The Last Rays of Sunlight

Ron was struggling. In front of him, in a jumbled heap, was the remains of an electric drill. For the past hour, Ron had been taking it apart and piecing it together, attempting to find out the proper way to turn it on.

"Oh, that's it! I've had enough!" Ron cast the power cord aside in a huff, and a jumble of wires strung along with it.

Ron had struggled with Muggle Studies from the moment he set foot in the classroom. Not because the subject matter wasn't interesting, Ron found it quite fascinating, but it reminded him of home. His father was notorious among his family and friends for being downright obsessed with Muggles and their technology. Subsequently, he had been thrilled when Ron had elected to take the class in his sixth year, assuming Ron would follow in his footsteps and one day work in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office at the Ministry. Ron, however, dreamed of being an Auror alongside Harry. While his marks weren't exceptional by any standard, Ron's grades had been improving as his sixth year was drawing to a close. "By the time N.E.W.T.'s roll around," he had said to himself, "I'll be ready."

For now, however, Ron could do nothing but fume at the Making A Muggle World textbook sprawled in front him. Taking one more quick glance at the "Muggle Construction Techniques" chapter, Ron slammed the book shut and shoved it in his bag along with the assorted pieces of the drill he had been dissecting.

Despite his concentration on other subjects more pertinent to becoming an Auror, Ron had done better than all of the other students in the class, well, except for Hermione. "Whaddya' need to take Muggle Studies for?" Ron had asked angrily when Hermione told him they would be in the same class. "You grew up in a Muggle household!"

"I know, Ron," she had said coolly, "but I still need to have the N.E.W.T. to be able to work in International Offices at the Ministry. I don't get an automatic pass because I have Muggles for parents!"

Ron shook his head, thinking how unfair it was for Hermione, a sponge of booksmarts, to not even have to try in that class. Still, she read every chapter as if she had never heard of the objects and customs described inside. It was enough to drive him mad, but no matter how much it drove him crazy for her to be the bottomless well of answers in that class, Ron was very glad she was there with him.

"Because she helps me with my homework," he thought out loud as he brought his things into his room, which was empty except for him. Ron knew Harry had detention with Snape for the whole week after a particularly nasty fight with Draco Malfoy had landed that insufferable git in the hospital wing. Draco had gotten off with a slap on the wrist, while Harry had cost Gryffindor ten points and was now scrubbing cauldrons. Ron shook his head and grinned as he set his books down on his bed, Malfoy had looked pretty funny with his nose turned upside down. Ron turned and walked to the window, the sun was glimmering in the distance, savoring the last minutes of daylight before it would settle into the mountains for sleep. Looking down onto the grounds themselves, Ron saw Hagrid's cabin glowing with candlelight, puffs of smoke rising from his chimney. Just as he was about to turn away from the window he saw Hagrid's door swing open and Hermione emerged. Ron squinted to try and get a! better look, but all he could deduce was that she was talking, and then Hagrid appeared at the door beside her. Hermione leaned in and squeezed his massive form briefly and then turned to walk back towards the school. Hagrid had waved before shutting his door, but Ron hadn't noticed, as he was looking at Hermione intently. The last rays of the day's sunlight had cast themselves across the grounds in a magnificent fashion, and Ron saw that Hermione was caught up in the majesty. Her hair appeared almost as if on fire, and Ron was mesmerized, his lips detaching themselves from each other ever so slightly. "Wow," he muttered. A torrent of warmth seemed to erupt from Ron's chest, spilling over his body until his skin began to tingle. Ron had always admired Hermione no matter how much he told himself otherwise, she was truly everything that he wasn't: smart, brave, incredibly attractive. Down below, Hermione had stopped halfway up the path to Hogwarts, and had turned around, pres! umably to watch the sunset. Ron didn't hesitate, he threw on ! a light jacket and hurried from the room.

There was a crisp, light dew beginning to settle as the sun started to slip behind the cover of the distant mountains. Ron inhaled deeply as he trudged down the path, it was going to be a cool, but not chilly, evening. Only a few clouds dotted the multicolored sky, and Ron found himself tripping every so often because he wasn't minding his footing because the sight was so appealing. Finally, Ron cleared a small rise and saw her sitting there, just off the path, her knees curled up against her torso, watching the sun slowly settle in for the evening. Her head craned around as Ron approached, and she smiled at him. Ron's heart skipped as the rest of him began to slip and fall after his right foot collided with a stone jutting out of the path.

"Ron!" Hermione cried, rushing over to him.

Ron had landed on the grass to the side of the dirt path, and other than a knee that would surely turn up a bruise and a very damp, dew-soaked jacket, he was fine.

"Are you alright?" Hermione was kneeling over him, her eyes darting from top to bottom.

Ron nodded. "Very smooth," he thought before looking up to her. "Yeah, I'm alright, need to pay attention, I s'pose."

Hermione flashed another smile, then stood up and extended a hand to him. He took it and he pulled himself up. For a moment, he stared down at her hand clasped in his, refusing to let go, and then he remembered himself and quickly pulled away. Hermione didn't appear to notice, and she soon turned her head back towards the setting of the sun.

"Visiting Hagrid?" Ron said, and then cursed himself under his breath. "Of course she's visiting Hagrid, you prat," he thought to himself. Couldn't he think of anything better to say? Something suave or romantic?

Hermione nodded, and then turned back to face him, "I wanted to ask him about Grawp, I saw that he had a fresh bruise at breakfast. Seems he still doesn't have the brute completely trained yet," she said matter-of-factly. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Ron nodded. "Oh, yes," he said, and them smiled back weakly.

"Come sit with me, the sunset is breathtaking this evening," Hermione said whimsically, walking back to where she had been sitting before and taking a seat. As Ron walked over, Hermione brushed her hands over the grass next to her, clearing away some of the collecting dew.

"Thanks," Ron said as he sat, resting his forearms on his knees. Hermione was staring out into the sunset, but Ron couldn't bear to look away from her. The subtle, golden light illuminated her face. Before Ron's eyes he slowly saw Hermione transform into an angel, and then he realized that nothing had changed, that she had always been this beautiful and that he had been too blind to see it. All the obsessing and being angry about Hermione's booksmarts had obstructed the beautiful person hiding underneath all those answers and essays. Hermione finally turned her gaze back to Ron, and saw his eyes, big and blue and wide, locked on her.

"Ron?" she stuttered out, fumbling for words, her eyes darting about. "What is it? Don't you want to see the sun set?"

"I've got something much more beautiful to look at."

The words had rolled off Ron's tongue like water: slick, smooth and easy. He hadn't even realized what he said, what had been dwelling deep inside his heart, until Hermione's jaw dropped and she had stared back at him for a few moments, speechless. Remembering himself, Ron quickly covered his own mouth with his right hand, his eyes searching the ground between them for some excuse, some good reason for him to have just professed himself to Hermione. He saw nothing but grass.

Ron's eyes slowly trailed back up and looked at Hermione. Her lower lip was quivering, her eyes filling with tears on the cusp of release. In a flash, she was on her feet, taking a few steps towards the sun before stopping and standing there. Ron's heart sank.

"She hates me," Ron thought to himself. "She hates me and she has every right to." Ron slowly stood, watching Hermione stand there, slightly trembling. He wiped the bits of damp grass that had clung to his hands away on the front of his pants, searching for words. "Hermione," he said, pleadingly, and slowly she turned back to look at him. The tears had been released and were flowing freely down her cheeks. "I, I don't know what to say, I'm so sorry," Ron whispered, averting his eyes after he finished speaking.

"F-for what?" Hermione managed through her tears, sobbing lightly.

Ron's eyes snapped back to hers, searching.

"What are you sorry for?" she said, much louder than before. "Are you ashamed of it?" Her eyes trailed down to her shoes as her head cocked slightly to the left. "Are you ashamed of me?" Her voice was scarcely louder than a gust of wind.

"No," Ron whispered. "Never. I would never be ashamed of you. How could I? I'm not half the person you are." Ron smiled weakly, believing every word he had just said.

Hermione quickly stepped up to Ron, reared her right hand back, and slapped him. Hard. Ron reached up to his face, stinging with the impact of Hermione's palm. He stared at her, bewildered. After a moment of silence, never breaking eye contact, she began to weep openly in front of him. Ron was baffled.

"Don't you ever, ever say that, Ronald Weasley. Ever. I am not perfect, I'm not what everyone, what you and Harry have made me out to be....I-I can be afraid." Hermione took a step closer to Ron, who had straightened up and was running his eyes over her face, looking for the next words she would speak. "Keep me safe, Ron," she whispered, drawing even closer. Her eyes twinkled in response to the last rays of sunlight. Her lip trembled as their breathing began to mingle in the evening air. "Keep me." It was all she could say before her lips met his, their fears washing from their skin as the light slipped away and all became night.