Late Night Confessions

Ron yawned, rubbing his eyes wearily as he trudged down the stairs of the Burrow. It was early—too early—but he hadn’t been able to sleep, his head whirling with thoughts. Hermione, Quidditch tryouts, Harry, and Voldemort had been the chief themes, but other odd thoughts popped up occasionally as well. Now he was thirsty and so he was headed to the kitchen to get a drink of water. However, he paused near the base of the stairs, hearing quiet sobbing coming from somewhere in the living room. He hesitated, realizing he was wearing only his boxers and his striped pajama bottoms but he decided it was only Ginny and moved in to find out what was wrong.

She was sitting on the worn couch, with her knees pulled up to her chest and her pale pink nightdress pulled over them. Her head was buried in her arms and it was from there that the soft weeping was trickling. Ron frowned worriedly at the dark figure and slowly sat down beside her. “Gin, what’s the—” he choked on his words when the girl looked up and he realized it was Hermione. “Hermione?” he said sounding slightly strangled, “What’s the matter? Why are you down here?”

Hermione sniffled, scrubbing at her eyes. Ron noticed her chin quivering as she cried and it made his heart ache. “I di—didn’t want to wake Ginny…” she replied quietly.

“What’s the matter, Hermione?” he asked worriedly. “Can I—er—help…?” He gazed at her helplessly, unsure of what he should do. He hated it when she cried.

“N—no. Just go away, Ron…” she whispered miserably.

He frowned, still anxious about her condition. “But Hermione, I—”

“I said go away!” Hermione repeated, looking up angrily, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Ron stared at her, his mouth falling slightly open. Then his expression transformed and he glared at her. “I haven’t even done anything! Why are you getting mad at me?” he hissed, being sure to keep his voice low, so as not to wake the rest of the household. Hermione shot him a deadly glare through her tears.

“That’s what you think.”

Ron gaped at her, speechless. But after a moment his temper flared, and he growled at her, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hermione gave him a withering look. “What do you think it means, you prat?”

Ron’s face warmed and he stood up angrily. “Well fine. I wanted to help you, you know.” He turned, annoyed and stalked into the kitchen.

Still incensed from Hermione’s brush off, he sat down at the kitchen table after retrieving a glass of water and took a gulp before setting it down and glaring at it. All he’d wanted to do was help and she got off getting mad at him. What was her problem?!

“Ron…I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that… you were just trying to help…” Hermione’s voice drifted in from the doorway.

Ron gripped the glass more tightly and remained silent, leaving the conversation up to her. He heard her footsteps as she walked slowly across the kitchen and then the chair scrape on the floor as she sat down. He looked up at her, still a bit angry, but also a little hurt. She gazed back at him apologetically, her face still a bit red from crying but dry.

“I’m sorry, Ron. But I couldn’t help it… You make me so mad some times.”

Ron spread his hands looking at her in astonishment. “What? I haven’t even done anything! I just wanted to help you!”

Hermione sighed and began rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I know Ron… I’m sorry…but…”

He scowled at her irritably. “But what?”

She looked back up at him wearily. “Would you like to know why I was crying?”

Ron narrowed his eyes at her, susupicious about the change in subject but nodded. “If you’re not going to yell at me.”

“You. You’re the reason.”

Ron stared at her. “Me? But—but what did I do?!” he blurted, flushing. “We haven’t fought all summer!”

Hermione smiled slightly, and Ron noticed she seemed rather miserable. “I know. It’s not because of a fight…”

Ron was nonplussed. “I don’t understand… Why is it my fault you’re crying? I don’t like it when you cry Hermione…” he said, looking down at the table.

She smiled again and a tear slipped down her cheek. “Oh Ron…”

He felt his ears burn and he mumbled, “What did I do? Just tell me already, all right?” He looked up and his eyes widened when he saw her crying again. “Hermione…”

She stood up exasperated. “Ron! Don’t you understand, yet? I’ve been trying to get this across to you for almost three years! Subtle hints during second and third year—you worried me out of my mind—then the Yule Ball in fourth year, Merlin, Ron! I’ve done everything I can think of without simply out right telling you! And now—”

“Hermione…! Keep your voice down!” Ron said desperately, standing to try and quiet her.

“—I may as well for all the good it will do!”

Ron blinked at her. “What are you talking about? Tell me what?”

Hermione let out a frustrated growl. “See! That’s exactly what I mean!”

“Well then just bloody tell me!” Ron hissed.

Hermione leveled her gaze with his despite the fact that she was much shorter and the look on her face made Ron doubt he really wanted her to tell him.

“Ron, I love you…”

His jaw dropped and he stared at her, astounded. After several moments of silence, he finally seemed to find his voice. “You what?” he asked faintly, looking at her as though she were mad.

“I love you, Ron. I’ve loved you since the day you and Harry rescued me from the troll in our first year. I just didn’t figure it out until our second year…”

“You…you…love…me?” he said, still bewildered by this information.

Hermione began to get impatient. “Yes, you, Ron!”

“Me?” he repeated.

She rolled her eyes. “Ron…”

He shook his head. “I…sorry…I just…me? Why not Harry? All we ever do is fight…”

Hermione smiled affectionately. “Ron…I could never love Harry the way I love you. He’s just…Harry. He’s like a brother to me…”

Ron sat down, hard. “Blimey…” Hermione loved him. Him. Not Harry, not Krum, not any other bloke. She loved him. But…did he love her? He knew that answer immediately. Despite all their fighting, all their differences, and all his idiocy, he really did love her. It was amazing how blind one could be to something right in front of their face. He looked up to see her watching him, fear and hope swirling madly around in her eyes. “Hermione…I…” She bit her lip, seeming ready to cry. “…love you, too…” he said with a sheepish grin.

Her face first registered astonishment, and then pure joy. She lit up and her hands went to her mouth which had stretched into a beautiful grin. “Really…?” she whispered.

He grinned back, blushing slightly. “Really.”

“Oh, Ron!” she dove at him, wrapping her arms around his waist and falling to her knees on the kitchen floor.

Ron laughed, and was delighted at how wonderful it felt to have said it. To have finally figured out what it was exactly that had been driving him mad about her for so many years. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him, marvelling at how she smelled, how her hair felt beneath his fingers, and how her face felt, pressed against his bare chest. She peeked up at him and he smiled his eyes meeting hers.

“You’re going to catch cold down here in only your pajama bottoms.”

He rolled his eyes putting his forehead to hers. “Hermione, give it a rest…”

She began to pout. “But Ron, if you get ill we can’t—”

She was cut off as Ron lowered his head and kissed her tentatively. She seemed to melt into him and Ron smiled, pleased that he could invoke that kind of reaction in her. He pulled back and looked down on her dazed expression. “I’ll be fine. Maybe we should go to sleep…” he said, sounding rather reluctant.

Hermione smiled her cheeks pinkening. “I’d rather stay here with you…”

He grinned at her, his face reddening as well. “Good. But let’s go back in the living room.”

Hermione nodded and stood up with him, slipping her hand into his. He smiled at her his face warming and they walked back out to the living room and sat down on the couch. Hermione cuddled up close to him, her face flushed, and lay her head on his shoulder. He kissed her temple gently before laying his head on hers.

“I’m glad you told me, Hermione…” he murmured somewhat drowzily as he gently rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb.

She smiled sleepily. “Mmm…”

Before long, both were fast asleep, and that was where the others found them still sleeping contentedly the next morning.