When Ron finally returned to the Common Room, it was completely deserted, save for the warm fire crackling happily in the fireplace. Shivering and exhausted, he moved toward its warmth, then stopped in his tracks as he realized that he was not alone. As he moved around the couch, Hermione looked up from the flames with a look of so many emotions that Ron found it impossible to read any of them. Cautiously, he moved closer and upon no signs of rejection from Hermione, took a seat on the floor beside her.
They sat in silence for several moments, staring into the fire, then Ron felt Hermione’s gaze upon him. As he tentatively returned it, she looked away, then pushed herself up on her hands and stood. Ron watched her, bewildered, as she stepped quietly around the sofa and out of sight. He sighed and ran his fingers through his damp hair, then buried his face in his hands. He stayed like that for several minutes, when he suddenly felt something thick and wooly fall on top of him.
Once he had disentangled himself from what he soon recognized as a blanked, he realized that Hermione was once more beside him. She looked at him quietly, then tucked her knees up under her chin and stared once more into the fire.
“Thanks,” Ron murmured as he wrapped the enormous blanket around his shoulders. He was immediately grateful for the radiating warmth that spread slowly over his frozen body. After a moment, he realized that Hermione must have cast a warming charm over the blanket and felt a surge of guilt for his earlier actions. Cautiously, he turned so that he was facing her at an angle, then took a deep breath.
“Hermione?” he said softly.
She turned her head to look at him, once again fixing him with an expression that he could not read.
“Erm,” he continued nervously, ducking his head and staring at a patch of carpet in front of him, “About what I said earlier … well I was a bit distraught I suppose. And what I said … well, it really wasn’t true at all.”
Hermione said nothing, but continued to look at him, somehow determining in his features whether or not to believe him. Finally, she turned back to the fire once more. Ron hardly dared to breathe as she opened her mouth to speak.
“What exactly,” she began slowly, “Do you have against Grayson?”
She turned to search Ron’s eyes, pleading silently for the truth. For once, Ron held her gaze.
“He doesn’t deserve you,” he said quietly, his eyes set with determination and still locked with Hermione’s. Color seeped into her cheeks and she quickly looked down, pretending to study her fingernails.
“And Viktor?” she asked, her face half hidden by a bushy curtain of hair.
Ron looked as though he had just caught a whiff of something rather unpleasant. “Well, he’s just a ruddy pumpkin-head, if you ask me.”
He thought he saw the hint of a smile cross Hermione’s face at that, although it quickly disappeared, no doubt because she still regarded Viktor as a friend. She nodded seriously, furrowing her brow in a way that suggested Ron’s response might have in fact been an interesting tidbit she found in the Daily Prophet.
“I suppose they just didn’t seem like your type,” said Ron.
Hermione looked amused. “Oh? And what exactly is my type?”
“Oh, uh-buh well,” Ron stammered, becoming quite flustered, “Well I suppose he’d have to be quite erm … well witty and um … charming, handsome … that sort of thing.”
“Sounds like a knight in shining armor, doesn’t he? Hmmm, yes, I think you’re right,” said Hermione thoughtfully, biting her lip to conceal a smile.
A flicker of disappointment crossed Ron’s face before he turned once more to the flames dancing, almost mockingly, in the fireplace.
“It’s rather ironic really,” said Hermione.
“What is?” Ron replied flatly, not sure if he really cared to know.
“Well, I’ve actually already found him.”
Ron tried very hard to force a smile, but all he could manage to muster was a weak grimace in her direction. Hermione seemed not to notice.
“Not that he actually wears armor,” she continued conversationally, “but the rest of it fits!”
Ron suddenly became aware of the chill that still hung around him and shivered slightly, the blanket shifting off of his shoulders as they slumped in defeat. Hermione reacted immediately, grasping the edges of the blanket and pulling them back over his shoulders. Her fingers moved to his ginger hair, which was still a bit damp.
“Ron, you’re going to catch pneumonia if you don’t dry your hair,” she said sternly. She knelt in front of him, griping a corner of the wooly blanket and rubbing it over his head.
“’Mione!” Ron protested, snatching at her wrists. Eventually, he caught them, then immediately felt his breath hitch as he realized that his face was only inches away from Hermione’s.
“Oh, erm …” he began, lowering his hands, but forgetting to let go of her wrists.
They both seemed to realize this at the same time, however, when Ron moved to release his grip, Hermione caught his hands, brushing them lightly with her fingertips. He looked down at them, perplexed, then swallowed nervously. Finally, he took a shaky deep breath and found himself falling into the chocolate brown eyes gazing back at him.
Slowly, very slowly, Hermione let her fingers move once more to his shoulders. They were so close now that she could have counted every freckle on his nose. Still, she waited, leaving the final move up to him. With one hand resting lightly at her waist, Ron’s other hand moved to tuck her hair softly behind her ear. He reveled in the feeling of silk beneath his fingertips, and the sweet fragrance he had never been close enough to enjoy. However, he soon realized that this was nothing compared to the way her lips felt against his own. He kissed her slowly, gently, afraid that she might slip away any second.
After a few moments, Hermione pulled away, tears glistening in her eyes as she stared at Ron. He stared back in alarm, but she only wrapped her arms more tightly around his neck. Her next words sent a chill through him that had absolutely nothing to do with the cold.
“I love you, Ron,” she whispered.
Ron closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. Years of pent up emotion radiated from his touch as he held her close, praying he would never have to let her go. His hands made their way to her face and into her hair as he kissed her again, losing himself in the dream that even now, he hardly dared to believe.
After what seemed like hours, Ron pulled away once more. Hermione smiled, tears of joy rolling silently down her cheeks. She closed her eyes as Ron gently kissed them away. When at last she opened them again, he was already staring at her with a look of such intensity, she almost caught her breath. Once again, he looked deeply into her eyes, feeling his own prickling with emotion before finally whispering “I love you, too, Hermione.”
Angst & Adoration by Moira Whipstaff
Chapter Notes: Hi everyone! :) I'm SO sorry this took so long - the hackers threw me off, then I had some mistakes to fix, but ANYWAY ... this is the last chapter! :D Thank you so much for all your support and I really hope you enjoy it!