It was just another summer evening in London tonight: the sun was dimming, the crickets were chirping, and most people were either preparing for dinner or lounging about their houses luxuriously. However, in a certain house on Grimmauld Place, a redheaded teenager was slaving about the house. Late August afternoons were one of the hotter times of the year, but everyone was hard at work and sweating buckets in Number 12.
Ronald Weasley was scrubbing the dirty floors, without magic, in the third floor bedrooms, waiting for his best friend Harry to arrive. Dumbledore had planned to fetch Harry in two days time, which was the date printed on the letter about the All-England Best Kept Suburban Lawn competition to the Dursleys. Nymphadora Tonks, being the clever witch that she was, had come up with the idea after tailing Harry and noticing how pristine the Dursley’s lawn was. But Ron’s mind was elsewhere. He was currently thinking about his other best friend, Hermione Granger. But, he thought, was she only a friend? He had gotten insane pangs of jealousy last year at the Yule Ball when she had gone with Viktor Krum, and Ron had hated the International Quidditch star ever since. After spending most of the summer with her, he had only just realized that he was in love with her. It wasn’t just her physical appearances, either; it wasn’t like how he had liked Fleur (anyone with Veela blood should be outlawed from society, thought Ron). That crush had been completely based upon physical traits. Whatever it was that he felt for Hermione was real love. In the five long years that he had known Hermione, he only now realized that he had loved her all along. When he had only first met her he hadn’t even given her a second glance, but now…
Ron mentally slapped himself. Why was he thinking like this about one of his best friends? What gave him the right? He calmed himself. He didn’t think that there was anything wrong with liking her, after all, nobody else did except for that filthy Krum and maybe Neville, who had asked her to the Yule Ball. He didn’t think that she fancied anyone, so what was the big problem? The problem, he told himself, is that you like her and she might not like you back. He sighed. That could be the case. But suppose that she did like him and just didn’t want to admit it! Then everything might work out! He could like her and she could like him and everything would be dandy! But the question still remained: what if she only regarded him as a friend who she often bickered with? She would hate him forever if she somehow managed to find out. Everything would go wrong. And what about Harry? Suppose that he liked her as well! No, Ron scolded himself, you’re being stupid. Harry doesn’t like her, he likes Cho, and he doesn’t get into nearly as many fights with Hermione as I do. He likes her more as a sister, someone who he could talk to about anything, and wouldn’t even blush one bit. Me, on the other hand, I couldn’t talk to her about anything. My ears would probably look like they were on fire. I could always wear a hat, though…
Think about the problem at hand! he shouted to his inner conscience. What he really needed was someone to talk to. Harry wouldn’t understand; he’d barely ever even talked to Cho, and they were certainly not best friends. Harry only liked Cho because she was pretty or for some other stupid, shallow reason. Ron wouldn’t ever be able to talk to Harry, at least not about this. He wouldn’t be able to ask Fred or George for advice about it either, because even though Fred had gone out with Angelina, who was one of his closer acquaintances, the twins would probably spread it around the entire school and then Ron would be the laughingstock of the Fifth Year. Bill and Charlie were both far too busy to be bothered by his petty problems and Percy… He would never talk to Percy, especially not after what had happened a few weeks ago, when he had stormed out of The Burrow. Ron had dismissed Ginny without even thinking twice. She was the youngest, and besides, she was a girl. The only person that she’d ever liked had been Harry, and that was completely different. She’d hero-worshipped him from the beginning; she wouldn’t understand about Hermione. That only left someone as obscure as Seamus or Dean, and Ron was far from telling either of them. No, he thought, he’d have to keep this secret to himself. Unless…
No, he thought again, this time a little more sharply. Telling Hermione was out of the question. There was almost a sure chance that she would never like him, and would immediately reject him. But there’s always a chance that she won’t reject you, said a small voice from the back of his head. What about that? Ron stopped scrubbing the forsaken wood floor. His conscience”or whatever that little voice was”had a clear point. He could tell Hermione about his feelings for her. He could ask her out. He could even do it tonight. What was the worst ting that could happen? Rejection, said another small voice. She could hate you forever and you would still like her. She might never speak to you again.
Ron could almost imagine a devil and an angel arguing from his opposite shoulders. The chances of rejection were unknown, but then again, so were the chances of Hermione liking him in the same way that he liked her. You have to take the risk! exclaimed the voice that belonged to the angel. If you don’t, you may never be able to tell her how you feel about her! You’ll leave Hogwarts and then never see her again! Go on, tell her!
The angel’s voice was more sensible, Ron decided. He would talk to Hermione about it, and he would do it now, while Harry was still in Surrey with his aunt and uncle. After dinner they would be cleaning the second floor rooms”he could do it then.
Dinner came and went, and although Mrs. Weasley’s cooking was splendid, Ron’s stomach still felt like caving in. He would be telling Hermione in less than an hour’s time. After everyone had eaten their fill, Mrs. Weasley stood up to announce the work schedules.
“Ron, you can tidy up your room; it’ll be Harry’s when he gets here, so make it neat. Hermione and Ginny”the guest bedroom could use a lot of scouring, how about you start on that. Fred and George, why don’t you clean the library, it’s extremely smelly in there, and your father and I can start to tackle the upstairs bathroom. I don’t even want to think what could be lurking in there.”
They all nodded gravely and went to work in their assigned positions. After about ten minutes had passed, Ron worked up the courage to call Hermione in for help when he found what looked suspiciously like a nest in the closet.
“Uh, Hermione,” he said, poking his head into the guest bedroom where Hermione and Ginny were working diligently. “Do you think you could come in here and give me a hand? It’s just that I think there’s something breeding in the wardrobe”no, I don’t need you, Ginny,” he said when Ginny made to get up. “I just need one assistant.”
Ginny glared at him while Hermione stood up and said, “Sure. It’s probably those Glumbumbles that your mum was talking about, or maybe a Bundimun. Do you think we should get her?”
“Nah,” said Ron nervously as they walked through the threshold into his room. “It’s probably nothing serious.” He was only too aware of how red his ears were getting.
Hermione shrugged. “You never know. There could be a dragon in that closet and you wouldn’t know until you were inside of it.” Ron emitted a nervous laugh, far too aware of what he was about to tell her. She got down on her hands and knees, looked at the nest, and groaned. “They’re Glumbumbles all right.” She got up and faced him. “So, what shall we do?”
Just say it, Ron told himself sternly. Here’s your chance, just tell her that you’re in love with her. Just say ‘I’m in love with you, Hermione’.
Ron took a deep breath and faced Hermione, who was looking interestedly at him. “Well?”
He took in another claming breath and prepared himself to say the six words that could change his entire life. Say it now! Said the voice. “I”I’m”“
“Oh, look, here’s Hedwig!” exclaimed Hermione, running over to the windowsill while Ron silently swore at himself. “There’s one for you, too, and Sirius. They all say the same thing,” she said as she looked over the notes that Harry had not bothered to seal or put in envelopes. “‘I’ve just been attacked by Dementors and I might be expelled from Hogwarts’,” she read. “‘I want to know what’s going on and when I’m going to get out of here.’ We already said that we couldn’t tell him anything! And we already knew about the Dementors, from Dumbledore, and about his hearing and everything. Here’s your copy.” She handed him Harry’s note and then looked at him, as if remembering something. “What was that you were going to say before Hedwig got here?”
Ron looked at his feet blankly. “I”I”I just”I’m going to go get Mum. For the Glumbumbles.”
“Okay.” She smiled and bustled over to Hedwig as he turned on his heel and left the room. His chance had come and gone, and now it might be an entire year until he could work up the courage to tell her. An entire year. But right now, the only thing that passed through him mind he dully said aloud. “Harry, my friend, you need to work on your timing.”