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When Ron returned to the common room after Quidditch practice, he thought he was alone. Most of his fellow teammates had gone straight to the dining hall, and it appeared most of his classmates had already departed for dinner, but not Ron. He had a whole hour before he’d agreed to meet Lavender, which he’d spent wandering the halls, his head spinning.
He shouldn’t have said anything to his sister — he had to be careful of the company he complained to. But one leaked frustration — she has no reason to avoid me like that — resulted in a bit of a row. Ginny’s words echoed in his mind, tormenting him. ‘Of course she does. You broke her heart, Ron.’
For all he knew, his sister could be taking the piss. It wouldn’t be the first time.
But what if she wasn’t?
Hermione had dropped off the face of the planet ever since he’d gotten with Lavender. When they ran into each other, she was cold, even angry. To the casual observer… sure, maybe she had a crush. But Ron knew better — she’d had five whole years to say something. He’d done his part by buying her perfume last year, and that hardly elicited a response. Her lack of interest was clear as day.
Now he was second guessing everything. If it was true, and he had broken her heart, it changed everything.
Ron plopped down into an armchair with a groan, and it was then that the room became utterly silent. He hadn’t noticed the scratching of a quill until it stopped, and he glanced across the room to see the reason for his current mental distress shoving books into her bag.
“Hermione. I didn’t know you were there.”
As expected, Hermione didn’t respond. She continued to haphazardly pack up her possessions as if she couldn’t clear her table fast enough.
“Wait, Hermione.”
Ron didn’t need to see her face to know she rolled her eyes. She flung her bag over her shoulder and shuffled toward the stairs to the girls’ dormitory.
“Hermione. Wait one second.”
With that, she whipped around. “What, Ron?”
Part of him wanted to say nothing, as it was best to never poke a sleeping dragon. The way her hair burst from her head looked like it could burn him, and his arms still stung from that canary attack, so why risk it?
But he had to know the truth. There really wasn’t much left to lose. “You should have told me how you felt.”
Hermione scoffed. “What are you talking about?”
To throw his sister under the knight bus, or to not? Easy choice. “Ginny told me.”
Hermione’s eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed red. Her loud silence cut through the air like a dagger. “Seriously?”
Ron tightened his lips to hide the smile — the confirmation in her glare was all too obvious. “Do you still feel that way?” he pressed.
“It really doesn’t matter,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Yes it does,” said Ron, his voice firm. Because it mattered more than anything — if only she knew that.
“No it doesn’t—”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He rose to his feet, forfeiting any remaining stoicism.
But Hermione wasn’t looking — her gaze shifted to the floor while her cheeks burned the same color as his hair. “You would have… nevermind.”
Would have what, Hermione? She was always so vague, forcing him to take a stab in the dark at guessing her thoughts. For someone who never had a shortage of words, she kept her feelings on lockdown. What was the harm now, when the cat was — mostly — out of the bag?
“I wouldn’t have.” The words left his mouth without a second thought. Might as well keep the cat out of the bag.
Hermione met his gaze, her eyes testing him. “You wouldn’t have what?”
WIth a groan, Ron forced his feet to move step closer to her. He didn’t flinch as he met her gaze, even though it sliced through him like a piping hot knife on butter. “I wouldn’t have rejected you.”
She didn’t say anything, but her face softened. For the first time in what felt like forever, there wasn’t anger radiating from her. It was something else.
Yet, it was so subtle that he might have missed it if he hadn’t studied her face for years, taking note of the way her features changed with every thought, while never letting himself believe he could read her. Once again, he was so sure he knew what she felt, but the one percent chance he was wrong was almost too much to risk. Almost. He cleared his throat. “That is what you meant right?”
Clicking footsteps in the stairway to the girls’ dormitory nearly cut off his question. Lavender appeared in the common room, beaming at him as she strutted across the room.
Ron felt his heart sink.
“Ready for dinner?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Hermione, her eye contact still strong, her face soft.
Lavender shot Hermione a look. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Neither was I,” said Hermione, as she made her way toward the stairs, with one last pointed look at Ron.
“That was weird,” said Lavender when Hermione finally disappeared.
“Yeah,” stuttered Ron. His face was flushed as he forced himself to follow her out of the common room, despite the mysterious force that wanted to keep him there, as close to the girls dormitory that the castle would allow.