This chapter will have some dialogue from my fanfic Harry Potter and the Other Side. Just giving you a heads up

Also, some of her feelings will mirror Ron's despite this being in her POV. I figure that they started slowly catching feelings at the same time, but Hermione realized her true feelings first while Ron had realized much slower. She may have caught on quicker, but that doesn't mean she just fell into them and knew how to deal with them 100% yet. Gotta let her fight a little bit.

I'm rambling. On with the fic!

Chapter 46: Noticing Him

The hot August sun bathed Diagon Alley in a golden glow as we finally caught sight of the Weasleys. My heart gave an unexpected jolt when I saw Ron standing there. Mrs. Weasley was the first to reach him, planting a kiss on his head and pulling him into one of her warm, motherly hugs. I couldn't help but wince slightly—it was mortifying enough to see, but then Papa stepped forward and gave him a firm handshake.

I stood there, frozen for a moment, smiling awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Hug him? Definitely not. That would be absurd. But my arms felt oddly restless, like they wanted to reach out anyway. Instead, I clasped my hands tightly together and gave a polite nod, trying desperately to focus on anything but him.

But Merlin help me, I couldn't stop looking. He was unmistakably Ron, but something about him was different. He'd grown taller, for one—noticeably so. His lanky frame was starting to fill out just a bit, his shoulders a touch broader, and there was the hint of muscle in his arms, like he'd spent the summer hauling gnomes out of the garden. His hair was longer, slightly tousled from the breeze, and the sun made it gleam like freshly polished copper. A few unruly strands kept falling into his face, and I had to resist the urge to tell him to push them back.

I forced myself to focus on the chaos of Diagon Alley around us, the chatter of families, the clinking of shop bells, anything to distract me. But when Ron turned to grin at me, a little lopsided and boyish, I felt my cheeks flush against my will.

"Alright, Hermione?" he asked, his voice as casual as ever, though it carried a slightly deeper tone.

I cleared my throat, determined not to let him see the ridiculous effect he had on me. "Yes, of course," I said quickly, straightening my shoulders. "You've—um—grown taller."

He gave me a shrug, looking sheepish, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, Mum's been saying the same thing. Had to let out my robes again. Probably doesn't help I've been eating everything in sight."

I gave Mama and Papa hugs goodbye and told them I loved them, as I was staying at the Leaky with the Weasleys. They had been reluctant to allow me to do this when I had brought it up at first, but eventually they caved.

After that I smiled, grabbing Ron by the arm and left our parents to mingle. We took off for the shops. Ron let me know about Harry apparently inflating his aunt. I was definitely going to ask him about that when I saw him.

"France was simply amazing!" I said, practically bouncing with excitement as we walked. The memories came flooding back, and I couldn't help but share every detail. "We went to Paris, where we actually got to eat on top of the Eiffel Tower. The view was incredible! You could see all the way across the city, and the food was just divine! Oh, and we toured Notre Dame—did you know that the bells were wizard-made?"

I paused for a moment, catching my breath before continuing. "Honestly, it makes sense when you think about it. Those bells are enormous! Sometimes the bell ringers don't even have to ring them; they can just enchant them to ring on their own. But only they know that, of course—it's a secret they've kept for centuries. And we went to the Louvre, and I swear I saw at least three paintings with subtle magical movements. And then we ended up stumbling onto a wizarding village, where-"

"Hermione, it sounds like all you did was learn instead of have fun," Ron had said, his tone caught somewhere between teasing and exasperation.

"Well, learning is fun to me, Ronald," I had replied, trying to sound assertive but instead coming across a bit defensive. I could feel my cheeks heat up.

"Don't get snippy. Come on, after we get all our supplies, I'll show you some real fun," he said with a smirk.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at his idea of "fun," but secretly, I appreciated his effort to make me laugh.

We spent the next hour darting from shop to shop. Quills and parchment were the easiest to procure, and we were quick to stock up on potion supplies as well. Then came my books—my favorite part of the day. I had a long list of titles that included everything from Advanced Rune Translation to The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4. I even picked up some supplementary reading to prepare for my expanded schedule.

Professor McGonagall had sent me an owl before term, confirming I could take all the subjects I wanted. She promised to explain how it would work when we got back to Hogwarts. I couldn't wait.

"How many extra classes are you taking?" Ron asked, watching as I piled my books onto the counter.

"Um, all of them," I replied, trying to sound casual but feeling a little sheepish under his incredulous gaze.

"All of them? How?!" he asked, his voice rising slightly in disbelief.

"I've already made arrangements with Professor McGonagall. Don't worry about it," I said, waving off his concerns. I paid for the books and clutched the bag with satisfaction, eager to dive into their pages.

Our next stop was Ollivander's, and Ron's excitement was almost contagious. His grin stretched from ear to ear as we stepped inside. The smell of polished wood and old parchment filled the air, and Mr. Ollivander appeared from behind a stack of wand boxes, his pale eyes twinkling.

"I was wondering when I'd see you again, Mr. Weasley," he said warmly before turning to me. "And Miss Granger, how is your wand fairing?"

"It's been wonderful, Mr. Ollivander. Thank you," I replied politely, genuinely grateful for his craftsmanship.

Without hesitation, Mr. Ollivander retrieved a box from a nearby shelf as though he'd prepared for this moment in advance. He opened it carefully, revealing a wand nestled in velvet. Ron stared at it in awe, his eyes wide.

"Here as promised, Mr. Weasley. Willow, fourteen inches, with a unicorn hair core. A fine match. Take good care of it, and it will take care of you," Ollivander said, his tone reverent.

Ron didn't hesitate to hand over the money, practically bouncing on his heels. As we left the shop, he was cradling the bag like it contained treasure.

"Are you happy?" I asked, smiling as I glanced at him. There was something heartwarming about seeing him so thrilled.

"Happy is an understatement right about now," he said, grinning ear to ear.

On impulse, I reached out and lightly touched his arm—a small gesture of shared happiness. He looked at me, slightly surprised, but his grin didn't waver.

The walk to Madam Malkin's was brightened by Ron's excitement. His grin was infectious, and I found myself smiling too, though I was trying not to make it obvious. He kept talking about how strange it would be to wear something that didn't belong to one of his brothers first.

"New robes!" Ron exclaimed, practically bouncing as we approached the shop. "Do you have any idea how weird this is going to feel, Hermione? No fraying hems! No dodgy patches Mum tried to charm out!"

I giggled, enjoying his enthusiasm. "I think you'll survive the shock, Ron."

He shot me a playful glare but couldn't suppress his grin. As we entered Madam Malkin's, the little bell above the door jingled, and we were immediately greeted by the warm smell of fabric and the faint hum of magic in the air.

"Ah, Mr. Weasley," Madam Malkin said kindly, bustling over. "And Miss Granger, of course. Step right over here, dear."

Ron looked nervous but excited as Madam Malkin guided him to a small raised platform. He stood stiffly, clearly unsure of what to do.

"You don't have to look so terrified," I teased, leaning against a display rack. "She's not going to hex you."

"I'm not terrified," he muttered, glancing down at the measuring tape that was currently zooming around his arms. "I just don't want to move and mess it up."

Madam Malkin smiled as she adjusted the fabric over Ron's shoulders. "Stand tall, Mr. Weasley. You've got broad shoulders. These robes will look very handsome on you."

Ron turned bright red, and I couldn't help but laugh softly. "See, Ron? Even Madam Malkin agrees. You'll finally be Gryffindor's best-dressed."

He glared at me, though his blush only deepened. "You're hilarious, Hermione."

I couldn't resist poking fun. "You'll thank me when everyone notices how dashing you look in Charms class."

"Dashing," Ron repeated with a scoff, though I caught a small, self-conscious smile as he looked at himself in the mirror.

When it was my turn, Ron flopped dramatically into a chair nearby, clearly feeling accomplished. "You know, this is the best shopping trip I've ever had. I didn't even have to argue about getting something decent."

I rolled my eyes as I stepped up onto the platform, feeling a little self-conscious as Madam Malkin began adjusting the fabric for my robes.

"You're just happy you didn't have to wear another set of hand-me-downs," I said, glancing over at him.

"Well, yeah," he said after a beat, his ears going red. "But, uh... you'll look nice too. I mean, those robes... they're nice."

I smiled, trying not to laugh. "Thanks, Ron. That was very eloquent of you."

He shrugged, fiddling with a loose thread on his jumper. "Well, you know... just saying."

By the time we left the shop, Ron was practically skipping, his new robes folded neatly in a bag.

After we left Madam Malkin's, he took me to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, with its brightly colored jars of toppings and rows of dazzlingly vibrant ice cream flavors. It felt surreal, as if I were stepping into a picture-perfect scene. Ron held the door open for me with a grin, his freckled face alight with boyish excitement.

"And now, surprise time!" he said, motioning me in like he was introducing me to a grand feast.

I hesitated at first, surveying the rainbow of ice cream flavors. "Oh, Ron, I don't know. Too much ice cream isn't good for you," I said cautiously, though deep down I felt a little flutter of excitement.

Ron snorted, clearly ignoring me. "So, Mione, what'll you rot your teeth with today?" His tone was light and teasing, and I couldn't help but smile despite myself.

The menu was overwhelming, packed with options that boggled my mind. How did anyone choose? There were at least a hundred flavors and combinations. "Oh, there are just so many—I can't decide. You eat this more than I do. You pick it," I said, my voice bubbling with anticipation.

Ron grinned, clearly pleased with the responsibility. He turned to the server and rattled off my order: a sundae with snozzberry sherbet, blue swirly, and firecracker punch ice cream. It sounded so whimsical I couldn't help but feel a small thrill. For himself, he ordered a towering chocolate heart attack sundae.

When I reached for my pouch of money, Ron waved me off. "I've got this," he said firmly, handing over the coins. I blinked in surprise. Ron was paying for me? That wasn't something I had expected, and for a brief moment, I felt an odd warmth settle over me.

We found a table outside and settled in with our ice creams. "Try the firecracker punch first," Ron instructed, watching me intently. "Then mix the blue with the snozzberry and prepare to pass out on the bloody goodness."

I hesitated for a second, but then I took a small bite of the firecracker punch. My eyes widened as the flavor hit me—it was incredible! Sweet and tangy, with a subtle fizz that made my taste buds dance. I quickly followed his instructions, combining the blue and purple. He was right—it was like a symphony of flavors.

"See? Told you." He looked smug as he took a massive bite of his own sundae.

As I dove into my sundae with enthusiasm, I felt his gaze on me. I glanced up and found him watching me with an expression I couldn't quite place. It wasn't teasing or mocking, but something softer, almost curious. My cheeks heated for reasons I couldn't quite explain. Maybe he was just happy to see me enjoying myself, I rationalized.

"This is great, Ron. Would you like a taste?" I asked after a moment, holding my spoon up.

"Don't mind if I do," Ron said, leaning forward with his own spoon. But before he could scoop into my bowl, I intercepted him. I scooped a spoonful up with my own spoon and held it out to him.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. He leaned forward and took the spoonful into his mouth, and I was suddenly acutely aware of how close we were. He was actually letting me feed him. It wasn't like feeding a toddler or helping someone in need. It felt... different. More personal.

His eyes met mine as he swallowed the ice cream, and it truly gave me pause. That bright, clear blue I'd seen a thousand times before now seemed to hold an easy warmth, the kind that made my stomach flip in a way I wasn't at all prepared to confront. I quickly told myself it was just the ice cream. Perhaps I'd eaten it too quickly.

I pulled back the spoon out of his mouth, and for a brief moment, we just smiled at each other. His smile felt different too—like he was seeing me in a way he hadn't before. Or maybe I was imagining it.

Before I could figure it out, someone called his name, and the moment broke like a bubble. Ron turned to wave, and just like that, whatever strange little feeling I'd been grappling with slipped away.