CHAPTER 5: Speechless

HERMIONE

Between Harry's puzzled expression and Ginny's all-too-knowing one, Hermione couldn't stand to be downstairs one second longer than she had to be.

"Right, well… have fun!" Was all she could manage after letting the other two know that she'd be staying behind with Ron instead of joining them off for hot cocoa at a nearby cafe.

Absolutely mortified at what the simple opportunity to not only be alone with Ron but alone with him in the middle of a workout was doing to her, Hermione turned on her heel and started clamoring back upstairs.

"You too, Hermione. Merry Christmas!" Ginny called after her. Hermione could practically hear the smirk in her voice, and her cheeks flushed instantly in response.

She'd make sure to give Ginny the cold shoulder when she came back later - and if that didn't work, a good pinch and a scolding look should do the trick…for about five minutes. Hermione couldn't help chuckling to herself. Ginny was the one girl she'd spent the most time growing up with, and while it went sort of unnoticed by Ron and Harry, she'd grown extremely close to her - so close that it was difficult for either to keep anything from the other, which was really biting her in the ass just about now.

"Ron? I'm back. You haven't thrown your back out yet, have you…" Hermione offered in greeting as she pushed the door open, letting herself in, only to stop in her tracks, her jaw hanging open on the last word until she found the sense to close it.

He was a bloody menace. She hadn't noticed it before, but a sturdy oak support beam connected the walls at the far corner of the room.

Ron was currently using it as a pull-up bar, and he was doing so in nothing but a tank top. His back was to her, so Hermione took the opportunity to ogle more than she might otherwise allow herself to. The thin, white fabric was stretched tight across the broad expanse of his back, which flexed and rippled through each rep. His arms bulged with his exertion towards pulling himself up, his chin clearing the support beam with apparent ease.

Hermione searched for the strength to make her presence more plainly known, but doing so would mean losing out on a few extra seconds of watching him. She wracked her brain, trying to pinpoint a few things, the first of which being when on earth did Ron Weasley become such a man, and second - when on earth did it become important to her? Was she any better than Lavender Brown at this point? Her wide, brown eyes wavered as she continued to ogle his form as he pumped through rep after rep. The fact that she had feelings for her best friend wasn't new, not by a long shot - but this intense, gobsmacking physical attraction to him definitely was.

He was shaking through the last few repetitions until he groaned deeply - a sound that made Hermione's legs shake - and dropped from the beam. He turned around and gave her a breathless little smirk, a faint sheen of sweat6 glistening across his flushed skin.

"Oh… Hey. How long have you been there?"

Hermione was mortified and, for the first time in her life, rendered speechless. All she could do was close her mouth and then stammer out several attempts at articulation.

Ron chuckled and shrugged nonchalantly. "No worries, 'Ermione. I don't mind an audience." He sauntered over to his bedside table and reached for his wand. "Aquamenti." He stated, pointing it at an empty cup. In typical Ron-fashion, he chugged down the water rather sloppily, which sobered Hermione a bit…until the contents of the glass started to slosh down his chest.

"R-Ron. You're making a mess. Honestly…" She giggled, moving forward to dab at the spilled water with the back of her shirt sleeve, not considering how close that put them.

"Thanks…"

Their eyes locked, and Hermione's lips parted, her tongue darting out to wet her bottom one, which, to her delight, immediately commanded Ron's attention.

"Don't mention it. I'm just glad you're not still wearing that adorable sweater your mum made you. Water and wool do not mix."

"Right. That's why you're glad I'm not wearing that sweater anymore." He winked at her, still wearing that bloody handsome smirk of his.

Hermione practically squeaked at his audacity - not only because of how presumptuous it was…but because that relatively newfound brand of confidence he was sporting was so irritatingly attractive to her. In the end, she managed to swat at his chest. "Oh, shut up, Ronald." Despite herself, her hands lingered against his chest - every fiber in her wanted so badly to feel him up…maybe trail her hand down the long, lanky length of his torso to dip under the fabric of his top and feel his skin against her hand - flesh on flesh.

Positively flustered, she stepped back and did everything she could to collect herself.

"So… You needed my help increasing the weight of something you wanted to…lift and put back down, correct? Where is it?"

"Yeah, thanks. They're here." Ron nodded towards a pair of barbells. He leaned down and picked them up like they weighed nothing. "They were Charlie's. He left them behind ages ago when he moved out to Romania. I've been using them over the summer, but I think whatever charm he had on them has worn off. They're nowhere near as heavy as they used to be." Apparently feeling the need to demonstrate his point, Ron curled the weights alternatively quickly, the pace of his breathing not even changing remotely as he went along. "See? I've lifted heavier textbooks. I bet a little thing like you could even curl these with no problem." He shot a teasing wink at her, making her cheeks flood with color once more.

"That's incredibly misogynistic of you, Ronald. Girls can lift things too."

"Sure they can. I'm not saying that. But I mean… c'mon, Hermione, you're not exactly athletic." Hermione pulled an offended expression at this, her brows furrowing in a rather adorable pout.

"I mean… Don't get me wrong. You're right fit. I just mean if I wanted a girl to help me lift something heavy, you wouldn't be my first choice. I'd go for someone like Millicent Bulstrode or a female forest troll. There's not much difference between the two, mind you…"

Hermione couldn't help giggling at that. She wasn't one for making jokes on the account of other girls, but Millicent was barbaric enough to be the exception. Sighing, she pointed her wand at the weights in Ron's hands.

"Densifio." She spoke out clearly, twirling the tip of her wand in a tight, figure-eight formation with an expertly executed wrist flick.

"Whoa…" Ron let out, curling the weights back and forth with increased difficulty as Hermione continued to cast the incantation. "Alright, alright! Blimey Hermione, any heavier and my arms'll fall off!"

Smirking, Hermione lowered her wand. "Well, we couldn't have that, could we?"

"Definitely not," Ron grunted, setting the weights down definitively on the wooden floor before snapping back up and not-so-subtly flexing his bicep in front of him. "You wouldn't have them to stare at if that happened. I couldn't do that to you." He winked again, and Hermione sputtered indignantly.

"How utterly chivalrous of you, Ronald." She huffed, sitting down on the edge of his bed with the faintest shadow of a smile playing at her features despite her determination to look annoyed. "...but for the record, I don't stare at them. That's a job better suited for the likes of Lavender and Pavarti." She added with a roll of her eyes.

Ron raised his brow curiously. "Wait, really?"

Hermione's stomach dropped, and now she really did look annoyed. "Satisfied, are you?"

Ron looked bemused. "No, just… I dunno; I guess I just wasn't expecting that. Do they talk about me or something?"

Hermione glared at him and his stupidly thickly muscled arms and broad, gorgeous chest, barely contained by that God-forsaken tank top. She crossed her legs, doing everything to ignore the heat that flooded her core, setting her on fire in the best possible way. "Your name was mentioned a handful of times during their oh-so-important discussions in which they shamelessly objectify the boys in our year. They've…noticed your progress, that's all. I mean, honestly, it'd be impossible not to notice. If they didn't, I'd consider them even dafter than I already do."

Granted, that was harsh. She really didn't think terribly of her dorm mates. They were perfectly nice, all things considered. There were just things that annoyed her about them. Their blind devotion to Professor Trelawney and her sham of a subject, for one - and then, she had to admit it to herself - the fact that they noticed Ron. After all, he was single and available. Nothing was stopping them from going for him, nor was there anything stopping him from taking either of them up on their advances. Hermione saw red at the mere suggestion her psyche made of Ron doing anything with anyone…anyone that wasn't her.

She wanted to be the one wrapped up in those big arms, littering kisses across that gorgeous chest, doling out massages against his broad back - a back so broad, in fact, that it would practically dwarf her hands as she dragged them methodically across ever inch of anatomical perfection she could reach.

"Hermione…?"

She blinked furiously. "Sorry, what?"

"I said…does that mean you've noticed, then? My…progress, I mean."

Hermione blinked again. Hadn't he just teased her about all the ogling she was doing? He had to know. He just had to. Her lips worried together before she spoke - in a softer voice this time.

"Well, do you think I'm daft, Ron?"

"Hell no. You're bloody brilliant."

"You have your answer, then." She replied simply, her lashes batting ever so slightly up at him.

He smiled sheepishly at her and then - oh, God - moved towards her, positioning himself right in front of her, placing her at eye-level with some spot just below his pecs. "What part's the most noticeable, would you say?" He asked, his voice deep, calm, and commanding in a way she'd never heard it. Gulping, Hermione dared to meet his gaze over the impressive swell of his chest and just about swooned from the view he was providing her.

For the second time in her life - and the second time that very day, Hermione Granger was speechless.