Reality's Better

Ron lay awake, staring up at the Chudley Cannons poster above his bed. He was desperately trying not to think of all that was going on in his life and the lives of those around him, especially his best friend. He was trying not to think of growing up and of his future, because as far as he knew he may not even have a future to think about. At any moment he could die. The only thing he could wish or hope for was before it happened he could just once maybe kiss her.

Hermione Granger had been the most annoyingly wonderful exasperating thing in his life since Halloween First Year. He couldn't deny it anymore. He thought for sure it would finally happen for them this past year. They seemed to be in the same place for once in their lives.

But then Ginny had made that announcement.

He hadn't minded the fact that he was nearing seventeen without ever having kissed a girl. He had wanted that first kiss to be special, to be with Hermione. He had thought about it so often, and had so many different versions, each one a bit more vividly unrealistic than the last. But the one thing that was constant was this: it would be her first kiss as well. That one detail made the whole fantasy better and more special.

But Ginny had broken his dreams with one frenzied, loud declaration: "Hermione's snogged Viktor Krum!"

Suddenly his world had shattered. Suddenly he wasn't The One. Suddenly he was this bumbling, idiot with big lips and a saliva problem. Suddenly he realized he hadn't a clue how to snog a girl. Dreams and fantasies are one thing, but actual snogging...? What if his long nose bumped her tiny one, what if his fingers got caught in her bushy hair?

What if Krum was better?

That was the one thing that kept ringing in his ears, that was the reason he kissed Lavender. He didn't care if it was bad with her. He could practice on her, and if it made Hermione jealous... all the more reason. That would teach her to snog some Bulgarian git before snogging him.

He had thought it would be a quick "snog-fest", as the twins called such things, he hadn't expected for Lavender to fall for him. He didn't expect to add canaries to his list of things he was deathly afraid of along with spiders, You-Know-Who, his mother's wrath, and Hermione's right hook.

The first time Lavender called him "Won-Won" he seriously considered jumping off of the Astronomy Tower. The only thing that kept him grounded was the thought of becoming a ghost and haunting the castle alongside Moaning Myrtle. And he did actually get sick joy at seeing Hermione storm out of a room when he'd enter it... even if it did break his heart just a little.

Of course then came almost dying and Dumbledore actually dying and Horcruxes and plans to save the world along with his best friend, and suddenly snogging Hermione took a backseat to comforting her and whispered assurances and trying desperately to be strong and manly and everyone's leaning post, a job that came so naturally it was almost unsettling.

He hadn't been thinking about what he was doing during Dumbledore's funeral. He and Hermione just sat down and leaned into one another, fitting just so. He had felt her tears soak into his shirt and his hand automatically began to stroke her hair and his lips, of their own accord kissed the top of her head. It wasn't until later as he was undressing for bed when he found a long curly strand of brown hair on his shoulder, that he realized what had happened.

A feeling so warm and good guiltily washed over him. He wanted to kick himself for getting pleasure out of such a horrible circumstance, but he couldn't help it. He had comforted Hermione; kissed her, even if it was a simple friendly kiss on the top of her bushy brown head... it was still a kiss.

He sighed loudly and turned onto his side. This was ridiculous. He could not, should not be thinking about this. There was so much going on now. Harry could die. He could die. Hermione... no, Hermione could not die, because he would die for her.

A tear dropped from the tip of his nose before he had realized it was there. He sniffed and wiped his eyes. He slid halfway off of the bed and reached underneath. He pawed the dusty wood floor before finding a battered old box. He pulled it out and lay on his stomach spilling the contents out onto the floor.

Photos and little bits and bobs scattered noisily, he winced at the clatter, and silently hoped he hadn't woken his parents.

He shifted through the pile until he found it. A picture Harry had taken years before. When they were small and young and relatively carefree and safe. It was just of him and Hermione, his chin was spotty and her hair was particularly knotty; but he still loved it. Because it was when he had first looked at it that he had realized he was in love with her.

Hermione was smiling at the camera and laughing at whatever Harry had said, but Ron wasn't looking at Harry. He was looking at Hermione. He remembered how the sound of her laughter made his stomach flip-flop, how her hair tickled his chin and how her hand every once and awhile would brush against his. He had stolen the photo from Harry right after he'd gotten it developed, knowing his friend would see everything the photo showed.

He sat up and crossed his legs as he continued to stare at the photo, smiling goofily, and cussing himself for still dreaming about a future when he knew everything was so unsure, even if his feelings weren't.

There was a knock on his door and he jumped up surprised, shoving the photo under his pillow.

"Er - Yeah?" he hissed.

"It's me, are you awake?"

Ron jumped out of bed and rushed to the door, swinging it open.

And there she was.

"Hi," Hermione said with a shy grin.

"What are you -?"

"Came early." She looked down and blushed. He suddenly realized he was in nothing but his boxer shorts and quickly grabbed a pair of pajama bottoms from the chair he had thrown them on.

"Er... Hi."

Hermione giggled. "Sorry. Ginny let me in. I heard you moving around in here, so I figured you were awake."

"Oh." He stood aside and let her walk in the room. He wondered for half a second if he should close the door or if that seemed a bit improper; Hermione answered for him, silently closing the door for him. He cleared his throat and wondered where the bloody hell he had put his shirt.

Hermione stood in the middle of his room, her fingers knotting themselves together, her lip looked as though she had spent the few weeks they'd been apart abusing it with her teeth.

"So..." he prompted, feeling awkward and hating himself for it.

She smiled, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

Ron sat in his wobbly old chair hoping to ease the itchy feeling in his legs that seemed to come every time he was alone with her.

Hermione followed his lead sitting primly on the corner edge of his bed, her overactive hands in her lap.

Ron's left leg began to bounce, so he tucked it under his right one. He caught her eye and they both burst into spontaneous, matching smiles.

"This is ..." she began, "ridiculously..."

"Hard?" he offered. "Stupid? Annoying? Mad? Silly?"

She laughed. "Yes."

They both relaxed a bit, but neither continued the eye contact. He looked just left of her chin and she seemed to be looking at the floor by his feet.

"Did you grow again?" she asked with a giggle. "Or are those just old?"

He looked down and saw two inches of bare ankle showing past his pajama bottoms. He turned a bit red. "Just old. If I grow any more, I won't be able to fit in my own bloody house."

She let out a little sigh and looked around his room.

He scratched at a bug bite on his neck looking at the far corner, searching for something to say, hating himself for not being able to find anything to say to his best friend. He hated that he had these feelings and wished for the ten thousandth time he could remain eleven and girls could forever have cooties.

Hermione made such a sudden movement that his attention returned to her too late. Her hand had disappeared under his pillow and pulled out the photo he had obviously been lax at hiding properly.

"Oh my," she said drawing the photo closer to the window to see it properly in the moonlight. "I've never seen this picture before. Look at my hair!"

Ron quickly rushed to sit beside her to take it. "Really, I don't see much of a difference," he said as he reached for it.

Hermione slapped his hand away with a snap of her wrist and looked closer at it. "We're so young and little."

"We were in third year."

"Did we really look so... odd? Why didn't anyone tell us?" She laughed.

"I don't look odd! You however..."

"Oh, look at those spots!" She pointed to his chin.

"That's it." He snatched the picture from her with one hand and smacked her with a pillow with the other.

She retaliated and soon the room was covered in feathers and laughter.

"Stop, stop, wait!" she hissed stilling his attack with a well-placed hand. "Shh, we'll wake your mum and dad."

He squinted at her disbelieving for a moment before dropping his pillow. She did the same and they crashed onto the bed, their chests heaving and feathers sticking to their mouths and hair.

Hermione reached over and pulled a fluffy soft feather from his hair; at the same moment Ron touched a thumb to her lip brushing away another. Their eyes met again, but instead of bursting into awkward giggles and smiles their faces turned serious and determined.

He moved his hand to the back of her head and gently brought her closer to him.

Ron lay amongst his feather-filled room smiling up at the Chudley Cannons poster above his bed as the sun rose just outside, making his room blindingly orange. He sighed happily and brought a fingertip to his lips.

He had never fantasized about feathers and pillow fights and he was glad for that. He was happy he hadn't had a notion or an expectation of it... it would have just ruined it, as if anything could.

He sat up and waved his wand at the mess, his pillows filled themselves and the photos and pins and scarves all replaced themselves in his little battered box.

"Hold on, there," he said as he caught a stray feather before it could join the rest in his pillow. He tucked the feather and the photo of he and Hermione in his box before sliding it back under the bed.

-the end-