b Written when listening to 'Love Me Do' by the AMAZING Beatles! I recommend listening to it while you read
Disclaimer: I don't own HP or the Beatles, duh. b
Ron Weasley was not eloquent with his speech in general, yet this problem grew exponentially when he was around members of the opposite sex whom he found particularly attractive. A certain brown-eyed bushy-haired girl belonging to that group was currently deciphering his stutters. She was quite glad she had previous experience with this, as it had been occurring throughout the summer she resided at the Burrow.
"Err... Hermione?" Ron stuttered, eyes staring widely staring at a point six or seven centimetres left of Hermione's actual head.
"Yes Ronald?" Hermione asked, glancing up from her typically large book.
"C-can I err... umm... well, kinda, t-talk to y-you?" Ron's eyes were widening ever so much that they threatened to pop out of his sockets.
"Unless I'm quite mistaken, you're already talking to me right now." Hermione said.
"Erm... well y-you s-s-see I am, and well, I err... w-w-was wondering if, p-p-possibly w-we could t-t-talk in private?" Ron said, actually daring to glance at Hermione's face before his ears turned red and he looked down.
"Why would you need to that Ron?" Hermione was having entirely too much fun torturing Ron, she knew he had fancied her for ages. Now that he had finally realised that, she found his lack of subtly and awkwardness incredibly endearing. He really was adorable.
"Please?" Ron looked at Hermione's face, appearing much smaller to her.
Hermione sighed, barely containing a smirk. "Fine Ron. I'll just put my books away." She faked annoyance.
Hermione proceeded to mark her tome with a bookmark and skipped up the stairs to Ginny's room. After carefully placing her book on her bedside table, she walked down the stairs and smiled at Ron.
"Well, it's not quite yet curfew, perhaps we should talk in that tree house out by the lake?" She subconsciously ran her hand through her hair.
Ron managed to stutter a yes, after a ridiculous amount of difficulty.
Ron held the door open for Hermione, who restrained herself from mocking his chivalry, something the feminist in her often found silly. Honestly, he couldn't look her in the eye or talk to her coherently, but would hold a door open for her and always insisted on paying for dinner. He really needed to sort out his priorities.
They walked past the Burrow's patio and down a grassy lane to the pond. Hermione had always loved the vegetation around the Burrow, it was much more natural than her own home in suburbia. The Burrow's wild flowers and abundance of trees were much prettier than her mother's neurotically-pruned rose bushes and perfectly trimmed grass.
Ron looked around at the land his family had owned for a good few centuries, reminiscing at various events which had occurred there previously.
Hermione looked at Ron expectantly, whilst Ron looked at the ground nauseously.
"H-H-Hermione... I-I.. err... erm... well you see... uhhh... I kinda, well, y-y-you know?"
A confused Hermione shook her head with a slightly worried expression on her face. Ron was a little off at times, especially this summer, but usually he wasn't this peculiar.
"No, I'm sorry to say I don't know. Are you okay Ron? Do you need to see Madame Pomfrey?"
"N-no, I mean yes, I mean no I mean... AH!"
Hermione's worry increased as Ron proceeded to talk to himself.
"No she... well maybe... yes but... I guess I won't know... Ginny and Harry but then Quidditch... Gryfinndor and... I'll have to... fine."
"Ron, are you sure you're all right?"
"Herm-Hermione, I'm n-not going to b-beat around the bash-bush here" summoning some forgotten confidence Ron continued, "I love you."
Hermione chuckled, "Well I love you too! You and Harry are my best friends!"
Ron sighed as Hermione hugged him. "Hermione, it's... different... nevermind."
Hermione's eyes widened and her body stiffened against his.
After what felt like an hour, Ron spoke. "Love me do?"
An uncharacteristically obtuse reply came. "Huh?"
"Do... do... you... I'll go."
Ron detached himself from Hermione and firmly squeezed his eyes.
"Yes," whispered Hermione in the smallest of library voices.
Two lips met each other, and they weren't just saying 'hello'.
After they pulled apart, Hermione broke the silence.
"I know you love me do."
"Love me do?"
Words of a quite similar nature were spoken on the same date, in the same place, precisely five years later.