then, surprise evident on his features. She turned her face away briefly before looking into his eyes. He needed to know she was sincere.

"You're brave, and loyal. You've stood by Harry, even though you could have walked away." He opened his mouth to speak, but she had to get this out. "No. You could have. Maybe you don't see it that way, but not many people would have been such a good friend in your position. You're a wonderful friend, Ron." Now that she had started, she couldn't stop. "You're a good man. You're handsome, and strong. You have qualities that you don't see, because they aren't special to you. I mean, what other people consider special qualities come second nature to you. And for that reason you don't see them as special, but they are."

When she finished, she was breathing hard. Ron had a look of awe on his face.

"You really think those things about me?"

"Yes, Ron," she said. "I really think those things about you."

Her breathing had slowed by this time, but picked up again when he leaned closer. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her to him for a hug. She wrapped her arms around his back as he held her closer. Sighing, she pressed her face against his jumper.

With his face pressed against her hair, and his arms wrapped tightly around her, he whispered the words he had wanted to say since he was fourteen.

"I love you, 'Mione."

Her eyes glistened with moisture, and she held him tighter before pulling back to stare into his eyes, which were filled with the love he proclaimed.

"I love you, too, Ron."

He leaned down to press his lips to hers. But it was nothing like the hurried snogs he'd had with Lavender. This kiss was slow, and tender. Cupping her face in his hands, he deepened the kiss. One of her hands fisted in his shirt, as the other ran through his messy red hair. Returning the kiss with everything she felt, Hermione soon found herself lost. Lost in his kiss. Lost in his scent. Lost in his arms. Lost in his love.