Reasoning With Madness

Reasoning With Madness

The stairs to the common room creaked softly as Hermione descended. Anyone who was listening would have picked up on the disturbance, but the two boys remaining in the red and gold lounge were paying no attention. They were absorbed in wizards´ chess, a violent game that frustrated Hermione. This was both because the pieces kept getting battered and worn in, and because Ron was nothing short of unbeatable. Still, once in a while she played with him just to see the pleased, secret smile on his face when he was about to trounce her. The thought of Ron´s smile brought a smile to her own face. He could be so sweet sometimes, and other days...he just let his temper run away with him. They had more rows under their belt than Malfoy had notches on his bedpost, and that was saying something. Why even Ginny had...but that was another story for another time. Even though Ron was possibly the most amazing person in the world when he was calm, those moments seemed to be in short supply when she was around. Maybe she was cursed. Her expression soured as another thought occurred to her. Maybe Ron still thought she was a nightmare.

~*~

Oh I can´t take another heartache,

Though you say you´re my friend, I´m at my wit´s end.

You say your love is bona fide but that don´t coincide...

~*~

Quietly, she tiptoed behind him and making a shushing gesture to Harry. Harry nodded solemnly, seemingly absorbed in the game; only Hermione could see the vague twinkle that sparked in his eyes. She smiled at him, moving so that she could see the whole chessboard over Ron´s head. In a sudden motion, she poked Ron in the ribs with both her index fingers.

He jumped three feet, placed his hand over his heart, and drew in breath in long, exaggerated gasps. Hermione mock scowled at him.

"You´re not scared," she intoned in her sternest voice. He flashed his lopsided grin at her before turning back to the game.

"Well, Harry doesn´t usually find the top of my head so interesting. Watch me beat him, Hermione, it´s only a matter of time." Ron rubbed his hands together eagerly and tugged on Hermione´s robe. She fell into the seat beside him and surveyed the board.

"Oh Ron," she sighed, "I can´t believe you didn´t see that. Harry´s got you if he can spot it." She shook her head, more to stop a smile than to express disapproval, and watched Ron frantically search the board. He scratched his head absently. Hermione´s mind wandered; she found herself thinking how cute Ron looked when he was confused. Of course, that was nearly all of the time.

"There´s no way he can get out of there," he said, but the last word rose in pitch, making it a question. Hermione only looked at him, her brown eyes boring into his blue ones until he started to fidget nervously. Then the old assurance came back to his eyes. "Wait, wait. If you can see this; but I the experienced chess player can´t...Poor old Harry. You haven´t got a hope in hell, mate."

Hermione laughed quietly, but recovered in time to scold him. "Don´t swear, Ron."

"Don´t nag, Hermione," he replied distractedly, occupied with checkmating Harry; who saw no way to escape the inevitable. "I win! Ha! See?"

"I was lying anyway, you had him cornered." She grinned. Ron didn´t look amused.

"That´s not funny. I could´ve spent all night sitting here tearing my hair out over it. Don´t try to be a comedian, it doesn´t suit you." Hermione´s jaw dropped.

"Leave it, Ron. She was only joking," said Harry, his eyes flicking between them. He raised an eyebrow at his best friend, who admirably, but stupidly, waded into the deep water without floaties for the umpteenth time that week.

"Well maybe I don´t want her to joke," he snapped.

~*~

With the things that you do; and when I ask you to be nice...

You say you´ve got to be -

Cruel to be kind, in the right measure

Cruel to be kind, it´s a very good sign

Cruel to be kind, means that I love you

Baby, got to be cruel, you got to be cruel to be kind.

~*~

"Excuse me, Ron, for daring to do something you don´t want me to do!" Ron´s blazing blue eyes darted back to the enraged brunette beside him.

"I don´t think you´re excused!" Hermione stamped her foot angrily, but the sound was lost in the thick carpeting.

"Er...I´ll just be going to bed now," said Harry. He nervously backed up a few steps. When his two best friends went off on each other, innocent bystanders were often hit by flying objects. Harry figured he had enough scars to last him for a bit.

"HARRY!" they chimed desperately, then glared at each other for having a common thought. Hermione glared daggers, Ron, machetes. Both were absolutely convinced that the other was wrong. Naturally, neither would give an inch in the week of silent treatment that usually followed a row. During which there were sometimes more rows. Harry sighed. It was all so tired and predictable.

"I said I´m going to bed. What do you need me around for anyway? Just have it out and leave me be," he said. They watched as Harry went up the stairs to the boys´ dorms two at a time.

"Ron, I just want you to know..."

"I don´t care what you want," he grumbled morosely. Hermione´s eyes narrowed, and she picked up a heavy book she´d brought down from her dorm.

"Stop it!" she shrieked, in a tone that could not fail to bring Ron to sharp attention. "Stop treating me like I´m some sort of subservient slave to your will! I won´t take it, do you hear me? I WON´T!" With that she flung the book at him. He was so shocked to hear that particular tone from his normally quiet, if haughty, friend, that he let the dictionary hit him straight in the forehead. He fell over with a thud that would have been comical if Hermione hadn´t been in a rage. For an injured man, his recovery was remarkable. Ron was on his feet in seconds, beet red and furious. Hermione was still screaming at him, but he could barely hear her. His own rage howled in his ears, drowning out anything she had to say.

"Are you crazy? You threw a book at me! A heavy book!"

"I don´t own any other kind!" she yelled back.

"Of course you don´t, you´re HERMIONE. Hermione doesn´t read anything that couldn´t take down a bloody hippogriff!"

"Well, I´ll go get the rest, and we´ll see how many I need to take you down!"

"Isn´t it enough for you that I´ve got `dictionary´ printed backwards on my forehead, woman?"

"The only things on your forehead are freckles, Ron. If you´re going to whine, at least get your facts straight." Ron didn´t reply. This was not because he´d suddenly realized that Hermione looked very pretty with eyes blazing and cheeks red, but rather due to the fact he couldn´t think of anything to say. Maybe he did realize she looked lovely when angry, but if he did it was on the back burner of his mind. He scowled at her.

"What´s wrong with you?" he finally said; condescendingly. Hermione growled, picked up the nearest book - an analysis of the word `the´, of no use to anyone but its maker - and made as if to throw it at him. The result was quite astounding.

Ron threw up his hands to defend himself and ducked, in the process tripping over an antique-looking red footstool. He then tumbled end over end in a seemingly timeless moment until he hit the floor on the other side, spread eagle, with one leg still propped on the footstool.

~*~

Well I do my best to understand, dear

But you still mystify, and I want to know why

I pick myself up off the ground

To have you knock me back down

Again and again; and when I ask you to explain

You say you´ve got to be...

~*~

Hermione thought this was possibly the most hilarious thing she would ever see in this lifetime. She began to chuckle, then to giggle, until finally she was stumbling forward to see if Ron was alright while shaking and mumbling incoherently.

"It...you...stool...book..." At that point any attempt at speech was lost. Ron crossed his arms and glared up at her as she extended a hand to him, still trying to catch her breath. "Come then, up you...you go."

Ron took her hand, and with a dangerous grin pulled her head over heels over the footstool. Hermione shrieked in surprise; Ron laughed but was choked off by her elbow in his chest. "Ow!" he choked indignantly, but couldn´t hold on to the pride as he recalled Hermione´s expression as she´d tumbled, with a screech, to meet the floor. The plan had gone a little awry, however Ron figured there was rarely a row with Hermione that he hadn´t sported bruises from; why not add self-inflicted pain to his grievances?

"Don´t pull me off balance if you don´t want the resulting pain. Incidentally, I´m sorry about the elbow." She patted the spot where she´d driven pointy bone into Ron´s ribs indulgently, and rolled to the side. "That was an accident." She lay flat on her back, watching the ceiling, which was not particularly interesting in and of itself, but she didn´t want to look at Ron right then. Ron folded his arms behind his head before he broke the silence.

"Why do we fight, Hermione? Why can´t it always be fun like this?" This brought the memory of the beginning of the fight back to her, and she stared more intently at the ceiling.

"I don´t know."

"Yes you do," he said. "You know everything. You just don´t want to tell me because you think you´ll hurt my feelings." She sighed. He knew her too well.

"I don´t know everything. Just most things."

"Don´t change the subject; tell me why you think we fight. I promise I´ll be calm and not start sobbing like a girl," he cajoled. "Pleeease?"

"Fine," she sighed. "You want to know why? Well here´s why: you can never be nice, Ron. Not even when you try. I make a joke and you snap at me; I´m serious and you growl at me to stop nagging. Nothing is right for you. Nothing fits. I don´t fit, do I?"

"Of course you fit, you´re Hermione, how can you not fit?"

"That´s your answer for everything. You find me annoying? I´m Hermione. You find something good about me? I´m Hermione. You try to explain why you act the way you do? Why it´s because I´m Hermione. Our entire problem cannot be summarized by my name."

"I´m sorry," he said quietly. She laced her fingers through his and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"So am I."

"Maybe I just like your name," he continued, his voice low. "Maybe I just like you."

~*~

Cruel to be kind, in the right measure

Cruel to be kind, it´s a very good sign

Cruel to be kind, means that I love you

Baby, got to be cruel, you got to be cruel to be kind

~*~

Hermione tore her eyes from the ceiling and focused on Ron´s face. "What?"

"Nothing."

"No, tell me." Ron swallowed deeply, his facing blushing a deep crimson. He was the one staring at the ceiling for solace now.

"You fancy Harry, don´t you?" he blurted. His freckles were rapidly disappearing in the heated blush that lit his normally pale cheekbones.

"Fancy Harry?"

"Yeah..." he mumbled.

"Merlin, Ron, what would make you think I fancied Harry, of all people?" She made a face. "I mean, Harry?"

"Don´t let him hear you say that."

"Too late, he´s been listening at the top of the stairs since he left," she said, then raised her voice. "No offense, Harry!"

"None taken!" came the muffled reply. Hermione jerked a thumb over her shoulder, a `see?´ expression on her face.

"Besides," she continued, "Harry knows perfectly well I fancy y...someone else. Why would you think I liked him that way?"

"You can´t blame me, whenever he´s around you two get these secret little smiles on your faces."

"We do not!" said a quieter voice.

"Oi, Harry, my mum says eavesdroppers go to hell! Anyway," Ron continued pointedly, "You always look at me like: `Oh Ron, you poor, sad boy, why can´t you see we´ve got something to hide? Oh, by the by, we´re madly in love.´ It´s all rather sickening."

Hermione shook her head. "Harry, are we in love?" she yelled in the general direction of the stairs.

"NO!" was the reply.

"See? Not in love. Not even in like. Merlin, fancying Harry! What an imagination, Ron."

They were silent for a second, engaged in searching looks and other groundbreaking eye movements usually found in sappy romance novels. Unfortunately, life was not exactly like a romance novel, for seldom did the participants fall over a footstool in an undignified manner. Most of the falling was reserved for into each other´s arms.

"You mean I´ve been fighting with you over nothing?" Ron asked, breaking the temporary silence.

"You were fighting with me over something?"

"Of course I was! Honestly, you´d think I just pick fights with you for fun."

"You mean you don´t?" Hermione asked. She blinked. "Ron, you confuse me."

~*~

Well I do my best to understand, dear

But you still mystify, and I want to know why

I pick myself up off the ground

To have you knock me back down

Again and again; and when I ask you to explain

You say you´ve got to be...

~*~

Ron turned beet red and mumbled something. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Jealous, you say? That´s the stupidest thing I´ve ever heard."

"Well you haven´t had to watch someone you like go out with everyone but you."

"Mmm...yes I have." She pushed a red strand out of his eyes and smiled at him. He was so naïve, or maybe just unwilling to believe the obvious truth. She would have bet money he still thought she thought he was talking about some other girl. "And the only secret Harry and I share is who I fancy."

"Which is...?"

"George," she said with a straight face.

"WHAT?" Ron sat up hurriedly and screwed up his face, his ears burning. "I´ll kill him, I´ll..." Hermione pulled the back of his robes until he fell back down beside her. Laughing, she shook her head. "...be embarrassed that you were having me on."

"Oh, so it´s alright if I joke with you, but not with Harry?"

"Look, Hermione, I´m sorry. I didn´t mean that..."

"It´s alright, Ron. You´re the only boy I´d ever want to joke with." She thought distractedly that if he grinned any wider his face might crack. The simple pledge pleased him with its double meaning. Ron ran a lazy finger down her cheek and sighed.

"You know what, Hermione?"

"What?"

"I´m crazy about you."

"Then it´s a shame that I´m still bent on marrying George." Ron´s wiggling fingers reached for her ribs.

"Take it back," he said menacingly, his index finger pressing into her side. She shrieked and tried to roll away, but he had her in an instant. Between laughing and yelling at him to stop she attempted to form the words, but to no avail. "Take it baaack..." he repeated, laughing himself.

"I...I...t-take it back!" Immediately the torture stopped, and Ron smiled at her contentedly. "I love you, Ron," she added; but he knew. He had to know, for she´d only been dropping hints since the evening began. Still, he looked shocked for a person who´d been expecting such a declaration. She started to wonder if maybe he´d only been playing at some unknown concept when he kissed her.

It was unlike anything Hermione had ever experienced. Viktor Krum had pecked her on the cheek a few times in fourth year, but that could not have prepared her for drowning in Ron. Even a full-blown snog with Seamus in a broom closet in sixth couldn´t begin to compare. Maybe it was just one of those things, she mused; you had to care. Everything about Ron entranced her, from the cold Quidditch air smell in his clothes to the smooth silk of his hair beneath her fingers. Suddenly oxygen didn´t seem like such a necessity, for the real air she´d been waiting for was found in kissing Ron. Her arms were around his neck, his hands were on her waist, and it all just seemed so perfect. So what if they´d been biting each other´s heads off minutes ago? It didn´t matter. The moment was what mattered. This moment and the rest of eternity stretched out before her indefinitely. When they broke apart she felt a profound sense of loss.

"I want to marry you," Ron said, and then they were kissing again.

"Ask me nicely." Kiss. The pause was longer.

"Hermione Granger, will you marry me?" The sensible part of Hermione´s brain dictated the rules of dating and living together and engagement, but Hermione shoved it to the side. The instinctive part knew that Ron was, and would always be the one. She would never regret giving her heart to Ronald Weasley. Not if she lived forever.

"Yes," she said.

"Promise you won´t come to your senses later?"

"I never left them." Another kiss, this one cementing their relationship more completely than a ring ever could. A wedding was a formality. Hermione knew they could never be made closer by an aisle or a bouquet. A touch was more than sufficient. Ron picked her up from the floor gently, as though she were very delicate, and placed her on the couch. He sat down beside her just as carefully, and wrapped an arm around her.

They kissed again, and distantly they heard the sound of one man clapping.

"Harry, go to bed!" Ron yelled.

The last thing they heard before they gave in to the mutual desire to kiss again was laughter, followed by retreating footsteps.

~*~

Cruel to be kind, in the right measure

Cruel to be kind, it´s a very good sign

Cruel to be kind, means that I love you

Baby got to be cruel, you´ve got to be cruel to be kind

~*~

~Fin~