Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter.





I set out on a narrow way,
Many years ago,
Hoping I would find true love,
Along the broken road.


Hermione Granger looked in the long mirror, her eyes glazed. The dress was a blur of pale blue. It was beautiful, her mother had gone to Diagon Alley with her that summer to get it specially. It had a beautiful skirt, made of pale, swishy chiffon. The bodice fitted her waist like a glove; the sleeves did not exist, but instead there were off-the-shoulder bits of material that went around her shoulders. It was a lovely dress, with sequin bits on the hem. Her shoes were small heels (her mother did not approve of stilettos like Lavender Brown wore) in the same pale blue colour as her dress.

She sighed, her hand reaching up to lightly touch the sleek curls that were piled into an elegant, elaborate bun, tied with a silk blue ribbon, which wove through the curls like a weaver at a loom. Two small strands of chestnut-brown hair fell over the sides of her face, like a fringe that had grown out.

Hermione knew she had not much time (after getting her hair this sleek) for make-up, but half an hour earlier, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil (who had helped her with her hair) came bustling in, insisting that Hermione let them do her make-up.

“I don’t need make-up,� Hermione had insisted earnestly, as Lavender had forced her jaw open to apply dark red lipstick to her lips.

“Nonsense, all the girls need lipstick, how else would we get to kiss our dates?� Lavender had said, as Parvati giggled. Hermione suddenly remembered that Parvati was going with Harry. Her insides had given a little squirm; she felt sorry for Harry, cooped up with Parvati when all he wanted really was to be there with Cho.

“You look great,� Lavender had told her as she left the room with a giggling Parvati. “Your mysterious date is lucky.�

Hermione’s insides did another squirm; but not for Harry. She was going with Viktor, Viktor Krum, but she hadn’t told anyone, not even Harry or Ron.

Especially not Ron, she thought to herself.

Hermione looked at her reflection again. She could feel unnecessary tears creeping up into those brown eyes. What was wrong with her? She liked Viktor…didn’t she? He liked her.

But why hadn’t he – Ron – asked her to the Ball?

Hermione felt her stomach swoop. She knew no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t like Viktor as she liked – maybe even loved – Ron. She had been sure he felt the same way, he was so obvious about it. But if he liked her, why wouldn’t he ask her to the Ball? If he liked her, would it really have taken him three years just to notice she was a girl?

Well somebody else has noticed I’m a girl, Hermione thought briskly to herself, And if Ron can’t see that yet, he must’ve never liked you.

With that, she twirled from the room, to head down to meet Viktor.

But I got lost a time or two,
Wiped my brow, kept pushing through,
I couldn’t see how every sign,
Pointed straight to you.

*

Hermione fell back onto the Common Room sofa, taking off her shoes to massage her worn-out feet. Tears were running down her face. Her lipstick was smudged; she wiped it off on the back of her hand. The colour didn’t suit her. Her dress was slightly more ruffled than it had been at the beginning of the Ball. Her elaborate curls were falling out of their bun. She pulled the hair slide holding them up. Chestnut curls spilt down her shoulders, cascading like a chocolate waterfall.

The entire evening had been a fiasco. She’d spent so much time getting ready, so much time getting it perfect, but it had all been a waste of time. Ron had ruined it. She couldn’t enjoy it like she’d wanted to. Ron had been a pig – he had completely destroyed the evening. He told her terrible things about Viktor. He’d made horrible assumptions about him only liking her because he wanted help with the Golden Egg – or get closer to Harry to jinx him…

Hermione grabbed the cushion next to her and buried her teary face into it. She couldn’t work it out now – she’d been so sure he liked her.

Hermione had liked him for ages, but he was so thick he’d never really registered. Hermione never really was the type to be interested in boys – she was more interested in homework or studying, but she was a girl. Viktor was internationally famous and he was eighteen. Of course she was going to say yes when he asked her out.

But Ron was different. He wasn’t a Quidditch player. He was a fourteen-year-old schoolboy who couldn’t even properly Transform a hedgehog. But he killed Hermione with some of his jokes, and he was adorably sweet at times. He was her best friend other than Harry.

Every long lost dream,
Led me to where you are,
Others who broke my heart,
They were just northern stars,
Pointing me on my way,
Into your loving arms.

The portrait hole opened, and a familiar tall, redheaded boy tumbled through. Hermione put the cushion down and looked up at him.

Ron went two paces before he froze as he looked at Hermione. His face suddenly became surly and downcast. He kicked the carpet with his toe. Hermione’s swollen eyes looked down at the floor.

“Where’s Vicky? I thought you’d be off in his ship, snogging,� Ron burst out, sourly. Hermione’s mouth fell open.

“No, he was a perfect gentleman actually,� she shot back, angrily. “He said goodbye to me at the stairs, and then I came back up here.�

Ron looked at the fire determinedly as he said: “I bet he kissed you didn’t he?�

Hermione blushed. Viktor had kissed her – but what was it to Ron?

“Why do you care?� she snapped, and he looked up at Hermione for the first time since he had entered. “You were the one trying to make our evening as bad as you possibly could, so why do you even want to know whether or not Viktor kissed me?�

Ron’s ears went red.

“I – just…� he broke off looking down at his feet again. Hermione felt dazed, there seemed to be little butterflies fluttering in her stomach. What did Ron mean?

Ron shrugged. “I’m going to bed,� he announced to the carpet and began to walk towards the stairs.

“No!� Hermione exclaimed. Ron turned around, looking into her eyes.

“I mean,� Hermione said, blushing furiously. “I mean, don’t go yet. Stay down here for a while. After all, the Ball’s not even really finished yet.�

She checked her small, delicate silver watch; the long hand pointed at half-past. It was still only half-eleven.

Ron looked hard at the fireplace for a while and then sighed, flopping onto the sofa next to Hermione. He exhaled loudly, delving deep into his pocket, producing a Chocolate Frog. He unwrapped it and snapped it in half, extending one half towards Hermione.

“Want some?�

Hermione shook her head, staring into the red-gold embers of the fire.

This much I know is true,
That God blessed the broken road,
That lead me straight to you.

He said nothing for a while, munching on the chocolate. Then, he tossed the wrapper into the fire, where it hissed and flew up for a second then died again.

“What do you see in him?� asked Ron quietly, his fists curling up. Hermione craned her neck round at him.

“What do I see in him?� she asked, incredulously. “Well excuse me for having a boyfriend for once, excuse me for actually wanting a date for the Ball, Ron! I’m not going to sit around all day to wait for you to invite –’’

She broke off suddenly, forgetting. Ron did not know about her hidden feelings. He couldn’t find out. Not yet.

“Yes?� Ron asked, his voice quivering with anticipation. Hermione gazed up at him, her brilliant brown eyes shining.

“To wait for you, Ron,� she whispered, her voicing reaching an octave higher. “You were going to ask me, weren’t you? But you didn’t, so that’s why Viktor’s won over you instead. Too late now, this ship has sailed. You’ll just have to accept that I’m going out with Viktor, Ron, and that you were too late.�

Ron reeled backwards as though a great gust of wind had blown him off his feet and slammed him onto his back.

“What are you talking about?� he whispered, his ears turning red. “I’m not – I don’t –’’



“Don’t try and justify yourself!� Hermione said shrilly, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Like I haven’t noticed you all the time, trying to interfere, teasing me with your snide little comments, gnawing away at me, always getting at me, I’m SICK of it Ron, can’t you just accept that maybe we are a little older and more mature now? I have, but you – you’re no different than you were in our first-year! It’s not about you and me anymore, it’s about our relationship as friends! What is wrong with us? We’re constantly arguing, constantly bickering and I KNOW Harry’s sick of it too! Can’t you just grow up?�

I think about the years I’ve spent,
Just passing through,
I’d like to take the time I’ve lost,
And give it back to you.

Ron had turned scarlet with rage now; he was physically shaking.

“ME?? What about YOU, Hermione?! You don’t realise how hard it is for me to work this all out on my own! How am I supposed to know exactly what you want me to say or do? How am I supposed to ask you to the Ball? You’re the one who’s always going all smarmy over Harry! ‘Ooh, Harry do let me help you with the Egg! Be really careful Harry!’ � Ron shouted, his face red and his eyes blazing. Hermione reeled back, tears of hurt mingling with the others.

“Ron it’s not true, I’d never help Harry with the Egg…�

“I don’t know why you’re bothered about me not asking you to the Ball, it’s obvious you fancy Harry! But since he didn’t ask you, you just went with Krum anyway, so that you wouldn’t look stupid alone…�

Hermione’s jaw fell open. How could he think, for all those years, that she had fancied Harry? He had got it so wrong…

“Ron,� she replied in a shaky voice. “I don’t fancy Harry; he’s my best friend. You’re supposed to be my best friend too, but right now you’re driving me mad. Have you ever wondered why we always fight, Ron? Are we – are we more than friends?�

Ron said nothing for a while, he simply gazed at her for several seconds. Then, without any thought about it, he walked right up to Hermione and grabbed her shoulders.

He didn’t let go, but his grip was not rough or painful. He was holding her gently but tightly, as if he did not want to let go. He looked down at the shocked look on Hermione’s face and leaned forwards and kissed her.

It was as though somebody had set off fireworks in Hermione’s head. She felt as though she was suddenly soaring, even though her feet had not left the ground. She felt his hands move to her waist, so she put hers on his shoulders, leaning up to reach.

But you just smile and take my hand,
You’ve been there, you understand,
It’s all part of a grander plan,
That is coming true.

Slowly, he moved away, looking dazed at his own daring. Hermione felt giddy, she fell forwards slightly and Ron caught her. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered a little.

“You – you kissed me,� she said, looking up into his ocean-blue eyes. She felt a suddenly warmth and lovingness for the seaside.

Ron had turned pink in the cheeks. “Yeah, I know,� he murmured, straightening up, but not letting go of Hermione. “If I didn’t, I’d never have had the chance again.�

Hermione raised a hand to run her fingers through Ron’s hair. “Well don’t stop,� she breathed. Ron looked down into her eyes again, and this time, it was Hermione who leaned forward to kiss him.

The fireworks began in Hermione’s head again. She did not care that she had gone with Viktor; Ron was the one she’d really wanted to be with, to dance with at the Ball. She’d wanted to share the evening with him, not to have to sit at the Champion table, listening to Fleur Delacour rant on about ‘the Palace of Beauxbatons’.

The kiss became more passionate, more intense. Ron’s hands found Hermione’s hair, and he began running his fingers through it. Hermione moved backwards, but the sofa knocked the back of her knees and she fell onto it, Ron falling onto her.

They continued to kiss. Hermione opened her mouth against Ron’s and instantly it improved. They kissed furiously, it was hard to tell who’s hands were who’s. Hermione felt Ron’s tongue on her bottom lip. How had Ron become such a good kisser? Maybe it was natural, but this felt right, even though Hermione needed air.

Hermione broke off, gasping. Next to her, Ron was panting.

“You’re a good kisser,� she said. “Better than Viktor.�

Ron looked delighted.

“You know, it’s a shame we never got to dance at the Ball,� she whispered. “I know you like the Weird Sisters.�

Ron breathed out softly. “Well that can be changed. As you said, the Ball isn’t over yet.�

Hermione’s stomach fluttered again.

Ron stood up and extended a hand to Hermione and bowed. “Miss Granger, would you please do me the honour of taking this dance?�

Hermione giggled, stood up, and took his hand. “But Mr. Weasley, there is no music to dance to,� she said, with a smile. Ron pointed his wand to an old dusty gramophone in the corner. Instantly, a slow love song came on, filling the room with the sound.

Hermione smiled wider and gently placed a hand on Ron’s shoulder as he put a hand on her waist. With the other hand, Hermione held Ron’s free hand.

They waltzed gracefully round the room, slowly moving to the beat of the music. Every now and then Ron would raise his hand linked in Hermione’s up, and she would gracefully pirouette round, and back into his arms.

Then, they slowed to almost a complete halt, and simply swayed to the music, Hermione’s head resting on Ron’s shoulder. No words were said, but somehow, they both knew what each other were thinking.

Every long lost dream,
Led me to where you are,
Others who broke my heart,
They were just northern stars.

Hermione felt Ron’s arms wrapped around her as they swayed to the music. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment of complete peace with Ron. She lifted her head up slightly, and Ron leant down, kissing her softly and sweetly. Hermione shivered with happiness, feeling elated.

Pointing me on my way,
Into your loving arms,
This much I know is true,
That God blessed the broken road,
That lead me straight to you,
Straight to you.

The song ended, and the two Gryffindors broke apart gently, still wrapped in each other’s arms. No words were spoken, they simply gazed down at each other, understanding each other better than they had ever done before. Many floors below them, they could hear the Ball ending; students were piling out into the Entrance Hall and up the stairs.

“The Ball must be over,� Hermione whispered to Ron, who nodded.

“Well we’d better – you know, go up to our dormitories before Harry comes. We can’t tell him – yet.�

Hermione nodded this time. “What are we? We’re not possibly still friends are we?�

Ron grinned. “I don’t snog my friends,� he muttered. “But I don’t know whether to call you a girlfriend yet. It just doesn’t seem like we’re there. We’re more than that.�

Hermione felt his words warm her up inside now he’d said it. They were not friends, they were not girlfriend-boyfriend, they were somewhere ahead of that already.

Now I’m just rolling home,
Into my lover’s arms,
This much I know is true.

“It took you three years to notice, but you finally got there,� Hermione said, putting her hands against his chest. “I knew you would.�

They stood there, together for a while. Suddenly the portrait hole burst open once more, but this time it was a worn-out looking Harry who entered. Hermione leapt away from Ron, and Ron’s ears went red. However, Harry hadn’t noticed a thing.

“Where’ve you two been?� he exclaimed, stepping out of the hole. “Have you been up here all this time?�

Hermione nodded. “Yes, Viktor decided to leave the Ball early, because I wasn’t feeling very well,� she replied, untruthfully. “Ron came up to say hello.�

“Oh well that’s nice,� said Harry, looking at Ron. “Couldn’t have informed me, could you?�

“Sorry mate,� said Ron, looking up, his ears still remotely pink. “I thought you might have to end the Ball as well as open it.�

Hermione tried not to catch his eye; both were lying through their teeth to cover up what had happened in that past half-hour.

“Never mind,� said Harry wearily. “At least you’re not shouting anymore. I’m going to bed. Ron?�

“I’ll be up in a minute, mate,� Ron said, clapping him on the back. Harry shrugged and bid the two goodnights, then disappeared up the boys’ staircase.

“When are we going to tell him?� Hermione asked.

“Well not until it sinks in for both of us properly, at least,� Ron answered, rubbing his eyes. “But at least I know that next time there’s a Ball, I’ll ask you first, and not as a last resort.�

Hermione smiled, and they shared one final, brief kiss before heading their separate ways up to the dormitories.

That God blessed the broken road,
And led me straight to you,
Yes God blessed the broken road,
And led me straight to you.


THE END


A/N: Hope you all enjoyed reading! That’s the end by the way, there won’t be any more chapters in this fic, it’s just a one-shot type thing:). Oh yes, and the song is not mine, it’s called Broken Road, but I’m not really sure who it’s by, except for ‘Melodie Crittenden’. So if you know who or what that is, thanks to them! Please review, and I promise (hopefully) I will reply!!!