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She’s known for years now.
Okay, perhaps it hasn’t been years, but it feels like it sometimes. She likes to say (not that she tells anyone but herself) that she knew since the Yule Ball, but if she’s honest, she has to admit she only became sure Christmas of fifth year, when he bought her the perfume.
She said it was unusual, and it was. It was quite an unusual gift from Ron.
He asked her once if she liked it, because he hadn‘t noticed her using it often, and she said yes, but she usually gets up early to revise and doesn‘t always remember to wear it. She does not tell him that she only uses it once a week or so to make it last longer. After all, who knows when he’ll get her another gift like that?
She’s known for months then, if not years.
Oh, she hears them talking about it. It seems like they have nothing better to gossip about whenever she appears in their sight.
“Did you hear? Ron’s in love with her, but he doesn’t know it yet.”
“Yes, but I heard she’s getting tired of waiting.”
She keeps her head buried in her book when she passes them in the hallway, rolling her eyes. Her pace quickens, to prevent herself from telling them that it’s not Ron she’s waiting for.
Doing things the right way could take some time.
Yes, it bothers her, but she understands. Unfortunately, the rest of the school does not know Ron the way she does, and therefore feel it necessary to make up completely ridiculous excuses for him.
“He won’t tell her. He’s afraid.”
She shuts the book louder than she normally would, giving them a reminder that she is still at the table behind them, and can hear them perfectly clear. They ignore her, like always.
“He’s afraid of everything!”
She stands up before she knows what she’s doing and walks swiftly to their table, glaring that them. “Ten points from Ravenclaw,” she snaps. “The library is not the place to gossip!”
She gathers up her things and leaves before she can tell them that Ron is possibly the bravest person she knows. “Afraid,” she seethes quietly. “Ron is not afraid of me.”
She looks at him. “How should I know? Infusion of Wormwood is a common ingredient in Sleeping Potions, and powdered doxy stingers are used in Blood Replenishment Potions, but as for how they react, I’m not sure.”
He nods and scribbles something down on a piece of parchment.
“Why?”
“Just curious.”
She doesn’t believe him, but lets it slide. She doesn’t really care, besides, there’s someone in the back of the library making noise, and she hates that. “I’ll be back in a minute, I’m going to tell them to be quieter.”
“Alright. Could you grab Common Magical Ailments while your up?”
“Sure.” He smiles at her as she slides out of her chair and walks to the back of the library. The book, which she used the day before, is right where she left it. But as she reaches for it she hears someone whispering, and catches her name. Grabbing the book, she walks quietly down the aisle and peers around.
“Did you see them when we came in?”
“How could you miss them? She always sits at the same table. He’s been in here a lot, recently, and always working on Potions. Reckon he’s trying to copy because he‘s failing?”
“Yeah. Weasleys aren’t that smart.”
She stands up straight in indignation and starts forward, only to stop again when she hears her name.
“Hermione would be better off without him.”
Her friend laughs. “Come on. She knows he’s not good enough for her.”
She finds that sometimes she loses her temper as easily as Ron does, and this isn’t an exception. “He is not only good enough for me, he is perfect for me,” she hisses, stepping out from the protection of the shelves. “Don’t pretend you know him, because you don’t.” She spins around and starts to walk about but stops, and calls over her shoulder, “20 points from Ravenclaw for putting down a fellow student and talking in the library.”
“That’s not fair,” one protests.
She turns around and lifts an eyebrow. “Oh, I suppose you’re right.”
The girl grins triumphantly.
“20 points each,” she clarifies. “And he is not failing Potions,” she adds.
Ron turns toward her when she sits down heavily and practically throws the book in his direction. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she grumbles.
He smiles sympathetically at her and wraps an arm around her waist. “Hermione, we’ve been in here for over four hours. And I’m hungry. And it’s a Saturday. Can we please go?”
“Are you done?”
He slides his essay over to her proudly. “Just finished.”
She looks up at him sighs. “Okay, Ron. Let’s go.”
He helps her pack her things and takes the extra stack of books out of her arms without a word. Not good enough for her, honestly. There was no one better for her! Who did they think was her perfect match, then? Harry? Laughable. Downright ridiculous. Absurd. Yes, Harry doesn’t fight with her for no reason, and perhaps he doesn’t upset her nearly as much, but he was also considerably less passionate about her than Ron was.
Not good enough, my arse, she thinks. They’re almost at the portrait when she speaks up. “You know, Ron, I really don’t feel like revising anymore.”
She swears he almost drops her books. “What would you like to do, then? Exploding Snap?”
“No,” she says, “I was thinking we could go flying.”
This time he does almost drop her books. “Do my ears deceive me? Miss Hermione wishes to go flying?”
“Yes,” she snaps, playfully. “Now, put those in the Common Room before I change my mind.”
He practically drags her the rest of the way.
When they pass the library again, she throws a contemptuous glare at the two Ravenclaws coming out. Not good enough, indeed. She comes to a stop abruptly and realizes he’s got his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. “Have you eaten today, Hermione?”
No, she hasn’t, but to let him know that means a walk to the kitchen, because it’s past lunch, and she really doesn’t want to. “Ginny brought me some toast this morning,” she says.
Obviously she hasn’t convinced him, because he’s looking down at her doubtfully. “No, she didn’t. I met her at the bottom of the stairs, we ate, and then she and Harry went to Hogsmeade.”
“Oh.”
His hand finds the small of her back and she steers her forward. “Let’s go eat something first then, okay?”
“Ron, really,” she protests, “I don’t need-”
“Yes, you do. You’ve missed breakfast, lunch, and barely ate dinner last night. I’ve got to take care of you, haven’t I?”
She lets him lead her down the stairs. Isn’t good enough for her, indeed. Harry wouldn’t have noticed she wasn’t eating.
She tries not to think of how his leg is wrapped around hers.
She tries not to hope they will wake up like this.
He shifts again and clings to her, and she lifts her hand off his cheek to run it through his hair. She cannot believe Harry. She hopes, for his sake, he does not come back to the dormitory tonight, and it takes her a second to remember that she wouldn’t hear him anyway, thanks to the imperturbable charm. She seriously contemplates lifting it and waiting for Harry, but Ron’s breathing hitches and she remembers she told him she wouldn’t say anything. Her right arm is going numb, so she wiggles it slightly. A mistake, she realizes, when his eyes flutter open, and her heartbreaks when a lone tear escapes down his cheek.
“Ron?”
He moves so his head is buried in the crook of her shoulder. “Do you trust me?”
“With my life.”
His eyes shut and a sad half-smile graces his beautiful face, but she cannot bring herself to smile in return.
She has seen Ron Weasley cry before.
She has never seen him break.
That’s a lie. She’s come up with several things. It makes sense to be logical, collected, ask him why he never said anything.
The second she sees him, she realizes Ron never told her what exactly what was said in the Room of Requirement. “What did you say to him?” she demands.
All thoughts of rationality fly out of her mind when Harry glares at her. “What did he say to you?”
“Don’t you change the subject,” she warns. “I’ll have you know he’s upset because he thinks you don’t trust him. Why didn’t you just tell us?”
“Why should I have to?”
“WHY SHOULD YOU HAVE TO?” she shrieked. “WHY? BECAUSE WE’RE YOUR BEST FRIENDS! OR HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THAT?”
“Of course I haven’t forgotten-”
“THEN WHY?”
“I didn’t think I could trust-” he paused and shook his head. “Never mind. You wouldn’t understand.”
She watched in fury as Harry turned around and started for the portrait hole. “WE HAVE TO BE HONEST! WE’RE STRONGER WHEN WE’RE TOGETHER! HOW COULD YOU, HARRY? HE’S YOUR FRIEND!”
“HE TOLD YOU, DIDN’T HE? OBVIOUSLY I CAN’T TRUST HIM!”
Always poor Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived. Well, to hell with the Boy-Who-Lived. She feels like killing him. Can’t trust him? He can’t trust Ron?
She can’t think straight. All she knows is Ron’s tearstained face, his long arms wrapped around her waist and his hands clutching at her, and that Harry caused that breakdown.
SMACK!
“In his dormitory,” she answers flatly. “Crying.” She finishes stacking food on the plate and looks up at Ginny. “He was doing fine until he remembered Harry said he obviously couldn’t trust him. And he put up a good front for a few hours after that.”
Ginny looks as if she shouldn’t ask, but does anyway. “And then?”
“Then he remembered you didn’t say anything, either,” she said quietly. “But he’ll be quick to forgive, if you ask.”
“Always was,” Ginny replies.
Her heart breaks for him again.