Author's Note: You are really AMAZING :) : Over 2000 reads and such NICE and SUPPORTIVE reviews!
THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! ... a thousand times! :) :) :)
Finally, here comes Hermione's response to Ron. Please Read and Review. I hope you will enjoy this chapter, as much as I had loved writing it ... :) Once again, thanks JKR for such wonderful and inspiring characters! Is there any charm to turn them mine? NO? OK! *lol*
“Dear Hermione,
I sometimes wish I was a talented story-teller, to write a poem or a book to tell you about my feelings for you. I am just an ordinary wizard-to-be, always a step behind in homework, and in other complicated matters such as what girls may expect from boys. But I know one thing for sure, that you are a wonderful person, and to me, you mean much more than a best friend to me. I care about you, as I never have about any other person in this whole world, and that will never change, whatever the future may plan for us!”
Ron knew those lines by heart, repeating them for, at least, the hundredth time. He was gazing now at his ‘target’ through the kitchen door and, again, he felt a familiar knot squeezing his throat.
It was a fuzzy summer evening, and Hermione Granger was sitting alone in the Burrow’s backyard, watching Crookshanks chase after gnomes. She had arrived two days ago, her trunk loaded with books and gifts for every Weasley living in the house. And still Ron had not found the right moment, or the courage to tell her what he had carefully planed.
In fact, what really made Ron proud these last days, was his great performance in ignoring Ginny’s pointed looks. Also, he had coolly swept away Fred and George’s threat; the twins had indeed cornered him, hissing through their baring teeth, “Go on, spill your guts! What are you waiting for? Puking Nougat?”
Ron had to do it, and no one knew it better than himself. So, gathering any bit of courage he had built as a Gryffindor Keeper, he stepped out to join Hermione in the garden.
“Hey, Hermione! Got a minute?” he asked, wondering if this high-pitched voice was really his.
“Ron!” Hermione startled, as if awaken from deep, secret thoughts.
“Well, uh…I can come back later…” Ron hesitated.
“No! I mean, of course we can talk! We’re on vacation aren’t we?”
“We are! Please, don’t tell me you already miss school and homework?”
“Not yet!” Hermione laughed, and Ron just loved the sound of it. “Don’t you think we had a hectic year; lessons, O.W.L.s, DA meetings? I am firmly intended to enjoy my summer for a change.”
And just as those last words were pronounced, a dark owl with long feathers materialized from nowhere, and dropped a powder-blue letter in Hermione’s hands. Ron immediately looked at the owl with an undisguised hatred. Something in the way it froze in mid air, then dived on Hermione’s shoulder reminded him of the 'Wronski Feint'.
“Thanks, Rostov!” said Hermione as a matter of fact, stroking its dark grey feathers. “Poor thing! You must be exhausted!”
“You know his name?”
“Yes … this is Rostov, Viktor’s owl! He was so brave traveling such a long way under this burning sun, wasn’t he?”
“It doesn’t look ‘roasted’ enough to me!” Ron said, perfectly unpleasant.
“Ron, what a terrible thing to say! Rostov just did his job!”
After a sharp look to Ron, Hermione took the owl inside. Ron suspected she also seized the opportunity to read Krum’s letter. Once again, Ron’s great plans were ruined! He understood now how the Bulgarian team must have felt at the Quiddicht World Cup two years ago. 'Vicky' just showed a natural talent to pick the worst moment either to catch the Snitch, or to owl his infamous blue letter! Damn Krum and his eternal bad timing! Ron thought furiously.
Ron was still cursing in his mind, when Hermione came back, a severe frown on her face, a sure sign that she had not finished with him. Well, if she wanted another taste of the 'Weasley-red-temper,' he would certainly not disappoint her!
“So, what did Vicky want?” he decided to attack up front. “I guess the Git fell off his broom, broke his neck, and summoned sweet Herm-own-ninny to his last moments?”
“You are doing an outstanding job acting stupid!” Hermione scowled, noticing the hopeful quaver in Ron’s voice. “Actually, it was very kind of him to invite me to Budapest. He offered to show me museums and ancient architectures.”
“Ancient architecture, my foot! You mean, the kind of old stuff like himself?”
“Ron, grow up!”
“You grow up, too! I just can’t stand it when you look at Krum like a…a ‘Shining Knight on his Noble Stick.’ What a shame you did not see him with his ugly shark-head on at the Triwizard Tournament!”
“You are unfair, and you know it! And by the way, you said it wrong! A Knight is ‘in Shining Armour’ or ‘on his Noble Steed’! Get it?”
They glared at each other, both trembling with anger. However, Hermione couldn’t help feeling her heart swell while gazing at Ron. His blue eyes were sparkling, showing a startling contrast with his face now as red as his hair. She had missed him so much during the last month.
Stop it, Hermione! Concentrate! she urged herself, resolute to stand her ground in the argument. She faced him again, ready for battle.
“So, you made your point, Ron! You loathe Viktor!” she said, and as Ron rolled his eyes, she continued “I don’t understand! You used to worship him once.”
“I changed my mind!” Ron replied curtly.
“Well, I didn’t!” Hermione stated, a note of defiance in her tone. “I still think he is a nice and more than decent person! So, why shouldn’t I befriend him?”
“Because…I…hate it!”
“OH, again? May I ask if there is anything on earth that you don’t hate, Ronald Weasley, Sir?”
“Yeah! YOU!” Ron snapped back.
“Me? You mean ‘YES, you hate me’?”
“I mean 'NO, Miss Distort-it-all, I LOVE YOU!’"
Hermione’s eyes widened with surprise. She took a step backwards, crossing her arms nervously on her chest. Their argument had definitely taken an unexpected twist.
“You don’t mean that!” she blamed in a shaky voice. “What can you possibly love about me?”
Ron repressed the urge to take her in his arms and stroke this painful uncertainty out of her. She was the only girl who could drag his emotions in such a restless roller-coaster ride. And he knew, deep in his soul, that she will always be the only one.
His anger and everything he had carefully planed to say vanished into thin air. He looked at her, finding her so stunningly beautiful that words came by themselves, true and gentle.
“I love how your idea of a cool book is a school book,” Ron said.
Hermione’s lips curled slightly, and Ron carried on.
“I love your impossible, stubborn devotion to ‘spew.’”
“It is ‘S.P.E.W.,’” she reminded in a breath.
“And, it always amazed me how you can walk out of a Quidditch game, just because you think you have better things to do.”
“That sounds like me!” Hermione whispered.
“Most of all, Hermione, I feel I can offer you the world, if you ask me to. For everything seems possible when we are together!”
Ron was panting, his face burning as blood rushed furiously against his temples. He glimpsed at Hermione, and realized he had never witnessed her in such a speechless state before. A vicious doubt started worming its way into his mind. Blimey, was she analyzing this? If she started laughing now, he would Disapparate right on the spot (he hadn’t learned how, but he’d manage). He would run away, leave the Burrow and Hogwarts. He would disappear where no living soul would suspect he once bared his soul in front of Hermione Granger.
But the laugh Ron dreaded never came. Hermione’s face simply glowed with a smile that showed nothing else than pure tenderness. The same tenderness Ron could see shining in her eyes. Beads of tears started tracing her cheeks, and Ron fondly grazed them with his thumb.
“You know the world means nothing to me if I don’t have you!” Hermione confided softly, her voice stranded with emotions. “I love you, Ron Weasley! And you took long enough to figure that one out, didn’t you?”
Ron’s heart started beating again as Hermione’s words sank in and when she braced her arms around his neck, rose on her tiptoes to press her lips against his, they could both swear that all the stars were falling from the sky and nettling them in their bright lights. They held on tight to each other, for the whole world was spinning in an endless dance, with no violin playing, but the summer breeze whispering music in their ears.
After what seemed like an eternity of happiness, their lips parted reluctantly. Hermione rested her head on Ron’s shoulder. They stayed in each other’s arms, oblivious to the silver moonlight, and to a few intrepid garden-gnomes sneaking in for the night. Finally, they could open their hearts, sharing those feelings they kept secret for all this time. They both agreed that their constant bickering was nothing more than one of their silly efforts to hide their love from each other.
“When exactly did you reckon you like me?” Hermione asked almost shyly, her cheeks turning pink. No matter what Ron might think about her question, she had to know, and wanted to hear the answer from him.
“Maybe…” Ron racked his mind, “since I saw you hiding in Moaning Myrtle’s toilet, with cat hair all over your face.”
Hermione smiled broadly, leaning to kiss him again. She touched his cheek, gazing at his adoring blue eyes.
“I’ll go write to Viktor to let him know I am not coming!” she added before Ron could utter a protest. “I will tell him I’d much rather spend my summer holiday with my boyfriend!”
“That sounds lovely!” Ron nodded approvingly, a mischievous smile back on his lips. “But before you go, tell me, when did you reckon you like me?”
“I think I fell for you the day I saw you in the Hogwarts Express, with dirt on your nose!”
And there she headed for the house, a smile pinned on her face. Ron was floating now in a blissful cloud. Who would have thought brainy, brilliant Hermione actually felt love at first sight? There were only two boys in the train compartment Hermione entered that day; The-Boy-Who-Lived and himself, Ron, the Lucky One. Of course, she had been impressed by Harry’s scar, but the trace of dirt on his nose definately won her heart!
Later that night, in the silence of his bedroom, Ron scribed a letter to his best friend:
Hi Harry,
I hope the Muggles remembered Mad-Eye’s warnings, and are treating you well!
Hold on, all right? We will get you out of there, as soon as we have the ‘green light from Mr. D.’ (See, I am getting quite good at Muggles’ figure of speech, aren’t I?).
Hermione is already here, at the Burrow. And we just can’t wait for you to join us…
By the way, I have finally told her, yesterday, about my feelings for her (you might have figured that out already, haven’t you). Well, words fail me to describe how amazing it felt when she said she does care about me too! Winning the Quidditch Cup would not even come close. All I can tell you, mate, that it was simply MAGIC!
A/N: Thanks for reading! :) Sorry if you think I was 'mean' to Krum! You see, I would definitely call him 'Vicky'... and yes, I hate him, OK?? :) :) :) Anyway, please let me know what you think about this chapter! I can't wait for your comments!! Bye Bye :)