Saving Face

Saving Face

It was midnight on Sunday, and everyone in the room was snoring peacefully except Ronald Weasley. He was desperately trying to stop thinking, but couldn't manage it. So he stood up, and decided to air out his mind with a refreshing walk. Then he realized that he couldn't do that without being attacked by teachers patrolling the ground or evil Death Eaters bent on killing Harry. It was a tumultuous time Ron lived in during his sixth year of education.

He glanced around the room in frustration, and his eyes lit on Harry's Firebolt. It was lying sadly on his trunk, simply begging someone to fly it. Ron considered the possibility. Harry wouldn't have to know, and if he found out, he probably wouldn't mind too much unless Ron damaged it. He planned to keep it safe, and with its flying capacity, no air-borne Death Eater could come after him. So he pulled on his cloak over his pajamas and mounted the Firebolt, floating right out the window.

It felt beautiful up there in the thin fall air, spiraling around the towers at the back part of the castle where no one patrolled. He let his mind run rampant, considering his various dilemmas.

First there was Harry's continual brooding. But lately he'd been improving, and was occasionally willing to confide in his two best friends, so Ron wasn't as worried as he might have been. That thought brought him to his other problem. Hermione.

That summer, he'd had an experience so common that there was a word for it. That word was epiphany. The epiphany had involved realizing that he was in love with his best friend. He became aware that not only was he in love with her, but he had been for at least a few years.

Under normal circumstances, he might have been willing to wait to tell her this. If his epiphany had come after his fourth year, he would have. But this was his sixth year, and he had only one more after that. If they all survived the second war, and that was a big if, Hermione would probably head off into some sort of extremely advanced career, and Ron wasn't sure if he was driven enough to follow her.

Hermione's brains were a bit of an issue for him. Not that she had them, he didn't mind at all that his crush was smart. The problem was that they gave her a nickname among the students. Hermione the Brain, friends with Harry the Hero. Oh, and that Ron guy. He's the boring one.

He hated being the one everyone forgot about. Where were all his hidden talents that people could gossip about and admire? He sighed heartily, and looped slowly about the North Tower, returning to the issue at hand.

He knew that everything would be okay if only he could tell Hermione he loved her. She didn't have to reciprocate it, because he knew she wouldn't, but telling her would get such a weight off his chest. Then they could work towards being normal friends again, and maybe Hermione could forgive him when he acted in a way no friend would.

He knew just how he'd confess it to her. He'd been planning it out for the entire summer, plus the month they'd been in school, and it fit together so perfectly in his mind now that he had trouble remembering the days when he hadn't been sure how to phrase it. But by no means did this make him ready to try using it. He still had to work out what he would say when she rejected him. He felt he had to tell her, as he'd just diagnosed the feelings he had had for many years, but he knew she wouldn't, couldn't feel the same way. So he had to figure out the perfect way to let her know of his feelings, and yet keep her from feeling bad that she didn't reciprocate it. He needed to figure out some way to save face.

When he realized he had been hovering in the air thinking for at least a half hour, he decided he should go back in. So he flew as hard as he could back to Gryffindor Tower, and slid silently in his window. Carefully he replaced Harry's Firebolt and slid out of his cloak, climbing back into his bed. It only took a little while for him to fall asleep.

The next morning, Harry had to shake him to get Ron to wake up. He rolled over wearily and placed his feet on the floor.

"What, Harry?" he demanded.

"Get, up, stupid. It's morning," Harry replied, his own lethargy making him snappish.

Ron grunted in reply and stood up, swaying slightly at the sudden change of position. The whole room was uncomfortably silent as they tired boys dressed to head down to breakfast.

Hermione met them in the common room, looking painfully bright and cheerful. Under her influence Harry woke up and smiled a bit at her babbling, but Ron subsided into a depressing silence that both his best friends noticed. On the way to their first class of the morning, Ron trailed behind because he was too tired to move at their pace. He acted like this all day, and had to endure both his friend's furtive glances as they noticed it. All he wanted was to get up to his room and make up for the sleep he had lost in his flying throughout the castle. In a rare moment of lucidity, he had calculated that what with his sleepless stay in his bed, and then the sojourn out on Harry's broom, he had only slept for three or four hours.

On the way up to the common room from dinner, Hermione dropped back to walk next to him, and slowly the crowds thinned around them as people hustled to their rooms.

"Ron," she began awkwardly. He didn't reply. "Are you all right?"

"Just tired, 'Ermione," he replied dully. "I couldn't sleep last night."

"But Ron, you've been acting strangely all year, haven't you?" she protested.

"No, I don't think so," he said slowly, not meeting her worried gaze. She tried to stare into his face for a little while, but when he continued to avoid her eyes she moved to a direct attack.

"You're lying," she said flatly.

Ron sighed, rubbing his eyes, and suddenly he was awake. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, and he realized that this was it. Even if he didn't quite know what he would say to reassure her over his feelings, he knew that it was time.

"Okay, umm... can I talk to you, please?" he said quietly, gesturing towards an empty classroom on their left. She followed him in without comment, a combination of confusion and happiness settling over her face. She closed the door. He turned to face her, and she met his pained look squarely.

"Listen... I realized something this summer," he began, the planned words falling off his words easily. But she looked so odd, staring up at him, and suddenly he felt strange and much too tall, and the words flew out of his head. So he gave up, and stuck to the essential ones. "I love you, Hermione. Probably have since fourth year, I think."

His ears turned bright red, and he looked away, afraid of what he might see on her face.

"Oh, Ron," she whispered. "I've waited so long for you to finally realize that."

"Don't worry, Hermione," he muttered, reddening even more, and staring carefully at the unused teacher's desk. "I just wanted you to know." He shifted a foot uncomfortably. "If you give me a while, we can just be plain friends again, right? I'll get over it, I promise!" He met her gaze now, hope shining out of his eyes.

"If you ever 'get over it', as you so aptly phrased it, I will be forced to stop speaking to you forever," she snapped, glaring up at him. "Didn't you hear me?"

"What?" he said, pure confusion replacing hope.

"I love you, idiot!" she cried, and his eyebrows shot up and the fading blush returned to his face.

"Really?" he asked shyly. She let out a frustrated noise, and stood on her tiptoes, kissing him on the mouth.

"Is this the only way I can get through to you, Ron?" she complained.

He grinned as he finally figured out what she had said. He leaned towards her and she was able to subside back to the floor.

"Shut up, Hermione," he told her softly, and then kissed her again.

They parted after a long moment, and Ron grabbed up her hand in his.

"Well then," he said, grinning stupidly down at her.

"Let's go tell Harry, I suppose," Hermione said briskly, laughing with a bit of a blush rising in her cheeks.
"What?" Ron asked absentmindedly.

"I think he knew this was going to happen. He's been giving me the most irritated looks lately, whenever we're with you," she explained thoughtfully.

He leaned down and kissed her again, cradling her head in his hand.

"We could tell him a little later, I suppose," she murmured between kisses. Ron didn't even reply.