Hermione sat in the Common Room, her head resting lazily on her hand, her well-worn reference book open in her lap. Normally, she would have been searching it frantically, checking it for the use of meaning of some assignment or another. Not today.
Today she was curled up in her favorite armchair, unable to do her work. The fire, blazing warm in the front of the room, begged her persistently to lay down her school work and celebrate the new year with the man that sat across from her. Across the room, Harry was playing Wizard chess with Ginny, whose potential had frightened Ron more than once. Ron himself sat a few feet away, looking at nothing particular, his mouth slightly open. It was New Year’s Eve.
This year, Dumbledore had decided, there was no need for such a frivolous occurrence as a Ball. Most students, although initially excited and pleased by the prospect of such an event, experienced more stress because of all the hassle.
Hermione agreed with them. She would much rather stay here in Gryffindor tower than spend an entire evening alone, watching Ron with someone like Padma Patil. Admittedly, she thought, she had had company enough, with Viktor by her side throughout the night. But it hadn’t been the same. With Ron, it would have been blissful, not just enjoyable.
She could live without him, she supposed. After all, hadn’t she done it for the last six years? But Ron ” Ron needed her survive.
Of course she had noticed it ” the way he looked at her, the way he always sat near her, the way he had befriended her in the first place. She knew the reasons behind everything that he did ” Ron was no mystery to her.
Old-fashioned in mind and ideals, Hermione had resolved to let him make the first move. She loved the romance of it all, getting kissed senseless in the garden by moonlight ... That, she knew, was a dream come true.
She looked over at Harry and Ginny, so happy together, smiling and laughing, enjoying each other’s mere presence. In contrast, she and Ron sat apart, each awkwardly minding his own business.
The time had come for her to take matters into her own hands. A four-legged table stood between the two chairs in which they sat. A mischievous glint sparked in her eyes. Five minutes to midnight. She would kiss him before then.
She readjusted herself in his seat and toyed idly with wand. The dusty volume had fallen to the floor ages ago, it seemed, giving Hermione’s focus over entirely to the redhead beside her.
Four minutes to midnight. She positioned her hand exactly halfway across the table and began to drum her fingers. A pity, she thought. For once in her life he was actually studying. A shame.
Warning signs began to appear. Ron’s ears reddened, but Hermione persisted. Please let this work, she prayed.
Three minutes to midnight. The tapping overpowered Ron, and he touched her hand, silently telling her to stop. He removed it quickly.
Drat.
Ah well, patience is a virtue, and Ron was definitely not the brightest pastel in the box. She began drumming again. Aha! His patience was wearing away. Immediately, he slammed his hand down on hers. Playfully, Hermione began to struggle against his grasp. A silent war began between them ” each struggling for his own cause.
Two minutes to midnight. Time was running out, and this was not heading in the right direction. Hermione grabbed his hand and held it fast. For a moment, Ron struggled, but his hand relaxed eventually, and he held onto her hand as if it was precious life itself.
One minute to midnight. Hermione loved him so ” how or why, she did not know, but she hated to end this. Almost tearfully, she did what she knew she had to do. Argue.
“Ronald, I do believe you are holding my hand,” she said coldly.
Thirty seconds ...
She stood and backed away. How she cherished his expression!
“Mione ” what?” he said, bewildered. “You ” I didn’t ” you started it!”
Twenty seconds ...
How she loved it when he called her that! How she loved to hear his voice! She she wished she could look into his eyes forever!
“I did not!”
“Did too!”
“Can you look me in the eye and say that?” She took a brave step forward, closer to Ron, and breathed his sweet scent. They were very close. Hermione prayed that he would kiss her. She took his hand.
Ron was paralyzed. He no longer remembered that he was standing in a room full of people. He could not see them staring. All he knew were the two brown eyes before him, the sweet scent of the girl, and the silken touch of her hand.
Three ...
Two ...
One ...
The room erupted around them. “Harry New Year!” shouted the room, several people pairing off and welcoming in the new year with a kiss. If Ron had been in his right mind, he would have reddened when he saw his sister kissing his best friend. Even that, at a moment like this, was irrelevant. All he could see was Hermione, and that was how it should be.
He could see the smile playing on her lips. The lips that he longed to kiss. “Mione,” he said seriously, “if you want to start out the year with me, you’ll have to finish it.”
Her eyes shone with happiness and tears. “I’ll finish many, Ron. Many to come.”
Ron, last to act, took her in his arms. “Good,” he said, “I’ll hold you to it.” He paused. “I’ve waited so long. Happy New Year, Mione.”
Hermione looked deeply into his azure eyes. “Happy New Year, Ron.”
Hermione’s last conscious thought was how wonderful he was, but even that was swept away by the absolute bliss that was Ron.
So what if she hadn’t kissed him before midnight? Maybe not as planned, but well worth the wait.