A/N: Awww, I got such nice reviews from last time that I decided to update earlier than I originally intended. I hope that you all like it and I promise I’ll keep the fluff coming.
Reviews: Accepted with big, fat, warm, open arms!
She’s sitting over there. By the common room fire. I can see her, she’s doing her homework, and her hand is moving across the parchment so fast, that I can’t help but admire the way her fingers could possibly move at such a speed. Although, the speed of her fingers isn’t the only thing that makes her so adorable, it’s everything – from the way she scrunches up her face to concentrate, through to the way she can be so pompous sometimes.
I keep staring at her, and I haven’t stopped for quite a while now, because for some reason my eyes refuse to look anywhere else. They always find a new excuse for me to need to gaze at her for just a bit longer. They see her, and think, look at how she bites her lip like that, and look at the way she brings her hand to her face when she’s frustrated. But I don’t mind, I enjoy looking at her.
Sometimes I like to think about how this started, why suddenly I felt something for her, that was completely different to the way I felt about anyone else. For 4 years, she didn’t seem like anything but a great friend, like Harry, she was one of the ‘guys’. I don’t know entirely what was responsible for making me realise, but I noticed eventually that she was a girl, and she was beautiful.
I know now that I didn’t show how I felt about her in the most appropriate way, I have a suspicion that she hated me more for my behaviour, me being the jealous prat I am. I’ll just blame it on him, Viktor Krum, he started it. I hope she still doesn’t hate me now for being so envious; we’ve had so many fights on this subject, that I sometimes wonder if the image of my jealous face is embedded in her mind. But she wouldn’t be thinking about me enough to do that I guess, I’m just Ron.
Tonight I’m almost certain that she’s looked at me too. I don’t know if she’s looking at me for the same reason that I like to look at her, but it still makes my stomach flip and my ears turn red when she does. I wish my stupid pink Weasley-embarrased ears would stop burning; it’s making it very obvious that she’s made me shy. What do I do if she thinks it’s because I like her?
I’ll have to tell her soon, because I know if I don’t I’ll regret it so much. If she spent more time writing to Viktor Krum because I didn’t tell her, I’d regret it even more. But I don’t know how I would tell her, I can’t decide what to say. Knowing me and my severe lack of confidence when it comes to her, my best effort would result in ‘mumble mumble mumble.’
Perhaps I could try saying that all I ever think about now is her, and how when I wake up in the morning, the first thing I see in my mind is her smiling. Or that when she says I stare out of the window in History of Magic, I’m really staring at her instead thinking about how much I want to just have the chance to hold her in my arms for a bit. Or that every time we bicker, there’s a moment when I stop and realise that she is still absolutely gorgeous when she’s frustrated with me.
So many people are leaving the common room now, and soon it will just be her and myself left. I’ll have to talk then, and again I’ll have to try and prevent myself from becoming a crimson, mumbling mess when I speak to her. Although, tonight I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep this bottled up inside anymore. For such a long time I’ve been having to try and pretend there’s nothing going on, when really, all I want right now is her.
And so, now everyone is gone, and it’s her and me left, sitting a fair distance from each other. When she sees me, she asks me why on earth I look so shy and terrified, and why I don’t come over and talk to her. I think she wouldn’t be so worried if she knew it was because I like her making me so pale and terrified. When I move over to sit closer to her, I feel my ears change colour again, and know that she’s going to make me explain myself.
She asks me what ever is the matter, and I tell her that I was tired. She knows I’m lying just as much as I do, that’s also why she is so brilliant, she knows me so well. After telling me she doesn’t believe me, she asks me what the matter is again, this time with almost something that looks like pleading in her eyes. Tell me, she says.
I tell her that I don’t know how to say it. That I wasn’t sure what to say. And right then I guessed she knew what was coming, because she put her hand and my arm and said that it didn’t matter how I said it, because we had been torturing each other with this feeling for ages. She knew, and suddenly, the fact that she wanted me to say something made me feel braver than ever.
I tell her that I like someone, and she tells me she likes someone too. She moves closer.
I tell her that I’ve liked her for a very long time now, and she tells me that she thinks she’s liked her person for the same amount of time. I move closer.
I tell her that I could see the person I liked right now, and she tells me that she can see her person too, and that she more than liked him. We hold hands.
I tell her, Hermione, I love you, because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
And she smiled.