“Ron, I…I have something to tell you,” Hermione said in a trembling voice.

“Go ahead, then,” Ron replied coolly, running a hand through his hair nonchalantly.

“I love you; I love you more than any words could ever express. And only you those other blokes, well just Krum didn’t really mean anything. From the first moment I saw you on the train, it’s only been you, Ron Weasley,” Hermione said deeply, staring up at him, her eyes burning with passion.

“Oh, really? Well, that’s good then…I, er, love you back then or too…I’m actually relieved you said it first, really takes a load off my mind,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Yes, I wanted to make it easy for you. I knew you’d appreciate that.” Hermione paused, a mischievous smile playing at her lips. “Well, now that we got all that mushy stuff out the way, I suppose we can start snogging now.”

“Excellent!”

Hermione then proceeded to throw herself upon him and cover every bit of him with her lips. Ron found that she tasted like—

“Ron, are you paying attention?” the actual voice of Hermione demanded.

“Wha-oh, of course, I was paying attention. I always do,” Ron said, trying to clear the image of a very loving Hermione out of his brain. “Or else she’ll go on and on about what a git I am all day if I don’t, right Harry?” Ron muttered to Harry. Harry didn’t reply. He looked towards Harry and saw that he wasn’t there.

“Harry’s gone, Ron; he’s been gone for five minutes now,” Hermione said, narrowing her eyes at him and crossing her arms. “What is you were saying, now?”

“Oh, uh, nothing, nothing really,” he mumbled.

“Just the usual then—I’ll annoy you endlessly with important facts and information that you couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to the first time or how you can’t tell where my mouth ends and where it begins, which to be honest, doesn’t make any sense whatsoever, or how I go on and on so much you wonder what will happen if I ever actually run out of things to say.”

“Something like that,” Ron said with a half-grin, hoping his good looks and charms would ease her cross look and tone.

“Oh, don’t bother,” Hermione snapped, turning away from him.

Figured. He never did have good looks or charm on his side. He only hoped that she believed he possessed those or other fanciable qualities or at least possibly possessed them or even that he had the potential to possess them. She was too clever for that though.

Ron sighed and went off to search for Harry. He couldn’t have gone too far as they all had agreed to stay together. Of course, these past few weeks they didn’t have much of choice as they were holed up in an old cottage out in the sticks. It had belonged to Lupin’s deceased uncle or someone like that. They had come here for research or rather Hermione had come here for research as it was becoming increasingly less safe everywhere else in the wizarding and Muggle world alike.

They had come here the first time the previous winter during their Christmas break from Hogwarts but had stayed on an additional couple of weeks to work out that locket. A lot had changed since that time—they had managed to destroy two Horcruxes and had several close calls and attempts on their lives. This time they were working on the Hufflepuff cup, which Hermione was certain was a Horcrux, but couldn’t seem to figure out what kept it so protected.

No one knew that they were here except for Lupin. Several months ago, before they had gone to find the Hufflepuff cup, Lupin had become their Secret Keeper to protect their whereabouts while they searched for the Horcruxes. They suspected that Voldemort knew what they were trying to do now. In the beginning, the task they had set out to do was already dangerous, but as of late, they seemed to run into more obstacles wherever they went, their travels becoming more arduous, the stress of it all felt more than ever.

It was almost as if the events were reaching a climax, which Ron feared and looked forward to at the same time. Fear for not knowing what would happen to them all, but when it was all done, at least it would be done. That was all he really wanted, for this to all be over with, well, that and one other thing anyway. He wanted to get back to Quidditch games before dinner and being yelled at by his mum for tracking dirt in the house rather than be reprimanded for going outside at all. They were all supposed to be trying to get used to being adults right now and agonizing over adult decisions like what to serve for dinner in their cool new flats, though he was sure he’d probably still be living at home and not in a cool new flat if things were different. But after a hectic school year filled with a few long absences, there were no careers for them to be getting acclimated too, no possibilities of at least moving into a cool new flat sometime in the near future.

And most of all he wanted to tell Hermione that he loved her and take her out on a proper date that probably wouldn’t go very well since he was still poor but she would lovingly overlook that because she certainly wasn’t going to go out with him for his money.

But you couldn’t get everything you wanted, could you? He had long since learned that.

“Oi, Harry, you up here?” Ron called, climbing the steps to the attic. “Lumos,” he muttered; it was always dark in here despite the light that leaked in from the small square window to the right. The dark didn’t stop Harry from coming up here and exploring the depths of depression or whatever it was that he did up here, Ron was never exactly sure. It was too dusty up here for him to really try and figure out what it was Harry got from this old attic.

“Over here,” Harry said, from his usual corner by the window.

“Of course, the window, as usual,” Ron said. He had to stoop to avoid hitting his head on the low beams and he crouched down next to Harry.

It was raining steadily outside and the sky was a dull grey color. The sound of rain falling was slightly comforting, only if because it was normal. Overall, though, he found everything a bit dreary in this countryside.

“This isn’t exactly the cheeriest place, is it?” Ron commented. Harry just shrugged. “I suppose it’s not so bad. There’s plenty of, um, old crates for sitting, makes it rather cozy actually. Probably could turn a few of them over and have a little tea party, don’t you think?”

Harry gave him a sort of twisted half grin that he had been using for a while now and said, “You don’t have to keep me company up here, Ron. I come up here to be alone, you know.”

“But being alone is overrated. Why be alone when you can have some pleasant company to make some mindless chit chat with or tell jokes at other people’s expense with?” Ron said lightly.

“Hermione’s alone, why don’t you go keep her company?” Harry said pointedly.

Ron pulled a face. “Er, I don’t think Hermione wants my company right now.”

“What did you do this time? Drop off during one of her speeches again?”

“Uh, something like that,” Ron said, the corners of his mouth turning downwards. I suppose she’s a bit sick of me at the moment. My face is the only one she’s seen in weeks besides yours; she’s probably sick of you too, come to think of it, but she’s nicer to you.”

“I don’t think she minds your face so much. Mind you, I’m getting a bit sick of it,” Harry said with a smirk.

“Well yours isn’t so great either,” Ron replied elbowing him.

“But really Ron, you ought to take advantage of my being up here,” Harry said giving him sort of look that he couldn’t read.

“What do you mean?” Ron asked.

“Merlin, you really are thick,” Harry said, sounding exasperated, though Ron didn’t know why.

“What do you think I mean? If I’m up here, then it’ll just be you and Hermione and that’ll give you a chance to, you know…” Harry said, looking a bit uncomfortable.

Ron considered the different possibilities of you know and wasn’t sure about how he felt about what Harry was suggesting. “Harry, I can’t just do that! Hermione and I aren’t even together. She would never go for that. Would she?”

Harry stared at him a moment, confusion etched on his face and then he frowned. “I didn’t mean you know in that way Ron, I meant it in the other way. As in you know, tell her…how you feel,” he said slowly as though he were testing out the words. “Although that’s not a terrible idea. Just going up to her and kissing her.”

Ron was absolutely aghast at the idea. “Are you mad? What makes you think that I’m capable of something like that—just going up to a girl and snogging her?”

“That’s funny, if memory serves me right, I recall you doing just that in sixth year.”

Ron felt his ears growing warm and was suddenly grateful for the darkness of the attic. “Well, that was different. Hermione deserves better than that,” he said quietly.

“Then tell her,” Harry said.

Harry was right. Ron knew it, but knowing and doing were two different things. He wasn’t sure he could pluck up the courage do something like that. Maybe he had been placed in the wrong house if he couldn’t do something as simple as tell a girl that he had fancied her for ages. But it wasn’t as if he had never tried.

“It’s not easy,” Ron mumbled. “Not all of us have your charm. And it’s not as if I’ve never said anything before…”

Ron remembered all too well what had happened the last time he had really tried to tell her how he felt. It hadn’t exactly gone the way the way he had hoped.

It had happened during this past summer. Hermione had been due to arrive at the Burrow after spending some time with her parents after the school term ended; it had been agreed that they all could use a bit of a break after such a hectic year. His dad had brought her home and Ron remembered how great she had looked. For the first time in ages, she had appeared refreshed and relaxed - well, as relaxed as Hermione could ever look. He had missed her a tiny bit while she was gone but he was glad to see she looked well. All right, maybe he had missed her more than a tiny bit.

They had hugged, lingering a little longer than usual, which he found to be a rather thrilling sensation. And all throughout dinner whenever he caught Hermione’s eye, she would blush a little and look away, which he found odd, but Ginny had later teased him for gawking at her the whole dinner. He had chosen to ignore that comment but wondered secretly if he had been that obvious.

Before Hermione had arrived, Ron had considered telling her how he felt. He had gone over it in his head at least a dozen times a day every day that she was gone. Somehow, everyone had seemed to know what he was thinking and felt it was in his best interest to tease him about it. He hadn’t cared for their comments of “still mooning over, Hermione? Maybe she’ll go out with you out of pity” or their “you and Hermione aren’t together yet; thought you were just nervous at first but now it’s just kind of sad”. Ron had been particularly mortified when his dad took it upon himself to have a talk with him about love and feelings and a bunch of other things he rather forget; his dad hadn’t mentioned any names specifically but it was pretty clear what he thought and who he had been talking about.

They just didn’t understand how hard it really was. After their rather difficult sixth year, he hadn’t been sure how things would progress; he and Hermione had become even closer but she didn’t seem very interested in taking things further and he didn’t want to push it and risk ruining things after they had finally become close again. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to be with her, dreaming about her, imagining a world where they might be together without anyone taking the mickey out of him. Girls were tricky though, they had all sorts of complicated feelings that they might decide to change on a whim. He considered asking Ginny for a bit of advice; she was a girl who was kind of like a boy with her love for Quidditch and habits that she had picked up from her brothers, but he realized that somewhere along the way she had gone and became a full on girl over the years. That was almost as surprising as when he had discovered Hermione’s transformation into a girl. So he had quickly vetoed that idea. As much advantages as her new girl self might have, he wasn’t desperate enough to risk embarrassment by asking his baby sister for advice on his love life.

He could just picture the humiliating stories ten or twenty years down the road. It would be as bad as when Fleur told everyone over Christmas about the time he had asked her to the Yule Ball and then proceeded to pinch his cheek and call him a cute little boy.

By the time Hermione had shown up at the Burrow, Ron had been set on telling Hermione what he had been feeling all these years, and without any help from anyone. He had been going to try after dinner but it had been a little too hectic with everyone milling about the Burrow so he had waited until the next day, but then they got caught up in planning their next search. And every day after, Hermione had been engrossed in all the details of their upcoming trip; he had thought it best not to distract her as she’d seemed rather stressed out again. Finally the last day came before they were to set out to find Hufflepuff’s cup, and he had known that if he didn’t tell her then, he had no idea when he’d get his next chance. Well, ignoring the fact that he could have told her any of the other times they had been alone during their journey, which wasn’t all that often but it was still something.

During their last day at the Burrow, he had been trying to get her alone the whole day but hadn’t succeeded. Eventually he was forced to come up with an elaborate excuse involving Harry to get her outside by the pond where they would be somewhat hidden from view by a large tree. He had told her that Harry had something very important to tell her but he wanted to do it away from everyone else. At the time, he had thought he was being rather clever, telling her it was Harry with something important when it was actually him. But unfortunately, she had not seen it the same way…

“Where’s Harry?” Hermione asked, looking around worriedly.

“I’m sure he’s coming,” Ron said, putting in his pockets and looking around as though he too were waiting for Harry.

Hermione glanced at her watch. “It’s been ten minutes.”

“He probably just got caught up; Fred and George are probably showing him that new product of theirs. They’re always looking for new test subjects,” Ron said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“But Fred and George aren’t here,” Hermione replied.

“Oh, yeah, well he’s probably caught up with Ginny then. You know how those two are,” he said, wondering if Harry really was caught up with Ginny at the moment.

“I suppose they could be but they’re not back together, are they? Neither of them mentioned anything…” she trailed off and looked up at Ron. “Harry did say it was important though, didn’t he?”

Ron nodded, feeling his face grown warm from the bold lie he was trying to convince her of, though he figured now was the time to tell her the truth. They were as alone as they would ever get. He tried to speak but no sound came out so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Hermione, there’s actually something I want--”

“Hey, you two, mum says get in the house soon now that it’s getting dark and dinner’s just about ready. You know how she is these days,” Ginny called to them.

Ron was about to ask her to cover for them for a few more minutes when Hermione spoke first. “Have you seen Harry, Ginny?” she asked.

“Not in a while,” Ginny replied. “Why?”

“Oh, well, it’s just that Ron said that Harry wanted to talk about something kind of, um, important. He was supposed to be out here by now,” Hermione said.

“I suppose I can go get him for you. He’s probably in his room,” Ginny said.

“No!” Ron said suddenly. They both looked at him. “It’s just that well…it’s kind of a big thing and I’m not sure if he’s up to seeing everyone now. Might be too much for him,” Ron said, realizing by the looks on their faces that spouting off the first thing he could think of probably wasn’t such a great idea.

“What? That doesn’t sound right. Something must really be upsetting him, then, I’m going to go talk to him,” Hermione said, turning towards the house with Ginny following her.

Ron considered what just happened and how he had messed everything up quite royally before hurrying after them. He caught up with them when they entered the house. The smell of roast distracted him for just a second.

“Dinner’s ready now, you’d all better get washed up,” his mum called to them. “Ron, why haven’t you set the table yet? I asked you to earlier.”

He tried to act as though he hadn’t heard her and follow the girls out of the room but she wasn’t having any of that. “Ron, the table!”

“Okay, okay,” he muttered. He hurriedly waved his wand over the stack of plates on the counter and set them on the table, grateful he could do magic whenever he wanted now. But in his haste, he set a few of them down a little too hard and one of them slid right off the table.

“That better not have broken,” his mum said with her back to him as she washed her hands in the sink.

“Reparo,” Rom muttered at the cracked plate and set it back on the table by hand.

He then hurried over to the stairs but was met by Hermione on the first landing, who was followed closely by Ginny and Harry. They were all staring at him with rather annoyed expressions especially Hermione. “Hey, guys,” he said, trying to sound casual.

“Ron, what is wrong with you? Honestly, what were you thinking telling me that about Harry? Do you know how serious that was? Of course not, you were making jokes!” Hermione said loudly.

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a bit, Hermione?” Ron said.

“Overreacting? Oh, you would say that wouldn’t you? Of course, Hermione always overreacts to everything, doesn’t she? Let’s not take her seriously until we absolutely need her help,” she ranted.

At that point, Harry and Ginny started to look rather uncomfortable, as though they’d longed to be elsewhere, but they couldn’t get by since Ron and Hermione were blocking the stairs.

“Do you ever stop to actually think about the consequences of your actions, Ron? Because they don’t just affect you, they affect everyone, you know. Don’t you ever notice anyone else’s feelings besides your own?” she said shrilly.

Yes, his lie had been in rather poor taste, but she didn’t have to be so harsh. “Of course I notice. I’m the only one who does sometimes. I notice that whenever you’re stressed out, you take it out on everyone else around, but I don’t say anything, do I? I notice that Ginny and Harry are still pining for each other even after a year but they’re too thick to do anything about it. Ginny won’t go to Harry until he comes to her first but he’s thinking he’s being so bloody noble by staying away. And I noticed-”

“Excuse me?” Ginny broke in, sounding very annoyed.

“Oh, that’s real rich coming from you, Ron,” Harry added. “Us thick. Maybe you two ought to take a look in the mirror.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Hermione said sharply, turning to him suddenly.

“Like it’s not obvious,” Ginny said, crossing her arms.

“No, it’s not. But why don’t you explain it to me then?” Hermione demanded.

“As if you don’t know. Does your cleverness only extend to your books and research?” Ginny said, putting emphasis on the word research.

“No need to get shirty just because you’re not coming with us,” Ron said to her.

“Why should I be getting shirty just because you all go off on your big important search but never have the decency to tell me anything? I’m not a bloody child anymore and not much younger than yourselves, in case you hadn’t noticed,” Ginny replied angrily.

“Ginny, you know why. I don’t want you to-” Harry started.

“Oh, don’t start with me now, Potter!” Ginny snapped.

The situation was clearly getting out of control. Ron decided that he had better do something. “Why doesn’t everyone just shut up for a minute and we can all just go eat dinner and then talk--”

“Shut up, Ron,” Ginny said.

“You started all this in the first place,” Hermione accused harshly.

“What? Oh, sure, place all the blame on me, as if none of you lot--”

“What in Merlin’s name is going on here?” his mum said loudly, causing them to cease all their shouting at once.

And that was how his mum, followed by Bill and Fleur had found them. Yelling at each other on the landing of the stairs as if they had lost all sense. He just chalked that event up to everyone being especially tense. Ever since then, he hadn’t been so keen on coming clean with Hermione about how he felt. He seemed to have a knack for making things more complicated than they needed to be.

“Mad, just mad…”Ron murmured, mostly to himself, thinking about making another attempt at telling Hermione. The idea was mad and he would have to be mad to do it. He couldn’t possibly, could he? Maybe he would at some point in time, sometime in the future.

Harry was staring at him as though he felt a bit sorry for him. “What?” Ron asked.

Harry just shook his head. “Nothing. Just get it over with before we all die from old age. If we reach old age that is,” he added darkly.

It suddenly occurred to him that he was having a conversation with Harry about Hermione and their conversation didn’t include them taking the mickey out of her. How had this happened? Were they really growing up after all? He figured Harry must be somewhat uncomfortable having the conversation, the same way Ron would be if they were talking about Ginny, but he appreciated it all the same.

“Thanks,” Ron said.

“For what?”

“For this,” Ron said gesturing around at them both. Harry just gave him a confused look. “For growing up with me, we’re getting there at least. It just doesn’t seem so bad looking back when you have someone to go through it with.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, looking rather forlorn.

“We’re adults now, mate,” Ron said.

“Doesn’t seem like it, does it? Even now,” Harry mused, looking out the small window.

“Nah, but we’ll get there in the end. We always do. Maybe Hermione will still be waiting for us when we do.”

“What do you mean? I don’t exactly feel like all grown up either,” Hermione said from behind them. They both jumped at the sound of her voice and turned around to look at her. “Sorry, it’s just that you’ve both been up here a long time, I was a little worried. Normally one of you would have come down by now.” She gave them a sheepish smile.

“I’ve just been bothering Harry, that’s all. You can stay if you want,” Ron said.

“I don’t want to intrude on your little boys’ club,” she said.

“There’s always room for my favorite girl, I mean our favorite girl. We’ll count you as a bloke,” he said with a nervous laugh.

“Thanks, I think,” she said, sitting on a crate to their right.

“Maybe I ought to leave you two alone,” Harry said with a glance at Ron and making a move to get up.

“No!” Ron and Hermione both said at once.

“Okay, then,” Harry said slowly, sitting back down.

Ron was pretty sure he heard Harry muttered something about them being thick under his breath.

~~~~~~~~~~~

A heavy feeling had been pressing on him more and more every day. He had a feeling that they would leave this place soon. Hermione had been pouring over thick, complicated books late into the night recently. Things would be getting dangerous again, well, more dangerous than they already were.

Here he could at least pretend that he was a regular boy…just doing a little extra studying for…a project. No, that didn’t sound right. If he were a regular boy, why would he be doing extra studying, especially out here in the sticks? And technically, he was still a regular boy; there wasn’t anything special about him just because he was out looking for bits of Voldemort’s soul.

Anyway, getting back on point, they would be leaving here soon. That dark cloud was hanging over them, making them tenser. It would only be a matter of time. They had managed to escape serious injury so far but how long would that last? Ron had a feeling that they might not be so lucky the next time.

It drove him mad, just sitting here or pacing back and forth with these dark feelings. He wondered if some intense researching like Hermione was doing would at least distract him somewhat from those feelings. But research wasn’t his thing and destroying evil wizards was definitely not his thing. Following his friends and their sometimes inane plans was what he was best at. He went along with Harry even when his plans sounded foolish, but he reckoned that was his job as his best mate; and when Hermione had an idea, that often times sounded better than Harry’s, he secretly agreed with her even if he did go along with Harry.

But before they left, he had to tell Hermione…tell her that he loved her. Bloody hell, he loved her. Had he always? It felt like it. At least, he had long moved past the stage of simply fancying the girl.

Love was for adults though, wasn’t it, for people like his parents? And he didn’t mean the regular sort of love like love you felt for your family and friends but love love. He felt love for Harry, the friendly kind lest anyone get any ideas, and even for Hermione - or he had. But it was different with Hermione now. He was afraid that he didn’t understand a bit of it. All he knew was that he felt it.

His continual pressing thoughts of Hermione had grown irksome - why couldn’t they just let up a bit already - and kept him quieter than usual. Instead of bustling back and forth between Harry and Hermione making sure that Hermione didn’t pass out from sheer exhaustion, as she hardly seemed to sleep these days, and making sure that Harry didn’t choke on clouds of dust that were apt to rise whenever someone ran into something in that attic, he stared longingly out the windows. Mainly because he longed to go outside.

They only went out if they needed something, but overall they didn’t want to risk anything even with Lupin was their Secret-Keeper. It had seemed like ages since Ron had gone out. What he wouldn’t do for a game of Quidditch or even just a ride on his broom. Even though the weather had been pretty bleak since they had been here, it was still very appealing.

The best window for just lazily gazing out of was near the table where Hermione liked to spread out all her books. She liked the spot because of the natural light. He wasn’t too sure about kipping out there at first as Hermione was likely to snap at whoever was closest when she was stressed, but he chanced it and she usually let him be.

Sighing heavily, he thought about Quidditch, tried to visualize playing it in his head, riding on his broom—

“You want to nip outside for a bit?”

Ron looked up and saw that Hermione was actually addressing him; he must not be dreaming, then, which he was sometimes prone to doing. It was surprisingly easy to fall asleep while watching the rain fall. That meant the bit about going outside must be true, too.

Just to be sure, he asked, “Do you mean nip outside for a bit as in actually going outside or just ‘you want to nip outside for a bit don’t you, you poor boy’?”

“Er-the first one,” she said. “I could do with a little air and you keep staring out that window like it’s your long lost brother.” Ron just sat there staring up at her, trying not to blurt out something embarrassing about his feelings. For a moment, every intense feeling he had ever had about her made perfect sense. “Come on, already,” she said, pulling on her mackintosh.

Ron jumped out of his seat and hurried after her, a wide smile on his face. They stepped outside and he took a lungful of fresh air in. It felt cool against his face but he relished in the feeling. They walked along, the grass making wet squishing sounds underneath their feet. It had rained this morning and the sky was a dull grey now, as though it might rain again. Everything smelled like rain, which he figured it would.

He glanced at Hermione, who was walking next to him with her arms crossed and her head bowed. The wind was sweeping her hair in every direction and he could already picture the fine mess it would be once they went back inside. She looked up at him, her cheeks tinged pink and smiled. He felt something inside him give an excited jump excitedly.

He could tell her now, here. It was a decent enough spot and they were alone. He tried to imagine what would happen once he told her.

She would reach for his hand and squeeze it warmly, and then kiss him on the cheek. She would hover by his lips and kiss him there, softly at first, and then give in to a much more thorough kiss. Her lips would taste like Hermione and not like that fruity stuff that Lavender had always used. Then after they both were too cold to stay out any longer, they would walk back inside, hand in hand. There was also, a much more mature version of the scenario running through his head, but this was Hermione, so he tried to be more respectful.

And when they got back inside the cottage, Harry would just smile knowingly and nod at Ron without making any smug comments. Dinner would be waiting for them. Roasted chicken, creamy mashed potatoes, glazed carrots, hot buttery rolls, bottles of Butterbeer, and pudding, maybe even—

“Ron?” Hermione said.

The mouthwatering vision abruptly cleared from his head as he looked at her. She appeared worried.

“Are you all right? You seemed a bit distracted there for a moment.”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” he said.

“Oh, well, good. I was saying that I was thinking that we could warm up some of that leftover soup for dinner. What do you think?” she asked as though she really were interested in his opinion. He knew she would just warm it up anyway, no matter what he said and then berate him for complaining, saying he ought to be grateful they had a hot meal to eat, et cetera, et cetera.

“Leftover soup…yum. Sounds great,” he said dejectedly, thinking of his fantasy meal.

“Good, unless of course you’d rather forgo having meals like so many people in the world who don’t get much choice in whether they even eat or not,” she said crossly.

“Yeah, I know, Hermione. Oh, excellent, soup! Let’s hurry and have some already. See, I’m very happy about it,” he said, smiling cheerfully and indicating towards his face.

Hermione pulled a face at him and shook her head.

“Honestly, Ron.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Ron took a tentative sip of soup. It wasn’t bad, really, it just had that leftover for three days taste that he wasn’t so fond of. He had worked up quite an appetite doing so much feeling lately, so he ate the rest of his soup normally.

“For someone who wasn’t looking forward to soup, you finished that rather quickly,” Hermione noted.

Ron shrugged. “Well, it’s food, isn’t it.”

“Oh, of course,” said Hermione dryly.

Harry looked at the pair of them, a slightly bemused expression on his face. Ron scowled at him. “What’s wrong with you,” he asked.

“Nothing,” Harry said. “You two are just funny, that’s all.”

“Funny?” Ron repeated.

“Yeah, I never really noticed how amusing it can be to watch you two bicker over the smallest things,” he said, trying to hold back a smile. He shook his head. “I think I’ve been around you two too long. Or maybe I’m just going mad.”

“I think you are too, mate,” Ron said with a laugh. “And we weren’t bickering- tell him, Hermione.”

“We weren’t,” Hermione said to Harry.

“See, we hardly ever row anymore,” Ron said, which made Harry laugh harder.

“You two, you ought to just get togeth—get to work,” he said quickly. “You know, on these dishes. I warmed up the soup.”

Ron could feel his ears grow warm and he did his best not to sneak a glance at Hermione. “Big deal, it was just soup, not like you made a five course meal or anything,” he said casually.

“It’s food, isn’t it?” Harry said, mimicking Ron’s voice a little too well.

“Yeah, yeah, no need to be a prat about it,” Ron said.

He looked at Hermione, who appeared very interested in finishing her soup. Frowning, he wondered if he ought to tell her while they cleaned up. It could be sentimental in a we finally share our own cramped first flat but we don’t care how small it is because we’re so in love sort of way. They would just be finishing up a romantic dinner, one which Harry was not at, and heading into the kitchen to tidy up. He would give her a quick kiss on the lips as he reached for a glass of wine and say a casual “I love you”; she’d melt into his arms and all cleaning would be forgotten.

Needless to say, nothing of the sort happened that evening. Other than the usual, Ron trying not to be obvious as watched Hermione from the corner of his eye, longingly. He was starting to seem pitiful even to himself.

Unfortunately, this did not change for the remainder of their days at the cottage. Until Ron decided that he couldn’t let this go on anymore. Well, actually it was their last night at the cottage that decided it for him. As Ron had predicted, they had only spent a few more days here and now it was their last night. They would start back on their journey tomorrow to destroy the Hufflepuff cup. Now was really his last chance, well, his last chance without an audience anyway. He would really prefer there was no one present when he chose to expose himself, unless he was moments from death and had absolutely no other choice. If there was even a way for Hermione not to be present, he’d really like that too but it seemed that there was no other way around that.

A nervous energy filled his body, making him tense, and that wasn’t only because of Hermione. They all seemed to be more on edge lately. He wished they had just one more day to hide out from the world but then another part of him really just wanted to get this over with. They didn’t know what they would be facing next but at least they were all together. That thought always comforted him. He hoped it did the same for Harry, at least a little; he knew Harry seemed to think he always had to do things alone but he didn’t and he ought to have realized that by now.

With everyone so tense, Ron wasn’t sure this was the best time to pull Hermione aside for a chat about their feelings but hopefully she would be so overcome by emotion that she wouldn’t mind. What other choice did he have? It was either this or wait until just before they tried to get into some underground death trap while Harry kept watch for a few minutes.

He waited until Harry went to bed, knowing that Hermione would still be up going over her books. Pacing in the hall, outside of the sitting room where Hermione was, he tried to figure out just what he would say. Something smooth, something simple, and something sweet - all at the same time.

Trouble was, nothing was coming to mind. He had gone over this moment quite a few times in his head but now he could only think of the bad images. The ones where Hermione laughed at him until he shrunk out of sight or the one where she just shook her head and smiled at him pityingly. There were loads more, some ending in much pain. Where were all the good images of a beaming happily and in love Hermione who couldn’t resist him?

“Right in there, mate,” Ron whispered to himself quietly. “And she definitely wants you as bad as you want her…Or does she?” He peeked around the corner and saw her bent over a book and scribbling some notes furiously on a piece of parchment. “Of course she does.” He peeked at her again. “Oh, how the bloody hell should I know?”

“Only one way to find out,” he muttered, creeping into the room quietly as possible. Maybe she wouldn’t notice him.

He stared at her for a moment, taking her all in. Her hair had been thrown up into a careless bun, as though she couldn’t be bothered to run a brush through it, and he noticed a trickle of sweat running down the side of her face even though it wasn’t very warm in here. Ron bit down a laugh, only Hermione would work up a sweat reading. He was afraid he actually loved all her odd little quirks; did that mean he couldn’t take the mickey anymore?

She really didn’t notice him standing there after all. Was that some sort of sign to abort the whole mission? No, the universe couldn’t be so cruel now that he had finally worked up some nerve.

“Hermione,” Ron said quietly, steeling himself. She didn’t seem to hear him and kept muttering to herself as she scanned the pages of her book. He repeated her name, louder this time.

“Ron, I’m a bit busy at the moment. Can’t we talk later?” she said, her eyes still on the page.

“No, it has to be now,” he said firmly.

“What is it, then?” she asked still distracted by her books. She made a note and crossed a few lines out above it.

“Hermione, would you just listen to me for a moment!” Ron said, his voice sounding much harder than he intended.

She stared up at him, taken aback by his outburst.

“Please,” he added in a softer voice.

She gave a slight nod, her eyes still wide with surprise.

He took a deep breath. It was now or never, sort of. “Well, it’s just that, er, that I…it’s a bit complicated really. I’m not sure…” he trailed off again, confused by his own babbling. Now that he had her attention, he wasn’t sure how to begin. Trying again, he said, “There’s a lot I’ve wanted to tell you for so long but there might not be time and I can’t, I mean I don’t know--”

“Ron!” she cut him sharply. “What is it already? You’re starting to worry me.”

“I, I—There is so much to say…I cannot find the words,” he paused, the weight of his unsaid words were pressing down on him so tightly he was, he felt them more than ever and knew he could not go on without saying them now, “Except for these: I love you.”

Everything seemed to stand still for the next few seconds. Ron was pretty sure his heart, which had been thundering in his ears seconds ago, had now stopped. Maybe he had babbled too much and she hadn’t understood him. He hoped not, he didn’t fancy trying to say the bloody thing again so soon.

Hermione blinked once, then twice. “Oh,” she replied simply and looked down at her book.

His heart started moving again but unfortunately, it dropped straight to his feet. He wondered if it was possible for it to disappear completely and still live. He knew he would muck it up-that he’d make some horrible error in judgment and ruin everything.

Things were fine before, absolutely perfect, now that he looked back. Why’d he have to go and mess everything up? So what if he thought about her all the time even when he should have been concentrating on other very important things, and what did it matter all the times he made excuses to touch her just for the thrilling effect it had on him? It would have been better to let all that fester inside him rather than risk all that was good between them.

Ron started backing away. It was best just to go before he made things even more awkward. Maybe they could salvage the sort of relationship where you just ran into each other around town and said your “hello, how are you’s” and then went on your way. “I’ll just go then,” he mumbled before turning around.

“Ron, wait!” Hermione called to him.

He froze. Was she going to let him down easy now, tell him she only liked him as a friend? He was a bit too petrified to turn around and face her. She was probably shaking her head, thinking poor sod.

“Ron, please turn around,” she said.

He did so slowly, wishing he could cover his eyes at least, but he didn’t want to seem even more foolish. As soon as he did, he was almost knocked backwards as Hermione pelted into him. She threw her arms around him and clung to him tightly.

He couldn’t move now for shock. Out of all the possible reactions he had went over, this wasn’t one of them. What did he do now? Probably say something smooth, but he wasn’t going to kid himself—he’d never said a smooth thing in his life and probably never would unless it was by complete accident. He patted her on the back.

What was she doing? Well, besides the obvious, but he thought girls never did anything obvious. Hermione wasn’t one for dramatics—no, that wasn’t true, the canary attack in sixth year suddenly came to mind.

“Hermione, are you all right?” he asked cautiously.

Was this some sort of test? Did he have to prove his love or something equally mental? How in the hell was he supposed to do that. Would a snog do? No, no snogging yet, he was getting ahead of himself.

Hermione sniffled and looked up at him. To his utter horror, tears were falling down her cheeks. Noticing the look on his face, she swiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry. I just—I wasn’t expecting, er, well, I didn’t think that you would ever…” she trailed off, looking downward. “I must be turning into you now.” She chuckled softly and looked up at him again, tears still spilling down her cheeks.

“Hermione, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said quickly.

She gave him a watery smile. “It’s all right…I must be a mess.”

“No, you’re not,” he replied. She gave him a doubtful look and swiped her cheek again. “You’re not,” he repeated in a low voice. “You’re beautiful…I’m the mess. I botched this up, didn’t I? Can I get a do over? Maybe I should just go and then--”

“No, I mean, I don’t want you to leave,” she said.

“I’ll understand if you don’t feel the same way. I don’t want to make things awkward between us,” he said.

“”But I do though…feel the same way. I—Oh!” She clapped a hand to her mouth. Her cheeks started turning a dull pink. “I-- I hadn’t realized that I haven’t said it aloud yet. I, oh, Ron, I love you too.”

“You do?” he asked, not quite sure he was hearing correctly.

She nodded. “Of course, I do, you prat. You didn’t mess anything up and you don’t get a do over. It was beautiful…You’re beautiful, the way you are.”

A wide smile spread over Ron’s face. Hermione had called him beautiful.

Well, he had done it, he told her that he loved her. And the sky hadn’t fallen down or anything. He almost felt brave enough to say it again. Always knew you could do it, mate. Yeah, sure you did. Conflicting thoughts aside, Ron smiled again- or actually, he had never stopped smiling, it only grew bigger. He didn’t know it was possible to feel this damn happy and free and light. It was pretty cool, actually.

Ron’s arms tightened around Hermione. This felt right. She seemed to fit against him so well. He wished he had done this sooner. He rubbed his cheek against her hair, enjoying the softness of it. Did this mean that he could do this all the time, whenever he wanted?

“Hermione?” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Yes?” she replied, her voice sounded muffled as she was pressed against his shirt.

“I was wondering if I could, you know, kiss you now?” he asked hesitantly. Here it was, the moment he had really been waiting for - well, the other moment.

She lifted her head, meeting his eyes and blushing. “I’d like that.”

He tilted her chin carefully upwards and leaned down, pressing his lips to hers without hesitation. At first, he tried to recall his past experience with kissing but as soon as he kissed Hermione, that all flew out of his head at once. Kissing Hermione was like…was like eating a huge delicious feast like the ones they made at Hogwarts - or rather it was like just skipping to dessert.

It was better than anything his imagination had ever conjured up, which was a good thing, as it seemed now that his imagination was suddenly lacking. She was sweet and soft and tasted, well, like Hermione. It was excellent.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“What are you smiling about so early in the mor--” Harry broke off into a large a yawn and then continued, “morning?”

“I reckon I must just be feeling good today,” Ron said nonchalantly.

“Good about what?” Harry asked, looking disgruntled.

“Oh, this and that,” Ron answered, taking a sip of his coffee and biting back a grimace. He never did like the taste of coffee very much but as he had not got much sleep as he should have, he forced it down.

Harry stared at him, eyebrows raised questioningly. He opened his mouth to speak but shut it when Hermione came into the kitchen.

“Morning, Harry,” Hermione said cheerfully.

“What’s wrong with you both today? Why are you all so bloody cheerful. It’s almost indecent,” Harry said.

“Oh, shut it,” Ron replied before biting his toast in half.

“I just feel good, that’s all,” Hermione said pleasantly. She sat to Ron’s right and gave him a small smile, kicking his leg lightly under the table.

Harry looked from Ron to Hermione as thought were completely mad. He studied them carefully, a knowing expression sliding onto his face. The corners of his lips were turning upwards.

“Not a word from you,” Ron said to him before Harry could say anything.

“What? I wasn’t going to say anything,” Harry said, holding up his hands innocently. “Although, you--”

“Ah! There you go, trying to say something smart,” Ron accused him, knowing full well Harry’s intention.

“Boys, let’s just enjoy this breakfast in peace,” Hermione said, giving each other them a stern look.

“What do you think I’m trying to do here? You talk to Harry about that,” Ron said.

“Just eat your breakfast, Ron,” Hermione said. “And don’t talk with your mouth full,” she added automatically.

“I do not!”

“Really? Because I’m fairly certain that you do.”

“Oh, you’re certain, are you? Well, what do you—” Ron stopped talking abruptly when Harry cleared his throat loudly. They both looked at him waiting for him to speak.

“What, just clearing my throat. What were you saying about breakfast in peace now?” he said raising his eyebrows.

Ron narrowed his eyes at him but Harry just shrugged in response. He turned back to his breakfast when he felt a kick under the table again. It was Harry. He nodded towards Hermione. Ron nodded back.

He glanced at Hermione and felt a rush of affection and a bit of giddiness run through him. They would be back out in the world which was terribly frightening these days soon but at the moment, it didn’t seem so bad. Love was all right, really.

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