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-Hermione Granger-
“I’m tall.”
Yeah, I know, I think. Tall, thin (even though you’ve gotten stronger in the last year – I noticed that change too), his arms are long and his hands are big. On the other hand, his ears are small, as is the tip of his nose, covered in little dots.
But I can’t say any of that, so I giggle and turn our attention back to breakfast, just like I did when I smiled and turned our attention back to Potions class after you not only agreed that I’m the best in the year, but also said you’d say that to anyone at any time if you were asked.
And although I love Harry deeply, I really wish people could listen to you like they listen to him. I wish they knew you like they want to know him.
Thinking about that makes my stomach churn and, phew, my newspaper arrived.
You make a sarcastic comment that to many would seem insensitive, but it's your comment that keeps me grounded, that helps me remember that we're at war but, for now, we're at school, living like the teenagers we are.
Not that you always know what to do or say. I know it's crazy to expect you to act in certain ways when you have no idea what I want since I've never even come close to telling you, but smiling at Lavender? In front of me?
It's the reminder of the Yule Ball again in my mind: you don't see me as a girl, you see me as a brother. Your words and actions may be confusing to me, like when you smile the widest and most beautiful smile when you receive my praise for your performance in the Quidditch tryouts, but I know that deep down you're just kind, and not in love like me.
Slughorn was right. It's dangerous to feel that way. I, a prefect and avid follower of rules, consciously confused another student to make sure he wouldn't keep talking about you and Ginny. I don't need Amortentia, but I keep wondering what would happen if I took it. I know the scent already, I smell it every time I'm at the Burrow, every time you show up freshly showered after mowing the lawn in your garden, every time you copy my work and our legs unconsciously end up touching.
When you go up to your room and Harry goes to meet Dumbledore, I'm alone. The room is still full around me, but I don't want to talk to anyone else. Every day I feel more and more that only you and Harry can truly understand me, you even more so.
But I maintain the silence and solitude, at least until I get sleepy and go to bed.
-Ron Weasley-
"...I think I'll go to sleep."
Of course I'm not going to sleep. But the tears are already half stuck in my throat, the corners of my eyes are already burning.
They are too good to be near me.
Harry, even being the Chosen One and blah blah blah, still fits me and my life better. At the end of the day, he's still a teenage boy.
But she… she's wonderful.
No flaws.
Maybe just always being there for me.
That's why I run away every time I know I don't fit in. And I really want to be good, for them, for her, but I don't think it's enough.
In the bathroom, while I get ready for bed, I brood and tremble when I remember trying to stand out.
"Oh, big deal, I would have told you that you're the best in the year too!"
"I'm tall!"
Smiling at Lavender, trying to savor a little of the attention even if it wasn't coming from who I wanted.
Then smiling like an idiot at her when she praised me after I was chosen as goalkeeper.
I lie in bed and do what I do every night to fall asleep: I visualize her, usually at the Burrow, with her hair down, sitting under the tree while she reads and watches us play Quidditch.
And although that sight calms me deeply, it's not enough to make me sleep, even if I keep my eyes tightly closed and wait a good hour or so.
All I wanted now was to feel her fingers in my hair, her nails lightly scratching my head until I fell asleep.
I get up slowly and decide to go back to the Common Room. Sometimes lying on the sofa in front of the fireplace helps me. When I go downstairs wrapped in my blanket, I realize that a considerable amount of time has passed since I went up. No one else is in the Room, except…
Her.
Sleeping uncomfortably sitting in a chair, her head resting on her arms on the table.
I get closer, not too close, but close enough to see her face.
Indeed, no flaws. Not even while sleeping.
I decide to leave her like that, even though I worry about the position she's sleeping in, and I sit on the sofa a few meters in front of the table.
I watch the embers slowly dying down in the fireplace. I try to concentrate on feeling sleepy. A few minutes later, I hear the chair she was sleeping in moving.
She's going upstairs to the bedroom. She'll sleep properly and wake up pain-free tomorrow, I thought, relieved.
I don't hear her footsteps going up the stairs, but that's to be expected. She's good at that too.
That's why I'm a little startled when she sits down next to me on the sofa.
-Hermione Granger-
The back pain wakes me up. I sat at the table and ended up falling asleep; there were few people in the room so it wasn't that noisy, it was easy to fall asleep. I'm tired, worried, and in love. My brain needs, more than ever, time to process everything.
Even in pain, I only open my eyes when I wake up. I don't get up yet. And from this position I can perfectly see him sitting on the sofa, with his back to me.
How long has he been there?
I keep watching to check if he's awake and I can't be sure. He's very still, sitting with his back straight, but it's late. Maybe he slept in a strange position.
I get up trying not to make too much noise as I push the chair back. I stretch my arms upwards, bend my neck from side to side, try to reach the tips of my toes with my hands. My whole body cracks.
I take the few steps and I can see that he's awake.
"Hi," I say softly.
-Ron Weasley-
"Hi," I reply.
She sits down next to me and I immediately feel more relaxed, although I also feel a little embarrassed that she'll see my old blanket.
“Did you manage to finish all your homework for next week?” I ask without looking at her, just so I can hear her voice.
“Oh, yes. Well, I just have to write the conclusion of my Runes translation essay.”
“You must be happy with the NEWTs. We have fewer subjects in common now, I don't have to copy so much of your work,” I say, feeling deeply guilty for not being as smart or even trying.
“But we see each other less. I liked it better before.”
I finally look at her. There's something in her gaze that isn't usually there.
-Hermione Granger & Ron Weasley-
Ron looks at Hermione differently too. Neither of them was quite sure what to say or do, but they were certain they needed to say or do something. Anything.
“You…” Ron begins.
“We…” Hermione adds.
They laugh and she looks down. A strand of hair slips and covers part of her face. Ron gathers his courage. He asks for help from every possible god in existence. He stretches out his arm and tucks the strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers touch her skin, just a soft graze. He notices she closes her eyes. Ron pulls his hand back, but not before she grasps it.
“Something’s happening, I think,” she whispers, still holding Ron’s hand. He hasn’t completely relaxed his arm, so everything feels a little uncomfortable, but his senses are fully activated.
They’ve rarely felt each other’s skin, and this is easily on the list of things they both most want to do.
“Yes, it is,” he replies, letting his arm relax but without letting go of her hand. Now, they are sitting side by side, their hands clasped, on the sofa.
No one says anything more. It’s the moment they’ve always wanted to live, and they are both savoring every shiver, every butterfly in their stomach, every smile they try to control.
Eventually, Ron rests his head on Hermione’s shoulder.
It’s natural.
It works.
Her height is perfect for him to feel comfortable, and after a few seconds he feels her head rest on his.
And so, hand in hand and close together, they fall asleep.
The morning light floods through the windows of the Gryffindor Common Room. Silence reigns in a place that almost always has some noise, whether low or loud. The fireplace went out a long time ago, so it's not as warm anymore, but Hermione Granger isn't cold when she opens her eyes.
She remains seated, although she's leaning more than when she sat on the sofa. The fingers of her right hand are a little numb, as they've spent hours intertwined with Ron's fingers. They're still sitting together, his head still resting on her shoulder.
She looks to the side, clearly seeing the outline of his nose. He breathes deeply, sleeping without a care in the world. Hermione wonders if it has anything to do with the fact that they slept like this.
She spends a few minutes awake, not knowing what to do, until he stirs and sighs, opening his eyes.
For a few seconds, Ron doesn't understand where he is. He blinks repeatedly and stretches his legs. When he looks up, he sees that Hermione is awake too.
"Has Harry not come back yet?" He murmurs. He's worried that his friend might have seen them like this.
"I don’t think so. The last lesson with Dumbledore wasn't much past bedtime. He must be in bed."
Ron finds it incredibly cute how much she's avoiding looking at him. He, on the other hand, is overcome with such great happiness that he doesn't understand how he could have missed out on moments like this because of insecurity.
They liked each other, much more than friends, and it was obvious.
When Ginny said it, he forced himself not to believe it.
But it was and is obvious. And he's not going to let everyone see something they don't see anymore.
"I think we should go upstairs, right? People will start coming down for breakfast soon," Hermione says, tilting her head down to finally look at him.
He nods, smiling. He doesn't want to get up, he doesn't want to leave, he wants to spend the whole day with her on that sofa, but he ends up giving in and gets up first, offering her his hand so she can get up too.
They walk hand in hand until they reach the bottom of the stairs. She climbs a step but he doesn't, so when they are face to face, they are at the same height.
"Can I…?" Ron begins, but is interrupted by a hug.
Hermione throws her arms around his neck, and he feels her breath just below his ear. Ron hugs her by the waist, one arm holding the other.
They stay like that for seconds until she pulls away slightly.
"Well…" She says, in a farewell tone, but she's looking directly at Ron's mouth.
It's hard to tell who gets there first, but they both meet halfway for a kiss.
Their first kiss.
They both sigh when their lips touch. Not much more happens than that, but they spend a considerable amount of time like that.
"We'll talk about this later, right?" Hermione asks when they pull away slightly, her forehead resting against his and her eyes closed.
Ron smiles. “Yeah, I promise. We won’t repeat our habit of pretending nothing happened. I don’t want to pretend nothing happened. I want you.”
He cups her face in his hands and gives her another kiss, a short one this time, and she smiles too.
“Are you sure we’re awake?”
They both laugh.
Before going upstairs, he returns to the sofa to pick up the blanket that ended up there, and she doesn’t move. She remains there, on the first step of the stairs, her arms loose at her sides, still not quite believing what happened.
He returns and wraps the blanket around Hermione’s shoulders, and she holds a piece of the blanket in each hand and brings it to her face, smelling Ron’s scent.
“Can I keep it?” she asks.
“Yes. Me too, if possible,” Ron says smiling, his hands resting on her waist.
“More than possible,” she replies, and this time it’s Hermione who kisses him quickly.
They go up the stairs hand in hand until each goes to their room.
“See you later,” Hermione says as she closes the door.
Ron goes back to his room and knows it’s useless to try to sleep again, but he goes back to bed anyway. It was still early to get ready for the day.
He grabs another blanket; the room was colder than the Common Room (maybe because he wasn’t hugging her anymore) and tells himself to remind Hermione to give him her blanket for the following night.