Though he and Harry had stayed up for a bit chatting last night, Ron had bolted awake in the morning shortly after sunrise. Harry had nipped out a few minutes ago for a shower and a shave. Ron dressed and then wandered aimlessly around his bedroom, until he heard his mother’s voice from downstairs, calling a greeting to Hermione. Ron felt nauseous.
Ok, Weasley, calm down. It’s just Hermione, right? I mean, you’ve known her for six years, get it together! This didn’t help. Hermione wasn’t “just” anything. She was Hermione. Not like a lot of girls. For example, Lavender, was just, well Lavender. She was a person Ron hadn’t even registered the existence of until she’d wanted to snog him.
Hermione was…lots of things. As irritatingly snotty as she could get, she always knew when to back off. She also could be unerringly kind just when he needed it the most. As, when Percy had sent him that terrible letter fifth year about Harry and on top of which, he was bogged down with all that homework, she had stepped in and helped him out, without a word.
He had started to count on her support and her admiration, and didn’t much care when she excluded him from praise. For god’s sake, he’d even found himself jealous of her behavior towards Harry a couple of times last year, which just showed how daft he was getting. He squared his shoulders, grinned uncertainly at his reflection in the mirror and nodded. Right! So, you’re just going to go down there and…what, exactly? Profess your love to her in front of Harry? And Mum and Ginny?!?!?! And oh god, did he just hear Fred and George voices join the women’s in the kitchen?!?!?!? Ron gripped the side of the dresser to steady himself. Had he really thought he was going to be able to do this?
Harry’s grinning face appeared at the doorjamb. “Well, sounds like your destiny has arrived, Ron.” He took in his friend’s face for a second and burst out laughing. “Hey, mate, it’s not an appearance before the Wizengamot, it’s just breakfast…and Hermione.” Harry seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.
“Very funny. Sorta like Ginny’s just my little sister, right?” Harry shook his head, smiling, but Ron felt marginally better. Well, not really, but he was getting hungry.
They pounded down the stairs, Harry in the lead. Just before the kitchen came into view, there was a tremendous crash. They looked at each other and hurried down the last flight. Ron’s mouth hung open. To one side of the table stood his Mum and George, clutching a spatula and a pancake, respectively. Ginny was collapsed across the table, her shoulders shaking with laughter. And there she was. Sprawled out on the floor and covered in smears of brown, chunks of pancakes…and Fred. Fred, who was lying directly on top of her. As Ron tried to make sense of it all, Hermione pulled a fork from his brother’s hand, took a bite of pancake, and stated “But, he’s right Mrsh. Weasely, theesh are delicioush.”
At this, even his mum started laughing. Ron felt particularly left out. Before he could stop himself, he shouted, “What in bloody hell is going on here?!?!?”
The entire kitchen scrambled around at his indignant query. Vaguely, Ron registered George babbling some nonsensical greeting to Harry. Ginny lifted her head off the table and his mum turned back to the stove. But Ron was really only paying attention to one person. Fred was helping her off the floor (jealousy tightened his chest when he saw his brother grip her hand). Her cheeks were rosy, her clothes were a disaster and her hair “ well, her hair had almost achieved interpretive art status. She’d never looked better to him.
She made her way over to Harry, who teased her and engulfed her in a hug. Ron was envious of how easy it was for Harry to touch her. Harry caught his eye and raised his eyebrows in encouragement as he released Hermione and sat down at the breakfast table next to Ginny.
Finally she looked up at him, attempting a dignified expression, though her hair seemed to be doing an impersonation of Devil’s Snare, and her shirt was sticking to her body in patches. He wanted to hold her like he had at Dumbledore’s funeral, but it had seemed necessary then, almost as if he couldn’t have stopped himself he tried. Now, in this loud sunny kitchen, there was no excuse really, to touch her, except “
“Erm, that’s a very nice look, for your hair. Very…sticky,” he stuttered, and pulled a piece of pancake out of her hair. He wished he could just leave his hand there and pull her close. But he felt almost unable to take any action towards her whatsoever. He may just wind up standing there all day, three feet and miles away from her.
“Thanks a bunch,” She had thrown her head back to look up at him, and a very Hermione-ish scowl crossed her face. Gee, she was cute. She looked embarrassed and unsure, and well, maybe a bit sad. And then it came to him, that she was just as uncomfortable and scared and worried as he was. Ginny and Harry and McGonagall “ all of them, they were right. How bad could it be to have a little more love in the world? Even knowing this, he wasn’t quite brave enough to plant a kiss on her in front of his whole family. He opened his mouth with very little idea of what he was going to say.
“You know, Hermione,” he stuttered quietly, feeling his face burning. “You know what a big fan of food I am, but you didn’t have to cover yourself in it to get me to notice you. I’ve been noticing you for a pretty long time now.” Oh, god. He couldn’t believe he had actually just said that. But her brown eyes lit up and her face got a shade pinker, and he was glad that he had. And the little smile that was playing across her mouth made him brave enough to wipe a greasy smear of butter off her cheek. She stood there, mute. He was feeling pretty proud of himself “ he had rendered Hermione Granger speechless.
He made his way over to the breakfast table and situated himself across from Harry, who gave him a questioningly look. He grinned. Harry, who was sitting awfully close to Ginny, grinned back. Ron ravenously began piling his plate with everything in sight. He snuck a peek at Hermione, who was standing right where he had left her, siphoning herself clean with her wand. She caught him staring. His smile got so big he thought his face might be cut in two. She smiled back, blushed, and made her way back to the table and sat on the other side of Ginny, so Ron had an excellent view of her.
“Ah, Hermione darling, I must confess I don’t think you and I are going to work out,” Fred handed her a fresh plate of pancakes as he dug into his own staggering breakfast. “I just foresee too much…broken furniture…in our future if we stick with it.”
“Well, Fred, you know, I think you may have a point. A relationship based on pancakes just isn’t enough,” Hermione pretended to muse as she sipped her coffee, “Besides, I’m not sure you’d do well with a witch cleverer than yourself.” She smiled wickedly, and Ron chuckled with the rest of the table. That was one of the best things about Hermione; she had a devilish side that most people didn’t cotton on to. One second she was telling someone off for not finishing his homework, the next, she was smacking Malfoy in the face.
“Touché!” Fred exclaimed, “Well, I guess I’d better gather up the pieces of my broken heart and move onto stupider pastures. Whatever will become of you, though, dearheart?”
“Oh, well, Fred, I think I’ll manage,” she smiled coyly, but Ron noticed her cheeks blooming pink again and she was staring at her plate. He thought she’d leave it at that. Then, to his surprise, she lifted her head and stared across the table, right at him. “But, as much as I’d like to say it’s possible to plan each detail of romance, or get a formula out of a book or something, it doesn’t usually work that way...it’s more about bravery and taking chances, right?”
At that moment, Ron really didn’t care if he ever saw another Quidditch cup or prefect badge for the rest of his life.
The Time is Now by Hermione816
Chapter Notes: What was Ron thinking when he came down to the three-ring circus breakfast at the Burrow turned out to be? Here's your chance to find out...