Realisations

Realisations

Ron stuck his head around the corner of the door leading from the boy's staircase. 'Good,' he thought. 'She's still there.' He could see the back of Hermione's head just peeking over the top of one of the big, comfortable chairs by the fire in the Gryffindor common room. He paused, and then shut the door quietly. Sitting on the bottom stair, he put his head on his knees and took a deep breath; theoretically to calm himself down. 'So much for theory,' he thought sarcastically to himself. There was no slowing down his pumping heart; he knew what he was about to do, and could not fool himself otherwise.

He thought back to breakfast that morning; Harry had given his blessings, in fact, he'd practically begged Ron to do it, muttering something about how it'd taken him long enough to realise it. The only other thing Harry had said before they left for the all day Quidditch practice was, "Don't screw it up." Ron had turned up and played until lunchtime, after which he begged off, saying that he had too much homework to do.

Thankfully the practice hadn't gone on into the late hours of the night, as they sometimes did. If Ron had had to sit in the stairwell both keeping his nerve up and keeping an ear out for the team returning, his trademark Gryffindor bravery (or, as he was beginning to think of it, stupidity) would have run out and he would have run just as fast in the opposite direction. Ron looked at his watch. It was nearly eleven-thirty. Harry had a date this evening, and had wished Ron the best of luck as he passed him on the way out to his date; so there was no fear of him coming back to the common room for at least half an hour, most likely longer. Ron peeked his head out the door again. She was still there, but for how much longer? Ron knew his time was running out; sooner or later, Hermione would go up to bed, and his perfect opportunity would disappear. This was it.

Ron forced himself to his feet and opened the door. Hermione looked around at him and smiled.

"I thought you'd gone to bed ages ago," she said.

Ron nodded, "I did, I just couldn't sleep."

"Too much on your mind?"

"You could say that," mumbled Ron.

Hermione looked inquiringly at Ron. "Well, if you need to talk..."

Ron looked down, gathering his nerves. "I do need to talk. I - I just, er..." his voice trailed off. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Ron hastily cut her off, "The thing is, Hermione, I don't really know what it is I need to say. I mean, I know what I'm thinking, I just don't know how to say it."

He twisted his hands together nervously, and then sat down in the chair opposite Hermione. Steeling his nerves one last time, he met her eyes and started speaking, "I like you, Hermione." The words began to rush out, "And I've liked you for a long time. I just didn't know what to do or say about it. I understand if you don't like me, but I just had to get it out."

Hermione nodded. "Well, I can't exactly say that I didn't see this coming, can I? We've been friends for so long, bickered so many times I've lost count, and been through so many other things together."

Ron just looked at her, unable to say anything.

"The things is," she continued, "I guess I've never acted like it, but I like you too, Ron." She turned her face away from Ron's unrelenting stare, and looked into the flames that were dancing in the fireplace.

Ron stood, hardly daring to believe what he'd just heard. Hermione turned to look at him, the flames reflecting in both their eyes.

Ron started as he heard the portrait door open. Hermione looked behind her, then quickly sat back on her chair.

Harry strode across the room, and stopped just behind Hermione's chair. "So this is how you repay me, is it Ron?" he said flatly.

Ron backed away, confused. "Bu-but I talked to you this morning, and you said I should..." Ron's voice trailed off as confusion completely took over.

"I said you should talk to her about this, yes. I told you not to screw it up, yes," said Harry coldly. "But is this any way to repay me?"

"But if you said that, then, wh-why are you acting like this?" Ron asked, his confusion at Harry's behaviour clear.

Hermione shifted in her seat. "Because he likes you too, Ron."

Ron turned to Hermione, some of his natural self coming back, as if preparing for yet another argument with her. "Well, I know that, why else would he have been friends with me for the past seven years here?"

Hermione shook her head and looked at Harry as if unsure as to what to say.

Harry's angry demeanor vanished as he looked at Hermione. "Are you going to say it or am I?" he asked her.

"No, Ron, Harry wouldn't have been friends with you for seven years if he hated you. But that's not what we're trying to get at here. Harry likes you in the same way I do."

Ron froze. "What?" He felt a hand on his shoulder, a hand he knew had to be Harry's, because he was looking at Hermione, and she was just sitting in her chair right in front of him. He glanced uncertainly at the hand on his shoulder; surely Hermione was wrong, it had to be possible, she couldn't be right all the time...

Something clicked in Ron's brain. "Hang on. Hermione, how do you know about this?"

"Because when I realised that I like Harry, we talked about this," she said simply.

Ron's mouth fell open. "You like Harry? But you just said that you liked me!"

"And I do, Ron; I wasn't lying when I said that. But there is no rule that says that I can only love one person, Ron. That is the truth, the simple truth. You and Harry mean the world to me."

Ron was becoming increasingly aware of Harry's hand, which still had not left his shoulder. "You-you want me to," he paused, his confused gaze clearly resting on Harry's hand, "to do ... stuff with him, like I would with you?"

A smile started to tug at the corners of Hermione's mouth. "Ron, all I know about this is that Harry and I both love you as well as each other. As to anything else, well... that's not really the point here, Ron. Yet," she added, speaking so that Ron couldn't hear her.

Harry had been unusually quiet throughout this exchange, but he now removed his hand from Ron's shoulder and spoke up. "Ron, I know that you don't want to accept this; I didn't when I first realised it, but it's the truth. Ever since first year the three of us have done practically everything together, it's just taken us all a long time to realise exactly what that means. Ron, Hermione and I love you, and we always will, even if you decide you don't love us back."

Harry turned and took the chair opposite Hermione; apparently all that could be said had been said.

Ron's legs finally gave out and he sunk onto the floor in between the two chairs. "How can this be?" he wondered out loud. Harry and Hermione looked at each other, unsure if they were supposed to answer this or not. Ron didn't seem to be aware that he'd spoken out loud.

Ron ignored Harry and Hermione, and thought back over the years at Hogwarts. He remembered everything, from their first real act as a trio, knocking out the troll in the girl's bathroom, through to helping Harry deal with Sirius's death. A strange feeling overcame him; he'd known for a long time that he'd liked Hermione, and that had pretty much come out into the open with that big argument they'd had in the common room. But Harry? Harry had been his best friend all this time, even though they'd had their differences, he'd never suspected anything like this lay under the surface of Harry's feelings towards him. But he couldn't ignore that feeling he'd just realised existed, the strange feeling of strong affection, aimed at his best friend.

Ron looked up at his two best friends sitting on the chairs, waiting for him to collect his thoughts. This has got to be the stupidest thing I've ever done, he couldn't help thinking.

"Help me up?" he asked, holding out his hands. Harry and Hermione glanced once at each other, smiling, before each taking a hand and pulling him to his feet, and, before he could protest, into a three-way hug.