Beautiful Disaster

Beautiful Disaster

Hermione was sitting in the cramped kitchen of the Burrow, the hot soup soothing her senses. That was what made Mrs. Weasley's cooking so wonderful. Not only was it tasty, but it fed the heart as good as it did the stomach. Harry was sitting across her, his messy hair messier than usual due to the fact that he'd just woken. His eyes were open, but threatened to close any moment. To his side sat Ginny, abnormally awake for such hours. She kept stealing glances at the dark-haired wizard beside her, but he was either still asleep, or he was ignoring her deliberately. Hermione sighed as she turned to the seat beside her. It was empty. Ron was still upstairs, snoring loudly according to Harry.

"You want something else, Hermione dear?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

"No, thank you. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

Hermione gave her a smile. "Yes, I'm sure. Don't worry, Mrs. Weasley."

"You three are so underfed, and Merlin forbid, I'm not going to allow that while you live under my roof!"

Hermione and Ginny looked at each other and giggled. That was Molly Weasley alright. At that precise moment, a tall, disheveled figure strolled into the kitchen. Hermione sighed wearily. It was Ron. If she didn't know that he always got up from bed more asleep than awake, she would've thought he was walking in his sleep again.

"Argh!" Hermione, Ginny, and Harry jumped as a loud thump and a yelp disturbed the silence of the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley turned from the stove and gave Ron a resigned look. Asleep as he was, he'd tripped with Harry's extended leg, which he hadn't removed on time due to his own morning drowsiness. Hermione, being the most lucid in the place at the moment, stood up and helped Ron to his feet. The bemused look in his face was one of the few things Hermione could describe as adorable. It was so childish, and so much Ron's.

He drowns in his dreams.
An exquisite extreme, I know.
He's as dumb as he seems,
and more heaven than a heart could hold

"Are you okay, Ron?"

"Sure," he mumbled.

"Come on," she said, helping him to find his seat without harming himself again in his way. Mrs. Weasley sent his breakfast flying to him with a flick of her wand. His eyes opened properly as soon as his nose registered the smell of his mother's cooking.

"Yum, soup!" he exclaimed. He took his spoon and began to eat. However, in his haste to get the food to his mouth, he lopsided the spoon and the soup spilled all over his chin and t-shirt. Ginny and Harry looked away, pretending not to see. Hermione, however, let out a sigh.

"Ron, be careful. Scourgify!"

His face red, he mouthed a "Thank you" and resumed his eating. But no sooner had he taken his second spoonful and managed to get it to his mouth, he yelled in pain, and spit bits of soup to Ginny, who was sitting in front of him.

"Ron! Yuck!"

"It's hot, you know?" said Harry, trying hard not to laugh. Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head, looking at Ron in a compassionate sort of way.

"When will you learn?" she asked, filling a glass with water and passing it to him.

And if I try to save him,
my whole world could cave in.
It just ain't right.
It just ain't right.

"Thanks," he whispered. After his tongue went back to normal, he cast a Chilling Charm in his soup and started to eat, taking care not to spill it again. Hermione sighed and finished her juice with a last gulp. She looked at Ginny, who was eyeing her oddly. She raised her eyebrows and she tilted her head to her left.

"What?" Hermione mouthed.

"When?" Ginny mouthed back, gesturing toward her brother with a meaningful look. Hermione was about to fix her face into what she hoped would be an indignant expression when a soft laugh reached her ears. Panicking, she turned to Harry, who was giving her a knowing look. To her growing shame, Harry's snigger had caught Ron's attention too. He looked at Harry, arched an eyebrow, and then turned to Hermione. She felt her face blushing pink. Upon watching this, and to her surprise, Ron blushed too and looked away with a sheepish face.

Oh when I don't know.
I don't know what he's after.
But he's so beautiful,
such a beautiful disaster

"I'd better go... homework..." Hermione blurted out, eager to get out of the awkward ambience of the kitchen. "Thanks for the breakfast, Mrs. Weasley!" And with that she stood up and left the table. Ron and Ginny said nothing, but she'd barely reached the door when she heard a chair being pushed back and Harry's all-familiar voice saying, "Thanks, Mrs. Weasley."

She quickened her pace, hoping to reach the stairs before he saw where she was going, but Harry's long legs caught up with her half-way.

"Hey," he said brightly, "mind if I join you with homework?"

Taken aback, she only managed to reply, "Sure you can, but I won't let you copy."

Harry started chortling. "What?" she demanded irritably. Harry didn't answer right away. "I don't see what's funny!"

"Oh, come on, Hermione," he began, still grinning widely, "you really think I believe that you're going to do your homework?"

"Actually, Harry," she started, "I have this Runes' translation that--"

"That we both know you did the first night we stayed here," he finished for her. She looked at him, trying hard to find a smart retort. "Come on," he continued before she could say anything, "like you didn't do all of your homework the first week. If you hadn't, I would be worried, you know?"

"Worried?"

"I'd think you're sick or something. Hermione Granger not doing her homework in the first days of vacation is quite unheard of." He laughed heartily again. She stopped in her tracks, looking indignant.

"So, Hermione," Harry continued, placing his hands in her shoulders and pushing her up the stairs as he talked. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

"No," she said immediately. Harry grinned again and pushed her into his and Ron's bedroom. Everything in said stance breathed Ron Weasley. The only thing that gave away the fact that other person lived there was the extra trunk with the initials H.P. on the front.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," she replied stubbornly.

"What happened in the kitchen, then?"

Hermione blushed again but replied quite stiffly, "Nothing out of the ordinary." She turned to Harry and, upon watching his wide smile, gave him an annoyed look. "I don't find what's so funny!"

But Harry just kept on staring at her. She didn't break the eye contact, stubborn as always, to reassure him that everything was cool. Ironic, though, to call anything cool in a room that looked like an oven. Feeling rather embarrassed, Hermione looked away from Harry's emerald gaze. She tried to focus her eyes elsewhere, but there was nowhere where she could rest her sight. Everything around was orange--Ron's doing, of course-- and there wasn't an inch of the walls that wasn't covered by Quidditch posters. Not a single book, everything scattered and laying on the ground, unmade beds. Hermione would never understand how the boys could bear to live like that. In her musings, she caught sight of a moving photograph in the bedside table. Her own, photographic-self was grinning back at her. To her sides, Harry and Ron, their arms entwined with hers, waved happily. She sighed as the photographic Ron posed his free hand in her left hand protectively. He did that a lot... Ginny had always told her that Ron was possessive, but that he only was because he cared a lot for his family and friends. Besides, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had taught their sons to treat the women with respect and look after them, something Ginny had always resented, and that she always complained about when she talked to Hermione. "Oh, how I would love to be a single child like you!" she used to say. She sighed unnaturally slow.

"You really like him, don't you?"

Hermione jumped out of her reverie and turned to Harry with wide eyes. She was about to speak when Harry shushed her with his finger and continued, "There's no point denying it, Hermione, truly."

"But--"

"Hermione, please." His face had turned graver. "You know well that the quest we're about to start may deprive us of our lives, don't you?"

"H-Harry... why are you saying those things?" It wasn't like him to speak so bluntly.

"Hermione..." He took her lightly by the shoulders. "Any of us could die, you know it."

"I know," she whispered.

"Then, what are you waiting for? If you love him, I beg you, tell him now before it's too late!"

"Tell whom what?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Stop pretending, Hermione, it's no good. I can see right through you guys."

"I don't love Ron," she stated firmly. Harry grinned. She'd accepted to talk of it, now she had to stop avoiding the truth that was right under her nose.

"Give me one good argument of why you don't love Ron, and I swear I'll drop it."

"Harry for Merlin's sake!" she exclaimed. "He's such a prat and an immature brat!"

"That's not a good argument," he observed, laughing softly.

"Ron's my friend!"

"And so?"

"Oh Harry!" She sighed exasperatedly. "Ron and I are entirely different. We would never be able to..."

"Yes?" Harry pressed.

"Harry, you saw what happened at the Yule Ball, what has always happened." She looked unhappy. "We can't stand to be with the other without starting to fight."

"Ron was an idiotic brat at the time of the Yule Ball, Hermione, and he was just..."

"Just what?"

"Well... he was..."

"What?" She had achieved a shade of red in her face that Harry and Ginny often compared to Ron's. Harry chuckled faintly as he remembered the snappy retort he'd gotten from Ron by just mentioning it. Hermione would probably hex him ten times into his next life.

"He was just... jealous... see?" He braced himself as she opened her mouth-- in indignation or shock, he couldn't really tell-- and prepared to be cursed to death by his best friend. But the Avada didn't come. In fact, no sound emanated from her open mouth. Hermione was just eyeing Harry with surprise written all over her face.

"Jealous?"

"He..." Harry snorted, relief washing all over his self. "Y-you won't believe it, but he confessed that he was jealous of Krum all the time just last night."

"He did?" Hermione asked, her heart racing like mad.

"Yeah... Nothing new, really..."

"But... but...?"

"Why is he speaking out until now?" Hermione just looked at him. "I'll tell you why, Hermione. Because he doesn't take our lives for granted, either. He knows that our lives are in danger... and he doesn't want to... get there too late... see?"

"No, I meant--"

"I know what it feels like, Hermione," he cut her off. "I'm in love too."

"Harry... I...."

"I'd hurry if I were you," he finished, and then he stood up and left the room. But he'd left Hermione pondering....

And if I could hold on,
through the tears and the laughter.
Would it be beautiful?
Or just a beautiful disaster?

Could it be? Was there a chance for them?

In five minutes, a thousand questions started to form in her bright mind. One came after the other. Hermione's heart reached a pace way too fast for her health. Okay, stop beating around the mimbulus mimbletonia, who was she kidding? Harry was right, of course. She did like Ron... and regarded him as something more than a friend.... It was just that she had never even considered dreaming that he might correspond to her-- attraction....

A loud thump and the window flying open brought her back to reality. A red, glowing ball came in rolling and stopped at her feet. Perplexed, she stood up and grabbed it. The odd shape was somehow familiar. "Oh, of course..." she thought. "A Quaffle."

"Hey Hermione!" Her heart skipped several beats this time as an all-too-familiar voice called her name. She spun around and saw Ron's face in the window. The morning sun was creating surreal shadows in his face. "Can you toss that?" he asked, gesturing towards the ball that Hermione held in her hand.

"Er... sure...." She threw the ball uncertainly, and Ron caught it.

"Thanks," he shouted as he flew away and back to the field. Harry, Ginny, Fred and George, and Nymphadora Tonks, who had apparently come to make an impromptu visit, were on their broomsticks, playing Quidditch, no doubt. Ron flew to one side-- "He's playing Keeper," Hermione thought-- and threw the Quaffle to Harry, who immediately sped up towards the opposite end where Tonks awaited.

She rested her arms in the window sill and watched the game, her eyes resting unnecessarily long periods towards one side in particular. Well, she had to admit that Ron wasn't all that bad, was he? He had an athletic build, and he was tall with wide shoulders. His red hair was always smooth and clean, something she would have thought impossible considering the usual state of his things... particularly of his room. Although he was not an Adonis, there was that-which-what-I-don't-know thing that girls seemed to like. Lavender and Luna Lovegood were good proof of that! If he only grew up a bit....

His magical myth,
as strong as with I believe.
A tragedy with
more damage than a soul should see.
And do I try to change him;
so hard not to blame him.
Hold on tight...
Hold on tight...

No matter how immature or bratty he behaved at times, Hermione couldn't stop feeling what she felt. She'd hated herself for a while because of that, but then she'd given up and resigned to the fact that there was nothing she could do to avoid it. She'd grown fond of the feeling, if that made any sense. Strange in a Granger, Hermione for that matter, to think of feelings... the sole thing she couldn't sort out with her blessed intellect. That which Ron often rolled his eyes at... He was more of the visceral kind....

I'm longing for love and the logical,
but he's only happy hysterical.
I'm waiting for some kind of miracle...
Waited so long...
So long...

Hermione remained there for the rest of the morning, watching them play. Harry caught the Snitch before Ginny did. It was rather surprising that it had taken him so long, considering that the golden ball couldn't leave the boundaries of the strong Protective Wards around the Burrow. She sighed when the last player entered the house and decided to head downstairs. But as she turned a corner in the second flight of steps, she bumped into something-- more likely someone-- hard.

"Oh sorry!"

Hermione's heart stopped and a gasp was caught in her throat at that same instant. Ron was looking down at her-- which was saying something, since he was standing three steps lower-- and looking sheepish.

"Oh... I... It's okay," she stuttered. Harry and Ginny surfaced at the bottom of the stairs and halted in the act. After an awkward pause, they mumbled something that Hermione couldn't quite catch and went back to where they came from. Ron and Hermione looked at each other as soon as they left... and they both blushed.

Oh 'cuz I don't know,
I don't know what he's after,
but he's so beautiful,
such a beautiful disaster.

"Er... Hermione... I..."

"Yes?" she asked hopefully. She didn't know why, though.

"I... I n-need to... to...to get to my room," he finished, looking away from her brown eyes as he did so. Hermione let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"Oh... sure." And she stepped aside. Ron glanced briefly back at her from the top of the stairs and hurried further up. Hermione sighed sadly.

And if I could hold on,
through the tears and the laughter.
Would it be beautiful?
Or just a beautiful disaster?

She went to the kitchen to find Harry and Ginny whispering. They shushed immediately after she entered. However, to her surprise, Ginny rolled her eyes-- not at her, she hoped-- and exited right after Hermione sat.

"What's wrong with her?" she asked. Harry shook his head with a faint grin.

"What's wrong with you?" was all he said.

"With me?"

But he didn't reply. There were strange sounds outside of the kitchen, like a struggle. They looked at the door and stood up at the same time.

"No," Harry told her firmly, stopping her from running towards the door and drawing her wand. "You stay here."

"But..."

"Stay-here." His commanding tone was nothing she'd heard before. It was the shock of hearing her friend talk like that, more than anything, that made her obey and stay where she was, rooted to the spot. He left the kitchen, and a second later, Ron flew inside and the door slammed shut behind him. It was then that it hit Hermione.

She felt nervous all of a sudden... but strangely light-hearted. She'd have enough time to give Harry and Ginny a long lecture for this. Ron, for his part, had already straightened up and fixed his beautiful, blue eyes on her. He was shaking noticeably and smoothing his hair. That was a nervous tic of his. Hermione smiled in what she hoped was a tranquilizing way and waited for him to talk.

"Her-Hermione?" he stuttered. "T-there's some... something I... I want to...to...to tell you."

Her heart melted at the sight of this unprecedented, flustered Ron, which she just found adorable.

"Y-yes, Ron? W-what is it?" she replied in equal stutter. Oh... who cared, anyway...?

He's beautiful.
Such a beautiful disaster.