Points of View by Skipper424
Chapter Notes: This story has three distinct sections. In the first section, the story is first person from Hermione’s point of view. In the second, the story stays in first person but shifts to Ron’s point of view. Finally, the third section is in third person.
Points of View
A One-shot by Skipper424
To tell you the truth, I’m not sure why I do it. Maybe the part of me that is furious with him for being so thick over the last few years enjoys watching him squirm just a little too much. Whatever the reason, I made no effort to hide the bottom portion of the letter I was reading where Viktor’s signature elegantly resided on the parchment, the only part Ron could see from where he sat without blatantly craning his neck. I had to choke down my laughter at his pathetic attempt to conceal his prying eyes followed by the instantaneous flushing of his face when he discovered the author.
If only he had known.
While Ron sat there like a kettle full of water on the stove, slowly rising to his boiling point, it pained me to think of the look on Viktor’s face as he read my latest letter. I sent it to him just over a week ago and told him I was in love with someone else. I know it must have broken his heart. Still, he took it in stride and wished me well in his reply. He told me how wonderful he thought I was and that whomever I decided on was very lucky. Meanwhile, the one I did choose quaked in his chair like a volcano of jealousy about to erupt. At times like these, I wonder if I made the right decision.
“Is that another letter from him?” Ron huffed, unable to contain himself any longer. “What does he want?”
My patience with him began to waver. I leant over to him so that our noses were only inches apart. “He asked me to marry him,” I teased, looking deathly serious.
Ron’s facial expression suddenly changed into one you might expect him to wear if he had just discovered the body of a dead relative. Harry spat out his pumpkin juice all over the kitchen table at the Burrow. He knew that I had chosen Ron. Only, I made him swear to secrecy; he and Ginny both, when I confided my feelings in the two of them and sought their advice.
“Is Ginny still awake?” I asked Harry. He had just come from her room having failed once again at trying to explain to her the wisdom of his decision to discontinue their relationship.
“Most likely,” he responded, flicking his wand causing the spilled juice to disappear.
I shot one last filthy look at Ron as I made my way to the stairs. “I need to ask her if she’d like to go look at wedding dresses tomorrow,” I taunted for good measure. It had the impact I hoped it would. Ron looked very alarmed.
I can’t believe it. She received another letter from him, from Viktor! The latest one makes four since we left school. How could they possibly have that much to talk about? What is it that she sees in him, anyway? What is it that makes him so wonderful, so intriguing? What does he have that I don’t?
The kitchen was dark, aside from a faint glow coming from the fireplace. A few persistent embers flickered drunkenly amongst heaps of varying tones of grey ash. There was not a sound in the house, as everyone else had retired. I was somewhat disappointed that Hermione had gone without saying goodbye. I had been dying to talk to her alone for weeks but just hadn’t caught the right moment.
Maybe she just couldn’t face me. She had to know how I felt about Viktor, how I felt about the two of them trading all of those letters, how I felt about her. Harry teased me frequently about how obvious it was that I liked her. I always denied it and pretended I did not have a clue what he meant. He said everyone knew it. Everyone would also include Hermione, wouldn’t it?
What exactly was in this last letter anyway? It couldn’t possibly have been a wedding proposal, could it? Even if it was, she couldn’t possibly have been considering saying yes, could she? They haven’t seen each other in two years. How could you possibly marry someone you hadn’t even seen face to face for that long? All they had was a few months together, unless you want to count that time he stalked her in the library. How could she fall for someone who stalked her? Of course, probably because it had something to do with a library, Hermione thought it was cute.
If she knew how I really felt about her, she’d never accept a wedding proposal from him. There is just no way. I mean, even though he was being very cryptic about it, Harry did say that if I just talked to Hermione, he doubted seriously that I would be disappointed. At the same time, if you believed Harry, she already knew. She had to know.
Bloody hell!
I’m in love with her! That’s it. All this time I have been slowly going mad, acting like my feelings aren’t more, but they are. I can’t control myself around her anymore. I can’t picture a day without her. I can’t sleep without seeing her face. Now, I may very well be on the brink of losing her for good because I can’t tell her, straight up, how I feel. I’m relying on what Harry claims is obvious to everyone else to make my point. I suppose that isn’t the best plan.
She must think I’m such a git! No wonder she writes to him all the time. I need to put a stop to this straight away!
All of a sudden, thousands of tiny needles prickled down Ron’s spine in rapid succession. First, he heard the steps creaking as they took on the weight of a person coming down. Then, barely discernable in the extremely low levels of light left from the fire, he made out her silhouette. The moment he had been looking for seemed to be at hand.
He jumped to his feet and quickly moved over to the stairs where she had frozen on the last step. “I thought you had gone,” Ron said nervously.
“No,” Hermione answered. “I’ve been talking to Ginny.”
“It’s been hours,” he proclaimed. “What have you two been going on about?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Hermione replied, brushing passed him with a deviant smile.
She seemed to be moving in the general direction of the door. Ron’s feet felt like they were stuck in concrete. Don’t you dare let this moment get away, a voice in his head screamed out. He lunged at her, catching her by the hand.
“Ouch!” she yelped, withdrawing her hand from his grip and rubbing it. “That hurt, Ron! What’s gotten into you?”
Lord help me, he thought, please don’t let this go afoul. He leaned forward towards her rapidly, leading with his lips. He pressed them against hers. It felt decidedly more awkward than he had imagined it would. Caught completely off guard, she did not reciprocate. She just froze over in shock.
For a moment, Ron felt panic rushing through his veins like icy water. He could not believe what he had just done, and neither could Hermione, judging by the look on her face. He was strongly considering making a run for it, but then he observed her lips curling into a smile.
“Took you long enough,” she said with a quiet laugh. She reached out to hold both of his hands. “Now, can you try that again? I wasn’t ready that first time. You surprised me.”
“Try what again?” Ron asked.
Hermione rolled her eyes at him then stepped in and kissed him. It was much nicer this time. Ron felt all tingly and funny on the inside, as though he had swallowed a galleon and someone had sent in a Niffler after it. After a moment, she pulled away, but interlocked her fingers with his.
“Does this mean you aren’t marrying Viktor?” he asked dully.
“I was never going to. In my last letter, I told him I had fallen for someone else … that being you. In his response, which you saw me reading today, he wished me luck. That’s all,” she explained simply. “All I had to do was get you to stop dragging your feet. It looks like my little plan worked.”
Ron felt a wave of relief wash over him. “You did this on purpose?” he protested, smiling. “You drive me crazy … you know that don’t you?”
Ron was just about to lean in and kiss her again when he heard a loud cough coming from behind him. The two of them had been so lost in the moment that they didn’t hear Mrs. Weasley come down the stairs.
“Mum?” Ron said, startled.
“Well,” his mother yawned, looking only half-awake. “It’s about time, dear.”
Obviously, Harry was right.