Year six was just closing its second term, and the winter holidays were nearing. The Great Hall was starting to glow with tinsel and magic Christmas lights as Dumbledore was organizing the placement of the tree.
At the nearby Gryffindor table Hermione, Ron, Harry, Neville, and Ginny sat expectantly as Harry recounted his potions explosion that had happened during Professor Snape’s class earlier that day. This was the second replay Ron had heard that afternoon, and the story immediately started to bore him.
He picked up his fork and aimlessly pushed his mashed potatoes around into little mounds on the plate in front of him; the action was dull and he let out a long sigh. Repositioning his elbows on the table, he looked up and caught the stare of Hermione across the table from him. Her watch made his insides feel endlessly tangled, and he slyly let a half smile form as he held her gaze. She looked intently at him for a second, and then returned to her half eaten roast beef.
“Well, I think I’m going to go the library and get ahead on Professors McGonagall’s essay.” Hermione stood from the table, collected her books and looked once more in Ron’s direction. The group grunted their goodbyes but quickly returned to Harry’s climax.
After a few moments of splashing and gushing sound effects, Ron stood from the table, “Yeah, uh, I think I’m going to go back and catch up on some reading from Quidditch Tales in the common room. See you blokes later.” Ron tried to sound sincere in his plan as he left the dinning hall. Once his back was to the boys he took a deep breath trying to subdue the beating heart that was pounding in his chest.
He decided to take the long way back to the common room, past the library. With in minutes he could see the glowing aura created by the fireplace in the dark corridor, coming from the library. He slowed his pace as he approached the doors and nervously threw his clenched fists into his pockets. The library doors were normally both open allowing an open view of the massive collection of ancient book bindings. Ron leaned against the door frame allowing the fire place to be directly in his view. Sitting in the large leather lounge chair was Hermione. She had no books in her lap, just a pensive look on her face as she let the fire warm her.
Ron let a smile curl from his lips, it was hard to resist lately whenever he saw her. He could remember an uncontrollable rage at Malfoy for calling her a “mudblood” second year. He could remember the shell shock of her revenge third year when she punched him square in the face. He could remember hating Victor Krum fourth year for dating her. He could still feel her lips on his check from her good luck kiss in fifth year. But he couldn’t remember ever feeling like this. This wasn’t rage or shock or hate, this was admiration. It was admiration of her beauty, of her grace, and most importantly of her spirit.
Suddenly, amidst his reminiscing, it clicked with him. He laughed at himself for not seeing it before. He had always liked Hermione, he was just too thick to see it for himself. He proceeded to let out a soft snicker, mainly at his ignorance.
Yet even still something had changed over the summer holidays, something that finally caught his attention. She wasn’t so concentrated on her studies, although she still constantly talked about the importance of their nearing future, but wasn’t so uptight anymore.
Ron wanted to know everything that went on inside her mind; he wanted to walk through her thoughts. He let out a long sigh and ran his fingers through his outgrown red hair. God she’s beautiful. It seemed like the thought had been constantly running through his mind since September.
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Hermione had tried to study; she even sat down at the table with all her books in front of her and a spare piece of parchment within easy reach, but she couldn’t concentrate. It felt like all the blood was rushing through her at an uncontrollable pace and her pinning heart wouldn’t be able to take it much more. It was like he had a harness on all her thoughts. She hadn’t been able to concentrate in any of her classes lately because her mind wondered off in fantasies of Ron. The Ronald Weasley.
This wasn’t supposed to happen and in many ways she didn’t want it to happen because she valued their friendship. That thought always seemed to disappear though, whenever he’d smile or touch her hand or run his fingers through his hair. She loved it when he ran his fingers through his gorgeous red hair. Hermione let her thoughts wonder for a second with images of Ron.
She imagined herself in his arms, with him keeping her warm. She imagined him kissing her gently and telling her how much he loved her, and imagined him holding her hand on walks and sitting on the floor with him by the fire. Hermione shivered and wrapped her own arms around herself to keep the cold from penetrating. What do I do? What the heck am I thinking?
She wanted to tell him how she felt, but she was scared, love seemed to bring fear into her like nothing else. She could hunt the supposedly murderous Sirius Black, she could defend Harry and Ron with her life, she could fight Voldemort but she could not tell Ron how she was feeling everyday, how he controlled her world with a single smile.
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Harry slapped Neville’s back, said goodbye and walked up to Ron who was lounging by the fire in the Gryffindor common room.
“Man, Quidditch practice was bloody hell today, raining like the flood out there.” Harry shed his coat on a chair and sat on the couch next to Ron, “can you believe this weather we’ve been having? A bit colder and we might actually get some snow.” Harry looked to Ron for some kind of response but Ron was lost in his thoughts. Harry cleared his throat, “Ron!” Ron jumped in his seat, startled from being brought back to reality.
“Harry! Oh, didn’t see you there. How was Quidditch today? What’s up with this bloody weather, eh?” Ron folded the unread book in his lab, sat it on the table in front of them and turned to face Harry.
Harry arched his eyebrows fervently, “Ron, what’s been going on with ya lately? You’ve been in a bit of a crank. Is something going on?” Harry asked as he moved his open hands closer to the fire.
“What are you talking about Harry? Nothing’s going on, nothing at all. I don’t, I don’t know what your uh, talking about Harry.” Ron coughed trying to cover up his uneasiness.
Harry hesitated for a second, debating in his head. “You’re in love with her aren’t you?” Harry said, raising an eyebrow as he turned his head to Ron, smiling a mile wide. The idea seemed to catch Ron by surprise as he faked a laugh and then tried to cover it up, “what are you talking about Harry? I think a bulger may have hit you a little too hard this time.”
Harry shook his head, “Ron! Would you wake up and see what’s going on!?! I see you staring at Hermione during dinner, leaving when she leaves, smiling at her when she isn’t looking, not concentrating in class. Shall I continue or are you finally getting the picture?” Harry raised his eyebrows, demanding a response.
Ron dropped his head, letting his hands clasp together with his elbows resting on his knees. “That’s the problem with having you around all the time Harry. You know me better than anyone, can’t hide a bloody thing from you.” Ron softly punched Harry in the arm, letting out a laugh. They sat there for a second, no words exchanged, both with boggled minds.
Harry finally sat back in the couch and lowered his voice, “but Ron, there’s something else. It’s not just you. I’ve seen her watch you. She gets red when you look at her, nervous when you talk to her, anxious to see you and she did her lab all wrong last week when you guys were partners. That should be a sign in itself. I mean, Ron, she’s feeling something too and I think it’s the same thing that’s making you crazy and distracted. Just,” Harry paused, “Just do something.”
Ron let the idea sink in as he gazed at the fire before him. “Harry, I love her. God, I love her so much.” Ron was relieved to finally say the words out loud. Harry patted him on the back and smiled “Well Ron, it’s about time. But don’t sit here and tell me that. Go to her, tell her everything and don’t let her leave without letting her know that you love her. You two are made for each other.”
Ron didn’t even respond, stood up, grabbed his coat and headed through the painting on the wall.