Sincerity

The weather had not been kind to the students of Hogwarts, for it had been cold and dreary as, surprisingly, Hufflepuff played Gryffindor for the coveted Quidditch Cup. It seemed that the house of the badger had finally formed a respectable Quidditch team, finally recovered form the loss of Cedric Diggory. As the wind howled in the grey skies Gryffindor had once again led their team to victory. With all the school cheering them on, save for the Slytherins who had chosen to stay inside the castle, Gryffindor had circled the field, Harry clutching the snitch in his cut fingers. The same song which had been sung during the trio’s fifth year once more echoed across the crying skies.

"Weasley is our King,

Weasley is our King,

He never lets the Quaffle in,

Weasley is our King!"

The melody which the Slytherins had first created now held a different tune as the Gryffindors cheerfully bustled into Hogwarts for the seemingly mandatory after-party. Seamus was already running ahead of the group with Dean, exclaiming loudly how he had a case of Honeyduke sweets in his dorm.

Out of the entire team it seemed that Ronald Weasley was the happiest. Of course he had practiced being a keeper every day of the summer holidays. If he wasn’t good by now he would have sworn he’d be as depressed as Harry. The red-haired boy was walking amongst a group of Gryffindors, with a certain bushy-haired Hermione walking beside him. Hermione looked dead-awful, her hair magnified to twice it’s actual bushyness thanks to the wind. As most of the Gryffindors raced up the staircases towards the portrait of the Fat Lady Ron stopped short.

Katie Bell looked over her shoulder and yelled at Ron to go down to the kitchens and fetch some Butterbeers. Ron grinned sheepishly and, surprisingly, found himself tug Hermione’s robes to beckon her to follow him.

It seemed that everyone had rumors about the red-haired Weasley’s personal life. Ever since Hermione and his argument in their fourth year (the one concerning Victor Krum and the Yule Ball) Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs alike had whispered that Weasley fancied Granger. Naturally the two had denied anything but a platonic friendship. But that was just a facade. Although Hermione would never let anyone know, she had always had feelings for the freckled Ron Weasley. And heavens forbid you got the information out of Ron, but he fancied a certain bushy-haired, book-loving Gryffindor.

It was as simple as that. Sometimes love, if it was that, didn’t need an explanation. All that was known was the fact that Ron and Hermione were friends, nothing more. Their individual secrets and daydreams were their, well, secrets.

Hermione followed Ron with a puzzled expression on her face.

"What Ron?"

"Come on...we’re going to go get some Butterbeer."

Ron immediately realized the mistake of his words. Hermione came to a halt and he let go of her sleeve. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. Although it didn’t seem that S.P.E.W. was ever going to take affect at Hogwarts she vowed to be the only student to refuse the house elves’ services. Ron groaned. Why did Hermione have to be so difficult?

"I’ll get them myself, I swear. Come on, Hermione. Let’s go."

Ron turned and continued to walk down the corridor, leaving Hermione standing in the empty corridors with her arms still folded across her chest and her mouth slightly agap. Looking behind her she thought it would be best to go back to the common room. Yet the hormones were yelling at her, yelling at her to run after Ron. How often were the two left alone? Not that anything would happen, Hermione mused. Ron had no feelings other than a strong friendship for her. Right?

With an incoherent mumble to herself the sixth-year Gryffindor scurried down the hallway after Ron. By the time she had caught up with Ron they were in front of the portrait leading to the kitchens. Ron reached forward and tickled the pear with an awkward look on his features. The portrait opened immediately and Ron lead the way into the dimmed kitchens.

Hermione scowled behind the mess of her hair as five house elves bustled to the entrance, insisting on helping the two Gryffindors.

"Um...we’ll need twenty Butterbeers. Actually, make it thirty," Ron spoke happily as a house elf bowed and was about to leave when Hermione jabbed Ron in the ribs. Ron gasped and clutched his side. "Bloody hell! What was that for?"

Hermione cleared her throat, brow perked. Ron frowned slightly and rolled his eyes. "Never mind, never mind!!" He had to yell to stop the five house elves from going and getting the Butterbeer on their own. "Just show me where it is, please?"

A feigned and triumphant smile crossed Hermione’s features as she followed Ron to tone of the rooms where cases upon cases of Butterbeer were stored. Ron grabbed one of the cases and smiled sheepishly towards Hermione. "Would you mind carrying a few up, these won’t be enough?"

Hermione nodded absently and attempted to get one of the smaller cases off the racks. But she lost her footing and the Gryffindor went falling backwards, the case coming loose and the Butterbeer bottles breaking as they hit the ground. Ron had been by the door when this happened and immediately ran back to where Hermione lay sprawled on the floor, franticly searching for her wand so as she could clean it up. Ron placed his crate on the ground and rushed to help Hermione, who was mumbling incoherent things about being ‘clumsy’ and ‘useless’.

A few house elves ran into the room but Ron brushed them away, telling them to go get a few cupcakes or something for him. Hermione, luckily, didn’t notice Ron’s request because she finally found her wand and managed to make the mess disappear in a flash. Slowly regaining her calm she looked nervously to Ron.

"Sorry..."

Ron grinned awkwardly. Why did he have to fancy her? Why did his mind tell him to lean forward and kiss her? And why did he have to think she was so beautiful, even with all her faults?

"No. Don’t me, see? It’s fine." Ron’s voice was weird, as it usually was when he was in tense situations. Rocking on his heels for a fraction of a second he did what his gut had told him to do since their second year.

The kiss lasted only a fraction of a moment. Ron leaned forward, his hand gently cradling the side of Hermione’s face as she stood on her tip-toes to reach the taller boy’s lips.

When they parted Hermione felt her cheeks burning a bright red, but to her relief Ron’s were even brighter. Dobby was laughing insanely at the doorway, holding up a package with a dozen cupcakes in it. Hermione smirked slightly and grabbed a small sack that couldn’t hold more than five Butterbeers in it. Ron, without saying a word, bent down and picked up his crate and thanked Dobby for the cupcakes. The duo were stopped at the open portrait hole by two rather outgoing elves.

"Goodbye Harry Potter’s Weasley!" One of them waved as the two stepped out of the doorway.

"Actually..." The words belonged to Hermione, who was looking directly at Ron when she spoke. Turning from Ron to the elf who had spoken she smirked.

"Hermione Granger’s Weasley."

The elf bowed and nodded fervently.

"Of course miss. Goodbye Hermione Granger’s Weasley!!"