A/N: Ok, final chapter. Hope this comes off ok, and isn't too corny towards the end. It's been fun writing this, and I hope you all enjoyed reading it! Thanks again for your support guys. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. J.K.Rowling does. Obviously.
*****
Ron turned away from her and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, desperately willing himself to calm down. Hermione was standing across the room from him with a face like thunder. They had been fighting for the last half hour, and he still couldn’t work out how it had started. This wasn’t how he had pictured this particular conversation turning out at all. The only thing he knew at that precise moment, though, was that he was furious.
“WHAT ON EARTH IS WRONG WITH YOU?” she screamed at his back.
Ron spun around to face her, his expression every bit as wild as hers. Gesticulating madly, he spluttered and fumed, unable to communicate what he was feeling.
“Yes, that would be right! Can’t even come up with a good reason as to why you’re being such a BLOODY PRAT!”
“I just can’t believe that super Hermione hasn’t worked it out for herself yet! So clever with your books, aren’t you? So perfect. Well if you’re that bloody perfect why can’t you work this out? WHY CAN’T YOU TELL WHAT’S WRONG?”
“I’m supposed to guess? That’s great Ron! That’s just great! How am I supposed to guess how you feel when you’re always so secretive? Every time I think I’m close to understanding, you clam up and change again! I just want to know what’s going on with you…why are you being like this?”
Hermione looked frustrated, but some of the anger had left her voice and now Ron could see how upset she was.
“Yeah well. I was counting on you being able to see what’s right in front of you,” he grumbled.
Hermione let out a groan.
“I don’t understand what’s come over you! You drag me up here, get me all worried with your “we need to talk” nonsense, and then refuse to tell me what’s going on. Why do we keep doing this? Why are you being so unbelievably difficult?”
His anger evaporated at the look of desperation on her face, and he rapidly thought back over the events of the past half hour. Ron still couldn’t understand how it had escalated this much, but realised with a sinking feeling that he had gone about it in completely the wrong way. He was so scared of admitting what he felt that he had put pressure on Hermione, which had done nothing but confuse and frustrate her. Sighing heavily, he tried to come up with a way to relate what was going on in his head to her. He couldn’t fathom how a few words could possibly explain everything that he had felt and done over the last four years. It had gone past the point where this would ever be easy or logical. Ron was beyond nervous; he was terrified that unleashing the words would mean an end to his friendship with Hermione. With a sickening feeling, he realised that there was only one way he could do this.
“Hermione…I…” he sighed, pausing to draw out what he was convinced would be the last conversation they would ever have, “look, I’m useless with words…”
Before he could stop to reconsider what he was doing, Ron leaned forwards and pressed his lips to hers clumsily. His mind was in such a whirlwind of confusion that he didn’t even stop to enjoy the moment. As he pulled away all he could see was the look of shock on her face, and his heart plummeted.
“Right…well.”
And with that he turned away from her and left the dormitory, walking quickly down the spiral staircase and into the common room.
“Hi Ron! I’ve been meaning to ask you something“” Ron pushed Neville out of his way and barged out into the hallway.
Harry shot a curious glance in his direction, quietly wondering what had gotten his knickers in a twist. However, when Hermione emerged at the bottom of the staircase leading to the boys’ dormitory, he decided that actually, he didn’t want to find out. He watched from his chair by the fire as she stood fidgeting, looking bewildered. It was unusual, he thought, that she didn’t appear angry. Usually after one of their fights, Hermione would let off steam by telling Harry precisely how irresponsible or immature Ron’s behaviour was. Now, however, she seemed to be deliberating over something. Finally she turned, almost hesitantly, towards the portrait hole, and walked out of the common room.
Harry shook his head and looked at Ginny, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor doing her homework.
“Something very strange his going on,” he said, before turning his attention back to the Defence against the Dark Arts essay he had been set.
*****
Ron didn’t stop walking until he was a good five hundred metres away from the Gryffindor common room. There he groaned and fell back against the wall, giving a sharp kick to the statue of a wizened looking goblin standing next to him. Ron slid down onto the floor and rested his head in his hands, feeling dejected.
He’d been an idiot. He had ruined any chance of finishing the year in relative peace and happiness with his two best friends, because if Hermione didn’t hate him now she certainly wouldn’t want to be around him too long, in case he tried it again.
He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes so hard that he could see stars. All he wanted was for this to have not happened. It didn’t seem too much to ask. Maybe if he sat here long enough, he would wake up and realise that this had all been a horrible dream.
Thinking back over the evening, Ron came to the conclusion that none of this was actually his fault. If it hadn’t been for Malfoy putting ideas in his head in the first place, this wouldn’t be happening. And why did Harry push him into this? He felt a rush of anger towards his best friend for forcing him into doing something which was, upon reflection, surely the most ill-fated idea of the last century.
He was too caught up in his thoughts to notice the sound of approaching footsteps, so when he felt a hand on his shoulder he nearly jumped out of his skin. Looking up, he found Hermione staring at him seriously.
“Ron, I think we need to talk, don’t you?”
All he could muster for a reply was a sigh. He took hold of her outstretched hand and heaved himself up off the floor.
“In here?” She directed him to an empty classroom nearby.
As he heard the door close, Ron hung his head. He was filled with dread about the impending end to their friendship.
*****
“Sometimes I don’t understand you, Ronald Weasley,” she sighed, regarding him with a baffled glance.
“Well I, uh…” he cleared his throat nervously. “I guess you understand a bit better now, don’t you?”
“Not really, Ron.”
He looked up at her in surprise, then found that any eye contact made his insides squirm, so he settled instead for staring at the stone floor.
“I mean honestly, you do something like that and then you run away? What am I supposed to think?”
“That I’m an idiot, I imagine…or a pervert or something…”
“Well then, it’s a good job that I’m a lot better at figuring you out than you think, isn’t it?”
Ron was taken completely by surprised when he felt Hermione’s hand under his chin, bringing his face level to hers so she could kiss him gently.
He stumbled back against the blackboard and stared at her.
“I suppose I’m not so good with words either,” she smiled nervously.
“Hermione…what are you doing?” Ron cried in confusion.
Hermione merely shook her head and raised an eyebrow.
“I’m kissing you, you fool.”
“But…what…I don’t understand!”
“Oh Lord,” she muttered, “I knew you were a bit slow, Ron, but I had no idea you were this stupid!”
“But…WHY?”
Hermione looked at him incredulously.
“I am kissing you, Ron,” she paused to rest a hand on his chest, “because I want to.”
And with that she pressed her lips to his in what was first a clumsy, then gradually more confident kiss. Ron gave up trying to understand and threw his arms around her, revelling in the moment.
*****
They stayed there for what felt, to Ron, like hours, but was in fact only minutes. He was just beginning to become more confident with the situation, when Hermione pulled away. Breathing heavily, but keeping her face close to his, she sighed.
“What is it?” he asked, carefully pushing aside a lock of hair that had fallen across her face.
“Ron…we have to tell Harry,” she said uncomfortably.
“Oh…hmm, I suppose you’re right.”
“You don’t sound too worried,” she said, looking at him in surprise.
“Lets just say I think Harry may have had an inkling that this was going to happen,” he smiled.
*****
Harry glanced up when he heard the portrait hole open, and watched as Ron and Hermione clambered back into the common room. They paused by the entrance for a moment, apparently deep in conversation, before Hermione headed off towards the girls’ dormitory. Harry grinned as Ron approached him.
“Honestly, Ron, what did she do to you this time? It looks like she’s attacked you!” he laughed, casting an amused eye over Ron’s ruffled exterior. When his gaze returned to his friend’s face, however, it was flushed bright red.
“Not attacked…exactly,” he mumbled, before hesitantly meeting Harry’s eye. “I, uh, talked to Hermione, Harry.”
“Yes, I’d sort of guessed that, Ron,” he laughed.
“No, I mean I talked to her…” he trailed off.
“Oh?” he said in confusion, then, as comprehension dawned on him, “oh…”
“Yeah…”
“So? Good news or bad news?” Harry asked.
“Oh, it’s good news,” Ron grinned, “it’s definitely good news.” He paused for a moment, looking seriously at Harry’s expression. “Is that ok with you?” he asked cautiously.
There was a moments silence as the two boys stared at each other, Ron tensely awaiting Harry’s answer.
Harry grinned broadly. “Are you an idiot? Of course it’s ok with me!”
Ron’s face broke into a grin to match Harry’s.
“Oh, that’s good. I didn’t really know what I’d do if you said no!”
Harry laughed, and Ron slumped down onto the sofa opposite him.
“So, tell me all about it,” he prompted, and the two friends settled back into their comfortable routine, safe in the knowledge that that, at least, wouldn’t be changing for a long time.
*****