A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks for being so patient. Anyway, I’ve tried and tested lots of ideas for this story, but I’ve decided that my speciality is fluff. I’m going to make this story a myriad of different Ron/Hermione romantic scenarios [yes, I change my mind too much, and yes it’s annoying, but I’m the author, so it’s my privilege!]. In the future I’ll post a full story which I’m working on now. [I just hope events in book 6 don’t ruin my plot!!!!]
Anyhoo… enjoy the fluff!
Ron liked watching her so much. Her head bent down into piles of parchment, with her small, delicate hand racing back and forth making the tiniest and most precise writing he had ever seen. It was completely captivating; he could watch her for hours. She tossed her hair back, which tonight was bushier than usual because she was so frazzled and tired, and then immediately went straight back into her piles of work, leaving Ron sitting bemused and absolutely entranced.
Every night, for 2 weeks and 4 days (he had been counting), she would work like this, but Ron didn’t care at all. He could stare at her and enjoy her more and more, without her even noticing that his eyes were wearing holes into her body. He enjoyed most watching her face change, the expression every time she discovered something useful, which caused her to grin, or the expression she had when she was lost deep in thought, with her hands framing her face.
Ron hadn’t been noticing anything else since he realised. Everything had been entirely about her, it was all he could ever think about. About how smart she is, about how kind she is, about how beautiful she is, about how perfect she is. When she looked at him, it made him blush and his stomach squirm. When she spoke to him, he couldn’t answer because all he could hear was her voice resounding in his head.
Sometimes Ron thought he could see her looking at him the same way he looked at her. When he was talking about Quidditch excitedly to Harry, or when he tried hard to do his homework but failed dismally, he almost swore he could see her looking the same way at him. The little stare where one pretends to stare into thin air, but is really digesting every single thing about the person in front of them in absolute awe. But it couldn’t be. Ron thought she was far too good for him.
He did feel bad sometimes, because jealousy often got the better of him. He felt so horrible, and scared every time she showed an interest in someone else. The feeling almost resulted in a fight every single instance this happened and Ron hated it. He hated having her angry with him, and thinking that he’s rude and self-centered. Or that’s what Ron assumed she thought.
Ron wanted to say something so much. It had been ebbing away at him since the moment it all started. Since the moment he admitted to himself that it was true, that he didn’t want to be with anyone else except for her. He wanted to tell her about the odd and squirmy feelings he had for her, and why he seemed so jealous but he was so scared. Scared because, obviously, she would never like someone that wasn’t intelligent and famous, like Krum, and he would embarrass himself completely.
How to say something was the hardest part. He WANTED to go up to her while she was working and say, “’scuse me, but I think you’re the most wonderful thing ever,” but he couldn’t. He tried once, but stood stunned for a moment until he resigned to asking about homework again. He was just too shy.
He wondered if Harry knew, and how obvious it was. Ron was certain that Harry would notice his feelings and bizarre behaviour. He wondered, for example, if Harry had counted how many times he had started sentences with “She did this other day”, and “She’s so good at doing that!”. Ron had been counting. In the past two days he had mentioned her 37 times.
So Ron sat there, staring at her every night now, thinking of the same things. How pathetic he is, how perfect she is, and how all he wanted to do was go up to her and find some possible way of sweeping her off her feet, making sure she knows that if she wanted, he would be hers forever.
He was glad she didn’t know what was going through his head tonight. Because every single day his feelings for her grew stronger and stronger, and this particular night they were practically screaming ‘I cannot bear hiding this feeling from you another moment longer’. Ron fidgeted in his chair. He touched his hair a few times in attempt to make himself better looking for her. His hands writhed in his lap. He was chewing his lip. He didn’t take his eyes from her for one moment.
“Stop, Ron.”
Ron snapped out of his trance, terrified. He muttered quick sorry, and with his stomach in one giant knot and packed his things to leave the common room.
“No.”
Ron halted where he was standing.
“It’s been 2 weeks and 4 days now, am I right? You’ve been looking at me every single night for 2 weeks and 4 days, because I’ve been counting. What you don’t know Ron, is that I’ve been looking at you for 2 weeks and 4 days, but you haven’t noticed at all. I’ve noticed the way you fidget, but you haven’t noticed me stare at you once.”
Ron was simply stunned. He turned around to look at her, with his face flushed with bright red.
“I haven’t done any homework,” she paused briefly, “properly”, she continued, “for 2 weeks and 4 days because I have been looking at you.”
Still standing in absolute disbelief, Ron looked at one of the pieces of parchment on her table. He almost fell over when he saw his name doodled over and over several hundred times on the piece of paper in her perfect handwriting.
“You think I can’t stand you Ron. You act like you’re terrified around me, and I wish you wouldn’t. Because I don’t think I can stand one more moment of having to pretend I don’t like you. I want to spend every moment from now, with you knowing openly that I like you. Very much.”
Ron wanted to say it, right then. He opened his mouth to tell her, but the words wouldn’t even come out of his mouth. She stood up and walked over too him, smiling now, because she could see how scared he was, and how nervous he was. Ron wished to himself so much that he would stop gawping like an idiot.
“I.. I, um, well, I, want you to know that I, erm, like you very much too,” Ron managed to stammer.
When she smiled at him, and touched his arm in a reassuring manner, he realised how ridiculously he was behaving. She had just told him that, she, the most fantastic person he knows, likes him, and he was still shy. A wave of confidence swept over him that he hadn’t felt for a very long time.
“Actually, I more than like you. I am completely and utterly obsessed with you. There isn’t a moment that I don’t think about you. You are the most perfect thing in the world to me, and I’m quite sure that I love you. Very much.”
She stood there completely stunned, it was almost as though her and Ron had changed positions and she had been shy this whole time. Ron found that this would be the perfect moment. The moment he had been waiting for, for so long. He bent down and gave her small kiss, and pulled back positively beaming at her.
“How long have you felt this way, Ron?” she asked him after pulling herself back together.
“Since I realised that I liked you.”
“And when was that?” she continued to question, while putting her arms around him.
“The time I first let my eyes stop and see you, Hermione.”