Grinning with a Lost Stare...

Grinning with a Lost Stare...

By Let Me Breathe

- ~ * Hermione's POV * ~ -

I sat on the couch in the Gryffindor common room, watching silently as Ron scribbled away frantically on a piece of parchment, stopping occasionally to think about what he was going to write.

"Why didn't you do your essay last night when I suggested, Ron?" I asked, taking in the worried expression that crossed his face as he looked at his watch. "I told you that you were going to have to rush right at the last minute and what are you doing? Exactly that!"

"Hermione," Ron groaned back, looking up from his work at me, "why do you have to be such a nag? I know you were right and next time you suggest I do my homework before it gets too late, I'll do it."

"I'm not nagging, Ron!" I snapped at him, looking away and studying Harry instead. He was staring deeply into the fire, obviously in thought and, judging by the small smile that curved his lips, good thought.

I often wondered why Ron can't be more like Harry at times. Harry tried his hardest to get his homework done when he can. Harry didn't argue with me about everything I did or said. Harry didn't tease me about my brains or my beliefs. Harry didn't make false assumptions when I did something as simple as write a letter. Harry didn't get jealous every time I mentioned the name "Viktor".

Oh, yes, the jealousy factor with Ron. It never ends. I could begin to say the word "Bulgaria" and his head would instantly shoot around and he'd be like, "Yeah, what about Bulgaria?" Or I might have be referring to something Viktor once said and Ron would instantly become very alert, narrow his deep blue eyes at me and ask, "Yeah, what did your precious Vicky say?" with the name "Vicky" or "Krum" coming out in a bitter tone full of spite and hatred.

I just didn't understand it, but no matter how many times I assured Ron that Viktor Krum and I were just friends, he just didn't listen or take it in, and he just seemed to be getting more jealous with every mention. I just wished that he'd just wake up to himself and realise the feelings that everyone but he, including me, can see he held for me.

At least Harry wasn't that oblivious!

But Ron would never be more like Harry. In fact, that was almost a good thing. Ron just wouldn't be the same if he had had any of Harry's good traits. Ron was Ron and I could never, ever ask for something more. I wasn't falling in love with a Ron that was partially Harry, I was falling in love with a Ron that was one hundred percent Ronald Weasley and I would never want him to change...

There, I said it! I admitted that I was falling in love with Ron and the idea, in a way, and as uncharacteristic as it sounded coming from my mouth, freaked me out! I has never, not once admitted my feelings to or for anyone aloud! I never told Harry in our first year that I had a small crush on him. I never admitted how much I couldn't keep my eyes off Ron at the Yule Ball in fourth year and how much I just wanted to run forward and kiss him when we fought in the common room afterwards. I never confessed to having thoughts and dreams about Ron kissing me and holding me close when all the tension between us first became intense in our third year. In fact, I had no intention whatsoever in confessing any of that to anyone!

But my feelings for Ron were really starting to become hard to keep to myself. They were seriously driving me mad - damn teenage hormones - and I couldn't help but make them more obvious to watches by. I was constantly saying little things that I knew he'd comment on. I was always attempting to catch his eye and smiling at him. And I also seemed to have the tendency of staring at him without even realising it and getting lost in complicated thoughts about him and my feelings for him.

Just like I was at this time...

Quickly, I looked away and around at the people surrounding us. Everyone seemed to be too occupied by the things they were doing to even bother paying attention to me, the oldest female Gryffindor prefect, staring dreamily at the male one. However, I had felt one set of eyes on me and, taking another look around at the crowded room, my eyes landed on Harry, whose gaze had at some point ventured from the empty fireplace to take in what mine was set on.

Harry smirked and pointed his head at the doorway leading to the stairs up to the Gryffindor boys' dormitories with a meaningful, yet amused look in his emerald green eyes.

I hesitated before slowly standing, knowing exactly what was coming. Harry stood as well and led the way towards the doorway. I stole one last glance at Ron, oblivious to his two best friends, before following Harry. We reached the third landing before he spoke.

"You like Ron, don't you, Hermione?"

"Of course I like Ron," I said to him innocently. "He's one of my best friends!" I knew completely well that that wouldn't be convincing, but I really hadn't wanted to admit anything too abruptly.

"Hermione, I know that you don't sit there staring at me for half an hour straight," Harry said, casting me a knowing glance.

"I wasn't staring at him for that long!" I corrected, not resigning completely. We had reached the top of the staircase, where the door into the sixth-year boys' dormitory had stood open, and we headed on in.

"Hermione," Harry said slowly, looking at me very, very carefully, "there's no need for you to deny your feelings for him. I swear I am truly over his attitude about his overly obvious feelings for you and I think I'm going to go nuts if something doesn't happen between you two soon! I watch you, nearly every night, staring at him for what seems like forever, obviously lost in thought, a mysterious little smile curving your lips and the occasional flush in the cheeks as you obviously think of something you don't want anyone else to know about. And he does the same. You know he does! You two are truly, as onlookers say, like lovesick hippogriffs!"

I sputtered at this comment. "Lovesick hippogriffs?!" I cried in horror. "You have to be kidding me, Harry! Ron and I most certainly aren't lovesick!"

"Who and you aren't lovesick?" asked a familiar voice as Ron entered the room, a suspicious expression on his face.

My face flushed pink quicker than you can say "Damn it!" and I looked quickly from him to Harry, whose face was still formed in that same amused expression he had been using when he'd been talking to me. His green eyes glittered maliciously behind his glasses and he slowly made towards the door, not saying a word in his process. Reaching the door, he glanced back at me with a meaningful look at Ron out of the corner of his eye.

Ron watched him leave and close the door with a confused expression on his face. Once the door was closed, however, he shrugged to himself and walked over to his bed and sat down on it. He looked up at me and gave me that lopsided smile that always caused pleasant chills to run through my body.

"So..." he started awkwardly. It had been a while since Ron and I had been left alone in the same room together. "... I got my essay done," he finished, looking away.

Schoolwork. It's probably what he thinks I wanted to talk about.

"Ron," I said nervously, "there's something I need to discuss with you."

Ron's look was hesitant. "It's not another lecture about me always leaving my homework to the last minute is it?" he stated darkly, "because if it is, I don't want to hear it."

"This hasn't got anything to do with school, Ron," I declared irritably. Ron frowned. "It has to do with you and me and our ... relationship."

"Relationship?" Ron repeated quickly in a would-be blank voice.

"Yes, Ron," I replied, "I want to talk to you about our relationship. I think we should sit down and, civilly, talk. No arguing, no mention of Viktor. Just you and me, discussing ... us."

Ron still looked hesitant but he obliged by moving a little and allowed me to sit down and join him on the bed, facing him.

"So what do you mean by us, Hermione?" he asked.

I took a deep breath, rather ignoring his question. "We've known each other for how long? Five and a bit years, since first-year. I can remember our tiny selves back in first-year, bickering over the tiniest things ... and that still hasn't changed. It seems to have become our favourite hobby - bickering about the smallest, simplest things as people watch on and comment about it. But the tension between us is getting too much, Ron. It's been building, so steadily and rapidly since around third-year and I fight to work out why when the answer has always been in my head, in my heart. I've always known the answer. But, as I said, this tension is getting too much and I can hardly stand it any longer. Every time an argument exits your mouth and is fired at me, I just want to run forward and kiss you and tell you what kind of effect all your words, all your comments, all your jealousy, and all your feelings have on me. It drives me mad knowing, through all the prominent evidence, that you feel the same way and yet I can't act on it until I hear it from your mouth ... or feel it from your mouth. There has been so many times over the last couple of years that we have been so close to kissing - prefect duties, over the summer - and then something always happens and I find myself waiting for the next time."

Ron stared at me as I finished my long-awaited speech, his ears turning extremely red. I could tell, by the look on his face, that he hadn't expected me to say as much as I did, to admit as much as I did. He took in my expression and hesitated.

"I like you an awful lot, 'Mione," he said anxiously, his voice slightly squeaky and barely a whisper. "I wanted to tell you ... but I couldn't. I was so scared you'd reject me ... I mean, who would want a great git like me?"

"Me," I said in a whisper and, without a second thought, I leant in and let my lips kiss his softly. I withdrew to look at him carefully, his eyelids shut over those ocean-deep blue eyes that I always seemed to get lost in. His cheeks had turned slightly pink amongst the many freckles and a goofy, lopsided grin curved his lips.

"That's the first time a girl's ever kissed me like that," he said breathlessly as he opened his eyes. "Well ... besides Luna at the start of the term."

I laughed. "Luna kissed you?" I asked curiously, a familiar feeling of unneeded jealousy developing in the pit of my stomach. Ron nodded, a slightly disgusted expression on his face. I laughed again. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Are you mad? I didn't want you to think I liked Loony Lovegood!" Ron claimed.

I smiled at him warmly. "Well, I hope she never kissed you like this..." I said as I leant forward again until I was almost sitting in his lap and kissed him deeper than earlier, caressing his lips passionately with mine. He kissed me back deeply, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me closer.

As we each withdrew slightly, I had to admit I was one very lucky girl to have been sitting there, in Ron Weasley's arms, having just experienced the most overwhelming kiss (even if it was my first) of my life...

The End