Don't

- "Don't" -

By Kay Elle Hunter

"Don't bug me," Hermione Granger snapped to Ron Weasley as he took a seat next to her as she sat at her favourite table in the library.

"I just came to -"

"Don't talk to me," Hermione snapped, not taking her eyes off the book she was required to read before lunchtime the next day.

"I wanted to -"

"Don't ignore me," Hermione said, looking up briefly. "I said not to talk to me."

"Sorry."

"Don't talk to me," snapped Hermione again, looking back at her book and finding the line she had just finished reading.

"Why?"

"Don't ask questions of me." The snappiness in Hermione's voice was growing with every passing moment. "Asking questions requires you to talk and I said don't-talk-to-me!"

Ron frowned and looked from her to the book and back again, not understanding why on earth she would prefer to read that gigantic book, with it's old, ripping pages, than talk to him ... or even hear what he had to say while she read.

"Don't look at me," Hermione said, looking up and into his eyes. She was looking rather furious in Ron's eyes and he couldn't understand entirely why. Their fight hadn't been that bad!

Witches and their PMS, Ron groaned in his head.

"And don't look at the book. It distracts me when people look over my shoulder, so just don't!" Hermione waited a moment before turning back to her book, ignoring the confused, if not slightly annoyed look on Ron's face.

"I wanted to talk to you about something," Ron said quietly. "About why we had that fight."

It was true. Hermione had ended up in the library after another furious fight with Ron over Viktor Krum and why she still wrote the Bulgarian letters. The truth had never quite been admitted and as Harry continued to tell Ron, the truth was more likely to be worth something if Hermione knew. Better out now than locked up forever.

Hermione looked at Ron briefly with her eyes narrowed.

"Don't," she said quietly. "I don't want to hear it. Let's just act like nothing was said or done. You need to get over the Viktor situation eventually... Let's see if you're capable of doing that without us further discussing it, shall we?"

"But Hermione, this is really imp- "

"Don't say it, Ron," Hermione said, snapping the large book shut and shifting in her chair so she was facing him, her cheeks slightly pink and her eyes ablaze with a small flame of anger.

Merlin, anger brings out the best of her, Ron found himself thinking numbly.

"Don't start stammering off excuses to me," she said calmly. "Don't act like the things you say don't hurt me. Don't assume that some forced confession could possibly make me forgive and forget everything that has come out of your month in relation to Viktor or anything else that has hurt me in the past." She took a cleverly selected breath and rose to her feet, looking down at him and getting ready to leave the large room. "Don't waste time and speech thinking that you're doing this for me when I really don't want to hear it and I don't want to face the things, or the arguments, this discussion might lead us to have. So just don't let a single one of the words your ready to say out."

Hermione took a deep, calming breath and begun to walk away, ignoring the scrape of the chair behind her and the quick footsteps behind her. She was nearing the library exit at a good pace. However, she was drawn to a halt when she felt a hand grab her wrist and turn her around.

"Ron - don't," Hermione said irritably, trying to free her wrist from the redhead's grasp. "Don't -"

His lips were on hers in a second, kissing her and letting her have access to the words he had been ready to say moments before - before Hermione's speech of not wanting to hear what he had to say.

Hermione's response was hesitant, almost reluctant, but Ron vaguely and lovingly felt her lips tremble and reply beneath his as the kiss, so light and so innocent and only a tiny bit awkward, continued.

"Don't..." Hermione whispered in a breath as Ron's hand, the one that had been holding her wrist, slid to grab hold of her hand. Ron's hand, so much larger than hers, paused at her whisper. "...Stop," Hermione gasped lightly.

Ron pulled away to look at her dreadfully only to have her reach a finger of her free hand up to affectionately brush the dusting of freckles covering his right cheek. She interlocked the fingers of her other hand with his and squeezed lightly, a tiny smile playing on her lips.

"Don't stop," she whispered in one breath, resting a hand behind his neck and gesturing him forward.

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