A/N: Thanks so much for reading so far - I hope everyone is enjoying things as they heat up a bit.
Now, raise your hand if you want the kissing scene! :)
The setting sun was shining right in Hermione's eyes, low enough on the horizon to peek through the window of Mario's. She had to squint, but she didn't mind; the view across the booth from her was fabulous and well worth a little retinal damage. As it turned out, red hair glowed fiery orange in the sunlight, making a certain best friend of hers somehow even more attractive.
"So I don't know, I think I'll end up doing fine in the class," Ron said, shoving the last piece of crust into his mouth. "I just wish the teacher wasn't such a hardass."
Hermione nodded in agreement as she took a sip of her iced tea. "Believe it or not, I know what you mean. I had a class with Mrs. Umbridge last year. I did quite well and she still always seemed upset about something and found things to criticize. Maybe she thinks it makes her a better educator? Or I don't know, maybe she's just been teaching too long and she's mentally checked out."
"Something like that."
"I could help you if you like, you know. I know what she's looking for. As I said, it won't necessarily change her attitude, but your grade might go up."
His eyebrow raised with curiosity. "Really? You'd do that for me?"
"Of course," she replied, trying not to blush at the thought of more time with him. "Anything for you."
Oh God, what did you just say? Think before you speak, Granger!
One of his lips curled up in response, and the sly grin he shot her would've turned her legs to jelly if she wasn't already sitting down. "Anything, huh? In that case, I'll have to think of something better than help with homework."
"W–What could be better than help with homework? I finished with a ninety-eight percent in that class."
"I can think of a thing or two…"
The two of them had been sitting in their normal corner booth at Mario's for nearly an hour, having come straight over after school. It had been less than twenty-four hours since they'd rehearsed their scene, but their relationship seemed as though it had shifted in that time; shifted for the better, in Hermione's estimation. As soon as she'd picked him up that morning, she noticed that he just seemed to be paying more attention than usual.
In the past, Ron had always been very relaxed and easygoing, almost to the point of being a little oblivious to her worries and anxieties. Throughout the past day, though, something about him just seemed to have switched on. He was so attuned to her routine, anticipating her needs before she even realized them herself. When she dropped a pen in the hallway on the way to her class, he had picked it up for her just as she'd heard it clatter to the ground. At lunchtime, she'd missed grabbing her salad dressing, and just as she realized her mistake, he showed up next to her with both of her favorites after noticing that she'd forgotten. And as they left school to head over to the pizza place, he saw that her hands were full and reached into her jacket pocket to grab her keys, unlock the door, and hold it open for her so she wouldn't drop anything.
"Well, unless it's related to your academic pursuits, I'm not sure I'd be able to help you. Those are my strengths, and that's where I can be of assistance. Take it or leave it."
"In that case, I'll take it. As long as you're sure you have time. It's junior year, you're in a million AP classes, and the musical is going on. I'm sure you have enough on your plate."
"I'm fine, I always manage to keep up. In a way, I find the time crunch oddly invigorating."
"Course you do," he answered with a chuckle. "Nerd."
"Jock."
"Theater geek."
"Theater geek."
He held up his hands in surrender. "Ahh, touche. I guess we're not that different after all."
"Yeah, maybe not."
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop smiling at him. He didn't seem to be having any more luck than she was, to be fair. Eventually, he broke eye contact and started collecting his used napkins. "What do you say we head out?"
"Sure, let's go."
Eighth Grade
December 25th
Dear Diary,
Merry Christmas! I've had a lot of excellent Christmases over the years, but I think this one takes the cake. And I know you're probably getting sick of hearing this, but it's all because of one boy - Ron Weasley.
The morning started off like all of our Christmases over the years. I suppose we slept in a little later than we did when I was a kid (I used to go jump on my parents' bed at six in the morning. SIX IN THE MORNING!), but once everyone was up, we went downstairs together and started our Christmas morning traditions. Dad made the cinnamon rolls, Mom brewed the coffee, and I started distributing the gifts that were piled up under the tree. We took turns opening presents until everyone was done. I got a few great new books, my parents got me a new set of AirPods, and my grandmother, as always, sent cash. All in all, it was an excellent morning.
But then, things got even better! I'd already told Ron I wanted to exchange gifts in the early afternoon (his family is so huge that they often take until lunchtime to finish opening all of their presents), so as my parents fell asleep on the couch, I waited (im)patiently until he finally came over around two o'clock.
I gave him his present first. He never stops talking about this one football player that's his all-time favorite, Charles Woodson. Anyway, a few months ago, Charles came to the mall near us and was signing autographs. Ron was devastated that he couldn't go because he was going to be out of town visiting his Great Aunt, so I snuck over, bought one of Mr. Woodson's trading cards, and got him to sign it for Ron.
When he opened the small box, his face lit up like nothing I'd ever seen. It was brighter than our entire Christmas tree. He threw his arms around me and gave me the tightest, longest hug he's ever given me, which was fine by me.
And then, he gave me his present. Diary, I've gotten a lot of good presents over the years. This year alone, I got pretty much everything that had been on my list. But this gift that Ron got for me…I'm literally crying now just thinking about it. I'm going to say it and you're going to say it and it's going to sound lame, but trust me, it's not.
As long as I've known him, I always complain about wanting to read at night but not being able to find a good reading light. It's been a constant issue for me. Lamps are too bright, and the little lights that clip onto a book are cumbersome and usually too dim. There's no happy medium. So Ron made me a homemade reading light, and I'm not exaggerating, diary, it's perfect.
The whole thing looks kind of like a horseshoe. There's a fabric-covered hard plastic band that slips around my neck, and at each end, he somehow attached a small lamp. I think it's a small version of headlamps that people use when they're exploring caves, but I'm not sure. Each one is connected to a small battery pack and runs off of a single AA battery. You can turn on just one or both depending on how much light you need. I've already read half of one of my new books with it in my room, and I have no idea how he did it, but it's exactly what I always wanted but didn't know could exist.
We're going to hang out again tomorrow once our family obligations are over, but it's not soon enough. He's so sweet. He's so thoughtful. I can't believe I'm lucky enough to get to spend as much time with him as I do. He's just the best. I should really tell him that…
No, never mind.
Love, Hermione Granger, Age 14
After waving goodbye to Mario, the two settled back into Hermione's car for the short drive back to her house. Something about the trip felt different than every other time she'd given him a ride over the last several weeks. It was not surprising, of course; how many other times were they headed back to her place to practice kissing each other? Still, their interactions over the previous twenty-four hours had left her feeling closer to him than ever before. They clearly weren't together; that was still definitely a bridge too far. But they were more than they had been before rehearsing their duet, that was for sure.
Ron was uncharacteristically quiet as they passed through the quaint neighborhood, leaving Hermione the time to give herself a short pep talk.
Okay. Ron is coming back to your house. He's going to come up to your room and you're going to practice some lines and a couple songs. One of the things you might practice is how to convincingly kiss him. Remember that you are not kissing him, Elphaba is kissing Fiyero. That doesn't mean you can't enjoy it a little, but you have to be careful.
If he kisses you at the end of the song, that doesn't mean he wants to be your boyfriend. Sure, he's being extra nice today, but maybe it's just because he's also feeling a little awkward about it. Just try to be as casual as possible, but not so casual that you can't be honest about it. There's no point pretending it's not going to be a little weird; even he would get that.
But don't draw assumptions. Don't let yourself get swept away with a romantic song in a romantic show. Don't ruin your future and any potential advancement of your relationship with Ron for a few seconds of kissing. It's not worth it. It's not worth it. Ron has been your friend for years. Don't blow it.
They both hopped out of the car as soon as it pulled into the driveway, Ron following her as she unlocked the side door and dropped her bag next to the table. The house was quiet; her parents were still at work and wouldn't be home for a couple hours. There had been plenty of occasions in the past when Ron had come over with nobody else at home, but for obvious reasons, it felt quite strange for him to be there on that particular day, sitting at the island in her kitchen with nobody else around.
"I'd offer you a snack," she said, "but, you know. Mario's."
"I wouldn't turn you down, you know."
"You just had two slices of pizza!"
He shrugged, peeking into the pantry for good measure. "That's just a little after-school nibble for me."
"An after-school nibble?" she replied, incredulity sketched on her face. "You must be eating your poor parents out of house and home."
"Ehh, they haven't complained yet. Remember, there were seven of us at home simultaneously at one point. Now they only have to feed me and my sister. They probably feel like they're rolling in it."
"A drink, then?" she asked as she pulled open the door of the refrigerator.
"Sure, sparkling water?"
"You got it."
Once each of them had selected a drink, Hermione led him upstairs. They settled in her room, Hermione sitting on the edge of her bed and Ron plopping down in her desk chair.
"So," she began, searching through a stack of books on her floor for her script. "Where do you want to start?"
"I don't know. Lines first or song first? I'll leave it up to you."
"Umm, maybe lines? I don't know, I can't find my script."
"Script?" he posed with a snicker. "I'm sure you don't need a script."
"Well, I try not to, but I'd like to have it just in case. Ugh, that's right, I left it in my bag. Hang on a second, I'll be right back."
"Want me to grab it for you?"
"No, it's fine. It'll just take a second."
As quickly as she could, Hermione dashed downstairs, grabbed the script from her bag, and hurried back up to her room. When she stepped back inside, Ron was standing next to her desk, a nostalgic expression on his face. A framed picture was in his hand, the two of them at an amusement park when they were in eighth grade. Seeing him admiring the picture made her suddenly feel quite shy, but excitement was bubbling up in her stomach nonetheless.
"I remember this trip," he said. "You insisted we had to go on the Cloud Chaser. You were scared of the loop-the-loops, but you were determined to try it."
"That's right," she agreed, stepping next to him and examining the ecstatic faces beaming back at her. "You tried to talk me out of it because we'd just eaten, but I insisted."
"I must've told you a hundred times that you would regret it. 'Later,' I said, 'it's not going anywhere.'"
"But the line was shorter, so I made us go right away. You still held my hand the whole time so I wouldn't chicken out."
She could feel his eyes glancing over toward her, heat rising in her cheeks. Burying her head in her hands, she hoped he didn't remember the most mortifying part.
"Yeah. The whole time," he recalled. "And do you recall what happened next?"
Dammit.
"Ugh, unfortunately yes."
"You lost your lunch."
"All of it," she agreed with an embarrassed grin. "Right into the trash can. As soon as we got off the ride."
Cackling rang out through the room, at first just from Ron, then Hermione started a moment later. It was one of those memories where any of the negative aspects had long since faded, leaving behind the tarnished, slightly altered, rose-colored version of the truth. The fact that they shared it together made it all the more powerful to revisit as their friendship was redeveloping.
"You've always tried to look out for me, haven't you?" she said, catching his gaze as he set the picture back down on the desk.
Ron shrugged, smiling warmly down at her. "I try. Not that you need it. You're the one who's got everything under control at all times."
"No, I don't. Maybe it looks like that from the outside, but I don't."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Okay. In that case, and not to be all sappy or whatever, but…well, you're my Elphaba. I'm going to make sure you don't, you know, try to fly too high. As long as that's okay with you."
His lips had never looked so inviting. Even dry and chapped, they were everything she wanted in life. Screw the song, screw the musical, and screw any other responsibility while she was at it. She was beginning to think that she would explode if she didn't kiss him.
"Of course it is."
"Okay," Ron started, looking unsure where his thoughts would take him. "Well, you got it. Anything for you."
Air is just air. A combination of oxygen, nitrogen, carbon dioxide, and a few other select atoms and molecules. Nothing about it should change based on the people who happen to be near it. But the air in Hermione's bedroom was thicker than ever, saturated with the electricity flying between its two inhabitants. They stood in the middle of her room, separated by mere inches, their eyes locked on each other as they tried to make sense of their relationship-altering statements.
"Not–not that you have to." Hermione shook her head, trying to knock some sense into herself. He probably didn't mean it like that, after all. It wasn't the time to let her daydreams and fantasies take over. That was a recipe for embarrassment. "I just mean…it's not your responsibility. You've got enough going on, I'm sure. And I'm seventeen years old, I can take care of myself."
His eyes narrowed, suddenly confused as he took a small step backward. "Yeah, I know. I'm not–I'm not saying that I don't think…"
"Right, I know, but…I don't want you to feel like you–"
"I don't. But I kind of want–"
"It's a little rude of me to assume–"
"You're not assuming anything when I offer."
"Oh. Right, well. Just…you don't have to go out of your way."
Everything was fading. The magic that was pulsating through the room mere seconds ago was dissipating, leaving behind a trail of disorientation and unease. Even the sun had dropped below the treeline and left the room in a darker and more ambiguous place than it had been before. The tension was getting to be too much, and Hermione suddenly felt as though she needed to put some space between herself and Ron. But just as she spun away from him, she felt him again.
"Hey," he said, grabbing her arm and gently pulling her back toward him. "I know you can handle yourself. I've seen you do it for years. But…I care about you, Hermione. I don't want to see anything happen to you. You push yourself so hard to be good at everything. I don't know how you have the time or energy to do it all, but somehow you manage to fit it all in the same twenty-four-hour day that everyone gets."
He cares about me? He CARES about me?!
The smile on his face was genuine, she was sure. After all of the years they'd spent together, she could easily tell. His words had sent her head spiraling up into the stratosphere, and it was unclear if she would ever come down. Everything she wanted, everything she'd always hoped for. It seemed like it was within her grasp.
Maybe this is real. Maybe…maybe he really wants…
His large hands dropped down on her shoulders and warmth spread throughout her entire upper body. "I have no intention of cramping your style, and I promise I won't slow you down. But sometimes you're so wrapped up in all of your activities and academics that you miss out on…life. Fun. Eating. Sometimes you forget to eat, Hermione. That's like a cardinal sin in my world."
"I know." She chuckled to herself, mostly as a means of cutting through the suspense that hung between them. "You do have a way of keeping me grounded."
"Exactly. But I guess I'm just saying…life is short. High school is shorter. Enjoy it while you can. And let me help."
"You sound kind of like Fiyero."
"The guy was on to something…"
Those ocean-blue eyes were becoming a problem. In her entire life, she couldn't remember being able to lose herself in them as much as she had in the last few minutes. Her heart was racing and she could feel her legs weakening. And…was it her imagination, or was he leaning in closer to her?
"Let's rehearse," she said, their gazes never leaving each other.
"Lines or song?"
"Song."
"All of it?"
"All of it."
Hermione activated the Bluetooth speaker on her desk and found their duet through Spotify, wasting no time starting the music. As soon as it started, she spun back toward Ron, and the two of them settled on the floor, starting much closer to each other than they had in rehearsal. Before she even started singing, his hands were climbing her arms and settling on her cheeks. She pressed closer to his palm as she started singing.
"Kiss me too fiercely, hold me too tight…"
How was she supposed to concentrate on the music or lyrics or really anything besides the gorgeous boy in front of her? When they'd rehearsed the previous night, his face had shown the emotion that Fiyero felt for Elphaba. As she sat in front of him in her room, though, all of the love and care flowing from him felt like it was for her. Not for Elphaba, just for her.
And as her fingers skated over the rough stubble on his cheeks, gliding down his jawline, she realized that she, too, was no longer acting. Everything she was singing and everything she was doing was exactly what Hermione wanted to do. Elphaba was the furthest thing from her mind as his hand found the small of her back and tugged, inviting her to press herself up against his chest.
"As long as you're mine…"
Instead of attempting to add any new choreography during the break between their parts, she just watched him. His eyes were drifting over her entire body as his strong fingers squeezed her waist, inching along the hemline of her sweater, his pinky trailing along a narrow strip of exposed skin just above her jeans and driving her insane.
As he started singing, she found she couldn't let go of him no matter how hard she tried. She needed to be as close as possible, as if she would die if part of her wasn't in contact with him at all times. The definition in his forearm muscles bulged out as he gripped her tighter, sending her mind to places she knew it shouldn't be going. They were right next to her bed, after all. One small move…
But the song continued, and as they sang together in harmony, their bodies only became more intertwined. Her head rested against Ron's collarbone as he ran his fingers through her hair. As she sat up straight to meet his eye line again, he trailed his lips down the column of her neck. She had stopped being able to tell when one pleasurable touch stopped and another started; her entire body was on fire.
The final lyrics approached, and for once, she was actually looking forward to the song ending. He was going for the kiss, there was no doubt in her mind. And she had no intention of stopping him.
"For the first time," she spoke, both hands clasped on his face, "I feel…wicked."
Before she could even finish her final line, he'd driven himself forward, his lips finding hers as her eyelids drifted shut. The kiss deepened immediately as his tongue entered her mouth, swirling around and grappling with her own. His arms wrapped all the way around her body, fingertips grazing against the exposed skin of her neck. Every sense was heightened as she pulled back just enough to turn her head, eager to find a new angle and find new ways to enjoy the sensation.
The neglected music had carried on to the next song, but neither of them was paying any attention. As she ran her hands through his shaggy hair, he somehow managed to draw her even closer. Just as she adjusted her lips to go back in for more, though, he pulled away.
His eyes were suddenly wide as he pushed himself back up to his feet. For a moment, Hermione thought that perhaps he was joking and stood up, getting ready to launch herself back at him. When he bent down to pick up his coat and backpack, though, her face dropped and her chest tightened.
"Yeah, umm, that was great…great job," he said, pulling on his jacket. "I think–oh shoot, that's right. I actually have to go. I promised my mom…yeah, I promised her. So. But really good practice, right? And thanks for the pizza and the, uhh, water. I'll see you later, okay?"
"Oh. Umm. Yeah, right, okay. Are you…? Right, no, yeah, that's fine."
He stepped out the doorway, calling back to her as he rumbled down the staircase. "Yeah, sorry, I just forgot. I'll, umm–"
But she never heard the rest. The door slammed behind him as she stood bewildered in the middle of her bedroom floor.
What had just happened? For a moment there, it seemed like he wanted nothing more than to be with her. Maybe even be with her, as nerve-racking as the thought was. But instead, she was left alone. She remained still, brain trying to puzzle out his intentions. It wasn't long, though, before she crumpled onto her mattress, the ghost of his lips still tingling against her mouth. Tears started welling up in her eyes as she curled up, grabbing her knees and pulling them toward her chest.
What just happened? It was going so well! We both wanted this, didn't we? I couldn't have been imagining everything, not this time. But it doesn't matter now, because somehow I've ruined everything like I always do!
As she lay still, going over the events of the last twenty-four hours over and over again, sobs started to rack her body. She pulled a pillow over her head, angling her head upward and releasing a guttural scream into the soft, flannel fabric. Her throat was burning, and it didn't even help her feel better at all. The tightness in her chest was exacerbated as she tortured herself with what-ifs.
What if she hadn't invited him back to her house? What if they hadn't decided to rehearse again so soon after the events of the previous day? What if she hadn't done the damn show in the first place?
But it was useless to play that game. Everything that happened had already happened, and all she could do now was move on with the cold, inevitable conclusion. Ron wasn't interested. Once it was actually time to kiss her, it repulsed him. Drove him entirely out of her house, for God's sake.
Everything suddenly made sense. When he said he wanted to protect her, he wasn't doing so as a boyfriend. Those types of feelings hadn't even entered her mind. He must have meant it differently, more in the sense of seeing her as a little sister or something. And honestly, who wants to kiss their sister?
I've ruined it! I've ruined it! I've ruined EVERYTHING!